Hi!

So, this is my first English story ever ;n; My mother language is Spanish, so I apologize for any grammatical mistakes.

And I want to thank Gaby for reading this fic and helping me with the language *-*

Okay, so, enjoy!

Disclaimer: Neither Hetalia nor its characters belong to me, they belong to Hidekaz Himaruya.

They are in their favorite table, next to the big window, where they can see the streets, the cars and the people walking by. But right now, it's almost ten at night, so it's pretty dark outside. The place where they are it's and old-fashion bar in England. Inside the bar the only lights that they can see are the few old yellow lamps on the tables and the ones hanging from the ceiling. The walls around them, the floor, the ceiling, and almost the entire bar are built of dark wooden. The air in the place is a mix between alcohol and cigarette smoke, but it's enough to handle because there's a noticeable number of people there tonight.

This place is their favorite because it's small and quiet, a place where two men can talk to each other in peace. They like to hang out sometimes in this bar, one or two times during the week, just to talk and listen to each other, to share a drink because in the end, they aren't so different.

"So, how have you been?" the English nation says casually, placing his glass of whisky on the table with a little more force that he normally would.

"Excellent, everything is perfect." the sarcasm in the brunet voice is too obvious, a considerable amount of alcohol in his veins by now.

"Oh?" he smirks, raising an eyebrow. "My, my, Spain, you are not like that. You are always cheerful and smiling like a bloody idiot. What happened?"

"Cállate." Antonio glares at him and takes a long sip of his wine, looking at the people around them, like they are suddenly really interesting.

"Come on, tell me what's troubling you." he insists, because when he asks for something, he gets answers.

"I just… I just had a bad day, that's all." he looks at the blond, who only nods in response and doesn't ask any more questions.

There's a silence between them. Spain looks at him for a few seconds and then sighs, running a hand between his brown curls and resting his back lazily against his chair.

"Don't you miss the past?" he asks casually.

Arthur stops drinking, his glass half away from his mouth before he puts it back in the table. He looks surprised.

"The past?" he repeats incredulous. They never talk about the past because it always brings bad memories, and they prefer to focus on the present, when they can talk to each other without trying to murder each other.

"Sí, the past."

"Mmhh," the blond thinks this for a couple of seconds, looking very thoughtful. "I guess I could say I miss the past, yes, but that's because I miss a couple of things, but the rest of it… No, I don't miss them at all." he says seriously.

"Really, like what? What do you miss and what you don't?" Spain asks very interested.

A long pause from the Brit.

"I miss the sea… I miss the smell of salt in the air, and the sun over my head. I miss the feeling of adrenaline and danger that I felt every day." he says quietly, looking into his glass of whisky.

"You just miss being a pirate." the other one teases with a little smirk, but England just shush him with his fierce eyes.

"I miss the freedom… Maybe it sounds completely ridiculous, but in that time I felt free to do whatever I wanted…" he continues. "But, it is for the best. I grew up and thank God I've changed. When I look at the past, all I can see is the greedy and bloody monster I was once, and that's when I'm actually glad that those years are over."

He looks into Spain's eyes and sees a glint of understanding and melancholy.

"I miss those years too, you know…" the Spaniard sighs. "I mean, at that time everything was complicated and simple at the same time, but I liked the way it was. Sometimes I want to go back in the past, and sometimes I realize I really don't want to. It's complicated… But, yes, I miss the freedom too like you, and I especially miss…" his voice dies a little by every word that escapes from his lips.

"What? What do you miss?" England ask curiously, leaving his now empty glass of whisky on the table, ready to order another one.

Antonio rests his elbows on the table and leans closer to the English man, his voice just a whisper and the smell of wine strongly present in his breath.

"I miss those nights of pure passion I used to share with you." his now dark green eyes locked with his. "You and me, in the bed of my ship, or sometimes in yours… Or even in a deserted alley if we couldn't hold ourselves anymore." he laughs quietly at those memories. "Those nights where we weren't just countries, enemies with the mission to kill each other… those nights when we were just lovers and the time and responsibilities didn't exist for us."

Kirkland looks at him without breaking eye contact, a pink blush over his cheeks because of those words and especially those memories.

"I would be lying if I say I don't miss those days too, but…" he admits in a whisper and sighs. "We can't go back to the past Spain, those years are over. There's a reason why the past is the past; a closed chapter."

"Hmm, you're right about that." the brunet agrees solemnly. "The past can't be repeated. But we have learn from our mistakes, so it wouldn't be 'repeating' the past, we could say… 'changing' it." he searches the other's eyes, who looks back at him in silence, processing his words.

"We indeed had fun in those years…" is the only answer that Arthur gives without thinking, lost in the Spaniard eyes, and he scolds himself internally by his choice of words.

Antonio smiles warmly at the blonde before he asks a passing waitress for two glasses of rum. When the glasses are in front of them, Spain raises his.

"For the Capitán Arthur Kirkland." he smiles deviously.

"For the Captain Antonio Fernández Carriedo." he returns the smile, with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

And both of them finish their rums in just one sip.

[…]

There is a reason why England and Spain aren't good company when drinking. It's because they can't handle the alcohol properly, every nation knows that. One of them gets in a very irritated mood, even dangerous we could say if he gets really angry, and the other one loses control and gets very naughty, totally out of his mind and personality.

So, after a couple more glasses of rum and a verbal fight with the Spaniard, Arthur decides he is bored of him and leaves him, looking for something more entertaining, like a pair of women at the bar.

"¡Inglaterra!" Antonio growls angrily and looks for the blond in the bar. "¡Vuelve aquí cabrón! ¡Aún no he terminado contigo!" he yells, winning several looks, some of fear and other of curiosity. The bar is small but at this hour of the night it's full of people, and it's hard to locate Kirkland among all the people.

By now England is very busy flirting with a pair of young tourist at the bar to be aware of the Spanish wrath near him.

"So…" he starts, looking at the girls with a flirtatious smile. "What makes two beautiful ladies like you come to England?" he takes another sip of his rum, and is pleased when the women blush lightly and giggle shyly.

Oh yeah, no one can resist the British accent.

One of the girls opens her mouth to answer him, but then she closes it and looks scared, just like her friend. Both of them are looking past his shoulder, so he turns around and his smirk grows bigger in a depredatory way.

"Why, hello Anthony." he tilts his head to the side, he looks pretty pleased. The alcohol in his system makes him see double, and right know he's looking at two hot as hell Spaniards in front of him.

The idea of a threesome crosses his mind.

"My name is Antonio, maldito pirata." he glares at the Brit, then at the two ladies who look pretty scared of him. "We are leaving. Now." he states, grabbing Arthur's arm.

"But I'm comfortable here with my two new friends." he says in a childish tone, making fun of him. "I don't want to go now." he pulls away from his grip and puts each of his arms around the ladies' waists, bringing them closer to him.

Spain eyes darken considerably. With an inhuman force, he drags England out of the embrace and glares at the girls.

"He is mine, you heard me? Mine. Es mío." he warns with a deep voice, and the girls can only nod, one of them with question marks dancing over her head and the other blushing madly, misunderstanding the scene in front of her in her own way.

The brunet drags the blond out of the bar, ignoring the Brit's protest and the very angry shouts, and without paying for their drinks. But that's okay, the owner of the bar already knows them, so they could pay when they come back another day. They always come back.

The cold wind of winter hits them in their faces, but that's not enough to cool them down. They keep running clumsily until they reach the empty valley behind the bar, and there is when Spain pins the blonde to a wall violently.

"D-Damn dog." England curses, feeling the air leaving his lung because of the impact. He feels a pair of hot lips against his throat, sucking his pale skin and biting down too hard.

"Cállate." the brunet says for the second time that night and proceeds to remove impatiently the other one's white shirt. Having enough with the damn buttons, he angrily destroys the shirt, sending all the buttons flying away in different directions.

He hears Arthur laugh amusingly while the brunet attacks the new revealed skin.

"Impatient, aren't we?" he whispers in his ear. He manages to shove his hands under Spain's black shirt and scratches his not-so-short nails against his back, from the top to the bottom, and gropes the perfect Spanish ass with force, making him moan in delight.

Antonio moves away from the Brit's neck and looks him right in the eyes with passion that makes the blond shiver with anticipation. He remembers that look, the same look that promises an interminable night of pleasure.

"Like the old times?" ask Spain with hoarse voice and England smirks wildly.

"Like the old times."

TRANSLATIONS:

Cállate: Shut up.

Sí: Yes.

Capitán: Captian.

¡Inglaterra! ¡Vuelve aquí cabrón! ¡Aún no he terminado contigo!: England! Come back here, you bastard! I haven't finished with you!

Maldito pirata: Damn pirate.

Es mío: He's mine.

Okay, so that's all!

I hope you liked my story, and please tell me what you think about it and if I should make another story in English!

Thanks for reading.