AN: Here it is, the final chapter! I want to thank you all again for reading. And now, Romano finally gets to unload on the person responsible for all of his suffering.

It had been a relatively relaxing day for Spain, cold notwithstanding. After Romano had left, he'd fallen back asleep and woken up three hours later feeling slightly less congested. After taking the remainder of the cold medicine, he'd made his way downstairs and settled on the couch, tissue box in one hand and the TV remote in the other. The remainder of the afternoon had been spent watching a Hospital Central marathon and waiting for Romano to come home. The credits were rolling on the final episode when Spain finally heard the front door open, and then slam shut. Spain smiled and lifted his head up from the couch. "Hola, Roma!"

"Shut up, bastard!"

Spain frowned. "That wasn't nice!" He heard Romano's footsteps from the front door to behind the couch. Spain turned to look at him and was shocked at Romano's appearance. His suit jacket was gone, his tie looked like it had been half bitten off, and he was covered in what looked like soot. Romano stared back at him, his face full of rage.

"I can't believe you," Romano seethed. "I almost get killed covering for your ass, and you're sitting here watching soap operas!" He pulled out a packet of notes from his briefcase and unceremoniously dropped them on the coffee table. "Here are your goddamned notes. I'm going to go change and take a shower."

"Gracias, Romano." Spain began to skim through them while Romano wandered upstairs. Well, let's see; the regional blocs met before the general meeting? What was Germany thinking? And Greece was the chair? Ay Dios mio. Spain raised an eyebrow at the passage regarding Love in the Time of Opium and…huh. Russia and China are dating? Looks like I owe Prussia free drinks. Spain continued to read Romano's notes. The environmental policies were on point everyone hated Germany's economic policies, America didn't know the difference between Spanish and Mexican cuisine and almost choked to death on a flan, England and France were fighting even more so than usual, I'll have to call France later and see what kind of revenge he wants to get on England, and Switzerland shot someone called Canada. The notes abruptly cut off there. By the time Spain had finished, Romano had come back downstairs, dressed in his casual clothes and walked into the kitchen.

"Don't get up, I'll make dinner. Do we still have that leftover lasagna?"

"Si, on the top shelf of the fridge."

Spain heard Romano pull out the lasagna tray and put it into the oven to warm it up. "Romano, what happened after Switzerland shot this Canada person?"

"Huh? Oh, well he wasn't that badly hurt. The bullet grazed his ear and he fainted when he realized he was bleeding. He's America's brother though, so America came downstairs and threatened to bomb Switzerland back to the Stone Age. Switzerland pulled his gun on him and almost shot him. Austria and England had to separate them and make Switzerland pay Canada's medical bills. He still wouldn't apologize though."

"Ah," Spain nodded. "What happened after that?"

"Well, the potato bastard went to get Russia back from the East Asian meeting and talk to him about his boss." There was a pause as Romano went to get plates. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Oh." Spain said. "Is that how your suit got ruined?"

"I said I don't want to talk about it!" Romano snapped. There was another pause as Romano opened the oven and took out the lasagna tray. Then he said, "By the way, we need to move the meeting location. The building we were in's no longer usable."

Spain cringed. That would explain the sirens he heard earlier that evening. "My poor city…"

"Stop whining," Romano said. "Germany started that shit with Russia, he can pay for the damages. That's what I told your boss at least."

There were times Spain was dismayed at Romano's animosity towards all things German. This however, was not one of them. "You're too good to me, Roma."

"You're goddamn right." Romano walked into the living room, carrying two plates of lasagna. He put one plate in front of Spain and took a seat in the lounge chair next to the couch.

Spain smiled at Romano. "You're so sweet."

Romano blushed. "Shut up and eat, bastard. You're still paying for a new suit."

Spain laughed. He knew he shouldn't tease him so much, but Romano was too cute when he tried to act tough. "That's fine. Why are you sitting over there? Come sit with me."

Romano frowned. "Do you want me to get sick?"

"I'm not that sick anymore."

"You're sick enough!"

"But Roma, if you get sick too, you won't have to go any more meetings."

Romano opened his mouth to retort, then took Spain's words into consideration. Finally, he picked up his plate and walked over to the couch. "Move over, bastard."

Spain happily complied, moving over to allow Romano space. Romano took his seat, not making eye contact with Spain. "I'm still mad at you for today."

Spain pouted. "Oh, poor Romano. You really didn't have a good day, did you?"

Romano gave him a withering glare. "Understatement of the millennium."

"It could have been worse you know."

"How could it have possibly been worse!?"

"It could have been like America's World Cup final party last year."

Romano shuddered at the memory. "That was worse. But this was still awful and I hate you."

"Aw, I love you too, Lovi."

"Bastard!"

END

AN: And that's the end of South Italy's meeting from hell. Thank you everyone who read and reviewed. I hope you enjoyed this story. Until next time!