First APH fic(let). Enjoy!

Ugh. Of all days to forget the rosary. And in a mental flashback, it was conveniently lying right – right – on the kitchen table before he'd left. Though he swore a time ago he'd never remove it from his neck.

But, hey. Shit happens. When you're friends with wannabe 24/7 club goers, anyway.

Currently, he was pretty sure he wasn't having a nightmare so much as living it.

Note to self: Don't ever ask Lovi for a ride. Or a "spin". Or anything. Seriously. Never. Ever.

Especially not when hung over.

Antonio was clutching the passenger door handle for dear life as the Lambo ripped through the streets of Rome like it was some sort of psychotically-geared time machine or…something like that. He didn't know. He was too busy trying to decide if he'd suffer either death by migraine or car crash. So much for a pleasant beginning to the premier date night of the summer…

Lovino (the driver, obviously) looked over to his moronic boyfriend, who now looked like he was on the verge of tears, screaming – you name it.

"Oi, Spain. What's your problem?" he huffed. They'd stopped at an intersection for a moment. The only reply he received was a suffocated whimper.

"Seriously," Lovino stomped the gas pedal as the light changed "you're such a pansy."

"I-I just-. ¡Mi dios!" Antonio recoiled further, silently praying for God to end this terrifying ride soon. "L-Lovi?"

The Italian cocked an eyebrow. "Si?"

"A-Are you sure you're not maybe, like, over the speed l-limit or somethi-? FUCK!" Antonio had never cursed before, but there was a first time for everything.

"You don't think I'm a good driver?" A piercing glare was cast his way, meaning eyes were temporarily taken off the road, making that particular moment all the more hazardous.

"No! It's just…" The Spaniard mentally sighed "I mean, maybe you are…a little..." His voice trailed off into a scared whisper, having already known the repercussions of royally ticking off someone like Lovino. Luckily for him, the Italian was screaming at another driver…while driving at the same lightning-fast pace…while giving the finger…and having eyes averted from the road. It wasn't far off for Antonio to assume his life might just end at any moment. He'd never driven anywhere with Lovino before. Well, when he himself wasn't behind the wheel, anyway.

Stop lights, a few of them, went ignored, marked by the nervous nation's observation of "H-Hey. Wasn't that a-""Che cosa?" "Never mind."

The ride was taking forever. This so-called "La Pergola" (if it even really existed) must've been in fucking space for the time it was taking to reach. According to what he'd garnered in the week he'd spent here so far, Antonio could tell Romans, maybe all Italians, regarded speed limits as mere "suggestions". Watching it was terrifying enough, never mind experiencing it with the person who might just be the most emotionally unstable person he knew. The Spaniard could only impotently shake in fear, hoping he wouldn't revisit his breakfast.

One more quick turn. He looked over at Lovino, who was concentrating awfully hard on the road. Thank God. He saw the speedometer force itself even more to the right and felt himself lurch forward, praying the seatbelt wouldn't fail him now, as the car slowed and stopped with a deafening screech.

"We're here, bastard. That wasn't so bad, right?"

Lovino's question went unanswered since a certain someone had evidently passed out in fear.

I was listening to the Hives while writing this. That should explain something.

Lambo refers to Lamborghini's. Funny that Lovino would have one given that the company isn't even southern Italian based and currently owned by Germans. Whatevs. Its the only really fast car I know of. Plus, who can resist a good stab at a classic stereotype~?

(Spanish) Mi Dios! - My God!

(Italian) Che cosa? - What?

La Pergola is a real Roman restaurant.

I'm a real person.

And I love real reviews~ So if you would kindly do me the honor~ Thanks!