Persistent

Portugal. Ah, Portugal. Spain couldn't stop himself from staring at her. They were in yet another World Conference meeting and by the grace of God Portugal's seat was directly across from him! Spain sighed, resting his chin in his palm with his elbow propped on the table, as his half-lidded eyes roved over her form. She was so beautiful.

Today Portugal's gorgeous, wavy black hair was pulled back into a business-like bun. She wore a suit as she always did at meetings, but there was something about the way that particular jacket fit her frame that drew Spain's eye. And that pencil skirt, the way it hugged her hips and showed off her legs…Spain couldn't get enough. And her high heels… Dios mío, Spain thought, his face getting hot. What a dangerous train of thought.

All the female nations were beautiful, of course, but Spain had always found Portugal to be the most attractive. His good friend and ex-nation Prussia disagreed – he was partial to Hungary- and his other friend France just wasn't particularly picky. But for Spain, Portugal was it. And so he continued to stare at her, completely absorbed in his own musings as the meeting continued around him.

Until he was jabbed harshly in the side hard enough to make him wince. "You stupid bastard!" Spain turned a puzzled glance on Romano who was sitting to his right. The personification of Southern Italy glared back at him.

"What?" Spain asked, all oblivious innocence.

"It's your turn, you idiot!"

Spain looked around. All his fellow countries were staring at him, their expressions mostly either amused or exasperated. "Oh."

Spain's gaze slid back to Portugal. For the briefest moment their eyes met causing Spain's pulse to skyrocket. But then she looked away, the look on her face clearly indicating that she thought he was an idiot too.

Romano jabbed him again. "Stupid tomato bastard," he growled.

With a silent sigh Spain dropped his gaze from Portugal's face and stood to give his speech.

…

Spain hadn't always been hopelessly in love with Portugal of course. When they'd been young children living at Roman Empire's house Spain had considered her more of a sister if anything. Once Rome fell they went their separate ways and saw very little of each other. In fact the first time that they saw each other in centuries was at the end of the Reconquista when Spain's boss had recognized Portugal's boss as king. Over the intervening time they had both grown up and when he had seen her again Spain had been completely blown away. Since then he had been tirelessly, albeit unsuccessfully, pursuing her. Spain was the country of passion after all.

That was why Spain was currently standing by the door of the meeting room. The conference had ended and Spain had decided, since Portugal looked absolutely radiant today, that he was going to make another pass at her. Romano had left some time ago, muttering about Spain angrily under his breath, but Spain didn't mind. He would wait as long as he had too.

The room was practically empty now, though Portugal was still taking her sweet time packing her things. Spain always got the feeling that she did this on purpose, that it amused her to see him waiting for her like a helpless puppy, but it didn't bother Spain. It just gave him more time to appreciate her figure.

Finally Portugal stood tall and snapped her briefcase shut. She stopped briefly to say her goodbyes to Germany and England, who were still discussing something, before striding out the door without some much as a glance in Spain's direction. Spain didn't mind that either. In fact he'd been expecting it. With a bounce in his step for what many would have called a lost cause Spain followed.

Portugal ignored him as she walked down the hallway, Spain just a few steps behind her. It wasn't until they got to the elevators that she finally glanced over her shoulder at him and said, "So what do you want today, Spain?"

Spain practically had to physically drag his eyes away from her butt- it was obvious where Brazil got it- to meet her gaze. She was glaring at him, but there was a twinkle of amusement in her chocolate brown eyes. "Huh?" was Spain's brilliant response.

Rolling her eyes Portugal turned around to face him, planting a hand on her hip. "What do you want?"

"Oh!" Spain broke out into a wide and sunny smile. "Would you like to get lunch with me today?" he asked.

"Are you willing to cede your claims on the Savage Islands?"

Spain blinked at Portugal in confusion, thrown by her abrupt change in the topic of conversation. "Huh?"

"If you cede your claim to the Savage Islands then, yes, I will get lunch with you," Portugal told him, wearing what Spain knew was her most winning smile.

It was tempting for sure. Her smoldering gaze nearly had him undone. But…"Ah, but amiga the Savage Islands belong to me." He countered Portugal's smile with a grin of his own that he knew was pleasing.

Portugal shrugged and spun on her heels, the elevator doors opening before her. "Suit yourself then, señor," she said as she stepped into the elevator, the emphasis she had placed on the last word sending a shiver of eagerness down Spain's spine.

Spain was so caught up, in fact, that he didn't even notice the elevator doors beginning to close. He refocused just in time to catch Portugal's smirk as the doors slid shut. There was a ding and the elevator began its descent, leaving Spain to wait alone until another one arrived on the 15th floor.

Spain sighed and reached up to scratch the back of his head. Shot down again. Prussia and France both kept telling him that he should give up, that he should've given up a long time ago. But there was always something in Portugal's eyes when she turned him down that encouraged him to try again.

…

France had suggested this a long time ago. Prussia, as well as Spain, had thought it was a silly idea, which was why Spain hadn't tried it until now. But he'd been feeling particularly determined lately so he'd figured he'd give it a shot. Which was why he was currently standing under a tree in a hidden corner of the garden in front of Portugal's Lisbon house.

Spain ran his fingers over the strings of his guitar a couple of times. Ah. His A was off. Spain tuned the string quickly and then glanced upward at the lit window on the second floor. His fingers began to play without conscious thought, easily picking out the notes of the complicated melody. After a few bars Spain began to sing.

He was nearly through the first verse of his song, an old Spanish love ballad, when he detected movement behind the curtain in the lit window. His heart thrilled at the prospect of seeing Portugal and knowing that she was listening to his song.

It took a moment or too, but Portugal finally pushed the curtain's back. Spain couldn't see her expression very well with the light behind her, but he felt heartened as she unlocked her window and pushed it open. She leaned out, looking into the garden curiously, as her dark hair- worn down today- fell in a thick wave beside her face. Spain really got in to it now.

Portugal neither moved nor spoke until Spain was finished. Panting slightly, his fingers aching from their plucking, Spain moved until he was directly beneath her window and grinned up at her.

"Were you trying to serenade me, Spain?" Portugal asked sweetly, her tone amused.

"Sí," Spain replied proudly. "Did you enjoy it?"

Portugal shrugged, her eyes dancing in delight as she teased him. "It was ok."

Spain pouted. "Ah, but Portugal you used to tell me how much you loved my singing when we were married!" They had been married, briefly, from 1580 to 1640 when Spain's boss had declared himself king of Portugal. Spain had absolutely loved it, but Portugal had always claimed it had been solely for the sake of convenience. In fact she tended to get irritated whenever Spain brought it up.

She did so now, frowning down at Spain in the darkening light of the setting sun. "When did I ever say that? I don't recall," she asked haughtily.

Spain laughed uncomfortably, realizing his mistake. "Ah, never mind. Was it good enough to convince you to get lunch with me at least?" he asked hopefully.

Portugal's playfulness returned as she smirked down at Spain, making a big production of making up her mind. "No," she said at last. "I don't think so. You would have been better off with a fado."

"Eh?" Spain protested weakly. "But I don't know any."

"That's too bad," Portugal told him. "In any case I have some work that needs to get down. Adeus, Spain." Portugal pulled the window shut again and pulled the curtains closed over it. Her shadow moved away before the lights in the room went out.

Spain slumped a bit, sighing in defeat. Once again shot down. Perhaps next time he would stick with his own ideas rather than France's. Spain was just about to leave when he heard something. Was Portugal…singing? Intrigued Spain crept quietly around the side of the house towards the source of the sound.

Portugal was indeed singing. Spain spotted her through an open window on the first floor. She was seated at her desk doing paperwork, but she was singing as she did so. There was no music to accompany her and the tune was melancholy, but Portugal's voice was beautiful. The sound washed over Spain like water over his skin and left him breathless. He spent nearly the entire night seated beneath Portugal's window, lost in the sound of her song.

…

Things had not been going very well for Spain recently. He was having a lot of economic problems and as such he was very busy. He still went to the World Conferences and everything, but he was almost always late now and was always in a rush to leave as soon as they were over. He hadn't had time to hang out with Romano or Prussia and France for some time. And he hadn't time to chase after Portugal either.

It made Spain sad, but he doubted that Portugal minded too much. Although whenever he had managed to catch her eye at the last few meetings she'd always looked rather concerned before she looked away. Of course, it might not have anything to do with him. Spain had briefly wondered if perhaps she was worried about him before laughing the thought away.

So Spain was certainly surprised when he went to answer a knock at his door one day, leaving his work on the kitchen table, and found Portugal standing on his doorstep.

"Portugal? What are you doing here?" Spain was completely surprised. He couldn't remember the last time she'd come to visit him. She looked absolutely gorgeous today as well, dressed in an airy sundress with her hair braided and hanging in front of her left shoulder.

"Aren't you going to invite me in?" she countered with a quirk of her eyebrow.

Spain was immediately flustered. "Yes, yes, of course! How rude of me! Please, come in." Spain led Portugal into his kitchen. "Can I get you something to drink?" he asked as he hurriedly shifted piles of papers around to give her room to sit down.

"Some coffee would be lovely," she told him. Spain noticed her eying the stacks of paper littered throughout the room warily as he busied himself making their drinks.

Once he was finished Spain set Portugal's cup in front of her and sat down with his own. "I'm sorry about the mess," Spain said sheepishly, playing with corner of a report with his pinky. "I find it easier to focus on my work in the kitchen than my office."

"It's alright," Portugal replied softly. She looked like she was deep in thought.

"So, what brings you here to visit me today?"

Portugal was quiet for a moment before raising her gaze from Spain's seemingly endless piles of work. Spain was surprised by how determined she looked. "You're in trouble aren't you?"

"Huh?" Spain blinked at her in confusion.

"You're in trouble," she repeated, her tone impatient at his thick-headedness. "It's been years since I've seen you working so hard for so long. And you look like you haven't gotten nearly enough sleep for a while now either."

"Oh, well it's not that bad," Spain tried to assure her, laughing weakly.

"Spain," she admonished him firmly.

Spain sighed and relented. "Yea, I'm in trouble. But I'm working so hard now so hopefully it won't be so much worse later."

"I see." Portugal leaned back with a sigh of her own. "You never thought of asking for help did you."

For the third time since he had opened his front door Spain stared at Portugal in total surprise. "Huh? You mean…you would've helped me?"

"Of course I would have," Portugal replied immediately, sounding annoyed.

Spain couldn't stop himself from grinning so widely that it made his cheeks hurt. His heart fluttered happily in his chest. Portugal blinked at him bemused. "So you'll go to lunch with me then?"

"Lunch?" Portugal asked, her eyebrows drawing together as she frowned. "How would that help?"

"It would be good for my soul," Spain said, laying on some charm as he reached across the table and grabbed her hand. He marveled at her soft her skin was.

To Spain's great amazement Portugal did not pull away. She did look away, however, but Spain could still see the light blush that dusted her cheeks. "Good for your soul you say?"

"Sí," Spain replied, grinning like a foolhardy idiot.

"Well…alright," Portugal finally answered, turning to him and offering a shy smile. Spain whooped in joy. "But under one condition."

"What? Anything!"

"You have to take me to the best seafood restaurant in Madrid."

Spain smiled happily. Ah, that was so like her. "Sí, of course!"

Second Hetalia one shot prize down! This one is for Carefree Insanity and I'm so, so sorry it took me this long to get it out! To be honest I was really worried about what I was going to write for this, but when I came up with this idea it all fell into place. I'm actually super happy about the way it came out. And I love writing Spain.

The Savage Islands are an uninhabited archipelago between Maeira and the Canary Islands. They are claimed by both Portugal and Spain and there has been some conflict between the two countries during the past couple of decades over them.

From 1580 to 1640 Portugal was ruled by the Spanish monarchy. This was because the last two kings of Portugal died without heirs leading Philip II of Spain to claim the throne. Since they were both under the same monarchy I decided to say that Spain and Portugal were 'married' like Austria and Hungary. I didn't read a lot into it, but it sounds like those 60 years weren't all that great for Portugal so that's why she doesn't really like it when Spain brings it up.

The fado is a type of music indigenous to Portugal. It's usually accompanied by at least a guitar. The subjects of the songs are often sad, associated with the concept of 'saudade' meaning longing.

'Adeus' is Portuguese for goodbye according to Google translate. I suspect that everyone probably figured that out though.

Anyways, please review! Thanks for reading!

imagination junkie