Simply because it was pissing me off, I decided not to wake up and describe what the light streaming through my entirely too-translucent curtains looked/felt like. In fact, it (and the fact that my current position -with one foot hanging off the bed and completely out from beneath the relative warmth of the sheets- kind of sucked complete ass) was pissing me off so much, I decided to groan and roll over, and bring my body closer to that of the other inhabitant of my bed.

I nuzzled into his bare chest, making myself comfortable beneath the soiled sheets, but forced myself to move my arm up from between our chests to swipe an irritating stray strand of hair away from the bridge of my nose, which had developed an equally-irritating itch.

My limbs were comfortably sore, I noted, as I retracted my arm to the warm confines of our little cocoon, but not so comfortably that I wanted to consider moving any time soon. Sex always left me sore, no matter which position I was in. I could only wonder what my partner felt like right about now.

Apparently I'd find out soon, I thought to myself, as his arm curled around my shoulder and tugged me even closer into his chest, though he was clearly still somewhere between being asleep and awake. I marveled for what had to be the billionth time at the exquisite pale skin he possessed, especially compared to my own light olive skin, developed from the genetics I supposedly contained and countless lifetimes spent in the Italian sun.

Pale whitish hairs ran up his arm, because he didn't bother to shave them. I would be jealous of their near-invisibility against his skin if they wouldn't look like old-people hairs on my own tanned arm. I too never bothered to shave, my own hair being a light brown with a red tint in the sun that glinted in the sunlight. It didn't matter to him because he always wore long pants, sleeves and gloves, and to me because I'm Italian and it's acceptable year-round.

"Mm, 'Mano, last night was good," he hummed groggily. "So good. I love you."

"'Love you too," I mumbled, blushing lightly.

A German accent.

I never, ever, in over a hundred and sixty years, thought I'd wake up to hear a voice with a German accent telling me they loved me.

"Hngh, I don't want to get up, but I know I've got shitloads of stuff to do," I groaned, and pushed away from his chest a few inches to swing an arm dramatically across my eyes. Those God-damned curtains were still letting the sun hit my eyes. Ugh, Italy, I love you, but it's too fucking early to be this God-damned bright.

Then again, my alarm clock said it was already 12:42… maybe… not so… early… Shit!

"Shit," I said aloud, scrambling out from between the sweat- and bodily-fluid-coated sheets and stumbling, naked, over to my dresser (a modern black number, in case you cared) where my cellphone sat charging in its stand.

53 missed calls, 216 new text messages.

Well, fuck.

I clicked through a few texts (half from Feliciano, half from my boss) before the previous night's events came rushing back to me. It was at the Italian-German relations meeting… at the dinner. Both the potato-fuckers were there, and…

"FUCK!" I shouted. "Feliciano and the potato bastard are…"

"Yup, they are." My partner agreed. "Hey, what does that make us?"

A hiss of pain came from the bed behind me, and I whipped around, my expression of horror only intensifying as the REST of the night's events came rushing back.

Specifically the events that occurred on top of and in between those same sheets, and had him screaming for more… a more I was all too willing to give.

More specifically, the events that left the scratches I could feel stinging my back whenever I moved, and probably left several rounds' worth of a sticky mess in his… er, you know.

Even more specifically, the reason my partner was in pain right now.

"G-Gil, shit, I'm so sorry, I…" I gasped, rushing back over to the bed, and helping him into a sitting position, then hurrying to throw all our pillows behind his back to hold him up. "I… Feliciano and that potato bastard announced… and then I was so fucking mad… and then I…"

"Roma," the personification of Prussia grinned, catching my wrist, which had been frantically waving about, smoothing out the sheets and rubbing at his arm –upon which I had since noticed a few ripe bruises, which I suppose I made– and pressing soothing circles on the back of my hand with a pale thumb. "Roma, breathe," he said, and it was his tone of voice that made me pause, not his command.

"W-Why are you so calm?" I demanded. "I was so rough, I…"

"And you know how much I like it rough," Gilbert grinned rakishly, ruby eyes glinting, and running one hand through my hair, patting my hand with his other. "This is totally worth the awesome sex we had last night. That has to have been one of our awesomest nights yet."

"But you're bruised all over," I protested angrily, holding up his arm so he could see for himself. "I didn't make you bleed, did I?" I demanded, tugging the sheets away from his hips, and observing the white sheets for any splotches of red.

Gilbert yanked the sheets back over his "five meters" before I could get a halfway-decent look, but I could have sworn there was something more than just the shit that's supposed to be a product of sex on those sheets. His pale skin helped a lot. Gilbert was pale. Sheets were white. Cum was fucking close enough white. Blood was red.

"Fuck, fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck, oh, fucking hell! G-Gil, I… FUCK!" I shouted, my voice cracking at the end as tears pricked at the inside of my eyes. I slammed a fist down on the bed, which didn't make as much of an impressive noise as it would have on a hard surface, but served to loosen a bit of the guilty tension that was still flooding into my chest, tightening it like one of Austria's girly-ass corsets or something. "I-I have to go get you a painkiller, or… or something! Dammit!"

I fled the scene before he could even think about stopping me, rubbing the back of my wrist against my eyes, and my other hand clenched into a tight fist. I bit the side of my cheek, and felt the blood gush into my mouth, but welcomed the metallic taste instead of opening my mouth again, because I knew if I did I would probably break down crying.

I'd hurt Gil.

I'd hurt him, and he hadn't done a thing to me.

No, not him, his stupid brother… not even!

"Ve, we have an announcement to make~!" Feliciano chirped happily, clutching the potato bastard's hand close to his chest. "Do you want to tell them, Doitsu?"

"J-Ja, I'll do it, I suppose, Italien," Germany stuttered, his face flushed, but a small smile in place. He gulped audibly. "Italy and I are… we're getting married."

"Sì~! Ve, the wedding is going to be so wonderful," Feliciano cheered, pulling an engagement ring out of his pocket and slipping it onto his left ring finger, where I noted unhappily that it fit perfectly.

And then it sunk in…

Feliciano… and the potato bastard?

MARRIED?

W-What?

"Romano, are you okay?" Gilbert asked, laying an arm on my shoulder. I probably looked absolutely dumbstruck. Well, I was.

"No."

"Ve, what, fratello?"

"R-Romano?"

"Roma…"

"No. Take me home." I said evenly, my dull eyes and flat tone not conveying the melting pot of anger in my chest. "Gilbert, take me home now."

"O-Okay, let's not be brash now, Roma, we can talk about this," Gilbert said desperately, squeezing my hand in a manner that was meant to be comforting, but only served to aggravate the tension in my chest. "We haven't even eaten yet, we…"

"Take. Me. Home. NOW!" I screamed, not caring who was watching me make a scene anymore. It was a high end restaurant. I could buy it in the name of Italy if I so desired, why should I care if they kicked me out? One way or another, I would be leaving this restaurant, and I would be leaving it soon.

It took Gil one more look at my flushed face and burning eyes to decide that I was indeed ready to leave. "Ah, alright, just quiet down, we're going, Roma, n-no need to get unawesome about it…"

He took my hand and tugged me through the forest of tightly packed circular tables, and a blur of white tablecloths and staring humans passed me before we were out in the cool night air, and I could breathe again. Pale arms wrapped around me, but I couldn't think enough to move to embrace him in return.

"They're just getting married, Roma, it's not the end of the world," Gil assured me, as he stroked me back soothingly. "Just breathe. It's not going to be any different than it is now. They already have sex, they already kiss, they already act lovey dovey everywhere. Nothing's gonna change."

"Feliciano won't stay at our house at all anymore," I whispered. "It'll be just me. N-Now he comes over every so often, for a few days, but once he moves in with that potato fucker, h-he won't come back anymore! I…"

"Roma. That's mein bruder you're talking about," Gil said seriously, red eyes glinting dangerously at my use of the term 'potato fucker' once again. "We've been over this. West is a good guy. I understand that you're afraid of losing Feli, but West isn't like that. If you just tolerated him a little more, we all could visit each other all the time."

"D-Dammit, I… I can't talk right now, I…" I said haltingly, pressing one hand to my chest, where conflicting feelings of guilt and fury clashed painfully. "I need to let out some steam."

"Alright, let's go home, then."

Alright, let's go home, then. Five words started this, and I finished it. I finished it, and now Gil was hurt.

Sure, he liked rough, kinky sex, because that was Gil, but… I'd made him bleed.

He'd never bled during sex before.

And those bruises… Christ, there were probably more hanging like dark handprints on his hips, and maybe even more around his wrists.

He bruised so easily.

Once in the kitchen, I fumbled around my cabinets for the bottle of painkilling pills we always ended up using after a night that got a little out of hand, and found it behind a stack of cups. I poured three of the little orange pills out into my palm before depositing them on the cold marble counter, and reaching back up to put the bottle back and take a cup. I managed to fill it with water and place it beside the pills before I broke down again.

Heavy sobs wracked my chest, and I placed my head in my hands, leaning heavily against the counter, disgusted with myself. I rubbed furiously at the tears pouring down my cheeks, willing them away, but to no avail.

Gilbert was right. I'm sure Germany was a very nice nation somewhere deep down. But I had always been insecure. Gil knew that better than probably anyone except Spain. That was only because the Spanish nation had brought me up. But Gilbert was slowly learning everything there was to know about me.

I liked bondage, but not too much.

I could take a rough night, and give one, but I didn't like doing either too frequently.

I didn't like bottoming all the time.

I was more of an ice cream person than a gelato person.

I liked his red eyes.

I worried a lot more than I let on when he was in Italy because I didn't want him to get sun burned.

I liked tomatoes even more than Spain.

I was more of a cat person than a dog person.

I loved making pizza more than almost anything.

I secretly loved when Gil told me he liked how I looked, although I never said it out loud.

I was always jealous of Feliciano.

But now I'd gone and taken out my insecurities on Gilbert, and all he had done was always be there for me.

He listened to me when I complained. He comforted me when I cried. He told me he loved me, and knew I returned the sentiments, even if I didn't say it a lot.

And I felt like just about the most worthless piece of shit right about now.

"Roma?" Gil called from the bedroom, and I mentally cursed myself for taking so long to get back to him. I sure as fuck didn't want him trying to come after me.

"S-Sorry, I'm coming," I shouted, and hissed when my voice cracked. I seized the pills and the glass of water, and hurried back to my room, where Gil would be waiting for me.

He was exactly where I left him, sitting propped up against the pillows. But a concerned frown had taken up residence on his face, and he had one hand fisted in the sheets, holding them tightly to his waist, probably to make sure I wasn't going to tug them away again. His frown deepened as his red eyes flicked to my face, and I looked away, ashamed.

"Roma, you're crying," he admonished, and I hurried forward to stop him as he appeared to try to shift toward me on the bed.

"Don't! Don't move," I said quickly, kneeling down beside the side of the bed, transferring the pills to his palm, and handing him the water. "H-Here. I… I'm so sorry, Gil…"

"Shh!" Gil shushed me, popping the pills into his mouth all at once and taking a large gulp of water, before taking my hand, and tugging me forward, so that my chest landed against the side of the bed.

I wriggled to get it out of his grasp, and seized the glass of water from his hand, so he wouldn't spill it on the bed. I placed it on the bedside table before Gil managed to catch my arm again, and he pulled me backwards into a sitting position on the bed. He couldn't quite manage to hide the wince that slipped onto his face when the bed bounced under my added weight.

"Roma…" he started.

"I'm sorry!" I said frantically, before he could even say whatever it was he'd been trying to since we woke up. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't want to hurt you, I… I'll make it up to you! I promise, I'll stay home until you feel better, I…"

"Shh!" Gil snapped again. "I know. I know you will. You always take good care of me," he sighed, and tugged me closer to him. I acquiesced hesitantly, but tried to do most of the moving myself, so he wouldn't end up shifting his legs too much. "I'm not mad at you. You shouldn't feel so bad about it."

"But I hurt you!" I exclaimed, furrowing my brow, still not understanding why I was the one who was upset by this. "I love you, I'm not supposed to… supposed to hurt you like this."

"Roma, I wanted you to hurt me," Gil said, enunciating each syllable clearly in an attempt to make it plain to me. "I wanted it. If I didn't, don't you think I would have said something? Do you think I would be here right now? Don't you think I would have called West to come and get me?"

"Y-Yes, but…"

"No but." Gil interrupted me. "There is no but, because I wanted it just as much as you did. Do you think I want to have to deal with finding somewhere else to put all my stuff? I can't stay in West's house once he's married. Last night was good. It was a good distraction, and fuck, I loved every second of it."

"I was too rough," I argued, shaking my head firmly. "I made you bleed. That's not right, it shouldn't happen! I shouldn't be hurting you like that! I-I know you're a kinky bastard, but I don't want to hurt you like this!"

"But you're still here, and you're taking care of me," Gil reasoned. "I'll heal up in a day or two. I'm still not human, you know that, Roma. Relax. I know you love me, and I know you didn't mean to give it to me that rough. But I still loved it because it was you giving it to me. I've had worse. I'm okay, I promise. And look, the painkillers will kick in, and I'll feel better. Alright?"

"O-Okay," I relented, and allowed the albino ex-personification to pull me into a hug. "Sorry. Again."

"Stop apologizing!" Gil laughed, ruffling my hair affectionately. "I'm fine, I promise. I just don't want you beating yourself up over it. You were upset, I get it. I know you'll miss Feli staying here. But… you know what this means?"

I looked up into his eyes, which were glinting mischievously, and scowled warily. "What…?"

"Well, let's see," he started, wrapping one arm around my shoulders, and using the other to stroke his chin. "I live in my brother's house… and Feli lives in your house. But now our brothers are going to be moving in together, right?"

"Right…" I said, still not following his logic.

"So I'll be kicked out of West's house, and Feli won't be in your house anymore…" Gil trailed off, and raised an eyebrow, waiting for me to put the pieces together.

"I… I don't get it," I frowned. "That makes me a lonely bastard?"

"Kesesese, you're so cute when you're confused," Gil grinned, planting a quick kiss on my nose. "It means I get to move into your place!"

"W-Wait… what? Are you serious?" I gasped. "You mean you'll…"

"Yeah. We're going to move in together, and have sex every night, and you're going to get back every ounce of trouble you've given me so far in this courtship."

"Bastard," I snorted. "Sex every night? Isn't that a little presumptuous?"

"Oh, you're right, sorry. Twice a day. At least."

A/N: First things first, yeah, no, Hetalia's not mine. Second things second, yes, I LOVED WRITING THIS. Yeah, it's yet another oneshot and no I'm not working on my other fics, and yes I should be, but yeah... no. I just had to finish this. It's been sitting on my computer for SO LONG. I just loved it so much, I just wanted it up so bad. I've been having a seriously crap week (Can I just tell you crushing on your best friend when she's just not into you SUCKS?) and I would so so so love some really nice reviews. Even if you just say you liked it. I mean... I'm just running on fumes right now. The schoolwork is fine, my parents are iffy, but the holidays are coming which means crazy amounts of family time and cleaning, and college is knocking... Even though by all rights I should have no idea what I want to do with my life, my parents are pushing me to choose a major NOW. It's just a lot to handle, I'm basically out of inspiration, and I barely have time to write. I just really need a break. (Or to get laid. But you know. Girl of choice isn't interested in me, so... *sigh*) You guys are my break, for now. Everytime I get a review it's like a dose of happiness :D