Romano was acting strange.

It started innocently enough. When Spain had arrived home from work, exhausted and almost half an hour late, he had been vaguely surprised to see that Romano had had dinner on the table and was waiting for him, tapping his foot slightly on the floor as Spain came into the kitchen, sniffing the air.

"What is all this, Roma?" the Spaniard asked, sinking into his seat across from his former province. Despite the bad day he had had at work, his trademark cheerful (and rather dopey) smile spread across his cheeks. "Did you make dinner for Boss? How sweet~"

"Shut up!" Romano snapped, his cheeks coloring as he glared at Spain. "You aren't my boss anymore, idiota!"

"You'll always be my little henchman~" Spain said cheerfully, lifting his fork and taking a bite of the Spanish themed food on his plate. "Wow, this is really good, Romano! You've really gotten the hang of cooking my people's food."

Spain vaguely noted that the food had chilled slightly, as though it had been made to be ready at the time when Spain should have been home, and had been sitting on the table in the extra half hour it took for the Spaniard to return.

"Just shut up and eat, dammit…" Romano grumbled, stuffing a bite of food into his own mouth moodily.

Spain gave a cheerful "Gracias!" to his former province and began to dig in, thinking nothing else of it.

.~*~.

Crash!

"Ah! Fuck this shit!"

Spain followed the sound of the crash and the muffled cursing to his little home office, where Romano was kneeled on the ground, one hand picking up shards of glass from the hardwood floor, the other pressing his bloody palm against the fabric of his pants as swears continued to fall from his lips like a waterfall.

"Dios, mio, are you okay, Romano?" Spain asked in concern, kneeling next to Romano and taking the younger nation's hand, seeing a cut diagonal across his palm.

"I'm fine!" Romano snapped, yanking his hand away and wincing slightly, chewing on his lower lip.

"What did you break?" Spain asked, spotting the duster and broom sitting on the floor at Romano's side. He knew that usually when the dark redheaded boy tried to clean, the results could be… disastrous.

Romano looked away, but Spain still saw the nation's face turn red in shame. "Um… It may or may not have been that paperweight that you liked…" he muttered, sounding a bit nervous and fidgeting slightly.

"Oh." Spain said, his smile falling for a moment. He had loved the paperweight. It had been a miniature pirate ship, perfect in detail and beautiful. Spain had kept it more for a decoration than anything constructive. "Well, that's okay." Spain eventually decided. "You were just trying to clean up some, right? It was an accident. Now, let's get that cut bandaged so it doesn't get infected."

He pulled his former province to his feet and led Romano to the bathroom, where he washed and bandaged the cut. Romano stayed unusually quiet and docile, except for a small hiss as Spain poured the antiseptic over the wound.

"You need to be more careful, Romano." Spain said, letting go of the Italian's neatly bandaged hand.

"Y-Yeah… Whatever…" Romano huffed, storming off.

.~*~.

"H-Hey… Bastardo…" Spain looked up at the sound of Romano's voice to see the Italian looking rather uncomfortable, green eyes darting around and shifting from foot to foot. Spain noted with amusement that the younger man's face was flushed dark pink, but not quite the amazing tomato shade it could become.

"What is it, Romano?" Spain asked, a grin creeping across his face without any conscious effort.

"W-Well… I-I-I… gotyousomething…" Romano mumbled the last bit under his breath, simultaneously shoving a dozen red roses into the Spaniard's face, blushing furiously.

"Whoa, Romano! What's the occasion?!" Spain laughed, taking the flowers from Romano's shaking hand.

Romano stammered something incomprehensible as Spain inhaled the sweet smell of the roses, eyes closing briefly in happiness.

I wonder why Roma bought me my favorite flowers. Spain wondered. It must be because he feels bad about breaking my paperweight yesterday. The Spaniard decided, opening his eyes to see Romano watching him intently, though the former province looked away as soon as he realized Spain was watching him.

"Thank you, Roma." Spain said sincerely.

.~*~.

Spain stretched his arms above his head, his back cracking in a very satisfying way as the sun beat down on sweat dampened curls. He leaned down and picked up the basket of ripe tomatoes at his feet, balancing the basket on his hip as he made his way back to the house. He kicked his shoes off at the porch and padded in the house on ninja silent sock feet. After stopping in the kitchen to set the basket of tomatoes on the table, the Spaniard headed up to his room to change.

As Spain passed the bathroom, he paused, hearing a voice from behind the door. Feeling very stealthy in his awesomely quiet socks (and also a bit like Prussia), Spain slid silently over to the door and pushed the door open a crack, just wide enough so he could peek in. What he saw made his eyes widen.

Romano was standing in front of the steamed up mirror, clad in only a towel wrapped around his waist, his hair dripping onto his shoulders. The Italian had obviously stepped out of the shower only moments before, but that wasn't the part that surprised the creepily creeping Spaniard in the doorway. It was what Romano was doing.

"Alright…" the Italian muttered. "Let's try this again." He looked up into the mirror. "Spain, I haven't been doing all this stuff to 'be nice'. I did it because I like it. Dammit!" he cursed and hit his hand on the counter. "I don't like you, Spain, I love you." Spain's eyes widened even further as Romano hit his hand to the counter again. "God damn I suck at this!" The Italian buried his face in his hands, elbows planted on the counter.

"Oh." Spain whispered as he pulled away from the door, running a hand through his hair. "Oh!" he said again in understanding.

The cooking, the learning of Spanish dishes, the attempted cleaning, the flowers, it all made sense now. Red roses stood for passion. It was so obvious now! Romano had been dropping hints to him all this time, and Spain could not even believe that he had been too thick to notice.

Spain pushed through the door quietly, sidling up behind Romano. "It could help to write a letter, you know." He said.

Romano gasped and whirled around, all of the blood draining from his face. In the next second, he blushed so dark that he put all of Spain's beloved tomatoes to shame.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!" Romano yelled, instinctively swinging his fist at the Spaniard, who had anticipated the move and was able to catch Romano's wrist in his hand.

"It's okay, Romano." Spain said, bringing the captured hand to his lips and kissing the back of it softly, his jade eyes looking softly into Romano's emerald ones. "I think that I love you too."

Romano's breath hitched, and his face returned to a semi normal color, all of his normal anger fading away to be replaced with a look of almost childlike wonder. "Really..?" he breathed softly, as though he didn't dare believe it.

"Yes, really." Spain crushed the redhead to his chest, sighing happily. "I love you, Romano Italy. Te amo."

"T-Ti amo troppo…" Romano whispered, hugging Spain tight.

They stood like that, embracing each other in comfortable silence, until Romano spoke. "Hey Spain?"

"What is it, mí corazón?" Spain asked, relishing the feel of the endearment on his tongue.

"I'm only wearing a towel." Romano muttered, pulling away and looking embarrassed.

"Easier access?" Spain offered with a smile, letting his hands rest on Romano's hips.

"FUCK YOU!"