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Lovesick- Spamano [Hetalia]


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A/N: Hullo there~! This is far from my first Hetalia sick!fic, but it's my first one that I'll be uploading to the forum. This first part is only an introduction (meaning there isn't much sneezing oops :c ) but I'm currently working on Chapter Two. I hope you enjoy it~!


Antonio realizes that something is wrong when Lovino is grouchier than normal.

He’s been throwing around all those insults he usually saves for arguments. He refuses to allow any physical contact between him and Antonio. He’s barely said anything to Antonio besides cursing and demanding to know where something is.

However, Antonio doesn’t want to make things worse, so he decides to keep quiet until tomorrow.

At least that’s what he would have done if it weren’t for what happened that night.

“Morning, Lovi,” Antonio says with a chuckle as Lovino emerges from his bedroom. “Finally finished your beauty sleep, huh?”

Lovino glares at the other. “Shut the hell up,” he snaps, running a hand through his tangled dark hair. The Italian checks the clock on the wall only to learn that he’s overslept by several hours. He swears under his breath and shuffles into the kitchen.

“There are churros in the refrigerator,” Antonio says, but he’s promptly ignored as Lovino reaches for the bread and begins to make himself toast.

Lovino sits down at the table next to Antonio and takes his mug. Raising the cup to his lips, it's almost as if Lovino is going to drink some of it, but he reconsiders and puts the cup down.

"Make me a cup," Lovino mutters, pushing the mug away and getting up from the table.

"You can just have the rest of--"

"I don't want.... I don't want to share with you," he says, pushing his chair in. "I want my own cup." He rubs his temples and trudges to his bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

Antonio blinks, staring at the closed door quizzically as the lock clicks, but he gets up and completes Lovino's request.

"Are you going to get up?" Antonio asks the heap of blankets in Lovino's room.

"No," the blankets grumble.

"Why not?"

Lovino pushes the blankets off of his face to glare at the Spaniard. "Because I'm tired."

"You slept for thirteen hours."

Lovino clears his throat, opening his mouth to speak, but he changes his mind and pulls the blankets back over his head. "Go away. You never stop fucking talking, do you, shithead?"

Antonio sighs. "I'm coming back to check on you later."

"I don't need... Shut up." The older nation shakes his head and leaves the room.

Night has fallen. Spain assumes that Lovino is asleep as he lies back on the couch, paperwork for the day complete, as he watches television. The volume is up high, so of course he fails to hear Lovino's door creak open. Suddenly there is a weight on his chest as someone throws their body onto him. He swears and looks down at the body.

"I'm cold," Lovino complains, resting his head on Antonio's chest. His fingers clutch at his shirt as he shivers. Antonio notices that Lovino's skin is dry and scorching hot to the touch. He sits up and puts a hand on Lovino's forehead.

"Lovi, you're hot," Antonio says, concerned. Lovino snorts, pushing on Antonio weakly in an attempt to make him lie down again.

"Thanks for noticing," Lovino mumbles, shutting his eyes.

"That's not what I meant. You have a fever." Antonio gets up from the couch and Lovino lies back down. He shivers again.

"My head is fucking killing me," he groans. Antonio goes to the bathroom and returns with a digital thermometer. He places it in Lovino's mouth until it beeps. It reads 38.4. Antonio frowns at it, looking up at Lovino. His face is flushed and dry.

Antonio braces himself before picking Lovino up. Much to his surprise, there is no kicking or protesting involved-- Only Lovino's limp body curling up to Antonio.

As he approaches Lovino's bedroom, the younger sneezes and looks up. "Why are you carrying me, asshole?" he asks sleepily. Antonio shushes him and places him in the bed. He tucks him in just for old times' sake, and Lovino is too tired to complain.

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A/N: Thank you so much~!! This came out wayyy longer than expected... I did have to tweak this, changing quite a few coughs into sneezes, and it's OOC at times, I apologize. But I very much like this one. Here's Chapter Two!


Antonio is half asleep, drifting in and out of dreamland.

Someone's loud coughing wakes him up. He cracks one eye open. There's nothing but silence. Antonio is about to fall back asleep when the coughing begins again.

Sighing, Antonio swings his legs out of bed. He's never been much of a morning person, especially when being woken up by someone other than himself, but for Lovino he obviously would have to make an exception. He walks towards the source of the coughs, Lovino's bedroom, and walks in.

There, Lovino lies in bed. The blankets seemed to have been kicked away, but remain tangled in the Italian's feet. His cheeks are bright red as he coughs, eyes squeezed shut.

He definitely looks sick, Antonio thinks.

Antonio steps forward and rests a hand on Lovino's hot forehead. The younger soon stops coughing and looks up at him.

"Bastard," he croaks. "What the hell are you doing?"

"You're sick, Lovi. I'm going to take care of you, of course." Antonio gives Lovino a small, concerned smile. "You look terrible, but still so cute."

"Idiot, don't fucking call me cu- Heh... Hep'schu!" Lovino sneezes loudly before sniffling and wiping at his nose hastily. He turns his back to Antonio, trying and failing to hide his shiver. "Go away," he mumbles in a nasal voice. "I don' deed your dubid help. Babbanculo."

Antonio chuckles. "I'm going to make you coffee and some toast, okay?" Lovino responds with a noncommittal grunt. The Spaniard slinks away to the kitchen to prepare the sick nation's breakfast.

"By droat hurts like hell abd I can' breade," Lovino grumbles when asked about his symptoms. He takes a small bite of the toast. The everyday task proves to be harder than usual for Lovino as he attempts to chew and breathe at the same time.

Antonio puts the digital thermometer in Lovino's mouth after he swallows, wincing at the pain it causes and watches carefully. As it beeps from under his tongue, Antonio removes it and scowls at the display. Romano's fever hasn't lowered as he had hoped. No, it's only gotten higher, and Antonio begins to worry now.

"Do you feel woozy?" Antonio asks, eyebrows furrowed in concern. He puts his hand on Lovino's forehead and the younger can't help but sigh at the cooling relief his hand brings, but he pulls away. "I'b fide," Lovino mutters with a congested sniffle.

"I just habe a cold, dhat's all. Deave me adone." Antonio shakes his head.

"With a cold, you wouldn't have a fever like this," he says matter-of-factly. "And I'm not going to leave you alone until you get better. Besides, didn't you just say your throat really hurts?"

"Tch." Lovino sucks his teeth and waves a dismissive hand. "I'll be bedder by dobborow, dubid basdard." As if on cue, he bursts into a loud coughing fit. Antonio rubs his back soothingly as Lovino's lungs try desperately to rid themselves of mucus and expel all his air instead.

The coughing eventually subsides, and Lovino is too weak to keep sitting up anymore. He flops back onto the bed, head resting on the pillow as he shuts his eyes and works to control his labored breathing. Antonio stares at the Italian, a worried look plastered onto his face.

Is he really okay?

Lovino opens one eye to glance at the Spaniard. "Bhat are you daring at, domado badard?" he murmurs tiredly. Antonio opens his mouth to speak, but then his lips turn up into a smile.



"Your nose is running." Lovino turns bright red, beginning to swipe the back of his hand under his nose, and Antonio's eyes widen.

"No no no no no!" he says in a panic, grabbing a box of tissues from Lovino's bedside. He hastily hands it to Lovi, who sighs and removes a tissue.

"You've always done that, ever since you were little."

Lovino looks up. "Done bhat?" he asks quizzically, voice muffled by the tissue.

"You wipe your nose with your hand or your sleeve. It's kinda disgusting."

Lovino blows his nose. "Shut the fuck up, bastard," he says clearly. Antonio laughs.

"Right, do you want anything?"


"You sure?"


"Alright, alright." Antonio chuckles and leaves the room.

It's already noon. Antonio is chopping vegetables for soup, humming to himself. There's a quiet cough and Antonio looks up. Romano stands quietly in the doorway to the kitchen, arms wrapped around himself.

"Lovi, you're supposed to be in bed," Antonio scolds, putting the knife down and running his hands under warm water in the sink. "Is something else bothering you?"

Lovino nods, coughing into his fist.

Antonio shakes his hands dry and turns off the water, untying his apron and coming over to Lovino. He puts his fingertips on Lovino's forehead.

"Well, what is it?" Lovino coughs again before tapping his throat.

"Your throat hurts? You already told me that." Lovino scowls and shakes his head, tapping his throat again.

"Ahh, you lost your voice, huh?" Antonio chuckles before ruffling Lovino's hair. "You can't curse me out now, can you?"

Lovino sucks his teeth and jerks his head away, giving Antonio the finger. Antonio seems to have forgotten that there are other ways to be unnecessarily rude.

"Well, I'm making some soup right now. It'll soothe your throat. Do you want some Milo for now?"

Lovino opens his mouth to say something, probably about chocolate milk being for babies and how he doesn't understand why they have three tins of it in the house, but then snaps it shut again when he remembers the predicament he's in. His face turns bright red with frustration and he sighs, plunking down into a chair in the dining room.

He raises his hand, palm up and curls his fingers in in a universal "give me" gesture. Antonio nods in understanding, pouring Lovino a glass of milk and mixing it with the cocoa powder. He sets it down in front of Lovino, and the Italian tentatively takes a small sip.

Returning to his cooking, Antonio rinses his hands again and picks up the knife. He resumes chopping the vegetables. Meanwhile, Lovino's trying not to spray milk from his nose as he erupts into a sneezing fit.

"Hiitchu! Hip'schu!! Hiitchew! Heh... Heh... HEET'CHOO!"

Half concerned for Lovino's wellbeing and half concerned for his new tablecloth's wellbeing, Antonio furrows his eyebrows and looks up. Lovino wipes his nose with his sleeve, earning an eye roll from Toni, and continues to drink the milk.

Using the knife, he slides the vegetables into the simmering broth. There's an audible sigh and a tiny groan, and Antonio places a lid on the pot and sits next to the Italian. He sets his hand over the younger's, and to his surprise, Lovino doesn't yank it away.

"Lovino." At the sound of his full name being used, he looks up at Antonio. There's a tiny shimmer in his eyes. He looks tired, pained, and Antonio's chest swells with sympathy until he sees something else. In Lovino's eyes, he can see worry. Lovino is rarely fretful, and when he is, it's never minor. Antonio can feel his own heart flutter as he sighs.

"Lovino, what's wrong?" Lovino shoots him a look, and as if on cue, turns and presses the back of his wrist against his nose with a sharp "Hiiht-CHU!" and sniffles as if to say, "You know what's wrong." But Antonio grips his hand tighter.

"You know that isn't what I mean. Something is really bothering you. When you're feeling up to it, I want you to tell me what's wrong, okay?" He gives Lovi a tired smile. The younger yanks his hand out of Antonio's grasp, mouthing profanity and pushing away from the table.

As he storms down the hall and into the bedroom, Antonio sighs sadly. He glances over at the stovetop, getting up to finish the soup.

My poor Romanito...



"Lovi, wake up. Please."

Lovino cracks one eye open heavily, groaning and gazing blearily at Antonio with a sniffle.

"How are you feeling?" Antonio asks him, placing a hand on his forehead. Lovino shuts his eyes again, trying to lean into the older's touch.

"Shitty," he says, raspy voice cracking.

Antonio winces, placing a cool, damp cloth on the other's head. Lovino crinkles his nose, sniffling and wiggling it to try and itch the sneeze away.

"Hiih'kk...chu!" Antonio smiles, shutting the bedroom light back off.

"Get some sleep."


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I simply adored this! Poor Romanito! This was really well written, and I love how you incorporated that part with the Milo. So sweet! <3 Keep going, friend! This was awesome.

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Thank you for the feedback!! Ehe I'm so grateful, really~

So there's a bit of bad news. Just a bit.

I messed things up very badly, and probably won't be able to work on this specific story because of the platform I have it saved on. ^^; Once I get that back, though, I promise I'll continue to work on Chapter 3! I have everything planned out already so there probably won't be too much of a wait. In the meantime, I'll probably put up a few short stories to make up for this... I apologize!! I'll try to get it up ASAP, okay?

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  • 1 year later...

Aww, that was cute! Romano is adorable when he's sick, and I really like how he asked for his own cup at the beginning because he didn't want to get Spain sick. I'm sorry to hear you're having some trouble with the platform you saved the story on, but don't worry about it. We can wait. :) I look forward to more.

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