Chapter Text

1-

It happened for the first time two years after the war ended and the Bourbons had won the throne. Finally able to stand on his own two feet, without feeling like his body was screaming from pain, Spain had never felt so alone. Everything changed so much, everything was a bloodied, broken mess. He couldn’t bear the sight of his own house, walking the empty corridors that echoed with the voices of phantoms, of people and feelings that weren't there anymore. 

A King loyal to his worst enemy, a land scarred by war. So much taken from him and so many lost.

The Habsburg gold no longer adorned his finger, and his hand felt ten times heavier because of that. Somehow, he should have seen it coming, somehow he should have imagined from the very beginning that nothing lasted forever and that getting attached, falling so deeply and honestly, would be a terrible idea.

Austria was gone. The man Antonio had called home for two centuries, the one he’d came back to from his journeys time and time again, the one he worshipped and loved and fought side-by-side with, was now practically an enemy. Yet, all Spain wanted was to see him again. Just to see him, to hear his voice and the beautiful sounds those elegant fingers could play.

It started out as a longing. An idea nestled in his head, accompanied by a melancholic note from his heart, still numb after having been broken into a thousand pieces. But as the days, weeks, passed he couldn’t shrug the need off. It consumed his every breathing moment, blinding him in the middle of the day.

Portugal had a word for it, saudade . “The love that remains after someone or something is gone.”

Funny though, how all Antonio could feel was homesick in his own bed and thrown out of his axis in the very heart of his land. He needed to leave those cold sheets… he needed to go… somewhere.

Somewhen.

It was almost too easy, too obvious. A taboo however, something he vowed to never do. But heck, it’s not like he was trying to change the future or the past, he just wanted one glance from afar, that couldn’t hurt, could it?

Infiltrating the ministry, stealing the book of doors and finding the right one resulted way easier than he expected. He made a mental note to remedy that once he got back. The most important secret of the Empire couldn’t remain in the hands of an Undersecretary so incompetent he didn’t notice the Empire itself sauntering through the corridors like it was his own cellar.

He inspired deeply, stepping over the threshold as time and space wrapped themselves around him, swallowing him whole and spitting him out on the other side of his disgrace, in a time when he didn’t know pain yet.

It was night and the whole castle was asleep. A letter rested on the desk table announcing the return of an expedition from the New World in the next few days, and the lone figure in the bed representing the welcome committee that arrived too early, impatient to greet them. A blessed moment in the peak of their union, before it had began to rot from the inside. When the anticipation could yet set every nerve aflame.  

The full moon filtering through the open window cast its bluish light, melting into the yellow glow of the almost extinguished candle on the nightstand. Both giving Roderich’s features an ethereal look, making his eyelashes seem longer and his lips softer. He was asleep, breathing deeply with a hand under the pillow.

Antonio didn’t know for how how long he stood there, just drinking in the sight, until his feet moved by themselves, slowly bringing him close enough to run a trembling finger across his husband’s cheek bone.

Violet eyes fluttered open and he held his breath, conscious that he'd fucked up but unable to move.

“You’re back.” Austria mumbled, half asleep still. He looked tired, and so Spain sat on the edge of the bed, bending down to kiss him lightly on the lips. Which might have been either the most necessary or the most soul crushing thing he’s ever done. Roderich hummed happily into the kiss, lips stretching into a lazy smile. “Come here” he mumbled. And so Antonio shed his overcoat and wool pants to climb under the covers, almost unable to believe himself as he wound his arms around that warm body and tangled their legs together. A strong grip in his hair made him discard completely any notion of who he was and what was he supposed, or not supposed , to be doing there.

They touched and kissed until the rest of the world faded away, and then till Roderich’s breathing evened out. He must have been exhausted after his journey.

With one last peck to his naked shoulder, Spain extricated himself from their tangle, even as his heart screamed at him to stay one more minute. Austria just mumbled something in his sleep but didn’t wake up.

Before slipping out the door though, Antonio cast one last glance at his beloved, noticing the discarded shirt half poking from under the covers. He picked it up, burying his face in the fabric and inhaling that infatuating smell that he’d missed so much. Figuring Roderich wouldn't miss it, he slipped back into his time with the garment hidden safely under his own cloak.

Shortly after returning to his own, empty house, he embarked in the next convoy sailing for the Americas and didn’t return for years.