A/N: Um, longest one-shot in the history of the universe? At least from me, that is. But that's okay, because I really enjoyed writing this story. It was so pleasantly surprising to see this 'prompt' gaining popularity in the WWS poll. I love the Roma/Bonnefoy family (compared to the Kirklands and Wangs, they're far closer to one another, which is something I personally envy/admire).

Axis Powers Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya.

Regardless of the thermometer at a steady 29 degrees Celsius, a healthy breeze billowed up from the lakefront, buffeting the trees gently. Barryknoll Park was a jewel basking in the sunlight, marred only by the lazy blobs of people dotting the grassy landscape. Every shout from those playing energetic games out in the open was carried away from those who preferred napping or sunbathing. There was nothing to prevent five figures, two large and three quite small, from joining the sparsely populated field.

"Un, deux, trois, quatre! I see four boats! How 'bout you, Feli?"

"Si, si! Four boats for me too! How 'bout you, Lovi?"

"I don't care! Go away!"

"Lovina!" The young girl reluctantly looked up from her sulky position next to her mother, who gently pried Lovina's chubby fingers from where they were clutching tightly at her pants. "Don't be rude. Go play, now."

"I don't wanna play with him!"

Francis pouted, with Feliciana mimicking his expression. "But Lovi, I like you so much…"

Thankfully, this six year old boy had oodles of confidence to spare, and thus was not at all perturbed by his cousin's responding shriek of indignation.

Feliciana hopped up and down, attempting to take hold of the bag dangling from her aunt's shoulder.

"Pasta, pasta, pasta, pasta, pasta, pasta, pasta! Auntie Monica! I want pasta!"

The younger woman smiled down at the child. "Later Feli, okay? I promise you'll get a full plate. You can go play with Francis and Lovi first."

The redhead hesitated. This was a serious decision. Playing with her favourite cousin and favourite sister (never mind that she only had one of each), or to eat the most delicious dish ever invented? After being reassured that the pasta would still be there in half an hour, Feliciana skipped away to the rock that Lovina, resolutely ignoring Francis's offers to help, was climbing.

Monica set the bag down onto an empty picnic table. "Goodness. She's lucky, really. I'm not even sure if we'll finish the pasta. I probably made too much - there's the wings, salad, and dessert too..."

The other woman was only half listening, gazing across the field towards the sparkling lake.

"This place is just gorgeous."

"Isn't it, though? Remy didn't want to stay here at first. He complained that it was too far north, and would be incredibly cold in winter. But the point is, it's a city. The winds wouldn't be too bad." Monica began to unpack the foodstuffs.

"What about Francis?"

"Oh, Francis just loves it!" Monica smiled fondly at her little boy, who was now chasing Lovina happily, with Feliciana stumbling and giggling behind them both. "Kindergarten ended just two weeks ago. It's hard to believe what ridiculous antics he and his friends get up to. There's this one little girl, for example, who is a perpetual fountain of energy…"

She noticed that her sister was, yet again, staring off into space distractedly. "Rita! Are you even listening to me?"

Rita returned to Earth with a start, guiltily turning around to face her. "Yes."

Monica raised one eyebrow. "No, you weren't. What's wrong?"

Francis snatched at the edge of Lovina's pink dress that twitched upwards as she ran. Skidding to a halt with his prize, he didn't anticipate the little girl jolting forwards and onto the ground.

Lovina froze for a moment, caught completely by surprise. But the silence lasted only for a moment. Glancing down at her knees and seeing the muddy mess, she began to scream.

"OWWW! You hurt me!" She scowled at Francis, who was now looking very uncertain. "Owie ow ow!" She pulled the scratched knee to her chest and sniffed.

He let go of her in panic. "I didn't mean it! Sorry, Lovi!"

"You're a meanie mean meanster!"

"Vee...what happened?" Feliciana finally caught up with them. "Lovi?" She automatically noticed Lovina's position. "Vee! Oh no, Lovi's hurt!"

Francis watched in horror as both girls burst into a fresh wave of wailing.

"Owwww, it hurts!"

"Veeeee, Lovi!"

Suddenly, Lovina stopped crying. "Let go of me!" She tried to push Feliciana's arms off of her. "Stop!"

"But Lovi! You're hurt!" The younger twin held on tightly. "I want you to feel better!"

"It's all HIS fault!" Francis found himself the subject of two pairs of accusing amber eyes.

"I said I'm sorry..." Then, struck by a brilliant idea, he knelt in front of his wary cousins. "If I kissed it, it'll feel better!"

The faces of sadness automatically morphed into ones of disgust and delight.

" NO! That's gross!" Lovina shouted.

"Vee, okay!" giggled Feliciana. She snuggled closer to her sister. "I'll kiss you too!"

"S-stop!" Lovina squirmed beneath the showers of affection. "Okay! I'll play with you!"

Feliciana brightened considerably. "What do you wanna play?"

Francis cut in before Lovina could say a word. "Let's play...wedding!"

Feliciana squealed in excitement. Lovina glared. "No! I don't want to play that."

"Fine. We'll take a vote," Francis countered. "Who wants to play wedding?" He raised his hand, along with Feliciana's. "Who doesn't?"

"ME!"

"Too bad, Lovi. Two against one."

"No fair!"

"All's fair in love and war, Lovi."

Her frown deepened. "What's that supposed to mean?"

He waved his hand, not wanting to admit that he didn't quite understand the phrase either. "I'll be the groom, and you can be the bride."

"Fran-fran! What about me?" Feliciana hopped up and down.

"You can be anyone else you like."

"Yay!"

Francis tugged on Lovina's arm, trying to get her to stand up. "Come on, Lovi. Walk with me down the aisle."

"No!"

"Please, Lovi?" Feliciana leaned her head against her sister's shoulder. "It'll be so fun, ve!"

Lovina stared at her for a few seconds, evidently weighing the pros and cons of her situation. Then, she grunted. "Okay."

"Good!" She allowed Francis to drag her to her feet. "First, we have to sing 'Here Comes the Bride.' You stand next to me, Lovi.'"

"I'll be the flower girl!" Feliciana began plucking the dandelions from the ground.

Francis grinned at Lovina, offering his arm to her. When she chose to stare stonily at him, he just grabbed her hand instead.

Here comes the bride,
Fair, fat, and wide!

"Ow!" Francis rubbed his shoulder. "That's just how the song goes!"

Lovina glowered back, her small fist at the ready just in case he insulted her again.

Here comes the groom,
Skinny as a broom!
Here comes the usher,
The old toilet flusher.

"Feli, you be the usher."

"Okay!" Tossing her meager bouquet aside, Feliciana ran about excitedly before realizing one crucial detail.

"What does the usher do?"

"He's the old toilet flusher. So you gotta flush a toilet."

She looked around uncertainly. "Ve...but there's no toilet."

He shrugged. "Pretend."

"Um, okay." Lovina moodily kicked at a pebble as Feliciana mimed pulling down on a string. "Okay! I flushed the toilet!"

"Good!" Francis tugged on Lovina's arm again. "So now, we're at the altar, and everyone sits back down..."

"What if I don't wanna get married?" His grumpy cousin yanked her hand out of his grip.

"But of course you do! We're in love."

"Ew! I don't love you!"

"All's fair in love and war, Lovi!"

Rita sat down onto the corner of one of the benches, tugging the elastic out of her hair. Monica waited, the containers of food neatly laid out in front of them already.

For a while, nothing but the wind, the waves, and the drifting noises of other people laughing and talking pervaded the space around them. Rita finally spoke.

"You can probably guess."

Monia slid down the bench to kneel on the end across from her sister. Rita's curly dark red hair danced around her face, momentarily hiding the solemn cheekbones and sad eyes. Monica's short brown bob fluttered away in the opposite direction, giving the breeze free range to sweep over the fair skin.

"No, you got me." She reached out one arm across the time-worn wood. "The girls giving you trouble?"

Rita looked up at where Lovina and Feliciana were playing with Francis.

"No." She let out a quiet sigh as Lovina jumped away from the others. The sound of high pitched pleading just barely reached the mothers' ears, though any actual words were rendered incoherent. "And yes."

Monica stared at her. "No and yes. Look, I'm really flattered that you think that I have telepathic powers or something, but the truth is, hon, I can't read your mind."

Rita closed her eyes briefly before finally looking up at her sister.

"Adriano..."

"Adriano?"

Rita's cheeks flushed a deep red, clashing horribly with her hair. "No, not like that! You don't understand- "

"That's right, I don't understand at all why a man would abandon his girlfriend pregnant with twins to disappear without a trace in a foreign country where she doesn't know a single person!" Monica had risen to her knees in anger. "If Remy didn't have friends there, I don't know what could have happened. You were left with almost nothing; the bastard was only decent enough to not touch your passport...but Ri!" Monica's fingers pawed at the table in distress. "Why the hell are you even thinking about him?"

Rita had not moved throughout this entire outburst. The woman rested her cheek against a slender hand, waiting patiently for her sister to finish her rant, as if she had been expecting it.

"How can I not think about him...I see him every day." Rita glanced back again at the three children huddled around the rock. "Twice."

Monica's face softened. But with pity, not sympathy.

"They don't look like him at all..."

"Lovi." Rita pointed out. "She's got his hair. And they both have his nose."

"Ri, I understand it's really difficult, but-"

"There's no way I can completely remove him from my life," Rita interrupted, determined to be heard. "That's why I let the girls keep his last name; they're going to want to find out who he is one day..."

"I don't think he wants to know who they are."

This comment prompted the older woman to look up sharply. "Look, just because you live the perfect life with your adoring husband and charming little boy doesn't mean that you have the authority to tell other people how to live. In fact, it's the other way around. You don't know what I went through. And you don't try to understand me, you just think that by following a bunch of simple how-to's, everything will be okay. Bullshit!"

Monica was surprised into silence as Rita continued, angry, resentful words pouring out.

"I couldn't do my real job for three years, while somebody became the star at culinary school, then landed her first job as sous chef at Bar Bellario. I didn't have the support of an equally successful husband for one, healthy child! Do you know how difficult it was to keep Lovi out of the hospital, while at the same time trying to make sure nothing was going to happen to Feli either? No, because absolutely nothing even touches Francis! He's perfect!"

She ended her own rant with a tiny, strangled noise before burying her face into her arms. Both sisters sat still. Though the breeze still tickled Monica's chin and the faint sounds of water and barking dogs echoed around them, the sun felt less benign, heat pounding relentlessly upon the two.

"I...never wanted you to be this unhappy, Ri..."

Muffled sniffles quietly emanated from the other side. "It's not your fault, I'm so sorry..."

Monica got up to settle down beside, instead of across, her sister. Draping an arm across her shoulders, the young woman began to comfort her, stroking her hair gently. "You know you can always come to me, or papa, of course..."

Rita shuffled herself back up into an upright sitting position, hurriedly rubbing the tears away. "Yeah, I know..."

Monica waited until Rita's breathing had calmed down. Handing her a napkin, she ventured a foray back to the original topic.

"So, um. What the hell does this have to do with Adriano?"

Rita's fingers distractedly began to shred the napkin as she nervously looked away once more.

"One...one of my old coworkers, George, you remember him? The photographer? He told me that he heard that Adriano would be in Venice next month..."

Monica stiffened, sensing the next plea coming.

"So, it would be really great if someone could take care of Lovi and Feli for a while..."

Rita turned away to avoid the pained expression spreading over her sister's face.

"Ri...Ri, why do you do this to yourself?"

Lovina was finding it really difficult to keep Francis's handkerchief from fluttering off her head. Both he and Feliciana had been absolutely aghast when they realized that their bride had no veil. Deciding that a tiny, makeshift one was better than no veil at all, they'd draped it over her head. Trouble was, the wind found it great fun to try to snatch it away. Needless to say, Lovina was quite distracted.

"Marriage! Marriage is what brings us together today!"

Priestess Feliciana's high pitched voice piped up over the field.

"Marriage, that blessed arrangement, that dream within a dream...and true love! True love will follow you forever, so treasure your love!"

"Wow, good job, Feli!"

She glowed from the praise. "Have you the ring?"

Francis turned to a crouching Lovina reaching for the handkerchief, which had fallen once again.

"Hey, Lovi!" She looked up at him, confused. He made a circle with his thumb and forefinger, slipping it over her left hand ring finger.

Lovina, having forgotten the game, was totally mystified. "Huh?"

Feliciana simply went on with the ceremony in good cheer. "And now, you may kiss the bride!"

Francis smirked at his other cousin, who was beginning to sense something akin to doom heading her way. Before she could edge away from him, he landed a big wet one right across her lips.

"EWWWWW!" Lovina threw herself onto the ground, kicking and flailing frantically, screaming the entire time. Feliciana's happy face dissolved into worry as Lovina railed against the ground, the sky, and the entire universe. Their cousin stood off to the side, looking extremely pleased with his own cunning.

"All's fair in love and war, Lovi..."

She stopped rolling around on the ground, panting slightly. Venomous amber eyes focused in on the blond. Snatching up a rather sharp stick that was lying so very conveniently a foot away, Lovina wobbled to her feet.

"Love...and war..."

Feliciana began to edge away from her playmates, having been on the receiving end of one of Lovina's tantrums before. Francis blinked in surprise as the branch was suddenly jabbed at his chest.

"I don't care about love! I wanna play war!"

Francis yelped in pain when Lovina hit him with all her might with the stick.

"Ow! You can't do that, Lovi, we voted- " He unsuccessfully tried to avoid another smack of the stick as he looked around for Feliciana. "Feli?"

Lovina took advantage of Francis's lack of allies to begin chasing him, switching her weapon from a spear to a gun.

"Bang! Bang! You're DEAD!"

"Lovi, stop it!"

"DIE! DIE! DIE!"

"Ow! Don't throw rocks at me!"

Feliciana definitely preferred love over war, so when Lovina changed the rules, she turned to a different kind of love. Her love for pasta. The sudden reminder of what lay in the biggest Tupperware container on the picnic table was now spurring on the tiny girl on a super-secret mission to recover her beloved tomato-sauce treasure. Feliciana was so engrossed in her goal that she completely ignored the grown-up conversation that was happening nearby.

"You bought your ticket already?"

"This is my last chance. Nobody I know talks to him anymore."

"For good reason, too!"

She was really close. Feliciana crawled under the bench, inching nearer and nearer to the end of the table that held the food.

"It's only for a few weeks, Moni. You always say yourself how you worry over Francis getting lonely at home – they can have bonding time together!"

Success! Feliciana cautiously got to her knees beneath the table. There was only one chance to do this. Feliciana slowly clambered up onto the bench, careful to make as little noise as possible. Peeking over the edge, the little girl was rewarded with the beautiful sight of the pasta box not five inches away from her nose. She could almost smell it!

She froze as her Auntie Monica shifted weight, leaning to the side closer to her a little bit.

"That's true...Francis would love to have them over..."

"I'll be back weeks before school begins again, I promise."

The women's attention was not on her end. Feliciana's courage plucked up again.

It was time for Operation Spaghetti Libertà!

Just as Monica opened her mouth to cave in and agree to Rita's request, a loud commotion interrupted them. Francis and Lovina came tearing over, the former occasionally squealing in pain as the latter continued to attack him fiercely with anything she could get her hands on.

"Die! Die, you stupid butthead!"

"Mama, mama, make her stop!"

Before Rita could get up to admonish her daughter, another loud crash happened on her right. She whipped her head around to see Feliciana, her front completely covered in sauce.

"Yay! Pasta!" Feliciana waved the plastic lid triumphantly in one hand, clutching a meatball in the other. "It's time to eat now, si?"

Unfortunately for her, it would be twenty more minutes before she could even have a bite of the food. As her mother carried her away to wash off, her sister and cousin both received time-outs, after a severe scolding. When Feliciana and Rita returned, Monica had already distributed plates to Lovina and Francis, realizing that there wasn't any way the children would be able to fight with full mouths and busy hands.

"Ri, just promise me one thing."

Rita averted her eyes, her hand still on Feliciana's head. Monica ignored this.

"If you can't find Adriano while you're away, you must come back and take care of your girls. They have a mother, so I refuse to be theirs."

Monica was distracted by the continuing squabble between Francis and Lovina. Deciding that separating them physically was the best answer, she switched places with her son before looking back up at her sister.

Rita finally gave Feliciana her pasta, and watched her tuck in voraciously.

"Oh...okay."

The time passed quickly, especially when the women became busy with their hungry, messy charges. Francis was incredibly happy. He was eating a delicious lemon cupcake on such a nice day, and he got to play with Lovi and Feli. If only his papa was here too. Mama would have liked that, because he was always so busy now...

He glanced up at his mother and blinked. Her hands were hovering just over her own plate, her eyes trained across the table. Francis followed them with his own baby blues to where Auntie Rita was staring up at the sky for some reason.

It was then when he realized that neither of them had really said anything ever since Feliciana had come back in a clean shirt. Feeling a little confused, Francis tilted his head back, trying to find the message that Rita was reading in the clouds.

So he was caught completely off guard when Lovina let fly her fork at his head.

Oh well, all's fair in love and war.

A/N: I really like this one. I feel really good about it. I want to use it as part of my portfolio for the playwriting class next year, but on document, it's eleven pages, and the maximum is five...Perhaps I can cut it a little? Or maybe I'll use a different story...

Shout-out to The Princess Bride, which belongs to Twentieth Century Fox Film Corporation. Yeah, Feliciana is way too eloquent for a five year old. But that was fun.

Trivia: I named the twins' mother Rita after the allegorical representation of Italy, Italia Turrita. As for Monica, she originally was named Monique, but I tweaked it a little after deciding she wasn't actually going to be French. I suppose I could have named her Marianne for the allegorical representation of France, but as I said...she's not French, so there!
And Remy, because Gambit is totally awesome enough to father Francis.
Adriano, because I had no name for the anonymous asshole father for a very long time, then stumbled across the name on Wikipedia and decided it sounded good.