A/N- Hello, everyone~ I would just like to offer a quick little warning of sorts with this fic. I know very little about the fashion industry (what I do know comes from Project Runway and ANTM), but I also want to make it clear that the way Lovino does things is unorthodox. So if something isn't accurate to how the real world is, don't get angry please, just keep in mind that Lovino is considered the black sheep in the designing world in this fic.

Now then, read on!

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or any of it's characters!

"Damn that fucking American bastard!" the angry Italian spat, throwing a pile of photographs back onto his worktable. His meek assistant cringed a bit at the outburst, although really, the Japanese man should have been used to the man's rash behavior at this point.

"Please calm down, Mr. Vargas," the assistant murmured, his voice calm and soothing.

Lovino Vargas sighed and ran his hands through his hair. He had issues controlling his temper, but he tried to calm down for the sake of his assistant and good friend Kiku. The poor guy dealt with him enough; he shouldn't have to endure Lovino's temper tantrums any more than he already did.

"Sorry, Kiku. It's just that stupid bastard took my best model! You know Arthur Kirkland was the only male model I got along with."

He cursed the photographer Alfred F. Jones for stealing away his number one model. Ever since those two began whatever the hell it was that they had going on, Lovino had gotten a case of designer's block. Arthur had been the inspiration for some of his best clothing lines, such as the punk set, which featured a lot of metal in the form of zippers, chains, and studs; the gentlemanly set that contained looks that could help a man court any lady; and the fantasy set, which was characterized by dreamy colors and extravagant handmade accessories. All of these had brought Lovino one step closer to his brother Feliciano's international fame.

"Well, if it is any comfort to you, Mr. Vargas, I have already begun selecting new candidates for the job," Kiku informed him as he collected the pictures of Lovino's former star model.

"Ugh, it'll be a pain going through so many useless idiots. I might not even find a good one," Lovino grumbled. He glared at his longtime friend and said, "And how many times do I need to tell you to just call me Lovino, dammit?"

"Ah, my apologies, Lovino-kun," the Japanese man said with a quick bow.

The irritable designer cracked a smile and shook his head fondly. The smile quickly turned into a scowl and he asked, "Ah hell, when do I have to start meeting the new models?"

"There are actually a few here already, waiting to meet with you," Kiku told him. He calmly blinked through the string of Italian expletives and waited as Lovino grabbed his clipboard and sweater (a one-of-a-kind gift from his brother) before leading him downstairs to the room that was already filled with a few dozen handsome, eager males. The pair took their seats behind a plain table and got prepared; Kiku pulled out the list of the model's information along with their portfolios, while Lovino just leaned back in his chair and got ready to scare away the pansies.

"Who's first?" he asked.

"Lukas Bondevik," Kiku announced. He repeated the name loud enough for the queue of men to hear and the first one stepped forward and moved in front of their line of vision.

The man was pale, both in skin and hair, but not in an unhealthy way; on the contrary, his fairness made him glow. He sported a cross barrette in his hair- which was flawless except for this one strand of hair that curled off from the rest, similar to Lovino's own (although this man's hair was so light that the curl looked as if it were floating on its own). His eyes were a blue as deep as the ocean, although Lovino thought that more emotion could be seen in the ocean than in watching this man. He stood calmly and quietly, not speaking until spoken to.

"Why the hell should I pick you?" Lovino asked bluntly. Kiku, although a bit embarrassed by this rudeness, let the designer take the reins here.

The Norwegian (as that was what Kiku's thorough research said he was) blinked and looked a bit annoyed. "Must you be so loud?" he asked in a grumble.

"Yes! Now answer the damn question."

The model sighed and replied, "You should choose me because I am good at what I do and have experience."

Lovino frowned. "That's it?"

He nodded in response.

"Next!"

"What?" the pale man asked, looking confused.

"You heard me! Next!"

The Norwegian shook his head, but walked away nonetheless, mumbling something under his breath. Lovino turned to Kiku and waited for the next name, which the Japanese man then called out loudly.

"Feliks Łukasiewicz!"

"Like, oh my gosh, that's me!" came the shout from the line. A blonde with short hair and bright green eyes strutted forward in pink shorts and a white tee. The slim model waved excitedly at Lovino and Kiku, the former of which stared in confusion.

"Excuse me, miss," the Italian began hesitantly. "You are aware that this is a male only audition, right?"

"Well duh," Feliks exclaimed, putting his hands on his hips. "I'm like totally your man for the job!"

"…Next!"

Feliks scowled and flipped his hair back. "You're totally going to wish you had gone for this," he told them, walking back out just as fashionably as he had entered. With a groan, Lovino let his head drop to the table while Kiku called out the next candidate.

Things went on like this for the better part of an hour, man after man being flat out rejected. There were a lucky few who lasted a few minutes into their interviews, but half of those couldn't work with Lovino's attitude and the other half simply didn't cut it in Lovino's book. He needed someone who could inspire him, someone who could wear his clothing as if it were made just for him.

"How many more sorry bastards do I have to sit through?" the Italian muttered crankily. He was tired and so far no model had caught his eye. There was one well-dressed Asian whose eyebrows reminded him of Arthur, but other than that, Lovino didn't care for him. There was another pale man like the Norwegian, and his tousled hair and gentlemanly outfit also made Lovino think of his former model, but that one was turned down just like the rest of them.

"About 20 more, Lovino-kun," Kiku said.

"What?" Lovino exclaimed, shooting up from his seat. He looked at his assistant accusingly. "You told me that there were only few models here, Kiku! You lying bastard, this is taking forever!"

Kiku stood and bowed, quickly trying to appease his friend. "I know, but you wouldn't have agreed to start meeting them if you knew that there was so many," he explained. Lovino grit his teeth, but sat back down, knowing that the smaller man was right. Still, he continued to mutter complaints under his breath.

Once the two were resettled in their seats, Kiku picked up the clipboard and scanned the list for the next name. "Antonio Fernández Carriedo," he read.

"A Spaniard- just what we were missing," Lovino thought dryly. "Well, we've had people from the rest of the world, so why not?"

Right on cue, a Spanish man bounded forward and stood before the designer team. He smiled at them cheerfully. Lovino found himself leaning forward in his chair to examine this sexy specimen.

Antonio has flawless skin (not too smooth or too rough) that had the perfect sun kissed glow. His hair was a dark, half curly/half wavy mess that seemed to work just right for the casual individual. Where Arthur's eyes had been the deep glow of purloined emeralds and forest leaves, this man's eyes had the ripeness of tomato stalks and the richness of hunter green velvet. When he spoke, his voice was like a rippling pile of silk cushioned with flannel warmth.

"Hola, my name is Antonio Fernández Carriedo, but you can call me Antonio, Toni, or Tonio. Anything is fine with me~" said the Spaniard, the words spilling forth rapidly; his voiced held a hint of an accent that made clear his patria.

"Yeah, yeah, we get it, idiot," Lovino said, cutting him off with a wave of his hand. "What can you tell us besides your name?"

Antonio seemed to ponder this for a moment before responding, "Well, I guess that not only am I good at what I do, but I'm also willing to devote all of my time to you."

Lovino blinked and eyed the man skeptically. "Oh really?" he asked, questioning the man's sincerity.

He nodded eagerly and said, "Oh yes! I'm all yours, whenever you need me! I have no problem for showing up for fittings at odd hours. You can even poke me with pins when you get angry at me or if I do something wrong!" Antonio seemed to rethink what he said and added, "Although, I'd prefer it if you didn't prick me. Still, you're the Boss man!"

The Italian studied the model before him carefully, mixed thoughts running through his head. Antonio was odd - offering himself up like that to an infamous designer well known for his temper – and certainly much too enthusiastic. Still, despite all the obvious reasons why Lovino shouldn't (and didn't) like him, he found himself unable to send the man away.

Without taking his eyes off of the model, Lovino held his hand out to Kiku. "Let me see his photos."

Expertly masking his surprise at the request, Kiku passed along the Spaniard's portfolio. Lovino never bothered looking at a model's photos until he was sure he could deal with them on a daily basis. The fact that temperament was the first thing Lovino looked for in a model must have said something about the designer's own personality.

Lovino coolly flipped through the photographs of Antonio. Some were better than others, but any flaws seemed to be the fault of the photographer; Antonio himself was all perfect poses and flawless expressions. Any excitement or surprise that Lovino felt was carefully stowed away behind an impassive mask.

"Kiku, tell everyone else on line to go home," Lovino said, not glancing up from his perusal of the photos. Antonio grinned and began thanking him profusely in both English and Spanish, while Kiku rushed off to inform the rest of the candidates that the interviews were over. Most went quietly, although a few complained loudly about the waste of time.

By this point, Lovino was standing, and he had just turned around to tell the whiners to shut the hell up when he felt something come at him from the side. He shrieked and brought up a fist when he realized that it was just his new model hugging him. His arms were wrapped tightly around Lovino's waist and the man exuded warmth as if he literally radiated sunshine. Lovino felt the heat rush straight to his cheeks.

"Get the fuck off of me!" he growled, trying to push the slightly taller man away from him. He had his face turned away in a poor attempt to hide his reddened face and hoped that he could pass it off as just being flushed with rage. Because that's what it was. There was no other possibility. None. At. All.

"Aw, you're so red~" Antonio cooed. "You look so adorable like that! Are you sure I'm the model here?"

With a fierce glare, Lovino knocked the man on the head with his fist. "Shut the hell up and come with me to the studio," he grumbled. He was already walking quickly away, leaving Antonio to rub his sore skull and catch up on his own. Antonio slid into the elevator just before it shut, blissfully ignoring the way Lovino had rapidly been pressing the close button.

It was a few long minutes (during which Antonio smiled and rocked back and forth on his heels, while Lovino pointedly ignored him and glared at the wall) until the elevator reached their floor- the top floor, to be precise. It was a large building, but Lovino demanded the best view. Good scenery was one of many inspirations for an artist of any medium. However, this time, the Italian paid no mind to the extraordinary backdrop and instead focused on his new model.

"So, what would you like me to do?" Antonio inquired, curious as to what exactly his new job entailed. He had modeled for a view others before (including posing nude for his good friend Francis), but he had heard the rumors and knew that things were different with Lovino Vargas. This man demanded long hours with his models and made outfits specifically for and based off of them. It was a tad peculiar, but Antonio found it incredibly endearing. For such a cranky person, it was a sweet and sincere act.

Lovino sat down on a chic black chair and grabbed a notepad from the table amidst a pile of fabric scraps, buttons, colored pencils and a pair of scissors. He plucked a normal pencil from the table and shot the Spaniard a look. "Sit your ass down over there and just wait," he instructed.

"Alright!" Antonio complied, taking a seat in the appointed chair, which was placed directly across from Lovino and several feet back from the table. To provide him with a better view, he supposed. He sat there quietly for about thirty seconds before he leaned in and asked, "What exactly am I waiting for, Lovino?"

The designer responded with a growl.

Backing off, Antonio held up his hands in surrender. Lovino huffed and studied him, his hand hovering over the sketchpad. It stayed there, too, since for the following ten minutes, Lovino could do nothing but stare. He knew himself well enough to know that he couldn't just produce magic; it took time, and he had to get to know his model first. Nonetheless, every time Lovino attempted to converse with Antonio, he felt his face heat up and the words fight to stay lodged in his throat. He couldn't tell if he just didn't want to talk to the Spanish man or if he simply couldn't.

Perhaps sensing Lovino's struggle, Antonio was the one to strike up some small talk. "So, how come an excellent designer like you needs me anyway? There were lots of people there today, and I wouldn't be surprised if there were more people waiting on your doorstep every day!"

Lovino snorted. "Ha," he responded sarcastically. "You'd be surprised how many people are actually willing to work with me."

Antonio tilted his head to the side in an adorable expression of curiosity. "What do you mean?"

Rolling his eyes, Lovino picked up a button and tossed it at Antonio's head, smiling to himself when it hit him directly in the middle of his forehead. "People don't want to put up with my bullshit. They say I'm too violent, or that I'm too angry or too loud." The Italian shrugged and tossed another button, asking flatly, "Isn't that clear to you by now, you idiot?"

Antonio was silent for a few moments, ignoring the various things Lovino threw at him, letting each one bounce off his head as he pondered the obviously rhetorical question. "Well, I think that some people just take things too seriously. Like your insults! I know you don't mean them, and when you get all irritated, it's actually kind of amusing," he said with a sweet smile.

Lovino stared at him incredulously for a moment before shaking his head and murmuring to himself in Italian. He focused on Antonio again and added, "My last model was nearly as bad as I was, so we got along like two tomatoes in a basket."

"Isn't the saying 'two peas in a pod'?"

"Well, I don't like peas! I like tomatoes, so don't you fucking question me, bastard."

Antonio made a sound that sounded like a hybrid between a squeal and a laugh that only females (and Feliks) should be capable of producing. "You like tomatoes? Yo me encantan los tomates también!" Antonio seemed immensely pleased by this one odd thing in common, although why Lovino could not understand.

"Anyway," Antonio continued, leaning back in his chair and somehow managing to get back on topic. Really, the man was so all over the place it would get Lovino dizzy. "If you two got along so well, then why did he leave?"

"He got together with a photographer that I can't stand. The guy's name is Alfred Jones," Lovino explained.

Antonio processed this information. "Wait a minute," he said slowly. "Does that mean your last model was Arthur Kirkland?"

"No shit sherlock. Anyone who's anyone in this industry knew that already."

Looking away, Antonio frowned slightly and said, "Well, let's just say I try to avoid any mentions of him."

That grabbed Lovino's attention. What had happened between his former and current model that made the upbeat Spaniard so obviously want nothing to do with the famous Brit? He could ask, of course, but he didn't want to seem too interested; besides, he was trying to move away from ideas of Arthur. Were they competitors in the modeling field? No, then Antonio would keep tabs on what jobs Arthur takes so he could one up him- even he wasn't stupid enough not to. High school rivals? Maybe, but the chances of that were unlikely since they were both grown men by now. Perhaps they were exes who had a bad breakup?

Now that was an interesting idea. He wondered what their relationship was like. The thought made him slightly uncomfortable, but the more he pictured it, the more it played out in his head like a dramatic soap opera or chicks' romance novel. He could just see it now:

Arthur was tied to the mast of a grandiose ship with a cloth stuffed into his mouth. Despite his defenseless position, his eyes glared with a fierce rebellion. All around him, a battle raged, clashing metal often landing uncomfortably close to him – and yet, not once did he flinch. He knew his salvation was coming soon, any moment now.

That was when Antonio entered the scene, swinging in on one of the ropes nimbly landing on his feet. He stood tall and gallant, wielding a sword that gleamed in the sunlight. He made quick work of his foes, eager to reach his British lover. His sword sliced through the rope and warm hands removed the gag before wrapping themselves around the other man's waist, the wind blowing his hair back from his forehead-

Lovino shook his head rapidly. He really needed to watch fewer movies with his brother. Glancing down at his sketchbook, he realized it wasn't as blank as it was before. He chuckled to himself, studying the sketch with interest and amusement.

"What's so funny, Lovino?" Antonio questioned, trying to lean in for a better look. "What did you draw?"

Slamming the book shut, Lovino shot him a rare smile. "This, my dear idiot, is your first Lovino Vargas design."

A/N- First chapter is long, I know T-T The rest of the fic has significantly shorter chapters, although I'm not sure if that's a good thing or not... Oh and this fic isn't going to go the way you all are probably expecting it- chronologically, I mean. What I am talking about, you ask? Well, you'll just have to wait for the next chapter to find out~