Hi there. I do not own Hetalia or any of it's characters in any way shape or form.

There were three things in this world that could please Lovino Vargas.

The first, was getting his job done. A workaholic by no means, Lovino Vargas did not particularly enjoy his job. But when he finished a job, the felling was like jumping off a cliff. For just a few moments it was just him, in the air. It was a few seconds of glorious freedom, before the weight of life came crashing all around him again, pulling him under. That, and the paychecks weren't bad.

The second, were his cars, no, not his cars. To call them something so common was a disgrace. They were his children, his lovers, his religion. The Pope could save his soul, but only the wheel of his Ferrari Italia could set it free. The feel of his hand on the transition, squeezing the clutch as he shifted gears, and the speed, nothing put him in a good mood like speeding.

The third thing the could please Lovino Vargas was a pretty face. As you've probably deduced from the above statements, Lovino Vargas was a man of Italy, and therefore a man of taste. He liked his Italian cars, his Italian wine, and most importantly he liked his Italian shoes. But when it came to people, he was surprisingly open. All it took was a pretty smile, pretty hips, a pretty wink. Yes Lovino Vargas like that very much and he liked to play the game that went with it. Because really, he had a very pretty face too, and pretty hips, and a pretty wink. It didn't mean anything, and he liked it that way. He liked being free.

It had been a hard day at work so Lovino Vargas was taking advantage of thing number two. The highway was deserted anyway, just an empty straight shot as far as he could see. There were no cars coming around the bend to worry about. It was just him and the road.

Outside his widows the land turned into one long blur, a grassy green, with swirls of blue sky. His stress raced by too, all the plans that were made for his work, and the preparations for the upcoming work social. That, he hated most of all. He hated people, hated them, especially the people he worked with. God, what he wouldn't give to just shoot every single client in the fucking face. Their fake ass smiles all wiped away, their shitty ass small talk cut off before they even got the chance to speak. Lovino drove faster, trying to put some distance between him and his work life. There was nothing for miles, all he had to do was think about that nothing. There were no other cars, no buildings, no cops. . . oh shit.

No sooner had he thought the words than a siren roared to life. For a second, Lovino contemplated trying to outrun those flashing lights. He could. He bet if he tried he could . . . But no. He didn't have the guts for that right now. Plus it was only a fucking ticket. Not like he'd actually have to pay the stupid thing anyway.

Lovino gutted the engine. He sat staring blankly out the window, his high totally gone. The officer knocked on the window. Without looking, Lovino rolled them down. Hopefully it was a lady; maybe then he could charm his way out of a stupid-

"Hola!" A man, tall, dark and handsome leaned down the peer through his window. The man waved, and smiled like they were old friends that just met at a coffee bar or something. For a second Lovino, couldn't think of anything to say. Why was this cop so fucking friendly? It was unnatural. "You were driving pretty fast there." He nodded and looked back down the road, remembering that very short and very uninteresting car chase that had happened just a second before.

"So what if I fucking was?" Lovino challenged. He was not dealing with this shit. He was not going to make small talk with the emerald-eyed asshole who pulled him over.

"Um . . . Well, you see, that's kind of illegal." The man's voice was smooth, and has a tenor to it that vibrated the air.

"Why the fuck should I care about some bullshit law." Lovi sneered. He should be allowed to drive his fucking beautiful car as fast as he fucking wanted to, whenever he fucking wanted too.

"The law is there to protect people." He rolled his r a little bit, unintentionally. There was something strangely familiar about the way he did that.

"It's a fucking empty high way, it's not like there's anyone even fucking here, bastard!" A second after he said it, Lovino regretted it. His grandfather always said his mouth would get him in trouble, and just the f-bomb alone had been enough to set off some other cops. However this guys didn't seem the least bit phased.

"You've really got a mouth on you, don't you?" The cop scratched his head as if something about that statement didn't make sense. This guy must have been a fucking idiot.

"No shit Sherlock." And then the guy laughed, like Lovino had just told a joke or something.

"Oh, mi Dio, you're brave! I don't think I've ever gotten so much lip in my life!" And then he kept laughing, like that was funny, like Lovino's flagrant disregard for his authority was funny. That too was familiar. The vague sense of remembrance made Lovino uncomfortable. He shifted in his seat. If he remembered a cop, that couldn't have been good.

"Look, can we just get this shit over with? I have places to be." The sassy Italian crossed his arms across his chest and tapped his finer.

"Lo siento. Can I have your ID?" Finally, Jesus, if he had to stare into that smile any longer, Lovino was sure he would go blind. No one's smile should have been that fucking bright. Lovino reached into his pocked and drew out his wallet, flicking through its contents and grabbing the first fake ID he laid his hands on. He held it out to the officer, who took it and looked between the picture and Lovino.

"Your name is Romano?" Lovino nodded. He wished he had pulled a different ID. That one was old, and had a bit of a record on it. Well, it's not like it was that big a deal. The ticket probably wasn't that much, just a couple hundred dollars. He'd have to pay it if he didn't want any questions.

The sound of ripping paper drew him from his thoughts. The officer tore off the ticket and was about to reach out his hand. Then, something seemed to catch the officer's eye, and he paused, hand extended mid-way. Their eyes locked, and the officer seemed to be searching for something. Those green eyes, there was something about them. Perhaps-

"Have we . . . have we met before?" The officer spoke without breaking eye contact. Something akin to dread settled in the pit of Lovino's stomach.

"What?" The question was a gag reflex, a panicked reaction to realizing that he and this stranger just had the same thought.

"It's just that." And now he seemed embarrassed, or maybe just perplexed. It was hard to tell, his eyebrows knit together, and he broke eye contact. But soon he took Lovino's gaze again. "I get this feeling like I've met you before." There was silence between them, because for the life of him, Lovino couldn't come up with a coherent answer. Obviously he had never met this dipshit. He would remember. But at the same time, there was a voice in his head screaming yes.

"I. . .don't think so." He managed. Don't be stupid Lovi, of course you've never met this man. Those chills, those feelings were nothing.

"Of course, my bad. Sometimes even I don't know what goes on in my head." He laughed, almost nervously. "Drive safe Romano!" The officer handed Lovino the ticket, and as he did so, their hands brushed.

There were three feelings Lovino Vargas would never forget.

One: During his first ever job, at the behest of the Borgia boy, son of a client, he jumped, from the ledge of a cliff while everyone else was away getting smashed. He jumped and never looked back, and he had won.

Two: The feel of a stolen Lamborghini Aventador, that bewitching, electrifying, thing, as it raced down the Via Appia, towards the deserted streets of Pompeii. No one could catch him.

Three: When he was barely sixteen, the summer before his junior year, he lost his virginity to the Spanish pool boy he had been madly in love with. Nothing had ever felt so good.

And the morning, when he woke up alone . . . nothing had ever felt so terrible. Like some twisted figment of Lovino's imagination, the pool boy disappeared, never to be seen again.

As Lovino Vargas started his car with a ticket he'd never pay in his hand, there was a tingle down his back. It was like when his feet kicked pebbles off the edge, the sound of hydraulic doors opening, and the gaze of that boy he'd loved best on his back. It passed as soon as he realized it was there. When he looked back that traffic cop was just scribbling something away in his book, wandering in the general direction of his car.

No, Lovino thought. It was just the wind.

Thanks for reading, if you liked it or found any errors please let me know by leaving a comment! I'd really love to hear from you. Fans are what drive me to write fanficiton. Also please note that all of the phrases that come from other languages are found on google translate, so if they're not totally accurate don't be afraid to call me out. Thanks!