A/N: I love when Spain and France and Prussia are together romantically but there doesn't seem to be a whole lot of that. I also love the idea of them and Romano, honhonhon. So here we go! I'm doing a chapter story instead of my usual one-shots!

If anyone has any insight into how these kinds of relationships work I'm open to hearing about it. For me this fic isn't about the BTT being together like Sister Wives or anything. For this, the three are more going with the flow. They all liked each other so they figured 'fuck it, let's all be together.'

Chapter One: Rain

"You know, this would be a lot easier if we had a bigger bed."

Francis rolled his eyes and untangled his hair from Gilbert's iron necklace. "With what money, Toni? I'm all for having a bigger bed to play in—honhonhon—but this one is nice and quaint!" He grunted as a few blonde hairs were ripped out. "And we can get so much closer in this one."

The cringe in Francis's eyes betrayed him and his inner desires for more space, but of course he denied needing a new bed; he had spent the past month making off-handed comments about how they should save money and move to a better apartment closer to his work place, a high-end restaurant.

Gilbert groaned between the two men, picking at the hair stuck in the iron cross pendant. "Why do I have to be in the middle? It's unawesome! My muscles are so big it'll push you two off the side when I sleep-flex!"

"Because it's your turn," Francis reminded him. "How many times do we have to go through this? It alternates every three days!"

"Well it's stupid!"

"You only complain when it's your turn to be Lucky Pierre!"

They bickered on longer than Antonio cared to listen to. This had been a growing occurrence between the three of them in the past few weeks, building slowly into daily fights over trivial things. It was hard to tell if this was normal lovers' spats or possibly a negative side effect of trying to maintain a three-man relationship.

Antonio loved his boyfriends to death but all the drama they created was wearing on him and making him intentionally miss the bus home some nights. He was growing concerned they would all drift apart and had been planning something of an intervention. If anything would get his boyfriends to get their act together it was definitely their other boyfriend!

Wait, maybe that's just adding fuel to the fire.

Either way! Antonio was positive sitting them down one day and talking through their relationship issues would solve everything!

It was beginning to rain when Antonio's intended bus had driven away. That morning had went well between Francis and Gilbert but he had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that it was only the calm before the storm. Though if he had known it would rain he would have sucked it up and got on the bus! He was resigned to sit on the old, dirty bench waiting for the next one. The rain began to pick up and hit harder as wind added into the torment.

A shiver slid through his shoulders as he tried to suppress the cold, telling himself to think warm thoughts… like campfires and Starbucks coffee and freshly baked bread and hugs and kisses and when Francis works him while Gilbert is rubbing on his—

Oh. Well now he has an entirely new problem.

Think cold thoughts! Snow and ice cream and when Gilbert's necklace first touches his bare chest and sends excited tingles to his skin—

Damn it.

"Hey, pervert, don't you have playgrounds or preschools to hang around instead of bus stops? Or are you waiting for the little Catholic school boys to come by?"

Antonio squeaked and jerked his head up to the deep, rolling voice that had shocked him just seconds before. Above him stood a man in a olive-green coat with a fur-lined hood, holding a black umbrella which blocked out the rain but also the sun, framing him in a light that obscured his face until his shifted the umbrella to better block the pounding rain. Antonio could tell from his fitted jeans he was thin (or at least his legs were). The man watched him for a moment before speaking up again.

"Hey, pervert? You gonna say something or do you get off on being called out? Fucking exhibitionists."

Antonio jumped to life, awkwardly grabbing the hem of his shirt and pushing his knees together to hide the (dying) problem. "H-hola!"

"Huh, he knows how to speak."

He giggled. "Si, I can speak. Sorry, you caught me in a daydream."

The standing man scoffed a bit, muttering, "You really shouldn't daydream like that in public."

The tips of Antonio's ears burned against the rain and he was sure his cheeks now matched his reddened nose. "It's not like that! I just missed my bus and got a little side-tracked thinking of my boyfriends back home."

The small smirk on the Italian's face sent a jolt through Antonio's chest. "Boyfriends?"

"S-si."

"Is that a lisp or are you just some two-timing bastard?"

To the Italian's surprise Antonio chuckled. "It's not like that, amigo. It's a polyamorous relationship. There's three of us and we're all dating each other."

"Hey, it's getting fucking cold, are you planning on sitting in the rain until the next bus?"

"Well, that was the idea."

There was a pause. The Italian looked flustered as he reached out to the Spaniard, pulling him to his feet. "Come with me. I wouldn't want your moron boyfriends losing your dumbass to hypothermia."

"Qué?"

Antonio was pulled by his wrist down the sidewalk, somewhat covered by the umbrella. "I'm taking you somewhere warm and dry while you wait, or would you rather sit in the rain and commit public indecencies?"

Antonio smiled sheepishly and followed the Italian, this time of his own volition. They stopped not too far away at a coffee shop where they sat quietly by the front window. Minutes of uncomfortable silence passed, but to be honest Antonio kind of liked it. It gave him time to better inspect this man.

His hair was dark with a stray curl loosely hanging off the side and his skin was tanned to match. There seemed to be a constant scowl on his face but Antonio attributed that to a possibility of Chronic Bitchface. It was actually quite endearing. His eyes were hard to place, somewhere between green and muddy hazel, framed in oddly long and dark lashes.

Those same eyes snapped up to meet Antonio's, narrowed slightly. "The fuck are you staring at, perv?"

"You," he replied bluntly. With a warm smile he asked, "What's your name? I'm Antonio."

"Lovino," he said with hesitance.

"Oh, Lovi, what a cute name!"

"Lovino!"

"It was awfully nice of you to stop and talk to me, Lovi." The Italian growled. "Why did you stop, may I ask?"

Lovino's eyes darted around, avoiding the Spaniard's gaze as he stalled and hummed and avoided the question. "I, uh, thought you looked pretty fucking pathetic sitting there in the rain. And I didn't want to come in here alone and risk looking as pathetic as you."

"Sure, sure," he smiled.

They sat in silence, avoiding each other and the growing awkwardness. The pounding rain turned to hail and Antonio's phone was almost unheard over the clicking window. He slid it from his pocket, screen somewhat foggy, sighing lowly when he saw the missed calls.

"Is it your boyfriend or your boyfriend?"

Antonio looked up to see the small smirk on Lovino's face.

"Both." They sat for another minute before Antonio quietly excused himself to catch the bus (which he insisted must be there by now) and said his goodbyes. The Spaniard sat at the same bench as before, waiting with hands over his head. When transit finally arrived he hurried on, shivering, and sat rigidly in a front seat. The twenty-minute ride to the bus stop near his apartment was spent contemplating what he would do if there was another fight.

Gilbert was in the process of opening the front door when Antonio came bursting through, knocking into him, both landing in a pile on the floor.

"Gil!"

"Toni!" The use of his name urged Francis to emerge from their bedroom as he tied a scarf around his neck.

The blonde rushed to the fallen men, not bothering to help them up as he grabbed Antonio's hand and frantically cried, "We were worried sick! Do you not know how to call? Or text? ANTONIO, WE THOUGHT YOU DIED!"

Francis dramatically bit at the material of his scarf while Gilbert and Antonio finally got to their feet. "Lo siento, I missed the bus."

"Don't worry about it," Gilbert patted his back. "You know how much Franny likes to overreact. He thinks everyone even two seconds late is dead or dying."

"He could have been! It was hailing!"

There was no fight that night, only warm cuddles on the couch while random movies played on and off on the old box TV Gilbert had provided to the apartment when he moved in. Antonio sat, wrapped in a ridiculous amount of blankets due to Francis's worrying, with a man on either side of him.

Antonio heard Gilbert's obnoxious laughter mixing with Francis's equally strange laugh as he fell asleep. Maybe getting caught in the rain wasn't so bad.

Antonio woke up the next morning back in his bed between the two loves of his life. They were both turned to him with arms limply holding onto his chest. Unfortunately the alarm had to go off and ruin his moment of peace with its ugly buzzing, breaking the air and leaving him with an ache in his eyes.

His eyes were screwed shut and he wasn't having any of this today. The alarm had stopped and he smiled a bit. Then he shivered a bit. Then he shivered a lot. When did it get so obscenely cold?

He felt Francis reach over him, his chest now cold from the removed arm, nudging Gilbert. A soft hand gently but firmly pressed to his forehead. "Gil, wake up." The pale man groaned. "Gil, get up. I think our little churro is sick. I knew I was right to worry last night!"

Things became a blur of hot and cold and quiet and noise. Antonio was content where he was with Francis stroking his hair and stopping to find more blankets for him when he'd sneeze, and Gilbert talking loudly on the phone calling him in sick. So much for Antonio's Saturday shift.

After the fifth blanket he felt warm again and finally got back to sleep. Hovering above him were two worried boyfriends, hands clasped, blaming themselves. To Antonio they were the two who were dysfunctional and constantly starting drama over nothing. To them Antonio was the careless man they loved more than life who didn't know how to take care of himself.

Antonio was so reckless sometimes but too naïve to realize it. It didn't occur to him it was dangerous to start a car still parked in a garage, almost killing him when he was seventeen and still living at home. He didn't think to bring coats when it got chilly out since he was still accustomed to warmer climates.

He had no idea how much they worried about him. They had no idea they were worrying for all the wrong reasons.