zes

There was nothing worse than a slow day at work.

I stand corrected. There was nothing worse than a slow day at work in the midst of a depression. At least, for the commoners and peasants, that was. Those rich assholes like the Carriedo's (cough—Antonio—cough) had no problem siphoning money from those who needed it the most. And as such, normal people like Lars, who could not afford a royalty-worthy mansion and thousands of acres worth of property, were left in the dust without even a single copper coin to their name.

The slow work day was just an added bonus.

"Fuck..." he groaned, glaring hatefully at his unused anvil. This week, he'd only had three customers. Three. What happened to the days when he couldn't even sleep because of all the orders he had to fill? The days when there would be a fucking line out the shop door? The days when Bella would laugh at his 'work-face' and tell him stories of her latest chocolate experiment and kiss him when he—

No. No, no, no.

He wouldn't think about her. Not now. That'd just add to the blow of being in poverty and having nobody to rely on.

He was alone. For the first time since he'd met Bella...

What the hell, he had nothing better to do anyway! Why not just bask in the angst and remember the good ol' days when he still lived with the van Rijns?

When he first met Bella?

He was five.

His parents couldn't afford to take care of him anymore. Not that they really did in the first place. His mom was a prostitute, and his father was the man who made her one. They weren't rich, but his dad knew the right men—wealthy men—to sell his wife off to. Money was tight, but it was there.

Food, on the other hand, was not.

It was one thing to have money, and another to use it for food. His parents had found that gambling and alcohol were much better buys than bread or milk for their only son.

Eventually, a pretty young woman had caught him 'stealing' pastries from Rome's (though really the old man had left it out for him to take and was watching him with sympathy from afar) and, after taking one long look at his starved and haggard state, promptly took him in.

She had taken him around the small town, buying fresh food and drinks for him to consume while she tried to find information about his 'family'. Eventually, a local seamstress informed her that Lars's parents (whose surname was a mystery) had bolted out of town the moment their son failed to return home.

Furious, the nice lady gathered the very confused boy in her arms and hurried home.

He'd never seen such an enormous house in his life.

It was a bit overwhelming to be doted on and given what he wanted. But that was what had happened to him the moment be set foot into the grand mansion.

"You'll be staying with my family and I now," she had informed him kindly, voice soft and gentle like a real mother's should be, "I hope you like it here."

Eventually, after being properly cleaned, fed, and well, pampered, Lars found himself facing an adorable little girl with tiny blonde curls that barely reached her ears. She had bright green eyes and the sweetest smile he had ever seen.

"Bella, baby, this is Lars! He'll be like your new big brother. Say 'hi,' darling..."

She was precious, the way she shyly greeted him before running elsewhere in embarrassment when he returned the smile. He figured that he would get along with this Bella.

Maybe they could even be best friends.

Oh, how right he was.

However, only after only a few months of joining the van Rijn's was he suddenly faced with a boy who would soon become the very bane of his existence, his most loathed enemy.

A boy with the name of Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, one of Bella's closest friends.

His new 'mom' had insisted he join the younger girl's play-date that day. And, being unaware of the danger in doing so, he had agreed without a thought other than hoping they could play something other than dolls.

An hour later, when he was patiently 'chatting' with Bella about what kind of dessert had the most chocolate, a tiny little pipsquick with a goofy smile on his face came bounding in, effectively hitting him with a shoe that had gone astray in his excitement.

And thus began another World War.

Let it be known that this was the only memory of Carriedo that he never minded remembering.

Probably because he had pretty much beaten up the other boy to a pulp that day.

Fuck, had that been so much fun.

In fact, it was so much fun that it almost made up for the extensive berating he had received from both his and the younger boy's parents after an injured Antonio had run downstairs, sobbing uncontrollably.

Almost.

Mrs. Carriedo had been ever so very pissed—psh, like any mother wouldn't be—and Mr. Fernandez had looked unhappy but a little understanding ("Boys will be boys, I suppose...").

The adults didn't really faze him. He was used to grown-ups taking their anger out on his sorry ass (thanks, stupid, abandoning parents). No, it was the words of a fun-looking teenager (who he had assumed to be an older brother) that had him avoiding Antonio for years afterwards.

"Do not fuck with my brother again, kid, or else. 'Sides, only I'm allowed to make him cry."

Yup. Scary as hell.

Plus, he couldn't forget that Bella had been really, really, really upset, too. She had refused to play toys with him for almost a week, before finally caving in when he had (desperately) offered to play dress-up.

They were pretty much okay after that.

But not Antonio. Never Antonio.

Moving right along now...

Lars had always known that he was in love with Bella. It was almost a given.

So he wasn't really surprised when—once he'd reached his terrible teens—he'd started feeling different towards the young girl.

Blushing when she looked at him...stammering when they spoke...always glancing at her lips, wondering what it would be like to kiss them...

He didn't know if it were a blessing or a curse that she had no idea what was going on with him.

Eventually, that sudden fixation with pretty little Bella led to an incident that he'd rather not remember.

(It involved chocolate. That was all he could say.)

Which, in turn, led to him leaving the household altogether.

Not that he was kicked out or anything. He just told his 'parents' that he needed to be on his own and they had, although reluctantly, let him. His mother, however, flat-out refused to send him away without making sure he had some sort of house and plenty of money to get started with.

Thus began his blacksmithing era.

Woo.

Lars wasn't by any means egotistical. He wasn't a bragger, and he never believed himself to be the best blacksmith in town. But he had to admit—to some extent—that he was a relatively good one.

And because of that, he was successful. He had customers, he had money. He never had to go back to the van Rijn estate and beg his foster parents for help.

He never went back home.

Unfortunately, that only led to the inevitable confrontation with the one girl who had unintentionally driven him away in the first place.

"So this is where you've been," a beautiful and familiar voice called out to him. Lars almost threw his sledge hammer across the room in surprise, heart immediately going into overdrive.

"B-Bella?" the Dutchman stammered, mouth dropping open as an extremely gorgeous woman sauntered over to him. And that was just it; she was not the young, adorable little girl he had left crying in front of the mansion as he walked away from her life. She was a sexy, attractive lady in an equally gorgeous silk dress who was making him sweat so fucking much and—shit, was it hot in here or was it just him?

"That's me," she murmured in reply, coming to a rest in front of him. The blonde rested her hands on his shoulders, pulling him slightly downwards so she could better meet his wide eyes.

"Y-yeah?"

"Missed me?"

"Uh—well, y'know...I uh—"

"Good." And with that, their lips met for the first time since the incident so many years ago, silencing any reply he might have had.

Yes...Bella was so much more different.

Apparently her confidence had some major boosting since the last time they met and...ugh...stront...where the fuck did she learn to kiss like that?

Lars's mind, you're now fucked.

Sighing into the kiss, Bella pulled back, but only far enough to be able to nuzzle the man's nose with her own. Then it was back to kissing.

Not that he was complaining.

He reacted just as enthusiastically as his new lover (maybe?), wrapping his arms around her waist and reveling in her warmth. This was good...hell, this was fucking amazing.

Then she parted their lips once more, pausing their make-out session in order to murmur against his neck, "Ik hou van jou. Sindsdien voor eeuwig."

"Hey? Hello~? Lars? You okay?"

And just like that, his short-lived, bittersweet happiness crumbled into ashes.

He was back in reality, back to heartbreak and jealously and poverty. Back to a world where girlfriends decided to marry other men but keep you around for second best anyway because they just could.

Back to some guy grinning at him with a look of pure amusement, poking his forehead with his index finger.

Some world.

"Huh? Hey! The hell are you doing?" Lars snapped, shoving the man's calloused hand away from his face. He opened his mouth to give this asshole piece of his (sexy, hot) Dutch mind, but stopped short when he caught sight of calm, light-green eyes and a familiar scar...

"Well, fuck. Nice to see you again, Alvarez..."

This was amazing. This was so fucking amazing.

Yes, he could live with this...he definitely could.

"Mmm...Dracul..."

"Heh. Lovs...oh, Lovs, I—ah—"

"Shhh," Lovino whispered, taunting, against his lips. He slowly pressed them together once more, moving in a painfully pleasurable fashion. A hand snuck its way down to his, intertwining their digits lovingly. All this Dracul noted with unbridled glee, closing his eyes as he allowed the Italian entrance into his mouth...

Fuuuuuck.

Lovino was amazing with his tongue.

He totally called it.

The Romanian was suddenly pushed to his back, eyelids snapping open.

He almost passed out from the nosebleed that erupted at seeing his long-time crush leaning-shirtless and absolutely glowing-over his own trembling body.

"Ah—ah, Lovino...?"

"No...don't speak." A finger lightly traced the outline of his lips, teasing, enticing. He shamelessly let out a whimper, unused to this kind of attention. "I'll take care of you, mi amore..."

Oh, yeah. Could someone please thank whoever decided to kill him? Because he was so in Heaven right now.

Then Lovino moved in closer—ohGodohGodOHGODOHGOD—and just as Dracul reached his pale, shaking arms out accept his new lover, a different voice called out to him.

An annoyingly female one that he had grown to despise.

"Dracul! DRACUL! Wake up! Kistestvére!"

"...ugh...hnn..."

"I think he's coming around now..."

"That bastard better..."

"Let's speed things up, then, shall we?"

SLAP!

"Ow! Fuck you, Lizzy!"

"He's awake," muttered Elizaveta coolly, crossing her arms as her younger sibling began to sit up, blinking. Beside her, Bella held a bloodied dishrag, eyes wide with concern for the semi-conscious boy on the floor.

"Shit...what happened...?" the strawberry blonde groaned, a hand rubbing the back of his head. He winced briefly when he touched a bump, cursing under his breath.

"Asshole Number One knocked you out." His head snapped up at the sound of the very annoyed Italian voice. As the recollection of his recent fantasies came rushing in, Dracul's face flushed pink.

"O-oh? Really?" he stammered, grinning sheepishly, unable to rid the mental image of his best friend stroking his naked chest, a gorgeous smirk on his pretty face. But when finally he turned to face said best friend, his entire smile vanished in an instant.

Lovino was straddling that Spanish fucker's torso.

The same Spanish fucker who was also glaring coldly at him.

And had his hands on the Italian's hips.

"Yeah..." Despite it being painfully obvious that his neighbor was on his ex-boyfriend simply for the sole purpose of keeping him from causing more trouble, Dracul couldn't help but fume.

'That lucky bastard,' he jealously thought.

Elizaveta was staring at him with a look of annoyance...mixed in with something he couldn't quite pin-point. Perhaps relief, but why would that crazy bitch be worried about him? They abhorred each other, after all.

"You look comfy there, Lovs," he couldn't resist stating, his tone dry. In return, Lovino narrowed his eyes at him, scowling, middle finger raised in a salute.

"Fuck off...Asshole Number Two. If this bastard hadn't already tried to kill you, I sure as fuck would have."

...ah.

Okaaaaay...so maybe he wasn't so happy about that kiss, then... Which sucked, because Dracul thought it was the best fucking thing he'd ever experienced.

And...there had been a spark. The spark.

The spark you felt when you touched your soulmate intimately, the spark that assured the chemistry between you two...

And the actual kiss! The magnificent lip-on-lip action! Hadn't he felt the fireworks? They were going off crazy in Dracul's head!

It had been such an amazing feeling.

Was Lovino not understanding any of this? The fact that they were so very clearly made for each other?

The fact that he was a much better match for him than that damn Spaniard?

"Don't deny that you liked it," he chuckled, pleased with the embarrassed blush that overcame his friend's face at the very words. Ah...Lovs was being cute again~

"Sh-shut the fuck up!"

Heheh. He didn't say otherwise now, did he?

Perhaps that meant he felt the same w-

"Of course mi tomate didn't like that terrible kiss!"

Sigh.

...leave it to Antonio to ruin his short-lived victory.

Such was life.

"Why would that be, Señor Asswipe?"

"Because," snarled said 'asswipe,' tugging Lovino closer—which really meant that he had forced the blushing Italian to grind against him, that bastard—"mi amor already has me."

"What about Bella, then?" The men started when they realized that both Dracul and Lovino had voiced the same question in unison.

Blinking in confusion, Antonio turned his full attention back to his red-as-a-tomato lover, who was staring pointedly off to the side, lips pressed together in a tight line. "What do you mean, querido? What about Bella?"

"Well, you're fucking engaged to her, aren't you?" snapped the baker angrily, hands balling into fists on the Spaniard's shirt below him. Was the bastard really that stupid? Who would want to be with a married man in the first place? Lovino Vargas wasn't a goddamn cheater, thankyouveryfuckingmuch.

"I-I am. But, Lovi, the thing is—"

"The thing is nothing! You can't go around 'claiming' me if you're with another chick!"

"It's not how it looks like!"

"What does it look like, then? You love me but you're marrying her?"

"Well—"

"Oh, I get it! I'll be like your fucking mistress. When she's not looking, you'll come here to see me—"

See, it should be noted that Antonio wasn't really the best at reading the atmosphere. He didn't pick up on undertones, didn't even know what hinting was. And, he never fully understood when one was being sarcastic.

No matter how obvious.

"Wow, Lovi~ I can't believe you knew what I was—"

"—but that's stupid, eh? Like fuck would I do that. Why would I fucking date a married man?"

'Ah~ ¿Que?'

Antonio should also learn to let one finish their rambling before assuming they were on the same page.

You know how assuming worked...made an 'ass' outta 'U' and 'me'.

"I know, right? Why would anybody willingly settle for second best? I know I wouldn't give up without a fight," Dracul scoffed, fully on his feet now. He swayed a bit from the sudden change in position, but otherwise was perfectly fine. He missed the twin nervous (and guilty) glances that the two nobles shared.

Elizaveta, however, did notice this, for she immediately pulled her 'son' off of the attractive Spanish man and dragged him with her to stand beside the blonde waiter. "I'm sorry. I hate to kick customers out, but I don't tolerate anyone hitting my employees." Especially my brother. But she'd never actually say that.

"B-but—"

"No." Handy-dandy frying pan in hand, the long-haired brunette waved the two surprised noblemen away, keeping her two boys protectively behind her. Antonio shakily got up, but made no movement to leave when his blonde friend reattached herself to his arm and attempted to tug him away. Lovino mentally cringed at the seemingly affectionate action. "Please...go."

"Miss," piped up Bella from her place on the Spaniard's arm, looking sickeningly tearful, "Toni didn't mean to hurt Dracul. H-he just upset because he k-kissed Lovino and—"

"I'm sorry," repeated the Hungarian, shaking her head. 'Nobody hurts my boys.' "I need you two to leave immediately."

"...finally got some free time—fuck yes—and now, here I am," Alvarez finished with a flourish, breathing in the nighttime air as he and his companion exited the blacksmith's shop.

Lars nodded absentmindedly, locking the door behind them. They walked the cobbled street in silence for a few minutes before the older man finally sighed and rounded on him.

"Alright. I know you're pissed, but c'mon! Lighten up!"

"How the fuck am I supposed to do that when my girl's probably out with that dipshit Spaniard?"

The Portuguese smirked at the last comment (Antonio was just as stupid as ever, it seemed), turning his eyes away from the enraged Dutchman. "Why not steal her back?"

"Oh, yeah, sure. I could do that. But then again, Bella'll never choose me if she has Carriedo all over her."

"You really think so?"

"Yes. No. I-I don't know. Maybe..."

"I always thought you and Bella were such a lovely couple," continued Alvarez anyway, clasping his hands behind his back as they walked. Lars scoffed and readjusted his scarf—which happened to be a gift from Bella, but that was totally not a reason why he wore it; he didn't miss her or anything—kicking at a lone pebble on the ground. "You two balanced each other out perfectly."

"Well, then, too bad that green-eyed motherfucker decided to tip it over."

"I hope you're still talking about Antonio~"

"Of course I am!" the blacksmith snapped, flushing instantly. He ground his teeth together, fists clenching and unclenching.

"Maybe you should've heard her out..."

"I heard everything I needed to! She wants to end it with me without actually saying it—"

"Where the fuck did you get that from?"

"—she says she'll marry him but secretly date me, but all that's bullshit! She just wants to get rid of me by pretending that she's forced to marry...Carriedo...knowing I wouldn't want it... So now I'm the bad guy..."

"You don't trust her enough, that's what it is," Alvarez quietly accused into the night, shoving his hands in his simple but handsome coat. His breath came out in chilled wisps, vanishing in the air like smoke in front of his mouth.

Lars's steely silence was all the response he needed.

He had believed it to be a blessing that he was granted enough time to visit his old friends. Working as one of the greatest entertainer of all time (as far as theatrical acting was concerned, of course) tended to be a letdown when it came to his social life.

He 'knew' famous people.

He wouldn't call half of them his friends.

If he wanted real friends—people he could trust with his life—then he only needed to drive several miles out in the countryside, away from the godforsaken city.

Hetalia was a nice little town, after all.

He'd hoped that he would see the majority of his friends right off the bat; it wasn't like the place was huge or anything. But no, when he'd driven through the gates and parked his car in the back of the inn he was going to stay at, there'd been truthfully nobody there.

The streets were empty, majority of shops closed with 'OUT OF BUSINESS' signs all over... Hell, he hadn't even seen a vendor all day! It was as if they were all disappearing...

As if it couldn't get any worse, he'd stumbled into a depressed Lars's blacksmith shop.

And found out his brother was still being a compete douchebag.

And a woman stealer.

Which was weird, because he could've sworn the boy didn't swing that way...

Ahem.

Yeah, so Alvarez's day hadn't been going all that great either.

At least he wasn't Lars...

Alright, that was mean, I'll admit it...

They were both so lost in thought that they didn't realize that someone had been following them.

Someone who then proceeded to smack their backs with a yell of "BOO!"

They totally didn't shriek, or anything wimpy like that.

Nor did they grab onto each other in surprise. Not them, oh no.

Old man Rome Vargas didn't really scare either of the fully-grown MANLY men.

Nope...

"Ahahahaha! Oh, that reminds me so much of little Feli and Lovi...ah, they were such adorable little boys..."

"ROME!"

"Well, ciao, to you, too..." The old man grinned, eyes bright with mischief as ever. He didn't seem fazed by the fact that Alvarez was in town, as though he knew he'd be visiting soon. "Nice to see you both."

"How are you, Rome?" the city gentleman inquired when he had composed himself, briefly hugging the elderly man. "Boys doing well?"

"Oh, yes, yes, very much so. Both engaged, by the way."

"Really? Let me guess...Ludwig for Feliciano...and...that blonde boy for Lovi?"

"Dracul."

"Ah! Yes—yes, I remember. He bit me that one day..."

"Wait, what?" Lars questioned incredulously, looking back and forth between the other two men.

"Yeah, Lizzy kept teasing him about being a vampire and I might've joined in—"

"No, not that. I know Dracul's a freaky son of a bitch. I meant, Lovino's engaged?"

"Yes, only recently."

"To Dracul?"

"To Dracul," repeated Rome with a nod, smiling charmingly. He had a good feeling about that kid...he just did.

"Wow. Looks like everybody's getting engaged..." the Dutchman muttered with a frown, rolling his eyes as though the very idea was entirely preposterous. Alvarez took note of this and smirked.

"Maybe we should get hitched, too~" he teased in a sing-song voice, eliciting a loud guffaw from the Italian and few curse words from the blonde.

"Ah, you two never fail to crack me up. But anyway, I actually came over to ask if both of you would like to join me and my boys tonight for dinner...it'll be my little treat."

Y'know, it had always been Antonio's dream to get kicked out of a restaurant by a bloodthirsty Hungarian with a frying pan.

When shooting stars sped across the sky...that was totally on his mind.

Thank goodness dreams really do come true.

"She actually hit you with that skillet," Bella mused with wide-eyes, dusting off her dress daintily despite it being complete clean. On the dirt floor, Antonio sat, crouched down with his knees to his chest. He was absolutely pouting, drawing tiny, invisible circles on the ground.

They were in some dirty old alley. Not really somewhere she'd normally rest in, but Elizaveta did chase them pretty far...

"Toni? Now what?"

"I'm going to sit here and wait until Lovi passes by. Then, I am going to kidnap him..."

"...okay...but what makes you think he'll pass through here?"

"...I...Uhm...know which route his takes going back to the bakery...so..."

...niiiiice...

Stalker.

"Maybe—maybe we should go home," Bella carefully offered, patting her friend's head consolingly when he gave her an incredulous stare. She decided to let that last comment slide; you know, the one that pretty much branded her buddy as some stalker—like I said. "We obviously all need to cool off...and who knows? Dracul might not be here tomorrow and you'll get the chance to talk to Lovino in private."

"I refuse to return home without making up with mi amor!" Antonio stubbornly stated, finally rising to his feet. He passionately nodded his head, sexy Spanish curls bouncing up and down in a sexy Spanish manner, as though he had just created another fact of life. Which he probably had. "I will be Lovi's husband!"

"That's nice, Tonio..."

"We could get several acres of fields and grow all the tomatoes Lovi wants!" he continued without a care, emerald eyes sparkling.

"Tomatoes?"

"Sí~! They're mine and Lovi's favorite~!"

"Really? That's so cute..."

"...and...I'm sure that rumano estúpida has nothing in common with mi novio..."

Bella bit her lip worriedly, eyes turning downcast. She hated to admit it, but personally, in her opinion, between Dracul and Antonio...the former seemed to have much more chemistry with the feisty Italian than her oblivious fake husband-to-be. The bond between longtime friends was something irreplaceable; something that wasn't easy to obtain.

But at the same time, Antonio was (or had been, depended how one looked at it) Lovino's lover. For quite a while now, it appeared. They were both definitely in love with each other, no doubt about it. She'd never seen her friend so enamored by anyone as much as he was for the handsome baker. And though she didn't really know him, Lovino seemed to be very much taken with the Spaniard in return.

Both men had their advantages and disadvantages. One was the best friend, the other was the boyfriend. At this point, she couldn't really tell who'd emerge as the husband of Lovino Vargas.

Only time—or the man himself—could tell.

"Ve? Antonio? Bella?"

"F-Feliciano!"

No sooner was the name out of their mouths when a flying ball of giddy Italian was thrown at them. Like a boss.

Little Feli giggled happily, arms wrapped around his two good friends. "Oh! Oh, oh, oh! Ve~ what are you guys doing here?"

"We—er, had some business to attend to..." the blonde heiress offered weakly, patting the bouncy man's arm. Antonio only mutely nodded, mind still very obviously preoccupied. For once. "Is Ludwig with you, Feli?"

"Sì! He's right there! Ve~ Luddy! Come here~! It's Big Sister Bella and Big Brother Antonio~!" Feliciano was pretty freaking lucky everybody was used to the way he spoke; any other grumpy stranger (or perhaps his own older brother) would've hit him already.

"Bella. Antonio," greeted a gruff young man, obviously the German they were referring to. "How are you both? I wasn't aware you were visiting today."

"We're fine, thanks, Ludsy. I forgot you and Feli lived near this area..."

"Uh-huh! Ve~ we were just heading home!" the auburn-haired boy happily chirped, clasping his hands together with much enthusiasm. Suddenly, he gasped, his smile growing impossibly wider. "I know! Ve~ you guys should come over for dinner! It'll be so much fun~!"

"...so...hubby..."

"Dammit, Dracul! Stop calling me that!"

"Aww...fine. Hmm...how 'bout 'sexy'?"

"Fuck. You."

"Oh! Well, if you insist..."

If Dracul could avoid that kick to the shin just as quickly as Lovino could deliver it, then either he was getting pretty good...or the Italian was losing his touch.

But that would never happen, so let's just assume that Lady Luck decided to pay her respects to the young Romanian.

Lovi would never lose his touch. His cute, adorable, tsundere touch.

"Hahaha! Missed me, missed me, now you gotta kiss me!"

The baker simply rolled his eyes. That was, right before he graced his silly little neighbor with a fucking awesome headbutt, effectively silencing the boy.

"OOF! Ow...Lovs! That really hurt!" Dracul whined, clutching at his chest and heaving in an over-exaggerated manner. Lovino didn't bother glancing back as he continued his trek home, stuffing his hands in his coat pocket as the evening enveloped him in cool mist. The Romanian grinned, despite being left behind a few paces by his closest companion. He strode over to him regardless, and captured his hand in the process.

"Oi! When the fuck did I say it was okay to hold my hand?"

"Well, Lovs, I figured that we need to get used to this if we're getting married~!"

Blushing from both the blonde's contact and words, Lovino turned his head away. "Sh-shut up about that already, will ya?"

"...okay," Dracul whispered softly, affectionately, squeezing the boy's hand tighter. Unlike most others—Antonio—he knew when not to push the Italian's buttons. He knew when he should stop annoying the man and listen to him instead. He knew everything there was to know about Lovino Vargas...and yet...

"...oi, vampire bastard..."

'Haven't heard that one in a while...' "Yeah?"

"...uh...since Liz went out with Feliks..."

"Uh-huh?"

"I don't care about it, or shit, but—since you'll be alone and all that—and—and because I'm such a fucking nice person..."

"Da, Lovs?"

'Fuck, I can't believe I'm doing this...'

"...Nonno'll probably be pissed if I don't ask you to eat with us...so..."

"Of course I'll have dinner with you, hubby~"

Why wouldn't he?

In fact, why wouldn't anyone want to have dinner with the nice Vargas family?

A/N: Word count tells me this is the longest chappie so far. DX

So, I'm just gunna say. My updating will most likely be once a month. I am such a bitch. Sorry.

Oh, GOD. The Romanio in this one! O.e

Spamano~! Wherefore art thou, Spamano?

Oh, yeah. Lovi straddling Toni. Yup.

I'M GOING TO ADMIT THIS: In a Romania x Romano relationship, Lovi will be TOP. I CALLED IT. I have a secret thing for seme!Romano and uke!Romania.

DIES.

Did you guys enjoy my LarsXBella thing going on? I figured that relationship deserved some love...

And Alvarez! You're back! :]

...lol...dinner...yes...so much potential fun there...

So like...lately...I've been in love with the Pixar movie 'Cars'. Particularly, Luigi. And Guido.

Who I now ship together.

SHOT.

Thanks for the reviews, guys! You're all so awesome~!

Translations:

stront - shit (Dutch)

Ik hou van jou. Sindsdien voor eeuwig - I love you. Since forever. (Dutch)

zes - six (Dutch)

Kistestvére - little brother (Hungarian)

rumano estúpida - Stupid Romanian (Spanish)

mi novio - my boyfriend (Spanish)

da - yes (Romanian) ((BECOME ONE WITH ROMANIA, DA?))