Disclaimer: Hetalia never has, and still doesn't, belong to me. So please resist the urge to throw money at your screen for this story, cuz if I take it, I think I can be sued. I ONLY HAVE EIGHTY BUCKS! I DON'T WANNA BE SUED!

*Note: Sorry for the fail!update earlier, my phone decided to be the biggest bitch ever and cramp all the words and spacing together and it just wasn't working well. So I had to fix it and repost it. And ya'll should be grateful, (even though I say this ALL THE DAMN TIME) cuz I may or may not have just allowed my facebook account to be hacked because this computer is virus-y as hell and I had to copy and paste it from there cuz my email for some reason wouldn't open...

England was fretting, France was coughing, Feli was crying, and Prussia and Canada had finally shown up again, sans-handcuffs this time.

Spain had America pinned down to the ground, one hand fisted in the other nation's hair and supporting his own weight, and the other holding his right arm to the ground, while he straddled the broader nation's chest. America was sporting a bloody nose, which was bent at a concerning angle, and might have actually been concerning to me if I had been able to force my mind to catch up with its surroundings.

I didn't understand what had just happened, and my mind had decided not to compute. In fact, it felt like it had one of those "Sorry, we're CLOSED" signs -that always fucking show up at the worst possible times, right when you really need something only that store has- on it.

"What the fuck did you think you were doing just now?!" Spain shouted, switching back to English after a good thirty seconds straight of pure Spanish cuss words. I didn't even want to think about how I knew what they all were.

"I-" Alfred started to speak, but Spain punched him in the gut, winding him. Apparently it had been a rhetorical question.

"I warned you, Estados Unidos, I did! Now I am serious! You STAY AWAY FROM MY LOVI!" He roared, right in Alfred's face, before picking up and slamming the blond's head into the ground.

"Can't you two at least take it outside?" France sighed, looking more than a little uninterested. Mostly, he just looked sick to his stomach. But if he threw up in this house, I might flip a shit. So he'd better fucking tell them to take it outside, and go the fuck outside with them. Dammit.

"Sí, a good idea," Spain growled, dragging Alfred to his feet by his hair, and storming over to the door the guests had entered through barely an hour ago.

In a daze, I rose to my feet, a little unsteadily, but followed them through the door and onto the gravel path to the drive. The others were right behind me, Prussia and France before the others, probably to back up Spain, should he need it. France didn't really look like he was in any state to help, but eh, who was I to question his stupid decisions?

"Spain, I didn't-" Alfred started again, only to have Spain's hand placed over his mouth.

With a yelp, Spain tore his hand back, and a few drops of blood rained down when he pulled it in protectively to cradle it to his chest. Alfred stumbled away form Spain when his other hand released his hair to inspect the bite mark on his palm, and Alfred wiped his mouth, before spitting on the ground for good measure.

"Romano can do what he likes, Spain-"

"That's not the point!" The Iberian nation screamed, tearing at his own hair, looking absolutely livid. "¡Hijo de puta, eso no es el punto! ¡Me encanta Lovi! ¡Lo amo! ¡Él es mío! ¡Lo sabes! ¡Tienes que parar esto!"

"Romano has to decide that for himself too, Spain! You can't speak FOR him!" Alfred snapped.

I blinked, and wondered what Spain had said. I had gotten a few words out of that, but he was speaking much too quickly for me to keep up, and... was that a LISP?

Did Spain have a LISP when he spoke Spanish?!

Oh, God, how had I not noticed this before!

Holy mother fucking shit!

Even I had to admit, that was fucking ADORABLE.

I mean gay.

Soooooooo gay.

Gay to the degree of gay.

N-Not adorable at all.

...

Oh, fuck it, it was fucking adorable as hell.

And Spain was gay, so my argument was a little invalid.

Shut up.

"I know how Lovino feels about me," Spain growled, beginning to circle around Alfred now, a feral look in his eyes. "And I know you do too! I don't know what you think to gain from this, but whatever it is, I don't like this one bit! Stop using my Lovino towards your own selfish ends!"

Now... even though there was an intensely uncomfortable feeling of a sticky, wet substance in my pants already... I felt a certain part of my anatomy twitch again at the possessive tone in Spain's voice.

"Using?!" Alfred exclaimed. "No! I'm not using him for anything he doesn't want as well!"

"Fratello," Feliciano swallowed nervously, from somewhere just behind me, and I felt his hand on my shoulder. "Fratello, you should come inside... Are you feeling alright?"

"I'm fine, Feli," I growled, shrugging his hand off. "Let me watch..."

"Fratello!" He complained, stepping between the two circling nations and me. "You're not acting like yourself!"

"Feli!" I mimicked him, giving him a sour look. He looked startled. "Leave me the fuck alone! Just let me do what I want! God, I am SO FUCKING SICK of you all telling me how I WAS! Because this is ME, Feliciano! This is me now!"

"No!" Feliciano shouted, now furious, no longer crying. "No, you are coming with me! We need to have a talk!"

He slapped one hand over my mouth, and with the other, seized my hair curl, and began to drag me back towards the still open door into Spain's house. My eyes flicked from Spain to America to France to Prussia, before settling on England, who was watching me be dragged off, eyes wide.

Unable to do much more than grip Feliciano's arm for support, I tried to signal something, anything to the island nation with my eyes, but he just glanced back at the scuffle behind him, and then at me, not moving in either direction.

Useless bastard! No wonder I fucking hated him!

...

(Disregard the fact that he scares the shit out of me. Just... Compleeeeetely disregard it.)

Feliciano dragged me back into the sitting room, then through the kitchen, and up the stairs to the hallways where all the extra bedrooms were, and into an empty, as of yet unused one.

"Ve, I'm sorry for using your curl, fratello," Feliciano sighed, as he pulled me over to the bed, and sat me down on it, still holding my mouth and my curl. Unapologetic bastard. "But we need to have a talk, and you wouldn't listen otherwise."

Damn straight I wouldn't! Because Feli has no idea what the fuck he's talking about; he never does, and he never wi-

"I know you're faking whatever this is with America," he said darkly.

Oh.

Mother.

Fucking.

Shit.

O-Okay, so maybe he does know what he's talking about.

So what?!

"And it's hurting big brother Spain. And I don't like it."

I went to shout at him, to tell him it was none of his business, but he pulled sharply on the curl, and I slumped forwards, trying to stifle my erection in my stomach, but failing miserably. And a pitiful moan came out instead, loud even through the hand clamped over my mouth.

"Do you know how much Antonio loves you?" Feliciano asked, leaning forward to look me in the eyes, his lips curled into a frown. "He loves you SO MUCH, Lovino. More than himself. More than ANYONE."

Feliciano... was actually serious. What the fuck was going on?!

"What you're doing with America is hurting him, Lovi, and I want you to stop."

Stop? Why the fuck would I stop?! It's WORKING!

"And you sent him out to get oregano this morning, Lovi... Why would you do that?!"

Startled, I sat up, and began struggling to remove his hand from my face, and he actually took it away, allowing me to gasp for breath, before spitting, "What the fuck are you talking about?! What's the big deal about oregano! I couldn't find any, so I told him to get some more!"

"Antonio was out getting oregano when you got into the car crash, Lovi." Feli murmured. "You called me and you were complaining about how Antonio went out shopping without you, and he was acting weirder than normal, and that he was going for oregano, but you found some behind the rosemary and thyme. You said..."

"What? I said what?" I demanded, frowning.

"Y-You said it looked like he'd hidden it to make an excuse to go out." Feliciano whispered. "And then you said your car was just delivered from Italy, and you were going to go out driving to take your mind off it. You sounded upset."

"I... Oh," I managed to get out, through my constricted throat.

Well... Now I knew why I'd been out driving the day of the crash, I guess.

"Antonio called me after he got to the hospital, and I came up from Italy as soon as I could. He hasn't touched anything with oregano in it since the crash. It's like he's made it into a symbol for that day or something."

Shit.

Fucking... shit.

Well this was just fucking great.

I'd been an insensitive bastard and made Antonio think about the crash again, without even meaning to this time! And then the America thing...! No wonder he was pissed off.

"I... I didn't know..."

"Of course," Feliciano waved me off. "How could you have known? Don't worry about that. But this thing with America..."

"T-That's none of your business!" I snapped, put on the defensive again.

"Yes it is!" Feliciano insisted, suddenly angry again. Gesu Cristo, he was acting bipolar today.

"Feli, have you taken your meds yet today-?" I started to ask.

"Don't make this about my medication, Lovino Romano Vargas!" He screeched. "You're hurting Antonio by fooling around with Alfred! What are you doing, and why!?"

Well, shit. Feliciano was scary when he got mad. I can see that hadn't changed...

I looked up from my pants, where I'd been staring for the last few minutes, more out of shame than fear, but when I saw Feliciano's rage-filled eyes, I froze, completely unable to move. Yeah. He could be fucking scary alright. Shit.

"I... I'm just helping out America!" I relented, after the uncomfortable sensation of having my brother's hazel eyes boring into my soul had dragged on for what I felt had been too long. "He... he wants England back, and it's obvious they love each other, and England scares me, and it's bad enough that France comes over to visit, because I know he still does, I can see him and Spain are still close, but if England comes over regularly?! I'll die! Aren't you still afraid of him too?!"

"Oh, Romano, you're trying to help America and England get back together?! That's so sweet!" Feli cheered, throwing his arms around my shoulders, and hugging me tight to his chest. "But it's bad that you're trying to break up Francis and Arthur," he scolded, sitting back and shaking a disapproving finger at me. "And you're making poor Antonio absolutely sick with worry!"

"I know," I admitted, glancing guiltily down at my hands. "But I just have to tell him, and he'll understand! He's still a huge sap for love and all that shit, right?"

"That doesn't make him a sap, ve!" Feli whined, and I smacked him on the arm with an, 'Of course it does, dammit!' "But... Yes, he still... er, loves... love, fratello."

"Then see? I'll be fine," I scoffed. "I can tell Spain that America and England still love each other, and I'm just helping by pushing them in the right direction."

"Jealousy is never a good thing though, Lovi..." Feliciano warned me. "Be careful what you're doing. Why can't you just tell Antonio?"

"I can't tell SPAIN," I said, placing emphasis on his nation name to model to Feliciano how I wanted him to refer to Spain as well. "Because he can't fake anything for his life. And England would realize Spain was faking it, and if Spain was faking it, I'd have to be faking it, and that would mean the whole thing was being faked! And then it's all crap."

"I suppose, ve..." Feli sighed, leaning his head on my shoulder. "Just promise me you'll tell Antonio soon, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, dammit," I huffed, shoving his head off my shoulder. "Just get off me. I'm fine, and I know what I'm doing, and..."

"Ve... Seriously fratello, if you don't tell Antonio soon, I will." Feliciano threatened.

"No, dammit!" I snapped, rising from the bed, and frowning down at my fratellino. "I can handle this..."

And then a bang resounded throughout the room, and I spun around, to find a flushed Spain lying on the floor, looking up at me, and America standing over him, with England behind them both, all three looking guilty.

(~.~) - Lovi~!

"Using?!" America exclaimed. "No! I'm not using him for anything he doesn't want as well!"

"Oh, I'm sure that's because you're doing a fine job of coercing him, América!" I snapped. "He has AMNESIA! What the fuck is your problem, going after MI NOVIO, MY BOYFRIEND just because he lost his memory?!"

He opened his mouth to reply and I dove at him, thoroughly sick of hearing what he had to say. My fist was drawn back, aimed for his face, to see if I could break more than just his nose, but when I struck forward, he caught it, and I planted my left foot firmly on the ground, deciding to kick him instead. The top of my foot connected hard with the side of his thigh, and he grunted, but otherwise gave no indication of discomfort.

B-But... that was my infamous long-shot kick! The football always goes... wicked far when I kick it like... like that... What the...?

I gaped at him for all of one second before he moved, shoving me backwards, forcing me to windmill my arms to maintain my balance. I ended up approximately back where I started, and righted myself, spitting at him for good measure. Fuck, he was strong. I almost wondered how I managed to break his nose earlier, but decided I probably wouldn't like the answer- he was distracted.

"If you're going to interrogate me, can you at least let me answer the questions?" He asked, shifting to his other foot and rubbing at his nose. "Dammit, that hurt..." He whined.

"Then let me help you make it hurt even more!" I shouted, running at him again, but as he stuck out one hand to catch my face, I ducked to the side, and punched him in the side of the torso, which actually caused him to stumble away from me a few steps.

He turned to intercept my next hit, but I seized his wrist and tried to twist it back. He held it in place, causing his muscles to flex, and we struggled in place for a good half a minute, me trying to bend his arm back, and him holding it completely still.

"¡Dios maldito carajo!" I shouted, releasing his arm, infuriated by my lack of progress. I turned around, threaded my fingers through my hair gently, and took a few slow steps away from him, before spinning back around, and punching him square in the eye.

On what must have been instincts, his hand shot up and gripped my wrist, so as he staggered backwards, he tugged me with him, gripping so tightly I wondered at how my wrist was not snapping like a twig yet. England shouted something, and France and Prussia were closing in on the pair of us, probably intending to pull America off of me if he actually broke my wrist. But... There were a couple of sounds missing.

Lovi wasn't cursing... And Feliciano wasn't crying.

"...whoa. Where's Roma?" America asked, at the same time I wondered aloud where the Italies had gone.

"Huh?" Prussia asked, his job as moderator of our quarrel completely forgotten as he glanced back towards the open door to the house. "Did Feli even come out? I wouldn't think Romano would even be able to stand, after..."

"¡Cállate!" I shouted, daring him to finish that sentence. Nonetheless, I yanked my arm from America's grasp, and stormed towards the door, where Lovi must still be.

"Veneziano took him inside," England spoke up, clearing his voice and tugging at his collar awkwardly. "Said they were going to have a talk."

I nodded to him, noticing just before I turned back to search for Lovi in the house that England had stuck an arm out to stop Alfred from following me in. "Francis, Gilbert," I barked, summoning my two amigos to follow me into the house, just in case, but also to give England and America whatever privacy it was England felt they needed. I hated England, the bastard had sunk my Armada, but maybe if he had words with America, he would be able to stop this ridiculous pursuit of my Lovi.

"Francis, you take the west wing, Gilbert, the east, and I'll start checking upstairs, alright?" I directed, and my friends nodded, before starting off searching in their assigned cardinal directions.

I passed through the kitchen, and noticing the pizzas were finished cooking, turned off the oven, before proceeding up the stairs, and checking both hallways at the top of the stairs to see if they had decided to stay to stand and chat in either of them. They hadn't. So I stood at the top of the stairs, looking indecisively down first one, then the other, when I heard it-

"Don't make this about my medication, Lovino Romano Vargas!" Feliciano's voice screeched from behind me, causing me to startle, and spin completely around, to stare at a bedroom door I'd entirely neglected to notice.

The next words were muffled, but I could tell Feliciano was speaking. I was about to open the door, but then I heard my name mentioned, and my curiosity piqued, I pressed my ear to the crack in the door, and listened. There was a shifting sound, like one of them had changed positions, then I could hear Lovi mentioning America, before I got a full piece of the conversation.

"He... he wants England back, and it's obvious they love each other, and England scares me, and it's bad enough that France comes over to visit, because I know he still does, I can see him and Spain are still close, but if England comes over regularly?! I'll die! Aren't you still afraid of him too?!"

That was definitely Lovi's voice. I had no idea he still felt that way about Francis... but then, he was also thinking like newly independent Lovi, not the Lovi I was used to. He really had gotten better recently, he was standing up to Francis and everything~!

"Oh, Romano, you're trying to help America and England get back together?! That's so sweet!" Feliciano's voice again.

"Toni? Did you find Romano yet?" It was Gilbert's voice, but him and Francis both ascended the stairs, making entirely too much noise to a conducive eavesdropping environment.

I hushed them quickly and intensely, violently gesturing for them both to kindly shut the fuck up. They exchanged a look, before rushing -quietly, thank God,- up the stairs, and joining me at the door.

Francis gave me a questioning look and I pointed at the door, doodling an air curl out from my hair to signal to him that the Italy brothers were inside. Gilbert's red eyes lit up in understanding, but Francis just cocked his head to the side, baffled. Gilbert took him by the shoulders and spun him around, attempting to show the Frenchman via Charades who was behind the door, first by acting like Feliciano, doing a terrible impression of Feli's white-flag waving.

I ignored the two of them and pressed my ear back to the door, hearing Lovi say, almost a little... guiltily? "I know... But I just have to tell him, and he'll understand! He's-"

"Spain! What the fuck are you doing?!" America's voice called from the bottom of the steps, causing both Francis and Gilbert to whirl around and give him silencing death glares, which he ignored. "Did you find Romano yet? What... Are you EAVESDROPPING?"

"¡Sí! ¡Cállate!" I hissed, beckoning without looking back at him for him to join me, and then for Francis and Gilbert to move aside, since they weren't listening anyway.

I couldn't hear what was being said over their whispering and America's loud footsteps, even though I had both my eyes scrunched up and even a hand over my nose, since blocking some of your senses was supposed to heighten the others.

"...just helping by pushing them in the right direction," that was Lovino's voice again. Pushing who?! And why was America talking again NOW? Damn, I couldn't hear with him babbling on like this!

"No, I'm done talking to you, England!" America was saying, hallway up the steps, glaring down at England with crossed arms.

"Well I wasn't finished talking to YOU, boy..." England started to reply, but I cut him off by giving them both the dirtiest glare I could muster.

"How about the both of you SHUT UP so I can hear?" I hissed, before turning back to the door, and pressing my ear to the crack once more.

"What exactly are you listening to?" England asked, annoyed.

"Romano!" America and I whispered at the same time, although I said it angrily, and he said it disapprovingly.

England's eyes shrank into slits, but he rushed up the steps to join us anyway, and I put my ear back to the door as the pair of them reached the landing and also leant in towards the door.

"Just promise me you'll tell Antonio soon, okay?" Feliciano said.

...tell Antonio what? What were they talking about?! Dios, what would Lovi be keeping from me?

America and England seemed to be thinking the same thing, and exchanged dubious glances over my shoulder, which I ignored.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, dammit," Romano huffed. "Just get off me. I'm fine, and I know what I'm doing, and..."

"Ve... Seriously fratello, if you don't tell Antonio soon, I will." Feliciano threatened darkly, and I scowled, completely nervous now.

"Spain... maybe you shouldn't be listening in on this..." America whispered, and stepped back from the door, as if to set an example. "If there's something Romano wants to keep to himself..."

"I should know about it!" I growled, shoving America away from the door on impulse.

"Hey!" He snapped, shoving me back, and whereas my push had done little to move him at all, his sent me flying down the hallway, to land on my ass with a grunt.

I scrambled to my feet and ran back at him, and he rolled his eyes in what looked like exasperation before gripping the back of my neck, and slamming me into the door with a bang.

Before I could get a grip on what was happening, I looked up, and realized I was on the floor, looking up at Lovino and Feliciano, the former standing with his hands on his hips and glaring down at me, and the latter sitting on the edge of the bed, looking startled. Feliciano giggled and waved to me, and I smiled weakly and waved back.

And then Lovi spoke. "Were you bastards EAVESDROPPING ON US?!"

"N-No?" I tried, giving him what I hoped was one of my best grins. But I was shaking, so I don't know how it actually turned out.

"GET OUT!" He shouted, pointing back out the door I'd just fallen through, and I could hear England and America's footsteps rushing down one of the hallways, leaving me to my fate.

"L-Lo siento, Lovi, it won't happen again, I, uh... It was América! Not me! F-Fusososo, wasn't this funny~? What a cute accident~! Um..."

"Shut up!" He growled, stomping over to where I lay, and crouching down to more effectively glare me down.

"U-Um... The pizzas are done, Lovi!" I told him.

"What?! Fuck! Feli, I told you to finish the pizzas! You left them there?! They're gonna get cold!" He seized my collar and towed me to my feet, and started pulling me towards the stairs, down to the kitchen. "You're helping me with the pizzas, dammit, since Feli and Alfred are being useless!"

"Oh! Uh... okay, Lovi~" I laughed nervously, and attempted to keep up with him as he led (read: dragged) me down the stairs. "I'd be glad to help~"

"H-Hmph," he frowned. "Yeah, you better be, dammit, it's your fault Feli left them anyway."

"It is?" I asked, not quite understanding how that was my fault, but going along with it anyway. "Um... okay~!"

A/N: Haha... Um, well this time I updated faster than last time! I'm really sorry for the inconvenient timing I have, I actually had this nearly done about a week ago, I just... didn't like it enough. But then I went through and tore it up and redid it, and now it's better. Well, that and I was busy tearing through the Beautiful Creatures series so fast I wasn't getting any sleep at night until I'd finished the book I happened to be on at the time. But now it's done, and here, and I'm sorry if the fight scene was terrible, I am a romance writer, not an action writer. XD

Translations:

"¡Hijo de puta, eso no es el punto! ¡Me encanta Lovi! ¡Lo amo! ¡Él es mío! ¡Lo sabes! ¡Tienes que parar esto!" - Son of a bitch! That's not the point! I love Lovi! I love him! You know this! You must stop this! (Roughly)

"¡Dios maldito carajo!" - God fuck damn! (Roughly, again, sorry)

"¡Cállate!" - shut up

"Lo siento," - Sorry