Well, the mayhem is not all that mayhem-ish (so consider yourself warned), but apart from that, this is the longest story I've ever written. The fandom lacks these kinds of fics, haha.

Anyway, I don't own Hetalia!

17 minutes from mayhem

Romano woke with a groggy feeling. He had an irritating throb in his head and his legs hurt like hell. When the Italian tried to turn over, he rolled into something warm and soft. After a second's confusion he realized it was a person. He opened his eyes and was faced with a pale back, covered in silvery scars. Romano blinked sleepily and tried to recall who he'd hooked up with. He'd probably been drunk; that happened every now and then. The Italian rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. It wasn't his ceiling. His ceiling was not such an ugly mustard colour.

But Spain's was.

He opened his eyes wide. So he was in Spain's house. But that man next to him was definitely not Spain. He turned his head the other way, trying to recall what had happened last night. He was overcome with shock when he saw the damned Spaniard sleeping soundly on his left, his mouth curled up in a content smile.

Shit. This was not good. He must have been really drunk. Maybe even high. Trying to recall what had happened gave the Italian a headache though, so he decided to think of it later. For now he needed to get the hell out of here. Romano stretched quickly and crawled over to the foot of the bed, since both sides were occupied. When he had left the bed and turned around to find his clothes, he stiffened. Not only were Spain and the mysterious other man in the bed, there was a third person. His blond hair was sprawled out over the pillow and the one hairy leg that came from underneath the covers was hooked with the other man's right one. Worst of all, Romano recognized him.

France himself, the fucking bastard.

The Italian tiptoed over nervously and took a look at the remaining person, trying to see if he was who Romano now suspected he was. The man had buried his head underneath a pillow, but the white hair was still hard to miss.

The one and only Prussia.

Well, fuck. Romano sank down on the ground. His head was spinning. To accidentally end up in bed with Spain was one thing. To accidentally end up in bed with Spain and someone else was another. But to end up in bed with Spain, France and Prussia? That was simply a disaster. An extremely wrong, extremely confusing and extremely gross disaster. Romano shuddered. He couldn't get himself to stand up and walk away. His thoughts only consisted of curses, curses, a lot of curses, and the question HOW THE FUCK HAD HE ENDED UP LIKE THIS?

29 hours from mayhem

'Fratello, wake up! It's time!' Veneziano's voice rang through the light, grand house in Rome. The Italy brothers were staying in their capital city temporarily as they had official meetings with their government this week, like all the other countries. Today they had one last meeting scheduled before the brothers would be heading to Spain to attend a party there. The nations had taken up the tradition of having someone organize a gathering after the week of meetings. Some of them would take advantage of it by discussing the plans of their government with the others, many of the countries would just hang around, drink a lot of the local liquor and have fun.

Romano and Veneziano, despite popular belief, were of the first category. But they hadn't come to any conclusions with the Italian government this week, so this time they'd probably be lounging about.

South Italy rolled out of bed, took a shower, ate a small breakfast with his brother and brushed his teeth. At eight, they were ready to go. The chauffeur they'd been assigned by the president himself picked the brothers up with his sleek black car and squeezed it through the morning traffic of the Italian capital. The weather was sure to be beautiful today, if a bit hot.

Veneziano looked at the city as if he'd never seen it before, as if he was a tourist. Romano chuckled at his brother. Normally he'd scowl at him and tell him to cut it out, but he was in a good mood today. He didn't know why that was, maybe because of the weather, maybe because the stuffy meetings were almost over, maybe because the shower actually worked this morning, maybe even because he'd be going over to Spain's in the afternoon. Either way, he sat back in the back seat and smiled silently.

'Ehi, Romano, why are you smiling?'

To Romano's credit, he didn't even sneer. 'Because I'm in a good mood, you dolt.'

'Oh, okay, of course!' The bubbly man was quiet for a while, gazing at the traffic jam. 'I'm looking forward to the party this afternoon, are you?'

'Yeah, kind of,' the older brother replied.

'Big brother Spain knows how to throw a party, right?' Veneziano looked at him expectantly. It was as if he was expecting a certain answer. Romano sighed, shook his head and turned to look out the window. His little brother was not as oblivious as most people thought. In fact, he was pretty observant. It could get annoying every now and them. And Romano was determined not to let himself get annoyed today. The driver announced they'd reached their destination. The brothers jumped out of the car and Veneziano thanked the man profusely. The other Italian smirked and gripped his brother's arm to pull him inside the building.

One meeting, he could stand that much.

24 hours from mayhem

Around noon, the meeting was finally over. Romano had gotten into a huge argument with the prime minister - the guy had been planning to use some of the money for developing the south for renovating a district in fucking Venice! - and his cheery mood had evaporated into thin air. Even the cute waitress at the restaurant he and Veneziano had lunch at could not cheer him up. And Veneziano himself wasn't really helping either. He kept telling anecdotes on other countries - Germany and his stupid brother in particular.

'Say Romano, Prussia once said he likes Italian coffee better than German coffee. You know why?'

'No. And like hell I care.'

'Ve, he said, the tables in Italy are so low that the waitresses really have to bend over to give you your coffee. And then you have an excellent view!' He giggled a bit.

'Fucking potato bastard! That's insulting!' Romano spat.

'Fratello... What happened to your good mood?'

'The prime minister, that's what happened! Giving my money to YOUR FUCKING CITY! I NEED THAT DAMN MONEY, HE FUCKING KNOWS THAT!'

'Calm down, calm down! No need to swear!' Veneziano tried calming his older brother down frantically. They didn't need to be kicked out of another restaurant because of him. 'You stopped it, right?'

'DAMN RIGHT I STOPPED IT!'

'Signore, please calm down, or else w-we'll have to remove you from this restaurant,' a waiter told Romano nervously. South Italy looked at him venomously, then replied through clenched teeth. 'We were just leaving.' And he marched off, leaving his brother to pay.

Romano sauntered about outside. Luckily the weather was still good, or else the day really would've been ruined. Not that it wasn't already. The Italian sat down on the stairs of a building, waiting for his brother to show up. He felt sort of guilty about screaming at him. Lately Veneziano had been doing his best to pay more attention to the south and deep down, Romano was very happy about that. He leaned back and glanced at the people walking by. His people. The Italian relaxed a little. He tried to let go of his angry feeling, still determined to have fun at the party in Spain. After some time Veneziano finally came over, cautiously approaching him like he was a wild animal.

'I'm better, Veneziano,' Romano assured the man. He saw him breathe a sigh of relief.

'Well then,' the younger brother said with a smile, 'we should be going to the airport now. We don't want to be late!' And he bounced off happily.

Romano smiled crookedly and followed him.

20 hours from mayhem

'¡Bienvenido, mis tomates pequeños!' Spain greeted the Italians happily. 'How was your flight?'

'It was just fine!' Veneziano answered as he hugged the Spaniard. 'Though a man spilled his drink on fratello.' He turned to Romano. 'Right fratello?'

Romano pressed his lips together and nodded stiffly. He plucked at his shirt, which had a big stain on it from the man's soda. It was pink and looked ridiculous. He felt like a little child, even if he hadn't spilled the drink himself. 'I thought you'd probably have some of my clothes around,' he mumbled, looking at his feet.

Spain confirmed that and dragged both Italians over to his garden, where some nations were already waiting. North Italy immediately bounced over to Germany and France, while Spain motioned for South Italy to follow him into the house. While Romano waited downstairs, the Spaniard rummaged around on the first floor. He came down after a few minutes, carrying a bundle of clothes.

'Here,' he said, handing them to Romano. 'I don't know how old these are, but they're yours anyway.'

The Italian's eyes widened when he recognized a shirt he'd left behind in the eighties of the twentieth century because it was so ugly. He quickly threw it down, then picked out a plain blue one before handing the rest back to Spain. The Spanish nation eyed the shirt on the ground curiously, but Romano shook his head violently and he left it alone. But he didn't leave.

'Spain, I'd like to change.'

'Yes, yes, go ahead.'

'That actually meant leave, bastard.' Shit, he was getting annoyed. Think happy thoughts, Romano. Think about the cute waitresses who do have to bend over a lot - fuck, now was he thinking about Prussia.

'Ah! Sure, yes.' Spain winked at the Italian and left with the clothes. South Italy blushed before rapidly shrugging off his shirt and putting on the new one. As he was closing the buttons, his former boss came back. Romano hastily finished buttoning up and the two men walked over to the large garden, where more nations had gathered in the meantime. Spain, being the host, went over to greet all of them, leaving the other by himself. Veneziano was chatting with Germany and France still, so Romano trotted over to the food table and grabbed one of the tapas that Spain had prepared. It was something with tomatoes, which pleased him. As the Italian munched on it contentedly, he suddenly heard a voice behind him.

'Had so much fun with Spain inside you had to change your clothes, huh?'

Romano twirled around. The voice belonged to Prussia. 'No, bastard! I'm not like you and France!'

The albino raised an eyebrow. 'You implying France and I have something?' He chuckled. 'That'd be one twisted relationship.'

'I did never say that,' he scowled. 'What are you doing here anyway?'

'I came with bruder, of course. Plus, Spain invited me. We're friends.'

'Unfortunately, yeah. Spain deserves so much better than you.'

Prussia feigned hurt. 'Ouch.' He stuffed some tapas in his mouth demonstratively. 'Ou'we weawwy pwotectiwe wout Shvain, wight?'

'I am not protective about Spain!'

Prussia swallowed. 'You actually understood me. I'm impressed!' He came closer to Romano. 'You are very protective though. But Spain is pretty possessive over you as well.'

Romano subconsciously stepped back. Now he was against the table. Prussia came even closer. Romano could feel the man's breath on his face. 'S-Spain is not possessive, idiot.'

'Yes he is. I wonder what he would do if I kissed you right now.' The albino pressed the other man closer to the table and leaned over.

'You wouldn't.' The Italian's voice sounded more confident than he felt. 'You won't.' He gripped the table and leaned away from the older German brother, planting his heels firmly into the ground. Prussia placed a hand on his waist and pulled him straight up. Their cheeks touched. Romano tried to pull away, but then the albino placed a hand on the back of his head, preventing him from moving. Then the man turned his head so that the two were facing one another. Prussia smirked deviously and closed in.

'GILBERT! What do you think you're doing? Are you loco?'

Prussia let go. 'Too bad. Proved my point though,' he whispered at Romano, who blinked, surprised, and struggled to keep his balance when the German let him go.

Spain looked very agitated. 'Gilbert, mi amigo, what was that? What were you doing with mi tomate pequeño?' He shook his head perplexedly.

Prussia leaned on the table and ate some more snacks. 'I was just having some fun, while proving a point at the same time. Don't get your panties in a twist.' He pointed at the food. 'These things are good. Anyway, I'll be off now and you can do whatever you want with him.' He raised an eyebrow in a suggestive manner and sauntered off. Spain turned to Romano.

'Wha-?'

'Don't ask, forget it. I'm trying to be in a good mood today. At least he wasn't drunk.'

'Are you sure you're alright?'

'I'm fine, Antonio. Spain. Shit, whatever. Try and leave me alone and I might actually have fun for once.' And he left the man behind and tried to catch up with the first person he randomly walked into - who so happened to be Greece.

Spain looked forlorn, the Italian noticed as he sneaked a glance over his shoulder. But soon one of the South Americans - whether it was Chile or Bolivia was hard to tell from this distance - came over and they started chatting away. Romano smiled slightly and turned back to Greece.

'What were we talking about just now?

Greece blinked. 'Wouldn't you just love to be a cat?'

17 hours from mayhem

As it turned out, Romano did have fun at the party, especially when he finally managed to detach himself from Greece and his blabbering about cats. There was definitely something fucking wrong with that guy. South Italy was just lucky Japan had happened to come by and distract Greece. After that, Romano had caught up with some nations and even did a little dance with Belgium - until Netherlands had decided it had been enough and interfered. The Italian crossed paths with neither Prussia nor Spain again that afternoon, and he was thankful for that. Even if, to be honest, he wouldn't have minded spending some time with the Spaniard.

At seven, it was time for dinner. While Veneziano and France complained about it being too early to eat, Germany and Netherlands looked extremely thankful for the food. Only to glare at each other afterwards, only to have Netherlands glare at Spain after that. For no reason. Romano chuckled a bit. Those two would never get along. Spain could try as much as he wanted, but it would never work.

Veneziano sat down at his brother's right for dinner. France sank down to the young man's left. He'd rather not have the Frenchman so close, but he was a grownup, so he didn't say anything. The blond nation had a comment on everything, from Indonesia's hair to America's appetite and from Australia's jokes to Spain's dinner. A dinner that, according to Romano, was very good. It had a lot of tomatoes and a lot of wine. It was light wine though, you could drink two bottles of the stuff and only get slightly tipsy. Romano had barely gotten three glasses, so he felt perfectly fine.

France, who was just joking about Sweden, turned towards the Italian to refill the man's wine glass. He lingered close afterwards - too close to Romano's liking.

'Well, my dear South Italy,' the Frenchman started, 'you look very handsome today.' He placed his fingertips on Romano's chest and moved them up and down. The Italian swallowed hard and thanked France halfheartedly before quickly turning away. He was breathing fast and shakily. Something was wrong with the world today - or rather, something was wrong with Spain's so-called bad friends.

Romano tried starting a conversation with his brother over dessert, but Veneziano waved him off because he was talking with Greece rather animatedly. How one could have an animated conversation with Greece was beyond the older Italian. With Liechtenstein and Switzerland across the table, he had no choice but to turn France's way again. The nation smiled at him in a seductive manner. Romano tried smiling back, which France apparently took as an invitation to grab his chin and kiss him.

Romano shoved the Frenchman off and downed the rest of his wine before storming away from the table angrily. He subconsciously rushed in the direction of Spain's house. And almost slammed into Spain himself.

'Oh!' the Spaniard said as he caught his former henchman. 'Easy there, tomate!' He noticed the look on Romano's face. 'What is it, Lovi?'

'Don't call me that,' Romano said lamely. Then: 'It's your fucking friends! They don't have to be so damn horny all the time, is it? They just can't keep their filthy fucking hands to themselves!'

'Around you? No, I understand that,' Spain said, rubbing a hand on the Italian's back.

'The fuck man? You're not helping at all!' He wriggled himself out of Spain's embrace and marched into the house. He didn't plan on coming out until he and Veneziano would be going home. The nation locked himself in the guest room, which had been his room when he lived here. He couldn't understand how Spain could stay in one place for such a long time. People were bound to notice he didn't age, right? Then again, it was a pretty secluded area... Romano's mind kept going over useless things. Why Spain lived here. What Belgium was wearing today. What the hell was actually so funny about Indonesia's hair. Whether Norway had already beaten up Denmark or not. Who the hell had been next to America at dinner. Anything to distract him from Spain's idiot friends.

13 hours from mayhem

Romano didn't know how long he'd been sitting there on the canopy bed when he heard footsteps nearing. The door swung open. He strained his eyes - it had gotten dark, the only light came from torches outside in the garden - to see who was there.

'Hey Romano! What're you doing there? I thought you'd gone home!'

Just his damn luck. It was Prussia again. The ex-nation came into the room and sat down next to the Italian, who scooted over to the far end of the bed. Prussia looked at him. His crimson eyes glinted in the dim light. The bed sheets rustled when the man came closer to Romano again. Shit, he really had to stop cornering himself!

'Don't get any closer, you jerk!'

'Don't worry, I won't do anything,' Prussia said. He sounded sincere enough, but he was still Prussia. He could never be trusted.

'What do you want?'

'I want to excuse myself for what I did before.'

The Italian blinked and fumbled with the buttons on his shirt. Either Prussia was a really good actor, or he was actually apologizing. There was a very slim chance of either of these options. Romano shook his head and said: 'You're lying. There's got to be an ulterior move.'

Prussia came closer and looked into Romano's eyes. Again with the uncomfortable closeness. 'I swear there's not. I might seem like that sort of guy, I know, but I'm not getting in the way of my friends' romances.' He huffed. 'Why do you think I've never hit on your brother? If it hadn't been for West, hell, I'd know what to do with that kid!'

'DON'T FUCKING TALK ABOUT VENEZIANO LIKE THAT!'

'Oops, wrong thing to say.' The albino laughed. 'Aw, Lovino, can't you take a joke?'

'NO, I CAN NOT,' South Italy yelled angrily. Prussia was still so close. 'And do not call me Lovino.'

'It's a pretty awesome name, if you ask me. Why can't I use it?'

'Because you're you, potato bastard.'

'Seriously now, I am sorry. If you don't want my awesome apologies, I'll just go now.' But the man made no move to leave, instead only moving closer to the Italian. Again, Romano could feel his breath on his face. He involuntarily found himself wondering what would have happened if Prussia had kissed him. Did Spain really like him that much? Would the man have gotten jealous, angry? Or would he have been happy for him?
He only noticed himself leaning in when it was too late; his lips were already touching Prussia's. And despite knowing he should, the Mediterranean nation didn't pull away from the kiss. His eyes fluttered shut when Prussia ran a hand over his jaw softly and pulled him closer. They stayed like that for a while, barely moving, until realization dawned on Romano and he drew away suddenly. He opened his eyes wide. The end of the kiss took some time to get through to Prussia, who had his lips parted and eyes half closed. After some time, he blinked at Romano. The Italian swore he saw a hint of pink on the man's pale cheeks.

The two men looked at each other. Romano found his voice first.

'What the fuck was that?'

'I'll tell you when I know.'

They sat in uncomfortable silence for a while, staring at one another. Romano found himself bringing his fingers up to Prussia's chest. He put his fingertips over the man's heart and looked at them. Prussia's heartbeat was fast, his chest was heaving. The albino grabbed the Italian's hand and moved it to the side, coming closer. Romano didn't know if he wanted to kiss him again, so he leaned back, laying down on the bed. The other crawled over him and silently kissed his cheek. Just then they heard voices coming from the hallway and simultaneously looked up. A flash of blond passed by the doorway and the voice accompanying it stopped. Then France shuffled back into vision, raising his eyebrows. Spain peeked around the corner as well. His jaw dropped when he saw one of his best friends leaning over his former charge while breathing hard.

'Well,' said France, 'isn't that interesting?' He smiled. 'Mes amis, would you care to explain what's going on?'

Romano pushed Prussia off and stared at Spain. The Spaniard's look was so betrayed, so hurt. South Italy clambered off the bed and went over to him, trying his best to ignore France.

'Antonio,' he said.

And Spain kissed him.

He heard Prussia gasp and France laugh silently, but then everything was lost in Spain's warmth and passion. Romano reached up to wrap his arms around the man's neck and didn't resist when he tried to deepen the kiss. They broke apart after a long time, scrambling for air. The two men looked at each other with wide eyes and a wide smile on Spain's part. Then there was a small cough from their left, where Prussia was now standing too, with France's arm draped over his shoulders.

The Frenchman looked at Romano. 'Tell me, Romano, you've shared a kiss with all three of us, as it would seem. Who was the best?'

Spain and Prussia looked at France with equally confused expressions. Romano averted his gaze and mumbled that he really couldn't compare those kisses... It had hardly been a kiss...

'Then we'll give you comparison material. Right, Gilbert?'

Romano didn't get the chance to ask what he meant before the man pulled him away from Spain and slammed his lips into the Italian's. The nation tried to pull away, but the Frenchman held him close and moved his lips slowly. Romano involuntarily sank into the kiss, grabbing a handful of France's button-down shirt. When the man slid his tongue over Romano's lips, he opened his mouth without a second thought. Their tongues met, pressed against each other, fought for dominance.
Romano had just found out that it was called French kissing for a reason.

They broke off the kiss when Spain moaned quietly. Romano wasn't unoccupied for long, however. He found his head yanked sideways and his mouth ravished by Prussia, though with surprising tenderness. The German brother tangled his hands in Romano's hair and nibbled on the man's lower lip. The Italian screwed his eyes shut and moaned into the kiss silently. When Prussia left his mouth to trail kisses down his jaw and in his neck, he almost wanted to yank him back up. However, he was distracted by tan arms embracing him from behind and opening the buttons of the blue shirt. He looked over his shoulder and Spain kissed him hungrily. Meanwhile France tugged off the shirt and stroked the Italian's sunburned torso with tenderness. Prussia licked and sucked his neck. It was an overwhelming feeling.

When Romano and Spain broke their kiss, Prussia promptly picked the young man up and hobbled over to the bed with him. France and Spain followed suit, the former slamming the door shut behind him. Prussia threw South Italy down and took a seat next to him. The other two did so as well.

'Now can you tell us who is the best kisser?' France asked. He was smiling.

'I don't fucking care,' Romano answered, propping himself up on his elbows. 'Try and convince me to.' Oh damn, he was really acting before thinking now. Those guys would take that as an invitation to ravage him. Point was, he actually liked that thought. He wanted to be wanted. And to be wanted by three people... Who was he to complain? He smirked at the bad friends one by one, daring them to make the first move.

It was Spain who did. The nation shrugged off his own shirt and crawled over to his former charge. He smiled at the young man and kissed his cheek. Then he hoisted the Italian up by his shoulders, forcing him to sit up on his knees. Their bare torsos pressed together. Romano shivered from the skin-to-skin contact. He could feel Spain's heart beating quickly. Their lips met again, while Spain stroked his sides lazily. Then there were hands on his back, a mouth connecting with his neck. Stubble grazed Romano's shoulder; it was France behind him. This suspicion was confirmed when the Italian opened his eyes slightly and saw Prussia caressing Spain's shoulder. The Spaniard broke off the kiss and moaned quietly when Prussia sucked on a sensitive patch of skin. The albino winked at Romano mischievously. The Italian nation leaned forward and took matters into his own hands. He trailed kisses down Spain's jawline and neck and kissed a bite mark Prussia made.

France wriggled his hand inbetween Romano and Spain and once he had enough space, he pinched one of the Italian's nipples. Romano gasped and widened his eyes. He heard France laugh quietly behind him. Then Spain leaned over his shoulder and kissed the Frenchman roughly. South Italy raised an eyebrow.

'Well,' Prussia whispered, 'that was a surprise.' He smirked crookedly and bit Spain's ear. The Spaniard gasped and whipped his head around to see Prussia quickly crawling away, laughing at him. He followed the albino. France hummed and pulled Romano onto his lap. The Italian gasped when he felt the hardness in France's trousers that was now pressing into his butt. The Frenchman pinched his nipples again, before moving his hands down while nipping at the other's neck. Romano's eyes fluttered shut at the man's skilled touch. Soon, his belt was unbuckled and his buttons undone. At that point France pushed him off and laid him down on the white sheets of the bed.

Romano looked at the man he was so afraid of most of the time. There was admiration in his blue eyes. The Italian sat up and - despite France trying to push him back down - undid the buttons of his shirt. The nation was surprisingly muscular and at least not as hairy as Romano had suspected him to be. On impulse, he pulled the blond close and kissed him while pushing the white fabric away. Prussia's and Spain's giggles abruptly stopped and Romano felt the mattress move when the two came closer. He moved his hands up and down France's back and hooked his thumbs in the loops of the man's belt. Suddenly the Frenchman's pants were lowered. Romano opened his eyes and stopped kissing. Spain had unbuttoned his friend's slacks and slid them down. France sighed, smiling, and pushed the garment off completely. Then he turned his attention back to Romano, only to find the young man being undressed by Prussia.

The albino chuckled at his friend. 'Too slow,' he laughed. Romano slapped his hand and he continued tugging of the nation's jeans. There was an obvious bulge in his Armani briefs, which became painfully obvious with three men staring at it.

'Would it kill you to fucking do something?' the Italian asked through clenched teeth. All three moved at the same time. Spain lifted up one of the man's legs and kissed his inner thighs, France concentrated on his torso and Prussia kissed him violently. Their teeth clashed painfully at first, but when Prussia granted himself entrance of Romano's mouth that was quickly forgotten. Then, by some miracle, the albino got a hold of his curl. Romano almost screamed into the kiss and pushed the German off. The man blinked, confused, and France looked up questioningly.

'D-don't... I mean... Just c-continue,' Romano stuttered. Prussia frowned at him and took a hold of France's chin. South Italy moaned when the men's lips connected above his stomach. He found it extremely erotic for some reason. Spain looked at him from underneath his friends and Romano nodded eagerly. The Spaniard swiftly slid down his underwear and licked his lips appreciatively when the Italian's erection became visible. Romano bit the inside of his cheek and moaned throatily. France and Prussia were still full-on making out.

Spain licked the head of Romano's member experimentally. He earned a loud grunt which made France open his eyes for a second. The Spaniard smiled and took a hold of his former charge's cock, licking the whole length of it slowly. The Italian writhed around deliciously, emitting beautiful sounds. He grabbed Prussia's leg blindly. The German responded by stroking his fingertips over his heaving chest. While Spain slid his lips around South Italy, the nation brought up his hand and palmed Prussia's erection through his jeans. The albino finally let go of France to hiss at the touch. The Frenchman smiled and helped Romano undo his friend's buttons and pull down his pants and underwear.

Romano swallowed hard when he saw Prussia's member exposed - so close to his face, but was distracted by Spain's teeth scraping along his cock. He yelled out and trashed around, until France and Spain succeeded in holding his legs down. Prussia, meanwhile, had taken off his pants completely and was now only wearing his black shirt. Romano tentatively reached out and touched the man's cock. The older German brother grunted lowly and moved into the touch. The other circled his fingers around the twitching flesh and tugged softly. Prussia moaned. When Romano wanted to give another soft tug, his hand suddenly jerked back harshly. France had joined Spain and the men were now practically kissing around his cock. The Italian cried out and had to stop himself from digging his nails into his palm - which would not have been very pleasant for Prussia.

The German was becoming agitated and shuffled closer to the other nation. He grabbed a handful of his hair and turned the man's head his way. Before Romano could react, his mouth was filled with Prussia. He gagged against the sudden intrusion and tried to pull away, but the ex-nation had a firm grip on his head and began moving in and out of his mouth. The Italian moaned around his cock, making the albino vibrate with pleasure. Romano dug his heels into the mattress when France or Spain started fondling his balls. Prussia bucked into his mouth frantically, roughly, saying 'Lovino, Lovino, Lovino,' like a mantra. Heat pooled in the Italian's groin. Tears gathered in his eyes.

11 1/2 hours from mayhem

Surprisingly, it was Prussia who came first, into Romano's mouth. Romano pushed him away immediately to scream loudly when he came himself, violently releasing himself on Spain's face, who smiled happily and wiped the sticky stuff off. The Italian sat up and looked at Prussia angrily.

'You fucking son of a bitch!' He slapped the German across the face. 'That was uncalled for!'

'So was that!' Prussia retorted. He held his cheek, looking hurt.

Spain sat down next to Romano and kissed his cheek, which made the young man blush. France hobbled over to Prussia and began peppering kisses on the red bruise that Romano's hand had left. Prussia looked at him, tucked a strand of hair behind his ear and kissed him slowly. Romano looked at them, then at Spain. The Mediterranean nation smiled again.

'I... I really like you, Antonio,' the Italian eventually said. His mind was hazy. The other nodded. 'But I think Prussia... Gilbert is the best kisser.' Shit, he hadn't meant to say that. Curse the potato bastard.

There was a smack as Prussia detached himself from France. 'Seriously?'

'Seriously?' France sneered. 'Him?'

'Aw come on, Francis. It's pretty obvious you love it too.' And he tackled his friend onto the bed, tugged down his boxers and continued the make-out session. Spain laughed at them before turning to Romano. 'I really like you too, Lovi. And I think nothing beats a kiss from you.' He cast his eyes sideways, serious for once. 'Is it the same kind of liking?'

'I need some time to figure that- AH - FRANCIS, YOU ASSHOLE! CUT IT OUT!'

France did his signature laugh as he slapped the Italian's butt again. Romano angrily turned towards him and shoved Prussia out of the way. The albino almost tumbled off the bed. South Italy yanked France's hair and pushed his legs apart. The Frenchman just smirked at him. Romano let go of his hair and spat on his own fingers. Then he roughly inserted one into the man's hole. He showed no sign of discomfort, so the Italian added another two. Still the nation didn't move a muscle. But when a fourth finger was added, there was a slight twitch in the man's eye. Romano smirked contentedly and beckoned at Spain to come over. The nation did as told. Romano looked him in the eyes before grabbing his hand and moving it down. Spain understood what was being asked of him and wriggled a finger inside France, then another one.

The Frenchman gasped and dug his nails into Prussia's leg. The albino slapped his hand away. Spain inserted two more fingers. France clenched his teeth and tears gathered in the corners of his eyes. 'M-merde,' he breathed. 'It w-wouldn't have been that bad if you'd j-just used lubrication like n-normal people!'

'We're not normal,' Romano answered deviously, and he moved his fingers inside France. The nation cried out. Spain furrowed his eyebrows, but started moving his hand as well. Prussia suddenly bounced off the bed and began rummaging around in the nightstand. He came back with a small bottle of lube. Romano looked at Spain.

'Do I want to know why there's lube in the guest room?'

'I just thought it could be useful someday,' Spain answered sheepishly. 'It turned out I was right.'

'Thank you, mon ami!' France choked out. Prussia grinned at him and threw the bottle at the other two. Romano poured it over his and Spain's hands before kissing the Spaniard softly, never stopping his movements inside France. After some time, the kiss was broken and the fingers were removed. Romano flipped the blond over roughly and positioned himself at the man's entrance. He had a second's hesitation before pushing in. France breathed in sharply and twisted the bed sheets in his hands. Romano pushed further and further, panting as heat surrounded his manhood. He steadied himself by holding the other man's hips. Eventually he was almost fully inside the man and stopped. The Frenchman groaned heavily and South Italy moved out. Then back in, back out, back in... At first the movements were slow, but they became quicker and harsher after a few thrusts.

France found himself pushed up so that he was practically sitting on Romano's lap. Spain's hand was on his chest, pushing him further back. There was a lustful glint in the man's green eyes. Romano stopped moving and Spain poured a generous amount of lube onto his own exposed member. Prussia grunted from the side and touched his own cock. France widened his eyes and panted when Spain tried to push into him next to Romano. The Italian's breath caught as well. France tried not to concentrate on the enormous pain, but rather on Romano's slick body underneath his and the look in Spain's eyes.

Prussia came closer and kissed France's sweaty forehead, then his lips, effectively distracting him from the hurt. He did cry out when he felt Spain entering him. A string of curses in mixed languages left the Frenchman's mouth before being cut off by Romano moving slightly.

'If it hurts too much, amigo, you must say it,' Spain warned.

France gave a strangled grunt in reply and screwed his eyes shut. He buried his hands in Prussia's hair and slammed his lips into the albino's. He heard Spain say something, but he paid no attention. Then the Spaniard started moving. Slowly, carefully. Romano waited some time before following his lead. France's gasped for air because of the friction created and felt Romano do the same. Prussia gave a low grunt and France reached out with all his strength to stroke the man's cock.

Spain and Romano kept moving slowly. Their cocks pushed against each other inside France, they didn't dare to go much faster. Both grunted and moaned heavily. Their bodies were slick with sweat and lube and more liquids that they didn't want to think about.

France cried out loudly and lengthily, surprising himself with the amount of air left in his lungs, when the Italian brushed his prostate. Romano didn't resist the urge to go faster now, bucking up frantically. He hit the bundle of nerves again and again, making the Frenchman cry out even more and involuntarily clench Prussia's member. The German yelled and pried his friend's hand off.

'Ah, ah, please,' France choked out, 'don't - in - come - fuck! Don't come i-in - s-s-s- AH!'

Spain looked at his friend warily. The man's wavy blond hair was sticking to his forehead and his face was scrunched up. The tan Spaniard thrust in one more time and then pulled out. Both Romano and France gasped at the loss, but Spain turned his attention to Prussia, who was jerking himself off desperately.

'Gilbert,' he started, 'need some help?'

The albino looked at him and nodded pleadingly. Spain, on crazy impulse, picked the man up and planted him on top of France, so that they were facing one another. Romano grunted at the extra weight. Spain positioned himself at Prussia's entrance and pushed in without further ado.

Prussia cursed him loudly, but fell silent when the Spaniard started moving rapidly. The albino held on to France's shoulders and rubbed their lengths together. For a short time, they all moved like that in a tangle of sweaty bodies. Then Romano pulled out of France and released himself with a cry. Prussia and France came at the same time. France just threw his head back and clenched his teeth, Prussia cried out violently. The clenching of his walls around Spain tipped him over the edge as well. He screamed out Romano's name as he released his seeds into Prussia and fell down onto the mattress.

It was silent for a while.

'Shit,' said Romano. He pushed France and Prussia off him. 'I-I have no words for this. I'm gonna go take a shower.' Spain rolled off the bed as the Italian hobbled out the bedroom and staggered after him.

10 hours from mayhem

When the two Mediterranean countries came back from their shower, France and Prussia were fast asleep. Luckily they'd had a shower too. One of them had even thought to change the sheets. Romano and Spain were entirely too tired to go elsewhere, so they plopped down next to the others and were sleeping before they knew it.

6 minutes from mayhem

Romano looked at the other nations and the ex-nation from where he was still sitting on the ground. He swallowed hard. How could he have done that without being drunk? How could they, even they, have done that without being drunk?

The Italian sighed. No wonder his body was so sore.

It would probably be best if he now started looking for his clothes and left as quickly as possible.

He didn't move.

There was something holding him back. Spain's confession, Prussia's kisses, France's vulnerability? He didn't know, but he couldn't just leave. So he sat there, waiting for the bad friends to wake up. Bad friends, maybe. Bad touch, not at all.

Prussia was the first to wake. He stirred, threw the pillow off his head and looked around. His eye fell on France and he shrieked, making the blond awaken. The nation sat up and looked at his friend, then at Spain, who was still asleep, and frowned before finding Romano and settling his gaze on him. He laughed his signature laugh.

'We had fun last night, non?'

'Oh, shut up,' South Italy answered, thinking that maybe, he should have left after all.

Prussia punched the Frenchman in the shoulder.

'What, Gilbert?' he asked. 'Do you want a good morning kiss?'

'Not with your fucking morning breath,' Prussia mumbled. He scratched the stubble on his cheek and poked Spain.

'Wha?' said the Spaniard, before realizing what was going on and where he was. Then he sat up and looked at his friends. 'Where is mi tomate pequeño?' he asked frantically. 'Has he left?'

Prussia blinked. 'He's right over there...'

8 seconds from mayhem

'What? Oh!' Spain said happily. Then: 'If he's over there, then why are you guys still here? What are you doing here?'

France and Prussia protested quietly.

'No! NO! I WANT YOU OUT! DON'T COME NEAR LOVINO AGAIN! DO YOU GUYS UNDERSTAND THAT?'

'But!'

'NO BUTS! OUT!'

Romano blinked at Spain's outburst. That had come unexpectedly. He watched with interest as Spain grabbed a pillow and began beating the other two with it. They were trying to gather their clothes. Prussia grabbed another pillow, cursing loudly, and wanted to whack Spain with it, but France tugged his arm and dragged him away.

'AND I DON'T WANT TO SEE YOU FOR SOME TIME!' Spain called after they'd left.

'Antonio, what the fuck was that?'

Spain turned to Romano. There was fiery passion in his eyes. 'You're mine. I want them to know that. And I want you to know that, Lovino.'

Romano widened his eyes. That had come unexpectedly as well. Then he smiled at Spain.

'I know it. Don't worry.'

'Me? Worry?'

'Good point.'

Spain grinned. 'Ah, Lovino. Would you like to have,' he looked at the clock on the wall, 'lunch?'

'Yeah, sure.'

Spain nodded and the two gathered their clothes before heading towards the stairs to prepare some food. But Romano stopped Spain before he left the room. 'Antonio.'

'Hm?'

'We really have to talk about the colour of your ceiling.'