Disclaimer: First time writing 2P!Italy and 2P!England, obvious OOC-ness because of reasons, settings relating to other fics and my OCs, Pennsylvania and Delaware. Don't like how any of this sounds? I think I can change your mind. If you give me the chance, that is.
Also, a way to say Happy Valentine's Day (slash I'm not dead!) ~ And I still don't own Hetalia 💗
The pitch black darkness of the night almost swallowed up the shadow of a man busy picking the locks of a sizeable house on the outskirts of English countryside before he heard the faint click of confirmation to allow himself inside the place, swiftly shutting the door behind himself without so much as a creak giving his position away to anyone possibly nearby. His maleficent magenta orbs scanning the grand entryway for any sign of the owner of the estate, silently moving on to the lavish living room when he found none.
Throughout his line of sight stood several intricate relics of a fruitful empire that easily grew with the perserverance and determination of their powerful leader. Many paintings and statues and inscriptions; some from other, less fortunate nations that were held near and dear to their citizens hearts' had now been taken by this ruthless invader to provide as nothing but another decoration to the backdrop of their already glorious palace of a home amongst more items they pillaged for no reason other than because they felt like it.
It was such a typical thing in his world that the Italian thought nothing of it as he had done enough plundering lately that he couldn't call another out for it and actually mean it. Not like any of that mattered anyway with what was going on right now.
The Axis and the Allies were at war with each other (like always) over full dominance of the rest of the world that didn't bother telling them how much they would rather kill them than let anyone besides themselves take control of their native lands. Again, not like either side cared for the welfare of the foreign nations, just for what having them under their control could ultimately provide them and yet it was still vastly different this time. Mainly, the added novelty of this supposedly vanilla version of their universe that paralleled it in almost every way imaginable. It was supposedly so since Luciano hadn't seen it for himself to verify this "discovery". If anything, he highly doubted that such a place could exist.
Clear blue skies above tall fully lit buildings with real heat and plumbing that were just full of charitable people who had food and freedom if they wanted it in exchange for their upstanding morality? Oh, please.
It sounded like some sort of ploy to get the attention of those stupid enough to believe in such a fanciful fantasy and get them together in a room to kill them slowly with some practiced method. Probably by poisoning since he was in that damn Brit's house, after all. Stefano had told him the portal for the world where their so-called "first players" lived was located in the basement of England's house and left it at that, not even being useful enough to specify where exactly, only saying that when he saw it he would know.
He swore that idiota could never spend his time doing something to benefit anything besides the Mafia, his all-too large and sparkly wardrobe or his brighter than necessary hair. Luciano let out a light sigh as he continued the impromptu tour of his enemy's home.
'Whatever... As long as I get to see what he's babbling about without running into that figlio di puttana, I won't have to tear him a new one later. Mio Dio, what a great way to spend the holidays...'
Honestly, if he was telling you the truth, he would express his extreme loathing and deep-seated hatred of this time of year through tossing knives at every angel he saw. But then again, honestly, when does he ever tell the truth when he doesn't have to?
Keeping up his sneaky steps, it wasn't until he passed the kitchen that the Italian heard the faint chopping of a blade on a cutting board, the sound tapering off once he had reached the door of the basement while he stood in attention to make sure he was aware of anything coming from behind. This seemed to work as he deflected the blade of a perfectly sharpened knife with one of his own held up at an angle, twisting the golden knob of the door quite quickly before hopping down two stairs at a time to keep his distance from what had to be Oliver.
Perfect... This was just what he wanted today, butcher knife Barbie doll on his ass.
Maybe if he found the portal before the bastardo got down there, it wouldn't be as bloody as last time.
Not really having much in the scope of other options, Luciano darted to the left of the dank compartment in search of something resembling a 'blackhole' as Stefano had described it, the minimal illumination from the door left ajar casting the center of the room in a soft umber glow. Well, just how was he going to find anything with shit lighting like that?
A low chuckle escaped his throat as he stood before the wall, magnificent magenta orbs gleaming in the darkness while he felt against the ancient enclosure for a gaping hole. As if he had to worry about those kinds of issues, unlike most everyone he knew he could see perfectly clear in the absence of light. A fact of which made him all the more superior compared to his envious enemies-
"Peekaboo..." Was suddenly whispered against his ultra-alert ears, even more alert eyes narrowing when his waist was pulled by sickly sweet smelling hands, his back touching the front of the insane Brit who had the air supply to his neck cut off with the firm lock of a sleeved arm, finishing his statement in an irritatingly childish tone, "I finally found you, poppet. Now, it's time to play... What do you say, hm~?"
'Not today.' The Italian rolled his eyes in agreement with his mind, his hand instinctively going to his pockets for a knife to break free from the other's grasp except... For some reason, he couldn't move.
"Oh, and did I mention that I do not care what you say? That is kind of important." Oliver droned on, giggling slightly when he realized he wouldn't get an answer back from his guest yet because of the injection he had just given him. He must not have even felt it pierce his skin. "You probably won't remember this later, but your eyes are a dead giveaway. All glowy and whatnot. I mean, you could've had me fooled had you been a bit more careful." The strawberry blonde unwrapped his arm from Luciano's neck, not in the least concerned about retaliation since his nerves were now paralyzed with his special brand of happy elixir. A quick look at his victim's expression made his surreal grin broaden, he even saw the tiniest smidgen of fear trying to surface.
"Don't worry, love. It's just a little shot. Nothing... poisonous." His vile snickers negated any false pretense of caring, a pale hand leisurely trailing the other's jawline before the Italian's vision went swimming in black, his body falling limp in waiting arms as his wide eyes closed achingly shut.
All he could tell when he first woke up was the fact that his head was pounding itself into pulverized jelly, his back leaning against the wood of a dining chair, a single weak groan of his echoing in the dark room he found himself in whilst he tried to turn his head before settling on using his peripherals instead. From what he could judge of the modernized layout, order of the miscellaneous kitchen items laying aroung and the myriad of overwhelmingly sweet pastries on the counters, he must be in a kitchen. Yeah...
So, then why couldn't he even remember what he was doing here in the first place?
As if answering his question at the most convenient time, a light was flicked on too suddenly for his senses to handle, the unmistakable high-pitched giggle of his enemy snapping Luciano back into reality as he hissed like some vampire in blinding pain.
"Some warning next time would be appreciated..." He kept his eyes squeezed shut before blinking a couple times to get used to the ridiculously bright piercing light, a scowl twisting his face in a manner he normally wouldn't like. But at this moment he couldn't care less about how he looked, not when the cupcake fairy was staring him down like an escaped mental patient getting revenge on his backwards thinking doctor for screwing him up by giving him a taste of his own medicine. An even shriller if managable giggle brought his attention to the other, who had taken the time to get really close to his face the second he looked up.
Like close enough that he could just barely see anything other than blues and pinks and cutters let fly, oh my!
...He would honestly punch himself for that if he could right now. It was that damn idiota Stefano's fault for it. He could feel it in his soul that it was undeniably his and no one else's. Like, where the hell did that thought come from anyway?
Damn movies he forced him to watch under threat of snuggling him 'til dawn... But wait... That knife... It looked oh so familiar. Why was that?
"So sorry about the setup, but I cannot spoil surprises. Really, where's the fun in that?" Oliver chirped, only moving from the Italian's line of sight to put down the stolen knife and tie a frilly pink polka-dotted apron around himself before taking some buns out of the oven with matching mitts, placing them on the stove top to cool. "I timed these to be finished when you awoke and it actually worked, I'm so giddy!" It was akin to a child aiming for the can and sinking it in the very first try, was his happiness at doing this entire process right in a haphazard go.
The entire time the strawberry blonde did this, Luciano stared at him with what could only be identified as a look of awe-inspiring abhorrence to the nth degree, his left eye twitching uncontrollably with every useless thing he spewed forth and he could feel a migraine coming on with his inhuman voice ringing in his thoroughly abused ears. "You know, you talk too damn much." Was all he cared to comment, however, his mind was going fuzzy as his thoughts were overran by more incomprehensibly bubbly nonsense.
'What can I do to help big brother find his brain? He hasn't had it in a while! Since he started going to that huge scary place I know nothing about even, and I'm ever so worried for his safety when he goes. Maybe, if I enlist the aid of my allies, then we can all go in search of it together! Right, right... Except I hate them, so why ask for their help? Oh, darn... Hey, wait a fucking minute here!'
He shook his head incessantly to rid the idiocy invoking itself on his mind from his subconscious, feeling some power come back into his body in the form of a choked gasp as he moved his limbs to no avail, trying to get out of his restraints when a sudden sensation took place. His throat closing up while he struggled for air, oxygen vacating his brain to assist other areas of him from shutting down, his gaze staying on the smirking Brit who got back to cooking with a noticeable pep in his step.
Luciano knew it. He knew coming to England was a bad idea and yet he had done it to prove to those bastards that only he could be trusted enough to do it right. Now look at him, stuck in a chair and dying by suffocation from whatever had been jammed up into his veins when he was being careless.
He guessed it really wasn't their fault that this was happening... Maybe, he was on a mission he knew was too dangerous for one person alone because he was tired.
'Tired of what exactly?' This thought stayed with him as he continued squirming in a futile effort, the sound of a ding and humming muffled by his labored breathing as he felt all life drain from him until-
'Huh?'
The next time he tried to breathe, Luciano was awarded with the steady flow of oxygen that he desperately needed, his heart rate returning to normal once he got in enough air of which he inhaled and exhaled deeply without rest, not wasting his chance to stay alive when he so clearly had it.
"That's what happens when you resist the goodness." Oliver said matter-of-factly, his usual tone of wicked glee replaced with something eerily calm. What others might call distant, perhaps.
"Mi scusi...?" The Italian asked through shallow pants of air, still recovering from his near death and confused beyond belief at those cryptic words.
"I said," The Brit sighed silently, a flash of gloom appearing on his normally devilish features, making his fair features look almost innocent. "It is what happens when you resist the goodness. The happiness in your heart... Like everyone else in this awful world knows much too well about." His whole demeanor deflated like some sad little ballon without its helium to keep it afloat through its depressive periods, his once bright eyes of swirling turquoise and pink turned dull as he stared down at the floor while he spoke in a forlorn tone, "I just wanted to spend the holidays with someone. And... you always look so upset every day, so I thought... I thought it the right thing to maybe add some cheer in your life, if only for a day. That's why I had to drug you and tie you to that chair with the candy I hate the most. To make you happy..."
Startled realization flashed through Luciano's eyes at the other's dejected words, his brows furrowed sharply when an indifferent laugh erupted from his lungs. It started off small with little hiccups of mirth in between until it was a full-on holding your chest in concern for your heart as you piss your pants laughing kind of laughter.
"You expect to hold me here like some captive without a clue, eh?" A single swipe of one of his many polished bowie knives freed him from the black licorice rope of repulsiveness, the Italian standing up to place the blade of said knife close to the back of Oliver's neck, his other hand coming up to caress the side of the freckled man's face. "Mi spiace, ma... Ah, who am I kidding? I'm not sorry at all!" He took a moment to sigh freely in amusement, smirking so widely at his supposed enemy as he remarked smugly, "We will spend the holidays together, if I mean that much to you. Just you and I, il mio fatina."
The strawberry blonde was surprised to find himself in the other's embrace, those sparkling magentas he adored observing him as if he was something to desire, this peculiar stirring in his chest causing him to return the smirk he was being sent with a triumphant one of his own, even though he felt utterly lost in such a captivating gaze.
"Then you won't think to try escaping?" Another knife was taken from the kitchen table as the Brit kept it at a considerably dangerous distance from Luciano's jugular vein, the turquoise-eyed man licking his lips in anticipation of the all-too naughty activities that were likely to take place after this beating around the bush ceased. "Though, I guess I would not mind tying you up once more..." The gloved hand wielding the knife came closer to his neck and he laughed jokingly (though he might have been serious about that), usually knowing when he shouldn't push his luck. "Alright, fine then. What do you suggest should happen now, love?"
"Oh, you'll find out~ As soon as I cut this off-"
~Meanwhile, in past Russia~
The camera located in the alternate universe flickered for a moment before static filled every one of the images of second player England's house, a soft whine coming from the nation messing with the lives of others.
"I was watching that!" Russia shouted in mild annoyance, figuring the other Italy already knew that and huffing to himself before checking on things elsewhere. There had to be something else good on...
Sighing, the Russian stood up from his seat and dragged his feet down the stairs of his traditional mansion, promising himself he would have a talk with Dmitri about the breach in their deal. Again.
In the apartment building of one certain police officer's, holiday merriment was in full swing as the hyper man celebrated Christmas and Kwanza and whatever else came in between by stuffing his face alongside his brother and his newest friend, Stefano. And despite not having known him for all that long, he knew the bleach blonde would be a great friend of his. He just knew it!
"You want more roasted ham and potatoes with some beer, buuuuuuddy~?" Mason chimed, the seven cups of coffee he consumed that morning through afternoon still working its magic on his mood and allowing him to act like a five year old on crack even more than normal. Stefano grinned, nodding enthusiastically.
"Why, of course, Massone~ I would appreciate it." He accepted the offered plate, sitting down next to the Pennsylvanian with great gratitude, digging in since he hadn't eaten quality home cooking in he didn't know how long anymore.
'He might be cheap before then, but I can't complain when he feeds me like this!'
As both men finished their plates (Mason's fourth and Stefano's second), the subtle sigh of the Delawarean's made its way to the Italian's ears as he turned to the man.
"I thought you said your brother was coming over." Michael said, arching a dark brow in response as he looked up to meet his gaze in a way the Italian found just absolutely adorable.
'He looks so small in his baggy reindeer sweater, almost like a cucciolo that got lost in it when their owner dropped it on them just to watch it find its way out. Mio Dio, I want to dress him up and keep him in my pocket!'
"Excuse me," came the stern voice of the short man, his face slightly red from his miffed state. "But I'd rather you not look at me like that." Stefano held in a laugh, always entertained by the other's quick temper.
"I'm sorry, I hadn't meant to. It's just that... My fratello... He couldn't make it due to his recent hospitalization."
"Oh," Michael frowned slightly, anger quickly dissipating from his face as the Italian had predicted. "I am so sorry to hear that. You think he'll be fine? You know, after..." He trailed off, to which his brother looked up from his cup of coffee in distress, almost throwing the steaming liquid up into the air as he moved to run to his room for his cleaning suppiles, the task making him feel better when he was troubled.
"Oh, no, no. He'll be fine. I'm positive! There's no need to worry at all." Stefano said a bit louder so that the other could hear as well, suppressing a head shake. God, these two were too much for him to bare sometimes.
"You're certain about that?" The older of the two asked, not yet convinced in the matter. The blonde nodded reassuringly, smiling softly to placate his doubts.
"He is fine. I promise." And that was that. Stefano would let his brother know about this marvelous parallel world one of these days, just not now.
Not when it was untainted by his own hands.