Chapter 1: Esperanza

So hey. Have you ever been in a situation where you're surrounded by people who drive you up the wall, but you have no choice but to be in their presence anyway? Yeah I'm there right now. The name's Manny, and lemme tell you a little something about me. I'm 17, fresh out of high school, but as luck would have it, I can't afford college, my grades weren't exactly outstanding, and I have to support myself by myself. Wait, that sounded redundant didn't it? Ah who cares. Anyway, I'd like to think of my life as unfortunate, but in a way where I see it as something that only makes me stronger with every passing day. Though most people who know me would just say I have bad luck, mala suerte, and I'm just apathetic about the shit that happens to me. Probably, yeah. But what can I do about it? Pfft, nothing, nothing at all, except make the best of it. There's no point in feeling sorry for myself. What's mala suerte? Weren't you listening? It means "bad luck" in Spanish, which apparently defines my life.

Mala suerte includes my good for nothing father leaving my mother when he found out she was pregnant with me. I don't know who he is, where he is, and I could care less about whether he's alive or not. Mala suerte includes my mother dying a year before I graduated high school due to an "unfortunate" car accident. Mala suerte includes that I literally had no other family but my mother in the United States, so I can't rely on anyone and I'm not about to go back to Mexico any time soon, or ever. Mala suerte includes me not being able to get accepted into college because of my grades and that for some reason I "didn't have exceptional skill" when it came to applying for a soccer scholarship. Mala suerte includes me not being able to keep a steady job because of the kinds of assholes I have to deal with as customers and as coworkers which causes my short fuse to be lit.

Mala suerte includes me falling deeply in love with my recent wealthy as fuck employer who one, already has a boyfriend, two, is at least seven years older than I am, and three, is a man.

Yep, all that's just gotta be nothing but mala suerte.

Okay, the academics maybe had something to do with my poor prioritization, but let's not get in to that right now. Trust me though, I'm one of the most cheerful people you'll probably ever meet, but there are just some things I can't ignore. This, the love sick thing, is one of them.

I suppose you wanna know how this all started. Well, let's go back to when I first met my wealthy but bumbling idiot of a boss.

Manuel adjusted his apron in the kitchen, dreading to return into the dining room of the prestigious five star restaurant. One of his coworkers smiled at him and asked, "You don't wanna go back out there do you?"

"With the kind of snobs sitting at those tables? Hell no," he replied with a grin on his face. "They're so picky. It's so dumb, considering the food is basically the size of a coaster. I mean, how much more do they want to take out of that stuff? They might as well eat air!"

His coworker chortled and said, "Manny, you never fail to make me laugh. With all the grumbling we do around here, you sure know how to put smiles on our faces."

"I dislike these people just as much as you guys, but there's nothing that can be done about it. Assholes will be assholes, and snobs will be snobs. Just make the best of it." He gave a shrug which caused the other man to chuckle once more.

"Uh oh…"

The two turned to a fellow waiter who looked out the door window and said, "Boss is coming, and he looks frantic." Just as he said that, the door practically slammed open, nearly smashing the on looking waiter.

"Staff!" he shouted, causing the waiters and waitresses to look at him attentively.

"I'm going to need somebody to wait table thirteen. My superior just came in with two of his friends and I want him to have the best kind of service possible!"

"Basically you want to impress him, right?"

"Sure Kevin, if that's what you'd like to call it. Anyway, I need one of you to wait their table and be at their beck and call!"

When nobody looked enthusiastic to step up to the task, the older man looked at Manuel and pointed. "Sanchez!"

"Yes sir?"

"You're the guy my customers love the best! Go out there and wait table thirteen for the evening!"

Manuel couldn't help but give a cocky grin. "Why wouldn't people like me? I'm charming, funny, and ridiculously handsome."

"Yes, and anymore self-praising will cause your ego to inflate so much that I can pop it like a balloon by demoting you to clean-up duty."

"Ouch. Low blow."

"Just please go out there and wait their table…"

"Sure thing jefe. You can count on me!"

Manuel took some menus and walked out into the dining room in his game face, headed for table thirteen where a trio of men were situated. One had blonde wavy hair that nearly reached his shoulders and stubble on his chin, another with white hair who had an obnoxious aurora about him to match his obnoxiously crimson colored eyes, and the last had brown curly hair with a pleasant smile that was like a ray of sunshine. The blonde man noticed his presence first.

"Ah, might you be the one Pierre said would wait our table this evening?"

He has a French accent. Of course, Manuel thought. "Yup, that would be me!" He handed out their menus. "I'm Manuel and I'll be your waiter for this evening!"

The man smiled warmly. "Well hello there Manuel. I'm Francis Bonnefoy, and this is Gilbert Beilschmidt and Antonio Fernandez Carriedo."

Manuel smiled at the other two as they returned the gesture and then said, "So can I start you three off with some beverages? I hear you're a very special guest this evening Mr. Bonnefoy."

"I take it Pierre brought out his ace in the hole to impress me, hmm?" The expression Manuel gave told Francis everything. The latter chuckled and said, "If he's worried about losing his job, tell him not to. I just came to eat here because I haven't been to this restaurant in a while. Tell him I'll have the usual, for all three of us."

"Alright then, I'll be right back!"

Francis smiled. "Oh, Pierre's employees are getting younger every year, but this one is by far the most youthful. He's practically a baby."

Antonio chuckled. "But he seems really friendly! I wonder how old he is though?"

"From the looks of it…" Gilbert said, a hand stroking his chin. "…not old enough to drink yet."

"How do you know?"

"I just do. Trust me."

Francis noticed Manuel heading back to their table with a very expensive bottle of the finest wine and three glasses. "Alright, here you go sirs. The regular," he said as he served them. "I'll just leave this here in case you gentleman might want more later."

He took out his notepad and said, "So, are we ready to order now?"

Francis sipped his wine and said, "Yes. Just tell Pierre we'll have the usual dinner too."

"Wow, you must come here a lot for him to know what you want when you say 'usual'."

"But of course. I own this restaurant along with many others."

Manuel smiled. "Yes, I know. Well then, I'll come back with your basket of bread to snack on while your meal is being cooked."

He picked up their menu and returned to the kitchen. Pierre asked him, "So what did they order?"

"Mr. Bonnefoy said the usual."

Immediately Pierre commanded the chefs to make this 'usual' dinner. Manuel was honestly amused by his boss' panicky state, though he tried not to smile too much as he prepared the bread. He walked back out and approached the table, setting down the bread basket.

"Here we go," he said. "Now all that's left is your meal, which should arrive in a little while. Anything else I can get you three?"

"Say, how old are you?" asked Gilbert.

He looked a bit surprised. "Why are you asking?"

"I'm just curious. You look really young."

"Oh, well I'm 17 years old."

"Holy shit, you're a high schooler?"

"No, I graduated about a month ago."

"Ah, I see. You saving up money for college or what?"

"…sure, you could say that."

"I bet your parents are proud to have a hard worker like you," Antonio said.

Manuel looked at him and hesitated before answering with a smile, "Yeah…!"

"Hmm? Is something the matter?" he asked with concern in his voice.

"Oh, no, everything's fine! I just need to get back to the kitchen is all."

"That's okay! You're our waiter, so we can keep you here as long as we'd like, right Francis?"

The Frenchman swirled his glass and said, "Yes, and besides, the food will take a while. If Pierre gets upset with you, just tell him to bring it up with me. I can guarantee he'll leave you alone."

"Uh, well thank you sirs."

"So what do your parents do?" Antonio asked.

"…I don't have any."

The man looked at Manuel with a sympathetic expression. "I apologize…"

Manuel shook his head and with a wave of his hand said, "There's nothing for you to apologize about. My mother passed away last year, and I never knew who my father was, nor do I care about knowing him."

"I'm sure he's missing out then. You seem like a wonderful son."

The teen smiled. "Thank you."

"So then you're living by yourself?"

This guy sure can talk. "Yeah, in an apartment building downtown. I cook for myself, do all my laundry, and clean my apartment frequently. I can't stand messes."

Antonio looked genuinely happy that the boy was talking to him, always taking great pleasure in conversing with friendly people. "You're very independent!"

"Sure am! I also know how to do a lot of little things, like sew and garden," he said with pride. The Spaniard's eyes lit up just a bit then.

"That sounds interesting! I don't know how to garden, but I know how to sew a little." He took a sip of his wine and then looked up at Manuel, making sure to have eye contact with the other. "You know, you make for very pleasant company. I think I'll come here more often, even if it's just to talk with you again!"

When Manuel locked eyes with the cheerful Spaniard, he seemed to tune out everything else around him. There was just something about his eyes that came off as enchanting. Antonio blinked and asked, "Is there something on my face?"

Manuel shook his head and replied, "N-No, your face is perfectly fine sir."

Antonio smiled again and laughed. "Yes, so I've been told! You have a perfectly fine face too Manuel! Very handsome!"

It was the first time in a long time since Manuel blushed, even if he wasn't aware of it. Francis raised an eyebrow and smiled. He was used to Antonio getting these sort of reactions out of women, but seeing it come from a man, a young man nonetheless, was amusing.

"Uh… thank you." Manuel tapped on the menus with his fingers, feeling uncomfortable with the silence. "Well I'm going to go and check if your meals are ready. Excuse me."

As he was walking away, Gilbert gave a chuckle. "Toni, you always strike up conversations with people and then embarrass them."

"It's not like I was lying. I wouldn't say he was attractive if it weren't true. Though now that I think about it, he's cute more than anything else. He's short, and has big brown eyes!" he grinned. "Don't you think so Francis?"

The Frenchman smiled. "Antonio, you always did like the Latin ones the best. But I agree. Our waiter seems like a rather adorable young man."

He noticed Manuel returning with their meals. He set them down in front of them and said, "Well, here you go! It's fresh and delicious, so I hope you enjoy your meals! Let me know if you need anything else."

"We will," Gilbert said, digging into his food.

Manuel smiled again and walked back to the kitchen, still a bit uncomfortable from Antonio's remark. Not in a bad way, just that he wasn't told too often by adults that he was handsome. Everyone called him cute which only enraged him since he thought adorableness wasn't masculine.

The evening went on smoothly and Pierre thanked the heavens that Francis only had good things to say about his restaurant. His happiness was short lived when a customer started to become upset with one of the newer waiters.

"I specifically asked for my meat to be raw, not grilled. What the hell are you doing?!"

The flustered waiter timidly replied, "I'm sorry sir. I'll fix it right away."

"Yeah you better."

Walking back to the kitchen, the waiter looked discouraged and defeated as he tried to correct the order. Manuel was displeased.

"Don't worry so much about it Toris," he said.

"But it's just…"

"It's only your second day here. Everyone makes mistakes."

He sighed. "How do you do it Manny? I mean… you hardly get any horrible customers…"

Manuel smiled. "No, I do get some of the bitchy ones, but I just ignore their attitude. I mean, they're only people and I never serve them twice if they decide to return. I can't deal with those kinds of individuals more than once."

"Why not?"

"Well it may not seem like it due to my relatively good nature, buuut… I'm not a patient person, so I won't allow anybody to make me feel less than human, even if they're a customer."

"Can't you get fired for that?"

"…well yeah but—"

Toris didn't have time to listen to his explanation since the corrected order was ready. He walked back out and switched the meals.

"I'm sorry sir. It won't happen again."

The man looked at his plate and said, "Are you stupid?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"This isn't the meat I asked for!" he practically shouted. "Just want kind of service does this place have?"

"I apologize sir it's just… this is only my second day here—"

"No wonder you're a useless waiter!"

Toris could feel an arrow pierce his already low self-esteem. Manuel was growing frustrated and decided to step in, even though Kevin called after him, "Manny, stop! You're only going to make things worse!"

Francis and the other two stood by idly watching the scene unfold. Restaurant drama amused them more than the average person.

"Excuse me," Manuel interjected. "Is there a problem here?"

"And who the hell are you?"

"A more experienced waiter."

"Well then get me my correct meal."

With a gesture of his hand for Toris' notepad, he scanned through the order for the man and his wife. He looked at it, and then at his plate. "Sir, there's a mistake."

"Yeah you bet there is—"

"No I mean with you."

"Excuse me?"

M-Manny what are you doing?! Toris was completely panicked at this point.

"Yeah you see, the order was wrong the first time, but this second time it was correct. This was the kind of meat you ordered, so please do not harass your waiter. It's a very stressful and difficult job. We do our best to serve all restaurant patrons, but we're only human and prone to making mistakes."

A vein bolded itself on the man's head. "Well that's not my fucking problem, now is it? It's his for having such a shit life that he has to wait tables."

Toris noticed Manuel's eyebrows knitted together and that the hands that fell at his sides curled into fists. Kevin watched from the kitchen worriedly. "Oh crap… He's getting angry…"

"Nobody asks to have a horrible life. Some people are just born into it."

He scoffed. "And I'm sure you'd know all about that, wouldn't you?"

Manuel narrowed his eyes. "Excuse me sir?"

"From the looks of you, you're a Mexican aren't ya?"

Taking a deep breath so as not to lose it completely, he asked between his teeth, "What does me being Mexican have to do with anything?"

"Well Mexicans are always poor, so of course you can sympathize with this guy."

"Not all Mexicans are poor. You know, our race can have rich people in it too, not just white Americans."

He laughed. "Sure, if that will make you feel better. You may be poor, but very entertaining." The man took another sip of his wine.

"Entertaining?"

"Yes, don't you know what that word means? Or are you having trouble understanding because English isn't your first language?"

Manuel gave Toris the notepad back and said in a louder tone, "I'll have you know that I can speak English fluently, probably even better than you can."

"I doubt that. You have an accent."

"Because I wasn't born here. And it's not even a heavy accent. I came to this country with my mother at a young age in order to find a better life."

"And look where you are now."

That did it.

Manuel lifted the plate of food and said, "Riddle me this. What looks like a swine and is covered in slop, though acts like a snob because they're at the top?"

The man raised an eyebrow. "What?"

He got a face full of food, the plate falling into his lap, the glass of wine spilling all over the ground.

"You."

Kevin nearly shrieked from the kitchen as he watched the man stand up from his seat and scream, "What the fuck do you think you're doing?!"

"What the fuck do you think you're doing being picky as hell and harassing a waiter when there are other hungry customers here?!"

Trying to get the food off his face, the man said, "Of course. Just my luck. Not only did I lose stocks today, but now I have to deal with a dirty no good Me—"

He found his back meet the floor as Manuel pounced on him, grabbing him tightly by the collar.

"I fucking dare you to finish that sentence cabrón. Go ahead. See what happens."

Toris tried to stop him. "Manny don't—!"

"No, I'm tired of these fucking snobs disrespecting us waiters!" He looked at the man. "And I'm especially tired of racist dickheads like you thinking anybody who isn't of your status or skin tone is beneath you!"

"Well look how you're acting! Like a barbarian!" the man said. "All you Mexicans are the same! You just come here to get government money and not do anything productive!"

"WHAT?!" He slammed him back on the ground, eliciting a cry from the other. "Let me tell you why that's bullshit. Us Mexicans are the ones who mow your fucking lawns, clean your fucking expensive-ass mansions, babysit your snot-nosed brats, maintain your fucking pools, cook your fucking food, and do all the rest of the manual labor you fucking people refuse to do because you think you're above that kind of work! So in reality, we're the ones who bust our asses every fucking day just so YOU fucking snobs can have cozy and comfortable lives when some of you don't even deserve it! And buddy, I don't need to know you any more than I do now to tell you that you're one of the snobs who shouldn't have been born into the luxurious life that you live."

The man looked at him with wide eyes as Manuel stared at him intently with a snarl. He gave a "tch" and got off of him, only to hear Pierre's footsteps right behind.

"I'm so terribly sorry sir!" he said as he helped him up. Pierre glared at Manuel and held up a finger saying, "I told you to calm that temper of yours, and yet look what you do!"

"I'm not going to sit back and let people treat me like a fucking animal. I don't give a shit if they're customers or not."

"Sanchez you're fi—!"

"Don't even bother, because you know what? I quit. I don't want to ruin your reputation by staying here, and plus, I'm not gonna put up with these fucking people. They think they'll get my respect on a silver platter, but you know something? I don't give respect to those who don't know how to give it back. Fuck this shit man."

He threw his apron on the floor and stormed out of the restaurant, angry as a bull. Francis calmly finished his wine and said, "Well I've never seen that happen before. A waiter with some self-respect."

"With that kind of attitude, I don't think he'll be getting a job anytime soon," Gilbert said. "But he's got guts, I'll give him that."

"Hmm… Antonio, didn't you say you wanted some kind of personal assistant?"

"Yes, but why are you asking now?"

"Maybe you can convince Mr. Sanchez to fill the position. Surely you can handle him, since his temperament seems similar to Lovino's."

Antonio smiled. "Maybe I should. Yeah, I think that's what I'll do. Besides, I'm sure he can use the money to save up for college!"

He hurried onto the sidewalk and looked around for Manuel. He was found grumbling to himself in Spanish, stomping on a soda can relentlessly.

"There you are!"

Manuel turned around. "Oh, it's you. Antonio, right?"

"Yes!"

"Well what do you want? Come to tell me I was out of line or something?"

"No, actually, I think it was brave of you to tell that man off."

"I just can't stand people like him, is all. You don't treat me like shit and get away with it."

"But you're out of a job."

"If that's what you came to tell me, then it'd be best if you left me alone unless you want my fist to get personal with your face."

Antonio chuckled and said, "No no, I didn't come here to point out the obvious. I wanted to offer you another job."

"If I have to work at another restaurant I swear—"

"Oh you won't be doing any of that!"

"Then what?"

"First, tell me your skills."

"Do you want a résumé or…?"

He chuckled again. "Nope. Just tell me vocally."

"Well, like I said earlier, I can cook, clean, and garden, in addition to sewing which even borderlines on tailoring. And I do all of those things well." Manuel gave a toothy grin as he crossed his arms.

"And children?"

"I'm pretty fond of kids actually, despite my horrible attitude back there. I never got much of a childhood, so I like playing with them and keeping them company."

Antonio smiled. "Well then you're hired! You start tomorrow!"

"Tomorrow? I don't even know what I'll be doing."

"You're going to be my assistant!"

"Your assistant? Like a butler?"

"No, not quite. I'm just a little busy these days, so I need somebody competent to help me around with a few things!"

"As long as you don't treat me like shit—"

"I won't, so don't worry. I can pay you handsomely too."

"How much? Like… ten bucks an hour?"

"No, fifty."

Manuel's jaw would've dropped if the laws of physics allowed it. "Fif… fifty?"

"Yes!"

"Holy shit okay! I'll do it!"

"Great!"

"So where do I go?"

"Oh, right! Here's the address, and my phone number just in case." He scribbled it down on a napkin he had in his pocket. "Be there by 7:30 tomorrow morning."

"Will do."

He watched as Antonio waved him goodbye and returned into the restaurant. Manuel smiled at the slip of paper, excited to start his new job. "With that kind of paycheck, I'll get into college in no time! Er… hmm, well I'll probably still have to start off with community college, but education is education! Oh crap, I should probably look up this address on the internet. I wonder if the library is still open…?"

"There you go mamá." Manuel set down the fresh bouquet of flowers in the planter next to the tombstone. "Beautiful and vibrant flowers, just like how you used to be. Okay, well the truth is, I bought them yesterday because I won't be able to go to the flower shop today. I got a new job! Er, well I got fired from my previous one for blowing a gasket at a customer… But my new boss seems friendly, so hopefully I won't hate myself every day I wake up." He chuckled. "I will succeed someday mamá, for you. I promise. Te quiero mucho." He kissed two of his fingers, lightly tapping the tombstone where the name Maria Esperanza Sanchez was written.

He managed to catch the bus on time, researching the night before the route he'd have to take every day to Antonio's apartment. Manuel had never been to the glitzier part of the city, so the cleaner streets and newer buildings left him in awe. He got off at the appropriate stop and walked the rest of the way to the apartment complex.

"It says it's at the top floor." He gazed up at the large looming structure. "Gracias a Dios for elevators." The Mexican boy would be lying to himself if he said he wasn't slightly intimidated by the new atmosphere. But when he got to the condo at the very top, he gave a sigh of relief, knocking on the door.

The locks unhinged and he was greeted by the sunny smile of Antonio. "¡Buenos dias ~! Please, come in!"

"Thanks." Manuel gazed at the magnificence of the room. "Ay que suave."

"Yes, it is, isn't it? Ha ha! Was your trip here fine?"

"Yeah, just had to check bus routes."

"You don't drive?"

"I passed the written test but I don't have a car so I never got to practice." He shrugged. "Anyway, what should I do first?"

"Hmm, how about breakfast?"

"Oh, sure, I'll get started—"

"No no Manuel! I meant, do you want breakfast?"

"Eh?"

"Today is your first day, and the first thing I want done is to establish a boss-employee relationship!"

"Uh… clarify?"

"I like to get to know my employees."

"That sorta thing takes time."

"Yeah, but you can just tell me the general, on-the-surface stuff. I'll find out the rest later as you work! Today I just wanna get a feel of your work ethic. Think of it as a test run."

"Well okay, you're the boss now. But I can assure you I work hard at everything I do."

"Good! I made us both breakfast!"

"What do you need me for if you can cook already?"

Antonio laughed. "Well today was special. I usually don't wake up this early."

The conversation went smoothly, details about the Mexican boy's life given out sparingly. He didn't fancy telling his whole story, but that seemed to satisfy his boss enough. Manuel highly enjoyed the food that was prepared for him, and by the end of the meal, he had a sense of how Antonio wanted his future dishes made. He was also given a mental list of what had to be done every day and a fair warning that sometimes Antonio wasn't always the cheerful and kind Spaniard like most people knew him as.

"That's okay, everybody has their off days. I'll try not to… let my temper get the best of me like at the restaurant yesterday."

"Mm, but you had a valid reason for losing it."

"Still, the customer is always right. And don't think that I perceive all rich people like that either. Just… certain ones."

"What about me?"

"This is my first day on the job, so I can't answer that right now. But as far as first impressions go… you're a-okay in my book." He smirked, eliciting a chuckle from the man across the table.

"¡Me alegro! Well then, let's take a tour of the apartment, ¿si? I have to be at work in about an hour."

Manuel took precise mental notes on every room in the apartment, what went where, and how to clean and organize this and that.

"—and I get home around 5:30, so please have dinner ready, okay? Oh, unless I call the house phone and say I'm going to eat someplace with Francis and Gilbert. If that happens, feel free to make yourself dinner here and eat. But if somebody else calls this phone, just answer it and take a message. My spare house keys are in that drawer next to the door, so utilize them if you need to leave to buy food or anything like that. Is that clear?"

"Crystal."

"Good good! Well then, I'm off to work, so please take care of my home, Manuel! Or, can I call you 'Manny', that is, if you don't mind?"

"Whichever is fine."

Antonio nodded and smiled. "I'll be home at 5:30."

"You want anything in particular for dinner?"

"Surprise me! I trust you!" He waved at him and then exited the front door, locking it.

Manuel strolled around the first floor, taking another gander at the interior. He smiled as he looked out from the large windows that nearly reached the ceiling, admiring the cityscape.

"Watch me, mamá. I'll work hard at this job so I can change my life for the better! My luck can't be that bad."

A/N: Oh but Manny, you just foreshadowed. You poor boy.

Hello, hi. I had written a one-shot for this fic two years ago, which had the exact same title. It's still here, but I changed the title to avoid confusion. After much consideration, I decided I will go ahead and write this full-length story instead of leaving it as a teaser. My portrayal of Mexico seems to have gained positive feedback, so I will attempt to write out this AU. I still have another Hetalia fic in-progress, but it's getting close to ending, so I think I can manage a new one. This is the only fandom I enjoy writing for anyway, ha ha. I'm also going to experiment and write this story in both third person and first person, at least for the first half. I like Spamex a lot, and I was relieved to see other people do too, so let's see how well I can write what I have planned for this story, although updates may be months apart because of my schoolwork... If my Spanish is incorrect anywhere (wrong tense, missing accent mark, etc.) please let me know.

I hope you enjoy this story as much as I will enjoy writing it, and I also hope you will stick with it for its full duration. :)