This is my first multi-chapter! Hope y'all like it!

Disclaimer- No, I do not own Hetalia, sadly.

Warning-Cursing. This is Lovino we're talking about

~~~~~~~~~~~TOMATOES~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lovino groaned as the pounding beat filled his apartment. He had to go to classes tomorrow, dammit! If those fucking idiots could just keep it down. The 21 year old man grimaced as he sat up, pulling on a pair of shorts and a loose grey wife beater. He slowly made his way out of his apartment and to the next floor down. God above all, it was even louder down here! Who decides to have a party at two o'clock in the morning? And how was nobody else awake? Those bastards would pay.

"Oi! Open up!" He shouted as he rapped his knuckles against the door. He raised his voice. "Open up now!"

Lovino stepped back as the door began to open. The Italian was new to the apartment complex and expected to see some stoned teenager. Instead, he was greeted with the sight of a sleepy eyed spaniard.

"Hola. What do you want?" He yawned, blinking blearily. The green eyed man seemed oblivious to the racket in the background. In fact, he seemed to be acting as if Lovino had woken him.

This royally ticked the hot tempered man off. "What the hell do you think I want! I want you to turn your damn music down, idiota!" He said, his face scarlet in fury.

The elder brunette turned to look in his apartment, as if noticing it for the first time. "Oh, it's just my roommates having some fun. You get used to it after a while. Now, if you please." He replied sleepily. The man just seemed eager to go back to bed as he began to close the door. The hazel eyed man stuck his foot in to stop the door from closing.

"I don't think so, bub. Tell your pals to turn down the fucking music, or I'll turn it down for you." Loving had no way of keeping that promise, he had always picked the flight over fight, but it sounded tough.

The tanned man eyed him before slowly stepping back and fully opening the door. "Okay, turn it down." He stated simply.

The Italian gaped. That bastard wasn't supposed to throw a curveball! He was supposed to cower in fear and awe! Mustering up the minuscule courage he had, he stepped inside. And then stepped straight back out. Nope. This was a trap. He had seen enough horror movies. A handsome man lures you into his home, only to trap you and eat you alive. Loving turned, ready to run, when suddenly a hand grabbed his shoulder, stopping him short. He turned, expecting to see the spaniard.

"What do you want, bast-" He stopped. This wasn't the Spanish bastard. This man was completely different.

The hand belonged to a blonde with his hair pulled back in a loose ponytail, held by a dark indigo ribbon. His blue eyes sparkled, and as soon as he spoke it became apparent he was french by his accent.

"Ah, what have we here? Come to join the party?" the francophone asked, a single eyebrow arched suggestively. Loving gulped. Defiantly horror movie-esque. Where the hell had this man come from? He tugged himself away from the loose grip. "

"I'm not here to join some stupid party! I need you to quiet the fuck down! I swear, I'm going to have the land lord's ass all over you!"

"Oh, really? Well, that would be wonderful, seeing as I've been trying to get her ass on me for some time now, though you would do just as well." He replied smoothly. The Italian turned an even brighter red, if possible, and the spaniard gave a quiet chuckle.

"You look just like a tomato, mi amigo ~" He said lazily as he leaned against the old white doorframe. Suddenly, a third german accented voice chimed in.

"What's with you and your tomatoes, Antonio? I swear, you compare everything from dogs to women with them."

The Italian suppressed a groan. Where were all these people coming from? They just didn't stop, did they? Like bees to nectar. He shook his head. More like mosquitoes to fresh blood. Fantastic. They were now vampires, and he was the poor victim.

A very pale man expertly slid down the waxed wooden floor in socks, stopping just before he ran into the brunette, who's name was apparently Antonio or something. Loving did a double take. Was the man an albino or something? He was way more than pale. He was positively a ghost, and his eyes were a deep scarlet. Or maybe that vampire analogy was closer to the truth than he originally thought. Either way, the young man who, he was quickly realizing, was outsized by all these men, just wanted to get away by now. Unfortunately, the frenchman's hand on his shoulder kept him rooted on the old wooden floorboards.

The said albino eyed the smaller man curiously. "Hey, he really does look like a tomato. Well, you had to get it right someday."

Any concerned onlooker would have noticed by now that the surrounded man looked like he was about to have an aneurysm. The man had the worst possible combination of embarrassment and anger which most people only got after they called a teacher mom and the class was laughing at them. He finally found his voice, though it was rather shrill.

"What the hell you bastards! I just wanted you to turn down your music so I can sleep! Now let me go and leave me the hell alone!"

The frenchman, seeming to realize he was still holding the feisty Italian in place, easily released him. "Are you sure you don't want to stay? I'll let you sleep with me." He purred. The Italian shivered. Really, how many pick up lines did this infuriating frenchman have?

Antonio yawned loudly. "I think he's right. It's about time we go to bed. How can you all stay up for so long?"

The german man standing behind him grinned. "All a healthy man needs for that is chips, red bull, and porn."

The frenchman nodded. "Or wine for the more refined man."

The hazel eyed man looked around cautiously. Good, they were distracted. He was still surrounded, though. There was that German straight ahead of him, the Spaniard leaning against the wall to his right, and the french guy to his left. If he moved an inch any of them could reach out their arm and grab him. He could run quickly, he was the fastest in his high school cross country team a few years ago. All he needed was an opening… there! The french bastard had moved closer to Antonio and given him an opening, with a perfect view of the stairs. Lovino reached into his pocket, making sure he was holding his key, and made a run for it. He sprinted, practically leaping up the stairs three at a time, hearing a squawk of surprise from the German. The college student fumbled slightly as he unlocked his door and slammed it shut behind him. This music was still going on, and he heard sounds of raucous laughter coming from downstairs. Damn, this was going to be a long night.

~~~~~~~~~~~TOMATOES~~~~~~~~~~~

I'd like to thank MageOfFandoms for telling me that my story was originally published in code. How the heck does that happen? Oh well. So, the bad touch trio lives in the same apartment complex as Romano? Scary. Anyways, I need help. I want to put some minor relationships in my story, but I don't know who to put France and Prussia with. You see, I ship Prussia with Austria and Canada, but I ship France with Canada and England, but I ship England with America and Japan, (At this point the police have come to take this pathetic, insane, confused author away to the asylum.) and I ship America with Japan, but Japan and Greece are soulmates, and Greece is shipped with turkey, but Turkey loves Egypt...mumble...mumble...

This poor little high school girl lives for reviews. Tell me if you can read this story this time, too. Also, I have no beta, so tell me if I spelled something wrong or grammared incorrectly. THANKIES!

May lollipops fall from the sky and all turtles fly,

LollipopTurtle