Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia, or the characters involved.

Rated T for much potty language and eventual romance between boys.

"Pat! Hey, Jackson!" a lithe teenager stared at his guardian from the entrance to her office. The woman turned to glare at him questioningly. "I'm done with my project and I'm going to chat with Brule, don't hold dinner for me. Actually, better yet, pretend there's no one to hold dinner for."

"Show some appreciation, boy," 'Pat' snapped, turning back to her computer. "And make sure you tell your brother this time, I don't need him bawling all over the place again."

The boy scoffed and ducked back into the apartment's living room. His brother looked up at him worriedly. "You're going to see Mr. Brule?"

The older boy shrugged awkwardly. "Yeah. I'll be back soon, though, so don't worry over me or something…"

The younger boy beamed and threw his arms around the elder's shoulders in a hug. "Ve~ thank you for telling me Lovi!"

"Ugh, get off me you idiot," Lovino complained. "Don't eat anything that looks like it has drugs in it, okay? I'm leaving now."

He slid out the door, pulling his sweater's hood up as he started down the hallway to the building's ancient staircase. He spared a venomous glance for the broken elevator as he passed it. Damn thing hadn't worked since the day it'd been put in. Four flights of stairs later, he was giving the landlady a reassuring (albeit awkward) smile on his way out the door. He took a deep breath of the evening air, choked on it as he found it full of car exhaust. A few passerby glanced worriedly at the coughing teenager, but he kept his gaze down and trudged on. The walk was short, for the city; Brule only worked a few blocks away from the apartments. The secretary smiled sweetly when he closed the door behind him.

"Here to see James?" she crooned. He nodded hesitantly, and she leaned over to intercom Brule's office. "Brule, this is the lobby; Mr. Jackson is in to see you. I repeat, Mr. Jackson is in to see you."

There was a long stretch of silence. The secretary frowned thoughtfully as Lovino fidgeted. "… How odd. I'm certain he came in today… Go on anyway, sweetie. I'm sure he's just fallen asleep or something of the sort."

"Yes'm," Lovino said, a sort of nausea settling in his stomach as he stepped past her desk to walk down the blindingly white hallways. The trek was familiar. He knew how many doors he would pass, and who worked behind them. He knew how long the secretary had been working there, and how she got the job (because she was the boss' ex-girlfriend, but shh- you hadn't heard that from him). He'd been going there for five years, after all. He could navigate those halls with a blindfold on- he'd done it once. Lovino didn't feel like messing around that day, though. All he felt was sick to his stomach. Everything had gone as perfectly as it did all the days before it- trade insults with his guardian, walk to the building, pretend he didn't realize the secretary was checking him out…

Except Brule hadn't answered the intercom, and if James Brule didn't do one thing it was ignore his patients.

Finally Lovino reached the office, and lifted a trembling fist to knock. Silence followed, and he knocked again. When there was still only silence, he cleared his throat. "Oi, Brule! Answer the door already, dammit!"

The silence leaked out from under the door and slithered around him, and the teenager brushed his hair out of his face nervously as he reached for the doorknob. He twisted it and shoved the door in. A strangled cry left his throat as he stared at the scene in front of him.

There was James Brule, face down on his desk as blood leaked onto his papers and dripped onto the floor. The window behind him was shattered- had his attackers come through there, had they shot through the glass? Lovino's legs shook as he felt along the wall for the phone without taking his eyes away from the dead man in front of him.

Dial nine before the number to call out of the building passed briefly through his memory, and he fumbled with the buttons on the phone until the number processed and he pressed the phone against his ear. It rang cheerfully four times before someone on the other end picked up.

"Jacob Daniels, how may I be of service?"

"Jake," Lovino said hoarsely, and suddenly his train of thought veered off track. "… Wait, did you change your name?"

"… Kid? Is that you?" the voice on the other end chuckled, and creaking noises filtered through the phone. Probably his chair or something. "Ha! I haven't spoken to you in forever! Yeah, I took off Jones after Mum and Dad disowned me. I'm surprised you still remember my number. What's up? You need my help with something?"

"My psychiatrist is dead," the teenager mumbled. "… There's blood everywhere."

Jacob hmmmed thoughtfully. "That's definitely a problem… Have you called the police yet? Wait, you didn't kill him yourself, did you?"

Lovino surprised himself by digging up enough emotion to be irritated. "No and no, moron."

"Oh, that's good. The part where it wasn't you, I mean."

"… You're such an idiot, you know that?"

"You've probably mentioned it before," Jacob agreed absentmindedly. "Where are you at?"

"… The psychiatry building on King street. Room sixty-three."

"Alright, I'll be there in… something like ten minutes. Call the police while you're waiting, kiddo."

"… grazie," Lovino whispered, feeling a tiny bit of the pressure in his chest lift. He closed his eyes. "Grazie, Jacob."

"Don't worry about it," the older boy assured him. "Ten minutes, kid. Don't move anything."

There was a click as the call terminated, and Lovino lowered the phone as he opened his eyes again. The scene was the same. Broken glass, dead man, stained papers…

He lowered his gaze and nearly threw up when he realized the puddle of blood on the floor had grown larger.

The police had been more than a little irritated when they showed up and Jacob was already at the scene of the crime, prodding at their evidence and shifting things around. They were substantially less irritated when he told them the cause of death, the gun involved, and the time of death.

"Your friend is sort of a genius," one of the officers muttered to Lovino in amazement. The teenager rolled his eyes.

"Actually, he's a college student."

"That I am," the tall blond said airily. "To both. Hey, kid? I don't think the papers can really be salvaged, do you think they're important?"

"Dunno," Lovino mumbled, pushing himself away from the wall to peer at the bloody documents. "You're the private detective, don't ask me."

Jacob turned back to his notes with a chuckle. "You haven't changed at all, have you. How's the family?"

"You're not nearly as funny as you think you are," Lovino scoffed. "… Feliciano is still a damn idiot and Pat still acts like she's going to kill me in my fucking sleep someday."

"I shouldn't like that very much, I'd have nobody left to tease," Jacob mused. "Pat… Do you think her old group had anything to do with this?"

Lovino looked at him doubtfully. "What would the mafia want with a psychiatrist?"

"You, dolt."

Lovino opened his to respond (with as many invectives as he could think of), but one of the police officers had wandered over with narrowed eyes. "Excuse me, boys, but I can't help but think it sounds like you're withholding potentially useful information."

"You can't get anything out of him without a search warrant," Jacob warned the man, stepping in front of Lovino protectively. "Not if he doesn't want to talk."

The officer sneered. "You think you know the law, kid?"

"I'm a fucking private detective, I should hope I know my rights," snapped Jacob. "Fourth amendment. Leave him the hell alone."

The police officer glowered, marking something down on a notepad before spinning around. "Alright, men, we're done here! Somebody escort these young men back to their houses."

Jacob half-led, half-dragged Lovino down the halls as the police plodded after them. As they were at the automatic doors to the building, he spun around with a glint in his eyes. "And when you get your search warrant, consider sending it with somebody a little bit nicer!"

The policeman could only splutter with rage as Jacob dashed out of the building, Lovino in tow.

Author's Note: This is my first time publishing a fanfic~ ;3; Comments? Criticism? Flames (I'll just laugh in your face, but by all means go ahead!)

This is going to be a Gakuen!AU Hetalia fanfic, centering mainly around Spamano with multiple side pairings. Give me your preferences in the reviews, and I'll see what I can run with!

Jacob Daniels (Jacob Daniel Jones) is my New York!OC.