Title: The Eleventh Hour
Length/Genre: Multi-chapter, though the quantity is unknown at the moment. Somewhat multi-genre, too; a lot of humor, romance, and drama… Dramatically comedic love?
Rating: T for now… may or may not go up later.
Warnings: Um… AU, language, possible blood/gore, and non-graphic sexual situations. Human names used.
Characters: Too many to list. Eventually, virtually every nation will make some sort of appearance… maybe.
Pairings: Mainly GerIta, accompanied by slight Spamano (mostly just in this chapter), some FrUK, possibly USUK, minor Russia/China… and maybe others, depending on what you all want to see. There will likely be mildly-used or implications of many more, including SuFin, LietPol, and Franada. Feel free to request any.
Summary: The Vargas brothers have inherited the family fortune, but with Lovino moving away and a group of rebels out for both their money and their throats, what is poor Feliciano to do? His brother, before taking leave, suggests a bodyguard. If only Ludwig had known what he was in for before applying… AU
Thank you all for taking the time to read this. Feedback, praise and criticism are all greatly appreciated! This will be my first time writing for GerIta, and only my second time writing an AU, so I would really like to know how this goes… In addition, if this would happen to go up a rating, I have never tried anything M-rated before either. As mentioned previously, this is an AU, which doesn't exactly seem to take place in our world, either, even though continents and whatnot share common names. Therefore, some things may be a bit of a blur right now, but they will clear up in time. This all came to me about two weeks ago, just after the start of CM (my other APH AU), and I have yet to work out every little detail.
So, without further ado, I present to thee "The Eleventh Hour". Enjoy.
Prologue
Italy- A nation, vast in both size and overwhelming power, jutting out from the mainland of Europe; surrounded from coast to coast by two seas of shimmering blue, overlooking the glorious world beyond. Its grand cultural sparks and populous cities once made unbelievable opportunities for all who came to reside upon its lushly-grown land. As of late, it has lessened in desirability, what with the popularization of areas further west, and yet its inhabitants whom made it a point to remain in their Italian homes came to prosper… well, the vast majority, as it was. In a select few areas of this serene nation, particularly those further inland than not, hostility and distaste had begun to infest the minds of the poorer civilians, causing them to perform unmentionable crimes that could have otherwise been prevented. Matters only worsened as aristocrats and other noblemen, as well as rich families that were affiliated with said superiors, started their own businesses and settled down in their mansions, which had been mistakenly built right outside the slums of Italy. Feudal disagreements all but tore this region apart with its bear talons, ripping apart families and comrades in the process. Companions were lost, towns were burned to the ground, and chaos promptly overtook the section of the once-glorious nation. Disputes slowly began to dissipate, however, upon one particular dispute which rattled the minds of both noble and commoner; the accidental murders of Nevio and Antonella Vargas, a wealthy couple whom had migrated from Rome a few years prior to their death date.
Before their demise, no aristocrats had lost their lives in the feuds that had broken out between the two rival parties. However, soon following the deaths of the two nobles, the remainder of the upper class had fled back towards the larger cities, fearful for their own lives, and left behind all traces of their former residency…
…All except the Vargas children and their servants. Lovino Vargas had been about seventeen at the time of his family's decease, while his younger brother, Feliciano, had been almost fifteen years of age. Whilst the other nobles had turned tail and fled, the two teenagers had remained in their place, within the safe haven of their family's mansion, served by many for the first year of their lives without authority, until Lovino had grown to the ripe age of eighteen, in which he could legally take care of his younger brother. Lovino and Feliciano had, obviously, inherited the family fortune, and could easily hire new servants upon the departure of the others. The younger brother had suggested that they hire younger, more youthful obligators, but as those were in exceptionally short supply at the time, they had settled with less-than-best and employed a few part-timers.
Although a few remained internally bitter, most of the civilians had grown quite accustomed to the company of the aristocratic young men, some of which even growing quite close to them. As it was, Lovino and Feliciano had done next to nothing to harm them or insult their status in any way, so most accepted them with open arms. One of these civilians, in particular, was Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, a Spanish immigrant who had moved with his family as a child into the Italian slums after they had gone bankrupt. Lovino had been the first to interact with the Spaniard, having accidentally (and rather clumsily) knocked over a stall of tomatoes, owned by the Carriedo family's business. The two had exchanged bickers for a year or so, occasionally coming across each other at the marketplace at which Antonio worked, but soon grew into close companions. To Feliciano, their relationship had always been a strange one; after all, they continued to quarrel throughout the years, usually about the most trivial of subjects.
And, yet, his brother would eventually accept a marriage proposal from the Spaniard.
********
Chapter One- The Wrath of Gelato…?
"Uwah!" Feliciano exclaimed excitedly, sitting at the dining room table in one of the regal oak chairs. "I can't believe you're getting married, Lovino! And to Antonio!"
"I know, I know! I'm the one who's engaged, not you; I should hope that I know about my own wedding!" his brother replied somewhat haughtily, strolling past his brother with a sizeable cardboard box nestled in his slender fingers. "Are you sure you're going to be alright, here on your own?" Though the inquiry was well-intended, the older sibling couldn't have said it with much more monotone.
Feliciano smiled rather childishly, skillfully twisting a bite of spaghetti onto his fork from the porcelain platter before him. "Ve~! You can count on me!" The younger Italian, now a man of about twenty years of age, hadn't altered in appearance all that much from those five years ago; the same, foolish façade, the all-too-familiar disarray of his unkempt auburn locks of hair (including one of which always managed to coil out on the side- many often wondered why the two brothers refused to cut off their identical curls). Lovino, on the other hand, had grown fairly gruff, and had continued to immature as the years progressed. He now beheld the boundless age of twenty-two, a mildly dangerous one when not handled with care, as this was the year in which he would surely explore his boundaries the most… particularly with Antonio, as most of the commoners had thought internally.
The older of the two groaned as his brother shoved another glob of pasta into his mouth, slurping it obnoxiously past his saucy red lips with complete disregard to the queasiness that such an act brought forth to Lovino. The cranky Italian glanced hurriedly away, feeling the foul burn of bile plunge from his throat back down to his stomach as he calmed. "Yeah, well, you still haven't hired any extra help around here, and if you expect me to hold your hand through the process, think again! I'm already sick of being your personal advisor, and I have a lifetime with that Spanish asshole to look forward to! I can't help out the both of you, you know. In a few days time, I'll be in Spain, and I won't be here to take care of you." He grimaced, gritting his teeth slightly as the corners of the storage box dug mercilessly into his hands. Swearing under his breath, the older Italian placed the container on the floor by the door, atop a cluster of other various boxes and personal items, and shoved a hand into the left pocket of his dress pants, groping around for something in particular. "Where'd I put the damn thing…?" he grumbled to himself, digging deeper into the pocket and finally retracting a slip of sleek paper, blatant black marker lines drawn across the page. He positioned the paper in front of Feliciano, who seemed pretty preoccupied stuffing his face with ruby sauce and angel hair noodles to pay much more attention than the norm. "This is a paper describing how the whole caboodle works. You stick a "help wanted" ad in the paper and send it across the globe… I'm not really sure how it works, myself, but commoners use these things all the time. I borrowed this from Antonio last week, so he knows how it happens. If you need any help, because you're bound to, just give him a call. But don't even think of contacting me… especially at night. You startled the hell out of us last time!"
"But… I really needed to know where you left the TV remote! And, when I called, all I heard were a bunch of moaning noises! You didn't help me at all…"
"It was midnight!" He sighed in exasperation, all but pulling his hair out as a boiling frustration brewed from within. "Just finish up your pasta and help me get these things to the car."
"Okay!" Feliciano said cheerily, placing his fork atop the china plate and following behind his (beloved?) elder brother. "Ve, Lovino! When do you leave?"
"We've been over this! I'm leaving tonight, but we aren't officially leaving Italy until tomorrow morning. Early tomorrow morning." The last thing he desired to see was his brother, clad in nothing but his boxer shorts, standing outside in the marketplace to bid them farewell. How humiliating…
"Oh… Okay!" He retained that blasted smile. Feliciano hurriedly proceeded to drag a few boxes out to the trunk of the automobile, most likely impatient for his dinner-eating, while humming a rather agitating tune. Lovino rubbed at his temples, both thankful and regretful for his decision to depart; it would mean getting away from his brother for the majority of his life, yet it would also mean having to spend the remainder of it with his tomato-loving companion. This was just further indication that his life… well, sucked, for lack of a better term.
And, for this reason alone, he was envious of his younger brother, for Feliciano had been fortunate enough to live a carefree, happy-go-lucky life… and had managed to live to tell the tale. In his eyes, that had always been the cause of his parents' murder; they had mirrored their youngest son in almost every way imaginable, though they were a bit more sensible about various topics than Feliciano.
He could only hope that things would continue to proceed in the way they had in the past.
********
"Goodbye, Lovino~!" Feliciano stood on the porch, flailing his hand about in a flamboyant wave as he bid his brother a final farewell. Lovino rolled his hazel eyes, but returned the smile begrudgingly before driving away forevermore. "I'm sure going to miss him, ve~… But he can't stop me from eating all of the gelato, now!" The youngest Vargas brother hopped gleefully away from the edge of the porch, striding into the house in giddy bounds and slamming the door behind him with a dull thud. He proceeded to leap frivolously towards the kitchen, throwing open the freezer door and removing the carton of creamy white gelato. The sweet scents wafted from the container up to his nostrils as he peeled back the lid with anxious fingers, mouth salivating and drool threatening to flood over onto the counter at the marvelous sight. Lovino had always saved the glorious dessert for himself, telling Feliciano that it would stunt his growth. Well, the younger sibling had believed every word of it, but figured that, considering the fact that he hadn't grown a centimeter for about three years now, he wouldn't have to fret about something as ridiculous as "stunting his growth".
Spoonful after spoonful, he gobbled down the gelato, leaving it helpless to his coldblooded gluttony. Following his devouring of the creamy treat, however, his stomach began to give groans and grumbles of protest, complaining to its body through means of torturous pains. "Wah! Lovino was right, I'm going to start shrinking!" he wept to himself, clutching his agonized stomach in horror. "I'm sorry, Lovino! I won't disobey you again!" The stomachache persisted, and the Italian aristocrat had taken a good thirty minutes to hoist himself up from the ground long enough to trudge back into his bedroom, moaning in pain at his persevering anguish. He collapsed onto the fluffy mattress, taking great comfort in its cottony embrace as he felt his ache begin to subside.
He remained laying there, sprawled out upon the bedspread like a dead rat in a mouse trap. How appropriate, for, at that moment, the simile fit him to a fault.
A piercing crash sounded from below the upper level of the house, startling the Italian out of his sleepy daze long enough to leap from the bedside and under the covers, shielding his body from the horrid noise. "L-Lovino…?" he muttered, tears pouring down his face in worry. "C-C-Could it be… that you kn-know about the gelato? I said I-I was sorry…" No reply reached his ears, though the sound of approaching footsteps echoed hauntingly in one ear and out the other. His breathing hitched in his throat as they came to a screeching halt, not a single noise erupting from downstairs for a good five minutes. Releasing a shaky sigh of relief, Feliciano removed the satin sheets from atop his head and folded them daintily back over his body.
"Don't move," whispered a cold voice, heavily accented in an unfamiliar dialect. The Vargas boy clenched the blankets tightly in his fists, teeth chattering beyond his conscious control. An icy steel object met his throat, threatening to draw blood at any given moment. In the darkness of the night, he was unable to make out the face of his captor, though feared the worst, and was therefore grateful for this blessing. The perpetrator spoke once more. "Not a single bloody word, you hear me?"
A heavy wave of terror jolted down Feliciano's spine, causing him to flinch uncontrollably and accidentally pummel his intruder to the ground. Another voice met his ears from the story below, a much smoother voice, though it too was mingled with a familiar accent, likely belonging to someone of French descent. "Ivan, didn't mon cheri tell you not to break the window open with the pipe?"
"No, aru!" spoke yet another voice, causing a panicky cry to emit from the Italian's mouth as the perpetrator beside him struggled to calm him down. "Don't blame it all on him, aru! You and Feliks were being equally loud, what with your heavy boots clomping about!"
"Hey, that's, like, totally unfair, Yao!" How many people had infiltrated his freakin' house? There were three and a half security systems set up (the half was from Feliciano stuffing one with ravioli once as a child- it had been cleaned, but had only beeped for the back door ever since)! The Italian continued to bawl, crying out various means of surrender.
"Mon cheri!" came the French voice from before. "We have a slight problem down here!"
The man beside him groaned, placing his forehead in his palm. "Oh, to hell with it! Keep your eyes peeled, Vargas. We won't let you off the hook so easily next time." And, with those final words, the man (whom Feliciano had decidedly dubbed as British) shoved the Italian back to the floor and strode furiously out the door, down the stairs, and back outside, leaving the mansion's vicinity in full argument with his accomplices.
And Feliciano Vargas, appropriately, screamed to the high heavens.
********
"A-Aah, Antonio! What the hell do you think you're doing?!" Lovino demanded, slapping his fiancée's hand away from his face, which had begun to heat up into a deeper shade of crimson. The peculiar couple leaned against the headboard of the Spaniard's bed, back at his home in the marketplace. Antonio grinned devilishly, continuing to caress his lover's cheek, despite the failed protests.
"Oh, come now. Isn't it obvious?" he questioned, raising a brunette eyebrow.
Lovino, however, rejected this motion blatantly, crossing his arms and once more swatting away the hand on his flesh. "Your parents are right down the hall, you idiot! You think I'm gonna just-" His voice was abruptly interrupted by a vigorous vibration from within his pants pocket. He gave a slight, barely audible "Uwah-"of surprise and reached into his pocket for the phone.
"Oh, let me get it!" Antonio reached forward as well, shoving his hand in before his companion could get the opportunity. Lovino released a cry of disapproval, eyes ablaze in condemnation at the Spaniard's hand shuffling around for his lover's cell phone, resulting in a quick yip from the Italian at the indirect contact with the side of his thigh. He mentally thanked himself for having enough sense to avoid putting his phone into his back pocket before departing from his old estate. Antonio really couldn't read the atmosphere, sometimes, a quality that reminded Lovino a bit too much of his younger brother.
"Ah! There it is!" The Spaniard whisked out the pulsating cell phone, handing it over to his fiancée with a stupid smile on his face.
"Oh, give me that! Honestly… hello?"
"Lovino!"
"Argh!" the older Vargas sibling yelled, holding the phone away from himself in agony as the shrill voice of Feliciano sounded from the other side, deafening him in one ear. "What the fuck, Feli?! What-"
"Help me~! Lovino, someone broke in! There were a lot of them, and they sounded really scary! Ah, what should I do?"
"Someone broke in? But there are three and a half sec- Chigigi! Damn it, Antonio!"
"I know! Three and a half security systems! I'm afraid! I don't wanna die~!"
"J-Just… Just calm down, Feliciano. That ad I gave you earlier? Hire a personal bodyguard or something. Actually, go ahead and hire a few servants and a couple of cooks, too. Make sure they know some sort of combat-"
The phone on the other line cut off hastily. A slightly frazzled expression on his face, Lovino returned his attention towards his fiancée, gritting his teeth together in the utmost irritation. "Explain to me why you felt it was necessary to mess with my hair curl while I was on the phone with my brother?"
Antonio gave another smile before flicking the light off, bidding him a final goodnight.
A/N: Eh, I'll have to leave it there. My God, I started this fic about a week ago; it never takes me this long to finish something! Curse you, procrastination! Expect the next chapter soon-ish, assuming you all give me your feedback. Unless this becomes really popular, this will probably get updated less than my other stories. If you want to see more of this, please review, criticize, and compliment. And feel free to insert your input! Feliciano's harder to write about than I thought, but it's so entertaining! This should be and will be the last new series to come from me for a while.
Check out my other Hetalia stories as well! I write for a variety of fandom…