Disclaimer: I don't own APH or Twilight, but I own this twisted plot. :3

A/N: 9 PAGES. -fingers fall off-

Well, that was my original AN but then I had to rewrite the entire thing. Thank heavens for a beta who likes hard copies, eh? xD

Let's see. Here, some revelations, total skips/creative renovations of supposedly important scenes in the book, Commie guest-starring, and the wonderful introduction of "Alice".

Also, just a warning - I have nooooo idea how people say their prayers, so an early apology for Romano's prayer scene. OTL and Russia's summary of the legends was actually said by ThyHoho over AIM when I asked him what the Quileute tales were. :D

And, yes, amazing as it is, there WILL be some Ivan/Lovino later. Much, much later. xD

Thanks for beta-ing, Lils!

Hope you enjoy~

7-19-10: Edited some stuff.

7-21-10: Edited some more stuff!

Oh, and guys? Since we're so close, 100th reviewer gets a oneshot.


Chapter 4 - "My gaydar like, EXPLODES around you!" Cue weird hand gestures.

So Antonio didn't show up for bio that Friday and I actually managed to get work done. Amazing what the freedom from not having a creepy stalker who does nothing but stare at you the whole period can do to a guy! I won that random-ass shit trophy thingy whose only perk was that you could hit people with it and Mr. Zwingli somehow smiled.

Kind of. But it was scary as hell.

Of course, since I'm a man, it's not like I totally freaked and ducked under my desk when he smiled.

"Good to know that the both of you aren't idiots, he told me and I smirked. I was not trembling, okay?

God.

Lieve saw me after school and came over for a second, just to ask whether Antonio had shown up for bio. I said no and she nodded, saying, "Huh, I thought for sure he'd show to see you..." before leaning over and pecking me on the cheek, and running.

My awesome Italian-ness - which comes with automatic knowledge of romance - kept me from blushing and stumbling over to my car.

No, really!

I got home and found, oh darn, we were out of wurst.

I was grinning until I was trying to make food for myself and saw the note on the fridge.

Which said we were out of tomatoes, too.

Fucking Ludwig. Not even keeping the damn house stocked! There was nothnig for it, so I shouted a few cusswords in a voicemail message to him and grabbed my keys, heading for the grocery.

Buono tomato, bitches.

Fucking store didn't have any good fucking tomatoes. I bought the best ones I could find, with some tomato seeds, and grabbed some more pasta just in case there was more about the understocked kitchen than Ludwig had cared to tell me.

I was standing in front of the sausage section, having a mental war with myself on deciding whether or not Ludwig deserved sausage - and whether I felt like paying for it, even though the money I used to go grocery shopping was technically Ludwig's - that I didn't notice a girl making a beeline for me.

"Hey!" I turned at the sout - it really made my head, like. Explode. - and was scowling until I realized who was talking.

Friendly - remember her, that Hungarian or summat odd sister of Antonio, the one with a large rack and brown hair? - was standing in front of me in a white dress that I think was more fit for summer than the gloom in Forks, with her long hair flowing about her waist and a yellow flower hairpin on the right side of her head. She was also hoding a basket with wine (probably for her French dad), sausages (oh, probably for that German brother of hers), vodka (I'm sure someone told me that the other girl was, like, Belorussian or something?), tomatoes (for Antonio, duh), Hello Hydration shampoo, and finally like the store's whole stock of Trojans, thrown right there on top and attracting several astonished stares.

I didn't even want to know why they needed so many.

"Hello," I said cheerfully instead, trying to get over the disgust.

"Are you gay?"

Thank god I wasn't drinking anything at the time. At least my gum was pushed to the back of my teeth, to keep it out of the way while I spoke.

"Uhm." I kind of twitched and looked at her with a sort of stare you'd see on, like, that kid's show about a tiny alien trying to take over the world.

Like, you know, that one where one eye's more open than the other and all?

Like, surprise?

Kind of?

...

Ah, fuck you.

"No, really!" she said, lifting her hands up in front of her and waving them frantically, kind of like a shield. "It's just that, like, I can tell gay guys really well! And...well, my gaydar tells me that you're flaming!"

I was still too shocked to answer. People were staring now.

"But, I mean, I like gay guys!" she went on with a wide grin, possibly trying to salvage the situation and gesturing wildly. "Two guys kissing or screwing each other senseless is like, the hottest thing in the world!" She looked mad, totally off her rocker. Some small part of me wondered why she wasn't having a major nosebleed yet.

And by this time, lots of women were flushing and dragging their kids away. ("But Momma, I wanna hear the crazy lady!")

Oh, dear God, smite me now.

"So will you hurry up and ease that damn UST between you and Tony, and let me record the makeup sex?"

I choked on my gum and leaned over, hacking.

CRAZY HUNGARIAN BITCH SAY WHAAAT?

The girl came and whacked my back a couple times, and the gum flew into my hand.

Oh. Well. That's disgusting. I flicked the gum at the ground, much to the disdain of others around me.

"Uhh...yeeeeeeeeeah no. I'll have to refuse that. Goodbye." I whirled around and started walking as quickly as I could without tripping to the checkout line. I managed to lose Friendly - who was quite rapidly turning into CRAZY BITCH - and pay for my stuff, and get out of that freaking store.

Zombies, I sweat. CRAZY BITCH acted like a zombie!

N-not that I'm s-s-scared of zombies.

I stepped outside and SWEET LORD, SHE WAS STANDING RIGHT THERE.

I totally kept my cool, though. You should have seen me! It was so amazing that people stared.

No, they were not looking because I shrieked so loudly that some little kid started crying!

Please, God, don't let this be a rerun of the last time an abnormally good-looking person (not that antonio was amazingly sexy or anything!) chased me into a parking lot.

"No! Wait!" The girl hastily ran up to my side and met my speed, talking all the while. The bag of unmentionables - wait, what? When did she - oh, whatever. She was running with the bags held carelessly in one hand, all of the weight of like, eight - ugh, that rhymed... - bags hardly slowing her down as she chased me.

"Okay, first off, my name's Elizaveta Beilschmidt, but you can call me Liz like the rest of yhe world! you're Lovino Romano Vargas, an Italian from Phoenix, and the current object of my brother's affections! So hurry up and let him fuck you into the mattre -"

One thing you must remember - I am a man, and men do not wail! "No! Stop! I don't want to hear it!" I said, running now and with my hands clapped over my ears.

ALMOST THERE, MAN.

CRAZY BITCH remained next to me, keeping up with my fast pace and hardly looking affected.

"Hey, hey! I'm not done!" she cried. "DAMMIT, WAIT!" I saw a flash and then everything went black.

How the fuck did she hide a frying pan in that dress?

But still, I like, passsed out.

Well, for like, five seconds anyway. I'm badass and I don't even cry when I get knocked out.

"OW, FUCK!" I shouted as I opened my eyes. There was a throbbing pain in my left temple and I reached up to touch it gingerly. Assess the damage, you know?

I look up and saw a worried, but still disturbingly exquisite look on CRAZY BITCH's face. "Oh, I'm so sorry! I totally didn't mean to hit you that hard!" she was blabbering, looking close to tears. But not quite. Something told me she hit people with frying pans a lot.

It took me a second to realize she was still talking. "- and like, I just needed to know right away!" she was saying. "So, like, I checked where you were and followed you here, and yeah..so you gotta answer meeeee!"

Uhm. Okay. What?

"You - you checked where I was?" I squawked -erm, asked calmly.

Liz nodded.

"How - why - when - euh?"

That sound, by the way, is pronounced, EUEAUH?

Well, actually, I'm like," she looked around for a second before leaning in, as though thinking that the loads of people frozen and staring weren't eavesdropping. "...psychic." She said this dramatically and waited for it to sink in.

I blinked, before pulling myself up and staring at heer, wincing as my headache made four more sets of 36D boobs appear.

"I need alcohol." I walked over to her red Benz, opened the passenger seat, and got in, not even caring for my belt as she popped up out of nowhere and started the car.

Two hours and who knows how many bottles of beer later, I was sitting content at a table way in the back of a random bar that Liz had snuck us into.

"Okay, so tell me again," I said, slurring only slightly. "You're psychic?"

"Yup!" she said, taking a swig from her beer. She'd drained ast least as many as me, though she looked hardly affected.

We drank quietly for a little longer before I stood, spat my drink out, and shouted, "CRAZY HUNGARIAN BITCH SAY WHAAAAT?"


I woke up with a totally killing head. Jeez, it felt like the times when Mom would put a pillow on my face and go to sleep, and end up smothering me for a few hours. Which I wouldn't notice, since siesta is hard to break; but I'd still wake up with a roaring headache,

Hangoverrrrr.

Thank God it was Saturday, at least. I got up, wobbled, and ran to the bathroom.

Thirty minutes later, I came out, showered and toweling my hair dry and stumbling over my feet. At least the taste of sick was out of my mouth. Ew. I hate throwing up.

I heard knocking on the door and yelled., "WHAT?" Ludwig opened the door and peered in before tossing my the Alka Seltzer. I caught it gracefully, not crying out and ducking as it came towards me, okay?

I popped two of the pills and capped the bottle, setting it by my bedside table and flopping back onto my mattress.

"Make it go awayyyy," I moaned into the pillow as my cell started vibrating from its place on my desk. I kicked out at it and it hit the ground, and I went back to sleep.

Well, I tried, anyway, but the idiot calling me wouldn't give up!

"What?" I said sourly five minutes later as I flipped open my phone. "Why do you keep calling?"

"Ah, Comrade Lovino! You've finally answered!"

Oh, shit on a stick.

"Damn Commie, how'd you get my number?"

I could practically hear his annoying grin. "Ehh, don't worry. I called because I wanted to let you know, that I am free today and in need of someone to - how do you say? Hang out, with?"

"Yeah, well, good for you," I spat. "But, oh-so-unfortunately, I have a raging hangover and am not fucking interested in hanging out with you.

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that, especially since I'm downstairs..."

Why, God? I try to be a good Catholic, I really do! I say my prayers every night, repent whenever I do evil acts, and I go to Mass - er, I will again as soon as I find a church here - so why do you put me through this torture?

C-chigi...

Back to my depressing dilemma. "W-what?"

"Da!" as if on cur, my door burst open and there stood Commie Jr in all his Communist-laced glory.

I unconsciously reached for the rosary on my bedside table.

I was still clutching it fifteen minutes later, as I sat in the passenger seat on Commie Jr's giant, environment-killing black Hummer.

"So, Comrade," he said cheerfully, turning to look at me and somehow managing to drive perfectly, even when not looking. Maybe he was part Italian. "How was your first week in Washington?"

"...rainy."

"Ah, I see, I see!" Commie turned back to the roar, thankfully, and I glared out the window. How did I get roped into this again...

"Oh, by thw ay," I said, suddenly remembering something Liz'd told me. "Are there any stories of, like...mythical beings or shit in this general area?"

Commie pursed his lips and glanced at me from the corner of his eyes. "Well, there are just the basic tales, as much as I remember. Would you like to hear them?"

I shrugged and scowled. "Do we have anything else to talk about?"

He took a moment, then laughed. "Ahaha, I do not get this American humor half the time...personally, the sight of someone's face twisting in agony is funny, no matter who it is." Commie didn't seem to notice how I sort of blanched. "For example, you! When I think of how you'd look, contorted in pain, I can't help but smile!"

I think that, at this moment, I made the white shirt I wore under my jack look dark.

"Anyway," he said, swerving to avoid a random chunk of ice on the road. "The stories, da?"

"Y-yeah."

"Hmm...which first?" he pondered to himself, before smiling broadly. "Oh, I'll tell you about the wolves!" Without waiting for me to respond, he went on.

"Once upon a time, there was a chief with a name far too long and confusing for me to remember, as well as extremely hard to pronounce, so we'll just call him 'Chief'." Already, I could tell that Commie didn't care too much for the legends... "Chief was the leader of a group of warriors who had some special skill that allowed them to abandon their human bodies and manifest their spirits as a sort of wolf-shaped creature. What a useless skill, no? After all, the bear is much more powerful...but whatever the case, they could not leave their human bodies for too long, and so only used their spirit wolf power when they hunted or such.

"Anyway, back then, the clans were tightly-knit and so there were few problems. Then one day, a warrior -decided that he wanted to rule, and, during one of their spirit wolf changes, he took over Chief's body and killed his own, thus trapping the spirit of the real Chief in limbo, and taking over the clan. To keep the secret, the fake chief banned the use of their spirit wolf form.

"A time later, Chief - who had been watching in rage as the village grew corrupt - somehow merged with a real wolf, and went back to the village to kill his body, and so the fake chief. At this point, another interesting quirk happened, and somehow the wolf Chief had taken over turned into a man.

"So, the wolf-human bloodline mixed with the other Quileutes, and turned us into werewolves that aren't quite werewolves, and now we're all - how do you say it...fucked up, I think. We even have these specific 'soul mates', or some such term, called imprints. According to the legends, one doesn't know love until they find their imprint. As I said, fucked up. The end." Commie paused for a second, before adding, "Oh, and Chief was my great-great-great-great-great-great-great grandfather, or such."

I stared at him blankly. He was smiling, as per usual. "...that's...wonderful."

It made me wonder. If he was a Quileute, why was he Russian?

We had reached the beach, which was where commie had wanted to take me. Getting out of the car, Commie said, "Oh, and you wanted to hear about the other tales, too?"

I nodded. Amazingly, his summaries were actually very easy to follow.

"Hmm...the Cold Ones next, then." He stopped and motioned me over to sit next to him, on a bleached white log. I did so cautiously, expecting him to - I don't know, shank me or something as soon as I came too close.

He did not, and when I sat he continued his story.

"Now, there is a great and tiring story behind the Cold Ones which I do not feel like relating completely. I shall simply tell you this: some tribe members killed someone they shouldn't have, and brought the wrath of a crazy lover down on them like hellfire. Then, after a fight that could have been easily resolved with a few good swings of a water pipe - but see, at this time the Russians had not yet come to the reservation, so instead the wolf-warriors had to fight with their hands and lose several warriors - it was decided that, yes, both the two they killed were vampires."

I snorted.

"They are called the Cold Ones because, as implied, their skin was very cold to the touch.

"Several years later, more people resembling the original Cold Ones came and turned out to be vampires as well, but much more pleasant. They didn't kill humans, so really they were more fail vampires than anything else. So the wolfmen agreed to a peace treaty, one which the Russians did not much agree which. Hence the reason we haven't killed the Kirkland-Bonnefois family yet. The end."

"Wait, what?" I said, confused. "The Kirkland-Bonnefois family? What do they have to do with anything?"

Commie shrugged. "Apparently they are the fail vampires of legend."

"Ah."

We sat in silence.


That night, I went on Gaggle.*

Fucking internet was so slow, I turned my laptop off halfway and used my uPhone* to steal the neighbor's internet with my WiFi. See, I'm with the times and I use the internet instead of going down to a fucking nameless town's fucking nameless bookstore and wasting five fucking bucks on a book I could read - or torrent - online.

I typed "vampire" into Gaggle and groaned at the forty-bajillion results. So I narrowed it and typed, "cold one" instead.

Oh, joy. Only 20 bajillion responses this time, including an ad for a cold-water washing machine.

I kept adding random words, but then got totally bored and just Wikipodia'd* it.

"HAHA!" I cackled as I found the page.

"Hmm...blah blah, Cold Ones, something something, cold skinned - no shit, Sherlock - no special skin color, red or gold or black eyes - no need to be so damn specific, Wikipodia - oh, huh? No, I do not fucking want a free uPod, damn ads..." I groaned and kept looking.

Finally, something promising - "they supposedly sparkle."

Ooooookay.

Ten minutes later, I flopped down onto my bed.

I had an extremely random dream. I dreamed of Antonio gardening in a pink apron and sparkling in the sun, and offering me tomatoes. Then Commie Jr showed up riding a giant wolf and grabbed me, and I screamed, so Antonio started fighting Commie - who was holding a water pipe menacingly.

I was edging away, when a random-ass Asian guy showed up out of nowhere, holding an eggplant and a falcon, and yelled, "RISE AND SHINE!" And then a mountain exploded behind him.*

I shot up in bed to my alarm and wondered what the royal fuck that was all about.


A/N: So~ I'm sorry for the uber-late update!

My last question was weird. My answer was that I'd be sad because of the lack of eyecandy, but nobody guessed that. I don't think. If you did and I forgot, drop me a line and I'll give you the prizefic xD

New question! Guess who the Hello Hydration shampoo was for. It's not as simple as it should be...

And since y'all were such sweethearts, you get a snippet for the next chapter!

"There were three things of which I was absolutely certain..."

Notes -

*technology - I don't own any of those things, so changed the names :3

*dream - I was reading Azumangah Daioh. Don't ask what the dream's for, you'll see later. :D