Your favorites and alerts and reviews always make me giggle with joy, you know that?

Pickle juice is delicious, by the way.

And to answer the question of one KikiPanda7: Possibly. I'm half-pulling an Indiana Jones here. I'm also beginning to wonder if I can make that depressing. Yipee~ :]

Antonio first decided to go back to the bus two days later. Gilbert would have come, but apparently his mom and dad were now keeping a very careful eye on him so he couldn't sneak out. "That, and Ludwig's annoying me about staying," he'd added.

He was about to walk out the door when Francis' words came into his head. "We can't really afford to give you dinner anyways." So he rushed to his fridge, and began picking through it for leftovers enough for seven. He wasn't sure if anything was enough on its own, so he took the Tupperware of rice and three carrots. That had to be enough. He knew they would smile at the sight of food.

He once again began his trek to the bus, starting by going to the park. He found immediately it was incredibly hot outside. At least the woods would be cooler—the sun beat down on him. I hope they're okay...

"He's back." Antonio looked up to see Arthur staring at him through one of the windows. They were all (or at least the ones not broken were) opened. "What do you want?"

Antonio ignored the unhappy tone and held up his offerings. "I brought some rice and carrots!" he called back.

Vasch's head popped up next to Arthur. The two sets of green eyes stared at him suspiciously. "Why bring us food?" The gunner asked. Antonio supposed nobody actively sought them out, nonetheless with food. It wasn't surprising, given their first encounter had involved a gun and knives and the possibility of death.

Antonio gave his best smile. "Because Francis said that you couldn't afford food. So I brought some. And I wanted to say hi?" He didn't know how that would work as an excuse.

"What if we don't want to say hi to you?" Arthur asked.

Antonio tilted his head, frowning. "... Why wouldn't you want that? Have I done something wrong?"

Francis' head also appeared, right next to Arthur's. His eyes lit up.
"Ah, bonjour, I see you have brought food! Come, come!" His voice was muffled by something in his mouth. Vasch and Arthur turned to stare at him, shocked, and he looked back nonchalantly. "You always say to accept charity," he told them. "So let him aboard. I know you do not like him, but we can be sociable, oui?" Francis's blue eyes returned to Antonio. "Come on then!"

He did not wait for protests or a third invitation. When he jumped up the stairs, he noticed all seven (or was it eight?) were present. Lovino, Feliciano, and Alfred were all collected around a giant bag of ice, a lot like the ones sold at the gas stations. Their faces were pressed into it, and they didn't seem intent on getting up any time soon. The others all had handfuls of ice either in their mouths or pressed to their foreheads, as well. "Hola!" he chirped happily. "What are you all doing?"

"It's hot." Alfred whined, possibly in reply, not moving from his posistion on the ice. "God, why are the summers so frikkin' brutal here?"

"Ve~, it's better than winters being brutal." Feliciano replied cheerfully. "And besides, we have the ice!"

"Lili and I got that bag, and I have yet to see any gratitude," Vash noted.

"Thank you Vasch, for stealing a bag of ice," Lovino deadpanned. "In light of this achievement, you have been promoted from to level five. Why not use your newfound power to get us a fan?"

"I don't see you lazy idiots doing anything," Vasch snapped back.

"Too hot... So tired..." Another voice behind murmured. Antonio turned around to see Matthew with a handful of ice on his forehead. When did he get there?

"So you stole it?" He asked instead, directing it to Vasch.

"Have to." Vasch shrugged.

Francis appeared at one shoulder. "Ah, technically, we do have thirty-five seventy-nine right now, but Monsieur Zwingli insists we save it for a rainy day."

"Oh. So you do have money?"

"Not enough for anything large, if that is what you asking." When Francis half-sashayed back to his seat, Antonio noticed he was missing a carrot. He then looked towards the French preteen, who was happily munching on said carrot. Francis winked. "Antonio, you really should be more careful. Matthew may be the best pickpocket, and Lovino not far behind, but I am talented myself, non?"

Arthur held his hand out to Francis. "Give it up. I'm hungry, too."

"Non. I do not get a s'il te plaît, you do not get la carotte," Francis replied, smirking.

Arthur's emerald eyes flashed. "C'mon, don't keep the stupid thing, frog." There was a pause. "Fine. Please?" The carrot hit his hand.

"I have a couple others..." Antonio reminded them.

"Give one to Alfred and the other to Matthew, if you're so intent on sharing food. Alfred, share with Feli and Lovino. Matthew, give some to Lili." Vasch ordered.

"What about you?" Matthew asked, breaking the carrot. It really didn't look like half.

"I'll be fine."

Matthew rolled his eyes shoved some carrot towards him. "Vasch, you know you eat more than Lil does. C'mon. Take it," Vasch just stared at it.

"I said give it Lili."

"Yeah, but—" Matthew was cut off.

"Take the damn carrot, Vasch," Lovino snapped. "It's food, we're animals. We need to eat." He'd taken his head off the ice, and was now chewing on the midsection of his carrot.

Francis nodded, smiling. "Oui. Exactly what I would have said myself, had I had as crude a speech pattern as Lovino." He earned a glare from said Italian.

Antonio might have asked more questions as he handed the Tupperware of rice to Vasch, but Vasch fixed his stare (which was considerably fierce since nothing had really happened) on him. He looked like he really wanted to say something, but couldn't find the words.

"Excuse me, Mister Antonio?" Lili approached him, filling in for Vasch. "We really appreciate the carrots and the rice and everything, but..."

"But? I don't mind, I thought you would be hungry." Antonio glanced towards Lovino, who looked away, before looking back. Antonio was sure he saw distrust in his eyes.

With that knowledge in mind, he quickly glanced over the expressions of the others. Only Alfred and Feliciano didn't have some level of apprehension on their faces. He didn't quite know how to respond, since he didn't know what could possibly cause such apprehension in the first place. Maybe it was when Vasch almost shot them? But we cleared that up...

He was sure there was a reason they didn't like him, even if he couldn't think of it. If people were helping them, it could be okay. Maybe they just needed to know him, so they would realize he was trying to get them to not hate him. With this new logic in mind, Antonio promised himself he would talk to them every day if he could!

So he said his goodbye and left, not noticing the extreme relief that seemed to encase the bus once he stepped off.

True to his mental promise, he returned every day for a week, sometimes with food or cold water (which he learned they had plenty of in the stream, so it wasn't really necessary), sometimes without.

"Don't you have school or something you need to go to?" Lovino had asked him once.

"Not for another month," Antonio had replied cheerfully.

He learned a couple things about them, too. For example, Francis was abandoned because his parents thought he wasn't worth it. So he said. Very nonchalantly. Antonio avoided questions like that because the one time he was too curious, Arthur amd Lovino were really, really mad at him. He also learned that one day Alfred and Matthew spent an hour stalking him for fun in the city, but Gilbert said he should probably take it as a joke. He still didn't know about that one.

On the seventh day, he didn't notice that nobody had announced his arrival like they had every other time. And when he boarded the bus, only Lovi was there, looking bored out of his mind as he watched the sky from one of the seats.

Until he saw Antonio, and he then proceeded to leap up, draw his knife, and screech unintelligible Italian. But then he recognized Antonio (this was apparently an everyday thing for them), and lowered his hand. He didn't put away the knife quite yet, though. "Come to say hi again?" He missed the sardonic tone of voice and the accompanying scowl.

Antonio nodded with a bright smile. "Sì! Where is everyone?"

"Scaveging."

"Even Feli?"

"Feliciano will be back in a minute. What do you need now?"

"I just wanted to say hi!" Didn't they just discuss this? Lovi just asked him that. Silly Lovi.

"Why?" There was that strange apprehensive look again. Antonio had to leave after a short time every visit because they always looked like that. It always made him uncomfortable.

"What?"

"Why do you keep coming here? I know it's not because you don't have anything better to do, because there are those two German bastards that you brought last week." His honey-colored eyes were narrowed in that glare he always wore.

"Ah, yeah, they're really nice, aren't they?"

"I don't care," Lovino said bluntly. "So why do you keep coming here?"

"... Why wouldn't I?" The question confused him.

The Italian's eyebrow twitched, and his scowl deepened. "Because most people don't give us a fraction of the attention you do!" he snapped. "You come here every day just 'to say hi'! What the hell is that? What the fuck do you want?"

"Lovi, I never said I wanted anything..."

"Don't fucking call me that. And you do want something."

"Lovi... no," he added once he got a wince-inducing glare from the younger boy, "What could I want from you? Well, I do want to be your friend, but—"

"Why? What possible reason could you have? I know it's not because we're pleasant people—we take your fucking food and practically chase you out on a daily fucking basis!"

"I-I bring that food for you to eat, so I don't mind. Is it about
the food? Do you not want me to bring it?"

Lovino sat down on the seat, pouting in a way Antonio might have considered adorable if he hadn't registered their conversation. "No. All I want is to know why you think we're worth your time."

"Why wouldn't you be?"

"Do not turn this question around."

In the end, the question was left unanswered.

He and Gilbert sat on the park bench, Antonio blabbering away as usual. This time, though, his voice was solemn and confused. "Why do I need a reason, you think?" he asked, his mind still on his and Lovino's conversation.

Gilbert paused. "I dunno, man," he replied. "They live a completely different life than us. I don't think I could really say anything about it. I mean, there might be a few unawesome explanations, but you never know. Maybe they're just the kind of people you don't want to hang out with."

"They're good people!" Antonio defended them, almost glaring at his best friend.

Gilbert frowned and narrowed his eyes at the Spaniard. His expression was set in an oddly serious, thoughtful (and now, slightly annoyed) one. "I didn't say they weren't. I'm sure they all have awesome personalities, even with all the paranoia. I'm saying that they have to avoid certain people if they don't want to get mugged or killed—more often than we do, anyway—they steal for survival, not for kicks, and they generally have to be bad people. You think those knives are just for show? Maybe they just don't think they can trust you."

Antonio had never heard Gilbert say anything that long and only use the word "awesome" once. He thought for a few minutes, attempting to think back to his previous visits. He asked questions a few times, but a lot of the answers related to their lifestyle were vague at best (aside from Francis's backstory), and then they got that apprehensive look he didn't like. "How do you think they ended up without a house?" he asked thoughtfully.

"Same way as anyone else: abandoned by some unawesome guys who thought that those kids weren't needed."

Antonio smiled lightly. "It's kinda funny that you call them kids when at least one if them is older than you." He got a light slap upside the head for his comment, and he laughed.

"Anyway, Toni," Gilbert jumped down from the bench (which wasn't really necessary, but he stuck the landing), and spun around to face his friend, "to sound all Ludwiggy, I think you've gotta answer one question before you go back."

"What?"

"Are you interested in who they are or what they are?"

"What they are?"

"Thieves. On the street. Homeless."

"You think I'm only interested in their lifestyle?" Antonio's usually nonexistent frown deepened, mildly angry and not-so-mildly insulted. Why would Gilbert think that?

"I think it's a definite possibility. You're kind of a curious person like that. C'mon don't look at me like that, I fully support your awesome friendship, I only think you need to make sure of what you're interested in. Besides, then maybe you can answer Lovino's question."

Before Antonio answered, Gilbert's phone rang. "Scheiße." He flipped open the phone, "Hallo, Mutti." They both winced as screeching, incomprehensible to Antonio ears, came from the phone. "I left a note, Mutti! Yeah... Yeah, I know, but it was important! ... That was important too! ... Yeah, I'll come home. Fine. How's your boyfriend?" He snapped the phone shut without waiting for an answer—which wasn't very nice because when you ask a question you should expect an answer—or giving a goodbye. He scowled for a moment, like his getting in trouble was the phone's fault, before turning back to Antonio. "So, in recent news, Mutti says that it doesn't matter if it's important and I leave a note, I'm not allowed out of the house. And I have to go back."

"All right then." Antonio rested his chin in his hand.

Gilbert gave him a confident smile. "Don't worry, I'll go with next time you decide to see them again. Maybe it'll convince Mutti grounding me is pointless. Anyway, like I said, just think for a little while. I'm sure something will come to that head of yours."

Antonio smiled at Gilbert. "Thanks. I'll call you when I plan on going again. Bye." And so he sat on the bench, contemplating both the important questions.

Who or what? Gilbert asked.

Why? Lovino demanded.

Why do I need an answer? Antonio wondered.

Feliciano came back from his "bath" and bathroom break soon after Antonio left. Lovino's head immediately snapped up, his hopes confirmed when he saw the auburn head belonging to his brother, darkened with water.

Not that he had been hopeful. Not because he was lonely and mad and his brother's presence was comforting. Just because Feliciano was an idiot and might have hurt himself since Lovino wasn't there to keep his idiot self out of trouble.

That was it.

"Ve, Lovi, are you okay?" Feliciano asked, his sweet, innocent face immediately contorting into concern. "You look angry."

"From what I've gathered, I tend to always look angry," Lovino replied dryly, not mentioning the visit and that idiot's inability to answer a simple question.

"Ve, yeah, but right now it looks like you're really mad about something."

"Why wouldn't I be mad about something, Feli?" he asked. "We're fucking homeless."

"No! The bus is our home!" Feliciano smiled cheerfully and gestured to all around him.

"We should have a real fucking home!" Lovino snapped back. "But our dad didn't think we were worth it! You probably don't remember," he grumbled. "You were only four, you know." What kind of sick bastard leaves a four and six-year-old (with only a basic-at-best understanding of English at that!) at a gas station and thinks they'll survive? If they hadn't found Vasch...

Not that he trusted the bastard. There was no way he could trust that trigger-happy, over-protective, annoying, frugal son-of-a-bitch. He didn't think anything of the guy who had taken them in and helped them learn how to survive and practically saved their lives.

No, not at all.

Just like he didn't trust the stupid twins, the creepy little girl, the British asshole, or the annoying perv. He just lived with them because they had food and shelter.

That was it.

"Ve, yeah, I don't remember Nonno all that much, or the guy you said was our dad," Feliciano agreed. "But I remember Nonno was a nice man, and he liked to sing and dance with us, didn't he?"

A small affectionate smile flicked across his lips. "Yeah. He was an idiot like that." Thinking about idiots brought his mind back to what made him mad, and the smile disappeared. "Feli, why do you think that tomato bastard keeps coming to the bus?" he asked. He honestly wasn't expecting much—Feliciano was an airhead.

His brother took a minute to think. "Ve, maybe it's because he wants to be friends." His cheerful, innocent voice sounded pleased with the answer.

... Sure, he hadn't expected much, but really, but he shouldn't have expected anything at all. Stupid airhead brother. "Why? There are other people he could be hanging out with."

"Ve, there are other people we could hang out with, too, Lovi."

"No, not really."

Feliciano tilted his head. "Why did you ask that, Lovi? Don't you think he's a nice person? He really likes us."

"I don't think he does." he replied stubbornly.

Feliciano frowned, not disappointed, but Lovino got that feeling all the same. "Not everyone is like our dad, fratello."

Lovino glared at him for saying that. "He abandoned us when Nonno died! We trusted him and then he got rid of us!" He wasn't still hurting over the abandonment by their dad, especially after they flew to America all the way from Italy just to live there. He wasn't still mad that Nonno died and they had to meet that bastard.

No, not at all.

"And then Vasch helped us and we made friends with everyone else." Feliciano said. "Not everyone is like our dad." he repeated firmly.

Lovino pouted and didn't answer, still insisting to himself that he couldn't trust Antonio or those German freaks.

A/N-For those curious, the order in which they met was: Vasch + Lovino and Feliciano + Arthur + Francis, Alfred, and Matthew (who had banded together elsewhere) + Lili.

I thought about pushing Lovino's question off 'till later, but... wanted to establish to little Toni Lovi doesn't think on the same wavelength as him. Bad idea?

And, yes, Francis was told something like that when he was abandoned. Sure, he acts like it's not a problem now, but does any kid walk away from that completely fine with it? Not to say he had a happy home life...

ANYWAY.

Arthur and Lili are the ones I don't have some semblance of a back story for yet. Well, maybe just Arthur. Maybe.

Also, Francis used "s'il te plaît" rather than "s'il vous plaît" because, well… he's a pretty informal person, non?

Reviews? Brutally? I'm sorry to say I'm out of pickle juice this time around, but we do have a suspiciously emptying jar of olives...