A/N Aw, yeah! Words and shit!

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing! I technically own the plot, but I doubt I'm the first one with the idea. I've never seen anything like this, but I'm sure it's been done.

WARNING: Weird pairing, Guyxguy nonsense, language, OOC-ness, and crack!

PAIRINGS: EnglandxRomano, AubinxEdmund, mentions of AustriaxHungary, and various

SLANG/TRANSLATIONS: "A'ight" – it's just Beagan saying "alright"

"'ight" – Beagan saying "right" (accents are hard 3)

"Dope" – idiot, fool [Irish and British]

"Getting your hole" – having sex [Irish] (Very vulgar and not usually used in public)

"Caffler" – idiot, moron [Irish]

"Oui" – yes [French]

"Fratello" – brother [Italian]

"Snog" – to kiss using tongue [British] (AKA French Kissing)

You Can't Spell Love Without Crazy Chapter: 7 Final Damnedstination

Monday, August 29, 2011 9:27 AM: England's House; Master Bedroom

Lovino Vargas awoke with a start when a pair of warm, moist lips enclosed her own. Her amber eyes shot open and locked with a pair of emerald irises.

"Oh? Did I wake you up, Milady? My humblest apologies."

Devious viridian twinkled mischievously as the pale face hovering above the girl smirked. Kicking a day off by teasing and cuddling with his girlfriend was nearly ideal for Arthur Kirkland—but, sadly, Lovi was not a man again quite yet.

The female blushed, growled, and smiled at the magician, in that order. The male laughed lightly at the Italian's little show and wrapped his pale arms around her lithe frame. He curled her into his wiry chest and nuzzled his angular nose into her auburn hair.

The Englishman silently thanked 'sweet Protestant God' happily as his favorite aroma emanated from his partner's locks and wafted into his abused nostrils. Cherry Blossoms are his secret dirty pleasure.

Neither of the nations was fully aware of their encrypted feelings for the other, but they felt comfortable enough around each other to discover together.

As the duo cuddled in their happy little world, chaos erupted elsewhere in the halls of the Kirkland Household.

:-:-:

Monday, August 29, 2011 9:27 AM: England's House; What's Left of the Kitchen

A shrieked stream of Irish vulgarity echoed down the ancient corridors of England's home; barely stopping short of the Master's private rooms.

Beagan was pissed. Beyond pissed, actually. He was absolutely infuriated.

Aubin had severely fucked up this time. Worse than the other twelve dilemmas that had arrived with the brunette. Much worse than the oven fire, the food poisoning, the peanut butter incident, and the other fiascos since the Frenchman was recruited.

The dumbass had blown up the kitchen. I mean this literally. Seriously—there is a goddamned swallow perched nonchalantly on the redhead's cranium. There is no longer a roof.

Alas, the man responsible for the household's current lack of a kitchen was trying to apologize to the livid Irishman by groveling at his feet. He knew full well what he had gotten his cute ass into this time.

Honestly, it wasn't entirely Aubin's fault.

Edmund—you know you remember this sexy bastard from the first chapter—was also due to be censured. He was just required to wait his turn. After all, hell hath no fury like a ginger scorned.

Beagan sighed as his inner volcano cooled off. "A'ight. Let me get me story straight 'ere. Aubin put a tin-foil'd turkey in the bloody microwave?" He received two embarrassed nods. "'ight. An' that was because you two dopes were too busy gettin' ya hole ta pay a damn ounce o' attention?" More silent confirmation. "Cafflers… An' now we dun have a bloody kitchen 'cause 'a you two?" A mumbled slur of 'yes' and 'oui'.

"Bloody fuckin' brilliant."

There were no words. The young butler was beyond words.

They no longer had a kitchen because two energetic employees were much too occupied having wild, passionate sex in the mashed potatoes. The morons didn't think twice about how they were putting TIN-FOIL in the MICROWAVE.

C'mon, everyone knows that tin-foil explodes in that goddamned machine.

Even the boss—FUCK.

"W…what are we going to tell Master Arthur?" Edmund voiced the daunting thought rebounding around all three servants' minds.

:-:-:

Monday, August 29, 2011 1:58 PM: England's House; Moving Target

"No! YOUR foot is dumb!" Romano wailed childishly as she stormed out of England's bedroom and stomped down the hall.

The twosome had been bickering—about only God knows what—and the female half had had enough. She was kind of losing, so she did the true Italian thing and fled the scene. Feliciano would be proud.

Thoughts of her fratello sent a sharp pang of sadness through the brunette. She astonishingly missed her brother's silly antics and easygoing nature. Never thought that would happen.

After swallowing her minute levels of grief, the female's train of thought then arrived at its favorite station: Hungrytown.

Don't look at me like that.

So, yeah. Lovino was hungry, if my clever joke went over your head.

The brunette's subconscious allowed her feet to travel to the kitchen; it was her favorite room in the entire household. She trudged on until she reached what remained of the sturdy wooden door—charred hinges and a collapsing doorframe.

Amber eyes widened as Lovino absorbed the state of the once-quaint area.

"C-CHIGI!"

:-:-:

Monday, August 29, 2011 7:26 PM: England's House; Ruins of the Kitchen

"Alright, boys, that's good. What did this teach you?" England attempted to stifle his cocky guffaws as he posed his servants. He truly did have too much fun fucking around with people.

Beagan, clad in a beautiful viridian evening gown to complement his hair, growled as menacingly as a man in a dress could. He was beyond pissed for the second time that day. That must be a record or something.

Lovino loved the servants' punishment.

Forcing them to wear dresses and then snapping pictures for blackmail? Oh, Melody, you are a genius.

Aubin, unlike the Irish butler, was secretly thrilled to be in his lovely and flowery pink tunic. He willingly struck scandalous poses as the Master of the house gleefully followed and clicked away with his camera.

Edmund was horrified. Absolutely horrified. The other two got beautiful outfits that made them seem to sparkle whilst sad little Edmund was clad in what appeared to be an uglier-than-ugly curtain. It was puke-green and bunched up in awkward places to the extent that it didn't even remotely resemble a dress. Someone sure got the short end of the stick, eh?

The magician was calling out commands as his cute girlfriend hopped around, taking hundreds of pictures of the embarrassed men.

Melody was very, very proud of this plan. Her yaoi-fangirl mind was usually never stimulated in such a real way, so this was a real treat for her. She rarely got to see Hungary—a rather close friend of hers—and therefore rarely got her fix of yaoi fanservice. After all, Prussia typically tagged along for the visits and Prussia is walking fanservice.

:-:-:

Monday, August 29, 2011 11:16 PM: England's House; Master Bedroom

Once all the people in the house were settled in, Lovino and Arthur cuddled up in the latter's king bed.

Ah, the wonders of young… love, is it?