Okay, so I figured out what's wrong with me: I have a glorious sinus infection. It's so much fun. Having constant headaches and lack of oxygen due to congestion is the best way to spend the day when you're trying to figure out what the hell to do for the next chapter. All right, soap box over and done with. So let's start this over:

Hey guys! I'm feeling a bit better after being perscribed some antibiotics and so I'm getting back to this story again. Sorry about the last one. I just was not up to writing at all but I felt bad about not updating in so long. Anyway, this is an official chapter and we delve a bit more into the deeper (darker) plot I have developing for this story.

Thank you to all those who submitted ideas! They will be used at some point or another but rest assured, your ideas will not be wasted. I appreciate all who have stuck with this story! It truly means so much!

The main part of this chapter was written due to one of the many great ideas of kirin-saga's.

(long author's note is long...)

Now, onto the show!

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.

Warnings: Language. Oh and Lovino may seem a bit OOC but what can I say? He's a dad now.

Chapter Six

Lovino, lounging on the couch with Antonio sleeping peacefully on his chest, flipped through the channels with a bored expression. Out of the one-hundred something odd channels, there had to be something on! But much to his dismay, there wasn't. Turning off the television, Lovino placed the remote down on the floor beside the couch and closed his eyes. His hand rested itself on little Toni's back, rubbing small circles that ended up sending him onto the brink of sleep. With Antonio fed and bathed and falling asleep only moments ago, Lovino didn't pass the chance to catch up on the hour he might've lost during the night tending to Antonio.

Just as sleep was about to embrace him, a knock at the door drove it away.

"Who the hell is here?" he grumbled to himself, slowly sitting up so as not to startle Antonio.

The Italian gently set his son down on the couch and made his way to the door silently. He opened the door and froze almost immediately.

"Yo, Lovi! How ya been?" a certain Prussian grinned.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Lovino shouted with much restraint, heeding the fact that Antonio was still sleeping.

"We came to check on you, mon ami—to see how you were holding up. We would've come by sooner but we had difficulties arranging a visit," Francis's voice was much calmer than that of his companion's.

"Well, I'm just fine," Lovino said. "Why do you ask?"

Gilbert blinked a few times, processing what had just been said, "Seriously, man? You haven't become that cold-hearted in such a short amount of time, have you?"

Oh. They were talking about Antonio—of course they were talking about Antonio. He mentally smacked himself. Lovino had gotten so used to the Spaniard being there (as a baby or not) he had forgotten all about the car accident taking him from this life in the first place. Well, he didn't entirely forget but the memories had been subdued to a great extent. Sighing, the Italian realized he wasn't the only one still inwardly grieving.

"You're not going to leave us standing out here, are ya, man? That's not very hospitable of you," Gilbert grinned.

"Fuck off," Lovino glared. "I'll be surprised if you even know the meaning of the word 'hospitable.'"

"Lovino, mon ami, be nice. We came all this way to see you," Francis smiled.

"You can't come in," Lovino growled.

"Are you hiding something?"

"No, but—"

A loud wail suddenly resonated throughout the entire house, causing Lovino to nearly sprint to Antonio's side. The puzzled duo remained at the door and followed the Italian moments later after the crying had stopped. They paused upon seeing Lovino comforting an infant.

"Shh, it's okay. Daddy's here," Lovino murmured as Antonio grabbed onto his finger while sniffling quietly.

"Papa… Papa…" Antonio moaned with sorrow, burying his face in the Italian's shirt.

"It's all right—I'm here," Lovino said softly in Italian.

Antonio's whimpers died down when he fell back to sleep but was determined not to let his father leave again. Brushing his hand through Antonio's thick curls, Lovino knew he must've looked very odd to Francis and Gilbert but he couldn't bring himself to care.

"Whoa, Lovino! You went and knocked up some girl—!"

"Hush, Gilbert. You'll wake up the baby," Francis whispered.

"What? Don't tell me to hush! He went knocked up—" Gilbert began only to be interrupted by a certain Frenchman again.

"Shush! Can't you see Lovino is putting him to sleep? And I don't think you want to be on the receiving end of Lovino's wrath if you wake him. I have as many questions as you do but we have to be patient and wait," Francis reasoned.

"You've been hanging out with the tea-lover, haven't you?" Gilbert figured that was the only way his friend was acting so logical in a time like this. The Prussian then crossed his arms with an impatient huff when he didn't get an answer and only when Lovino sat down did they do the same.

"I don't blame you if you have tons of questions but I want them to be kept at a minimum and don't talk too loud. I'll fucking kill you if you wake him up—he hasn't had a nap today and I don't want him cranky," Lovino explained simply.

"Me first because I'm awesome. Who—"

"Whose child is that?" Francis questioned, once again cutting his friend off mid-sentence.

"Mine," Lovino replied, not needing to look at them to picture their surprised expressions.

"Your son?" Gilbert's eyes widened.

"Yeah. You sound surprised," Lovino brushed Antonio's bangs from his round face. He was talking as if he really had Antonio from the very beginning—as if they were actually related by blood.

"Of course I am. I mean, it's been almost a year since Antonio passed away. I've heard of seeking comfort but don't you think it's still a bit soon? Who'd you knock up, man?" Gilbert replied, speaking lowly as the subject of Antonio's death was still a sensitive wound.

Lovino felt his brow twitch at the vulgar question, "I didn't knock up anyone, bastardo. Someone left him in our tomato garden."

The Italian figured that it wasn't the best time to tell them that said baby was their Spanish friend that they had known for so many years. They were rebounding from the accident just as he was.

But he had Antonio back. He got to see that glorious smile and those twinkling eyes every day.

They had Antonio back, too, of course (not that they knew).

"Really?" Francis's eyebrows raised in honest shock and sympathy. "Someone left him there? Mon dieu, poor boy. However, by the looks of it, you seem to have taken very good care of him. How old is he?"

"Nine months," Lovino answered.

"He's a big kid," Gilbert commented, seeming to be at a loss of words for once in his young life.

Lovino nodded in agreement, having really nothing to say.

Wanting to get a better look at the baby, Gilbert leaned over slightly. Francis, on the other hand, was watching Lovino's every move. The Italian was less grumpy and had a sparkle to his eyes that was only there when Antonio was alive. Was it possible that this child had brought back Lovino's happiness? Francis didn't doubt it—nor did he doubt that the child was beginning to look eerily familiar to him…

"So what's the little guy's name?" Gilbert wondered, now sitting beside Lovino and Francis was detecting the protective aura practically rippling from the Italian in strong waves.

But Lovino was silent, giving the duo wary (or were they anxious?) glances.

"His name is Antonio," Lovino replied followed by a heavy sigh.

"You named him after…?" Francis trailed off.

"Yeah."

"Well, he does kind of look like Toni," Gilbert hummed in thought. "Actually, he looks a lot like Toni!"

"That he does. How odd," Francis agreed.

Upon hearing a new voice so up close, Antonio stirred from his pleasant dream and was happy to be staring at a well-known face. He caught a new face in his periphery though and turned towards it. A man with platinum blonde hair and dark russet eyes that almost looked red in the light was staring at him.

Another man was here too. His hair was a long and wavy blonde (it was also very tempting to grab) and his eyes were an ocean blue. He felt alarmed being in the presence of newcomers but a sense of peace washed over him at the same time. If his dad wasn't afraid, he shouldn't be either. And as long as his dad was here, everything would be just fine.

"Great job, you jerk, you woke him up," Lovino scolded.

"He doesn't seem cranky to me," Gilbert said matter-of-factly.

"You'll see," Lovino mumbled.

Grabbing a piece of his father's clothing to reassure himself, Antonio tried scooting out of his father's lap, indicating that he wanted to get down and play with a toy that had caught his attention. Lovino complied and set his son to the floor, watching him crawl across the carpet with ease.

"He's nine months old, oui?" Francis broke Lovino's train of thought, wherever said train of thought might be going.

"Sí," Lovino answered.

"Well you seem to be doing a fine job in parenting," Francis gave a sincere smile.

"Yo, Lovi, if you ever need someone to babysit, I can," Gilbert offered with a cheeky grin.

"Not only no, but fuck no!" Lovino retorted, earning himself a loud laugh from the Prussian.

"Oh, come on, Dad! Loosen up a little!" Gilbert mocked with a sly smirk.

This guaranteed a solid smack to the back of his head by the young father and Lovino made his way over to Antonio so he could sit beside him and play with his son. Francis's interest was caught by some framed photos scattered about the living room on display for all to see and he scrutinized them with inquisitive eyes.

He noticed that with each picture, not only had Antonio changed but Lovino did, too. There was a softer light in the Italian's eyes as the apparent bond between the two grew stronger and stronger and he seemed more willing to take the picture.

…was that a sincere smile Francis was seeing?

"Ow! What the hell was that for?" Gilbert rubbed the sore spot on his head.

"For being an ignorant dick," Lovino replied coolly.

"You son of a—" Gilbert started but stopped himself. "You know what? Screw it, I'm too awesome to be fighting with you."

"Whatever floats you're already fucked up boat," Lovino shrugged, offering Antonio his rattle.

Gilbert's brow twitched and his russet eyes became crimson with irritation.

"You two just need to calm down," Francis sighed. "Antonio's acting more mature than you are."

"He's nine months old," both Gilbert and Lovino responded in unison which sent the duo into a bout of even further annoyance.

While Lovino had his back turned, Antonio began to wander off into the piano room with his urge to explore beginning to soar as he became more curious about the world around him. He had only been in here when his father was with him but as he grew more independent, he wanted to go in here all by himself.

When he saw the piano looming over him, he grabbed onto the leg of it and pulled himself to his feet. He wanted to get a better look at the large apparatus in front of him so he cruised along it, almost slipping a couple of times.

"Toni? Antonio!" he heard his father call and his head whipped around at the sound. He noticed the change of patterns in his father's voice. He wasn't calm—he sounded scared. Antonio plopped himself back into the seated position when his legs began to shake from lack of strength and crawled to other areas of the piano room.

The thudding of footsteps soon met his ears just as he was about to stand along the large bookshelf and he was abruptly picked up by the man with bright hair and dark eyes.

"Hey Lovi! Found him!" the man called over his shoulder.

That small bubble of fear erupted inside his stomach with the knowledge of being in the arms of a stranger. Where was his father at? He didn't leave, did he? He hoped not! Letting out a strong wail, Antonio called out for his single parent.

"Aw, man! Don't cry, please! Lovino will kill me!" Gilbert said quietly to try and calm the child.

"Oi! Potato-bastard! What're you doing to my son?" Lovino entered the room and removed him from the stranger's hold.

"I didn't do anything to him! He just started crying when I picked him up! Man, I swear, kids hate me," Gilbert grumbled the last part.

"Don't fret, mon ami, he just hasn't gotten used to you yet. Babies understand permanence and with Lovino being the most recurring person in his life, he feels safe with him," Francis explained to the Prussian as if he was speaking to a child.

"Don't patronize me, Frenchie," Gilbert glared.

At this, Francis had a sardonic smile, "Don't act like a child."

"You are so un-awesome!" Gilbert stormed out of the room.

It was nearing dusk when the duo was finally set on leaving and heading back to their hotel for the night and Antonio had begun coming out of his shell sometime near the end of their visit.

"All right, Toni, say bye to the creepy bastards," Lovino said as he stood in the doorjamb with Antonio in his arms. The insult was more so directed at Gilbert rather than Francis (he still didn't like one more than the other but it was more amusing to see Gilbert riled up).

The Spanish child waved shyly with a sliver of a smile and Francis was the only one who waved back. Gilbert was too busy dealing with a certain Italian.

"You're still not as awesome as me!" Gilbert retorted as they walked towards Francis's car.

"Stupid potato-bastard," Lovino knew the Prussian couldn't hear him but he wouldn't dare let the albino have the last say in their little dispute that had been going on since high school.

Antonio let out a long drawn out yawn and placed his head on Lovino's shoulder with eyelids growing heavier by the second.

"It is getting pretty close to your bed time, isn't it? You've got to be tired—those two bastards interrupted your nap. And that potato-bastard didn't believe me when I told him you'd be upset about that later," Lovino made his way up the stairs.

In fact, Gilbert had learned the hard way. Having a baby with iron lungs and one hell of a throwing arm made for the two worst possible combinations. Not only was Gilbert deaf from Antonio's cries due to lack of sleep, he might have a bruise from getting too close to said baby and had been whacked in the head with a sippy cup once or twice.

Of course, Lovino only had a few spare seconds to mock and laugh at the Prussian before having to tend to his child's needs.

By the time Lovino had made it to their shared room (Antonio refused to stay in the room made for him just down the hall), Antonio was already dead asleep in the Italian's arms. Lovino didn't dare another attempt—the last thing he needed was to hear his son crying the entire night. Neither of them would benefit.

So, as a result, Ludwig had helped him move the crib into his room and only when Antonio was old enough would they make the arrangements for him to start sleeping in his own room. Lovino placed the child down in the crib that was bathing right underneath the moon's soft glow and simply stared at his fallen angel for a minute or two.

Never in his entire life did he think he would be his former lover's father.

And he didn't regret the decision either.

With Antonio sound asleep, Lovino crawled into his bed, falling into slumber as soon as his head hit the soft pillow.

"I wonder how fratello and Toni are doing. It's been a while since we last saw them," Feliciano commented in the dim light the lamp provided. He leaned against the headboard with a sigh. He didn't know why he was so worried about his brother and who had recently become his nephew.

"I'm sure they're fine," Ludwig said from the bathroom after spitting out some toothpaste residue into the porcelain sink in the attached bathroom. "Lovino's a grown man. He can take care of himself, don't worry."

"I just have a bad feeling, Ludwig. I don't know what it is but I can't seem to get rid of it," Feliciano tried ignoring the knots cluttering inside his stomach. "I think we should go visit them tomorrow. Or I will and you can stay here with Sienna."

"No, we'll all go," Ludwig turned off the light in the bathroom and slipped into the bed next to his Italian lover. "I don't mind the insults he throws at me. I've gotten used to it. I know he means well, though."

Feliciano let out a small laugh, "Yeah, I suppose after being with me so long I should expect that."

The second the couple was about to call it a night, the sound of a breaking window and their daughter's screams jolted them from any hope of descending into unconsciousness. Feliciano, being one of the fastest runners on the high school track team, was down the hall in a flash, nearly running into walls in the process with Ludwig very close behind.

Throwing his daughter's bedroom door open and turning on the light, Sienna immediately jumped into Feliciano's arms, sobbing hysterically. Mindful of the glass, Feliciano stepped lightly and sat on his daughter's small princess themed bed, comforting softly in Italian.

Ludwig trekked over to the broken window, hoping to find a cause to this.

"Watch the glass," Feliciano warned.

Ludwig peered out and into the city streets, catching just a small glimpse of movement dashing behind one of the buildings. It was definitely a man—around six foot four at the tallest, six foot even at the shortest.

"Did you see anything?" Feliciano held their frightened daughter close.

"Ja, but he's gone now," the German nodded and was about to sit himself beside his family when he noticed a small piece of paper jammed into the windowsill. Pulling it out with prestige, he scanned the paper and a bemused look danced across his features which was indeed a rare occurrence.

"What's wrong? What is it?" Feliciano questioned.

"I don't know. It's more than likely written in your language though," Ludwig handed the paper over.

Taking it, it took Feliciano reading it over ten times for him to wrap his mind around the single word that was written and that single word sent the worst possible chill down his spine.

One simple word.

Morte.

Death.

*insert evil laugh here* Surely you didn't think it'd be all fluff without purpose, right? /shot. But, yes, there is a much deeper part than just simply focusing on Lovino's parenting skills (or lack thereof). I tried to simply make it that but it didn't sound appealing so I'm adding angst.

Gotta love classic angst /shot again.

So! What did you all think? Yay? Nay (is that how you spell the word)? Feedback is most welcome as are ideas!

As I said before, the main idea of this chapter was due to the help of kirin-saga. I just claim true ownership to the ending.

Thanks for reading! See you guys next time~