Disclaimer: The only thing I own is the story idea and only some of the witty remarks. I own so little; so please don't steal.

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They were having tea on the veranda. It was Feliciano's idea, of course; the younger Vargas had insisted that he was going to cook and they were all going to enjoy themselves and do family things. Romulus had readily agreed, and even Ledell had approved. So the four of them were sitting around a little table outside, the weather deciding to play along as well.

"We haven't done anything like this in ages!" Romulus said happily, biting into a fruit tart that Feliciano had taken painstaking hours to carefully arrange to full aesthetic beauty. Ledell was sizing up her husband with cold eyes, tutting to herself as she watched him spread crumbs on the tablecloth. Her tart was eaten neatly with knife and fork.

"Use a napkin, dear," she sniffed, handing one to her husband.

Feliciano giggled, used to seeing these sort of exchanges. His mother and father got along quite well, actually. He glanced over at Lovino as he sipped his tea; his brother was silent and looked utterly downtrodden.

"Is everything okay, Lovino?"

Lovino sighed. "Yes," he deadpanned. "Everything is fine."

"You haven't been yourself for days."

"You haven't known me enough to know when I'm 'myself'. And it's only been two days." Blinking at this part, which contradicted himself, Lovino shook his head. "I was just thinking. Don't about it, dammit. Mind your own business."

There was a light ding from inside the house and Feliciano leapt up, earning everyone's eyes on him. "Ah! The manicotti I was baking is done! I'll get it!" He made his way across the porch, skipping slightly as he disappeared back into the house. He was just standing in front of the oven, waiting to make sure it was nice and brown when Ludwig spoke up.

"Feliciano."

Feliciano looked up, spotting Ludwig near the door. The bodyguard had been standing in the outskirts of the picnic, watching for enemies that weren't there. He had not expected the blonde to follow him in. "Oh! Hi, Ludwig! Would you like to join us? I totally forgot! I left some tea for the servants, but I think it would be nice for you to come eat with us…"

"Have you been avoiding me?"

Feliciano blinked, before fluttering his hands around like a distressed bird. "Avoiding? Why would you think that? You're guarding me, right? So how could I be avoiding you?"

"You haven't been talking to me. And that's unusual for you."

"That's just…it's nothing!" When Germany gave him a serious look, he bit his lip. "It's just…I think…you were talking to your brother…and you didn't tell me…I wouldn't have told mom! If she knew, you'd be fired! And I like you here. With me." His flailings settled to a stop. "I just want you to be honest with me, that's all."

"Is that all?"

"Yup! Oh, and now Lovino's being open again I've been trying to spend time with him as a brother! I used to have you to be with, and now I also have him! Oh! I hope you weren't getting lonely without me…oh! The manicotti!" Like a frantic chef, Feliciano opened the oven, the heat coming out in waves. With one swift motion, he slid the glass pan out and set it on the stove, blowing on his hands. "It'll burn if I don't take it out!"

He was bustling around to get the oven glove when Ludwig stepped forward. "I'll take it out, don't worry about it…"

"Ah! Watch out, it's hot!"

And it was; Ludwig lifted it for a few moments before setting it down, wincing in discomfort. His hands were raw red. Feliciano squealed before diving for the fridge, scrambling around for a packet of diced carrots and hurrying over to put them in Ludwig's hands. "Here! To cool them off! Ooh, don't you hate it when that happens to you?" Feliciano cocooned Ludwig's hands around the carrot packet. "How does it feel?"

"Like pins and needles." Ludwig stared down at his smoldering hands, then to the fact that Feliciano's hands were around his, and when he looked up to say something about it, Feliciano leapt up and kissed him, the heat around his mouth completely distracting him from the pain in his hands.

--

He couldn't hold them off anymore. He'd told them he couldn't get the confession, Francis was busy…until finally, Arthur took the phone from his babbling brother and said point black, "Matthew, I have reason to believe that you've already gotten the confession. Now we'd like to listen to it, if you don't mind."

Arthur could command a presence; Matthew supposed it was why his brother listened to him so much. So he said they could come over in the afternoon, to which his brother whooped loudly in the background. This had led him to his position now: sitting in front of the tape.

He had listened, rewinded, and replayed the confession a dozen times, but no matter how many times he listened to Francis's smooth voice say those words over and over, there was no denying it was rather incriminating. There was no loophole to get around "We also picked up a kid – Lovino Vargas."

The machinery was not as complex as Alfred made it look. Matthew had unassembled the recording device and taken out the little tape of confession. He thought the police had electronic copies now, but he guessed the detective-for-hire program wasn't government endorsed.

It was to his advantage, though. He'd found the tape was the exact same size as the ones the recording studio carried.

Still, the thought of what he was going to do was terrifying. He didn't break rules. He didn't act out. Alfred was the one who talked, who made the scene. He was the one who stayed back, sat pretty, and pretended nothing was the matter. Matthew gulped, pressing his glasses further up his nose and ran his fingers through his hair.

The tapes were absolutely the same.

What was on them were different.

Just a simple switcheroo. Just like that. And the fact that he'd thought up the whole scheme meant he was rather serious about Francis.

Francis had shown him complete kindness, enough to be more than genuine. He believed the man would not go on the wrong side of the law again; yes, he had kidnapped the boy, but the boy was safe and sound with his family now, right? No mental problems, no physical disabilities. Everything was fine – no one had been hurt, so who did the whole thing shouldn't be a big problem, right? It was just a case of returning a library book…twelve years late. The press was no longer looking into the issue (the Vargas family had somehow the power to shut everything up). It was a closed case.

Still…wasn't this wrong?

Before he could second guess himself, he popped the studio tape into the recording device and made his way to the window overlooking the road to the college. Taking a deep breath, Matthew chucked the tape outside onto the road. He watched as it hit the asphalt, cracking painfully and staying in a piece of plastic and broken information.

Just his luck, here came a car! It ran over the tape, utterly obliterating it. Still, as it drove away, leaving a pancake of a tape, Matthew figured it wouldn't be wise to leave it around. Knowing his brother and his partner, they'd be snooping around after they'd heard the tape. Rushing downstairs, he quickly collected the last of the pieces and hurried to a dumpster and closed his eyes as he dropped it down.

There. He had just become an accomplice to a crime.

It was kind of fun actually.

--

Even after the hangover was over, they were still faced with a glaring fact.

"What should we do?"

"If we stay, we run the risk of getting discovered," Gilbert reasoned. "On the other hand, you two aren't willing to throw away what we've done. So I guess…we just pretend nothing happened and go about our lives. If anyone sketchy comes up to us, we run."

"I've got to go to work," Antonio said bluntly.

So he collected his things, got dressed, and set out for the restaurant. It was shocking, really, what happened to him these past few days. Romano had been taken back by his parents and now wanted nothing to do with him anymore. Not only had he lost his fiancé, but Gilbert revealed that he'd had feelings for Romano all this time. And Francis had confessed everything to a complete stranger in their lives. They were walking on thin ice. He had wanted to run as well.

But…Romano. Romano just beckoned to him, no matter where he was. He couldn't just abandon that endeavor. He'd wanted to marry the boy. Somehow he'd manage to do that. How, when Romano was refusing to see him…well…

"Yo! Hey, Tonay!" He had been deep in thought while carrying glasses of water out to a table when he heard that voice. Setting it down a the completely wrong table, Antonio dried his hands on his pants before grinning and opening his arms.

"Charles!"

"You jokester. It's Charlie!" Laughing, his old friend walked right through the store on three inch heels like she owned the place, throwing her arms around him in the warmest hug. The ribbon around her hair was polka-dotted today. "I haven't seen you in ever! How ya been, buddy?"

"It could be better, Charlie. Where's Ned?"

"In the back, parking! Boy, my dear Spanish friend, we have not talked in ages. Ever since the marriage! I can't believe you couldn't make it! It was wonderful. Wonderful flowers and music and everything. Then guess where we honeymooned?"

"Where?"

"Belgium, of course!" Giggling, she sank into an empty chair and crossed her legs very professional. Her nails were electric pink, Antonio noticed. But such as Charlie; just that kind of girl-next-door kind of girl. Although she was married, she hardly acted tied down. "And then we backpacked to Amsterdam and stayed a few days in France. Whoo! Oh! Ned! Over here!"

The man who had entered, a stoic looking man with wild hair, spotted them and walked over. "Hey, Antonio." Smiling, he reached out his hand and Antonio shook it, grinning back. "So! What do you want? It's on the house."

"No way, man! We've got cash!" Charlie pulled out her wallet, a dainty little thing with a puppy charm hanging off it. "Sit your butt down, Eddy. You haven't seen Antonio in ages too! You don't got work to do, right?"

Antonio glanced around; the boss was out, and there were other waiters who were tending to the tables he'd abandoned. They shot him dirty looks, but Charlie's positive attitude was infectious; they didn't complain. Shrugging, he shook his head and pulled up a chair.

"So Tony, what's up with ya? Where's the other boys?"

"Home. What about you? How's married life treating you?"

"It's wonderful! Isn't it, Ed?" Charlie nudged Ned from across the table, smiling mischievously. "It's like discovering that there's a rank above best friends. We're beyond that sort of thing. But it's not like we're 'married'. More like, we're in this together! Right?"

"Lots of laundry," Ned shrugged, opening the menu and giving Charlie a pointed look as she made a mock-angry face. "Especially when your spouse would prefer talking over working."

"Hey!"

Antonio laughed. "That sounds awesome, you two. You know, I was going to get married too."

"Ooh! To whom? I have to meet this girl. What gives, man? You don't even send me a wedding invite? I'm insulted!"

"You've met him. The boy you met last time."

"What? That rude little thing? Cute, though. Hold, you said you were going to get married? What does that mean?" Charlie reached over and gripped Antonio's wrist with a death grip. Even Ned seemed to be listening over the cream colored menu. "What happened?"

"Well…he…sort of got cold feet."

"Eh? The little shit! Rejecting you! You know, if Ned here didn't steal my heart first, I'd a gone for you. But Eddy…you're the one for me." Giggling like a newlywed, Charlie batted Ned's hand.

"You can have her," Ned retorted, rolling his eyes. "She's too much of a handful." He yelped when she grabbed the menu and started swatting him with. "Just kidding, Char!"

"Anyway," Charlie said, setting the menu down and turning back to Antonio, "why don't you let me talk to him? I'm sure I could set him out right. God, you owe me one."

Antonio hadn't been surprised that Charlie didn't question the whole marriage thing. She had never been one to bat her eyelashes at things out of the ordinary like that. It was the reason why she was so…unique herself. She waved a waiter over and briskly ordered a scotch and soda on the rocks and let Ned fend for himself. "So Tony, where can I talk to him?"

"I…would rather you not." It was too hasslesome to explain the whole not-being-there thing. Charlie's face fell.

"I came just to see you and you reject me? Fine. But I expect to be at your wedding." Grinning, she hit him in the arm. "Because it's going to happen, you know. You're a fine catch. He'll come to his senses sooner or later." She blinked when the waiter who had taken their order took her menu and walked away. "Ned? What did you order for me?"

"Poached liver and lizard eggs."

"High end!"

"You wish. You're having a salad. Because you're fat."

Antonio laughed and leaned out of the way as Charlie attempted to slaughter her husband with a salt shaker. These things were completely normal. It sort of made him forget that the wedding was off kilter, especially when he'd gone home and discovered one of the rings of the matching set was missing. He didn't remember when he'd dropped it, but he'd have to find that first. Meanwhile, he probably should have stepped in before Ned started throwing sugar packets at Charlie, who retaliated with stealing his silverware.

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Note: Charlotte-call-me-Charlie Belgium is my favorite personification of her. Honestly. Don't hate. I'm a Netherlands/Belgium fangirl. Also, don't hate. It's one of my few hetero pairings I ship. Badass!Canada is canon. I actually came up with an ending to this fic. It's very…inadequate. Thanks for listening to me rant. Review, please.