Coffeehouse Drabbles

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia…but probably for the better.

Warnings: Drabbles (so very, very short! …Some of the time), Shounen Ai/male x male pairings, bad language courtesy of Lovi, and some OOCness (I'll do my best to avoid that though).

This chapter is the Mafia request for TheDeadOne28! Who is also an incredibly patient human being, considering the request was all the way from chapter 9. Our boys are human in this and it's set in New York during the 1940's. I tried to fit a lot of details into one chapter, so this one's a little on the long side.

oOo

It all began with a dame…Well, actually, no it didn't. As feminine as the client in front of him was, Alfred supposed he really was male. That hat looked suspiciously like something his mom used to wear though…

"What can I do for you?" Alfred glanced up from behind his old desk. His private investigator's office wasn't filled with as much smoke or booze as others, but it was just as cluttered with paperwork, boxes of ammo, and various knick-knacks. His filing cabinet was also covered with more dust than his late grandma's ash-filled urn. Alfred's tendency to only take the fun jobs was starting to starve him. He'd have to take this job, potential cross-dressers or not.

"Ve, my name is Feliciano Vargas," the slender man said a little uncertainly. "I'm trying to get back my family heirloom. I heard you're the best."

That was true, but no need to brag. Yet.

"What's it called?"

"The Fairy Necklace."

"Of course it is," Alfred couldn't help but smirk as they worked out the details.

Feliciano's lost family heirloom was stolen the night he left for a Broadway show. When he got back, he realized his house had been broken into, but only the Fairy Necklace had been taken. He called the cops immediately. Unfortunately, when they were surveying the area for potential witnesses, several of his neighbors reported a large black car being involved. The problem? It was owned by the Carriedo Family. One of the most powerful mafia families in town. The police couldn't touch this case. Not with a ten foot pole.

Feli remembered crying when the officers broke the news to him. Because there was no real proof it was the Carriedo Family, they couldn't get a search warrant. The Carriedos were too big of a name. As there was mafia involved, both officers strongly advised Feliciano to keep quiet about it. If he made too much noise, he might be seen as a nuisance to the Carriedo Family and be silenced with a pair of cement boots.

The man in the woman's hat refused to give up and called around for help, eventually being referred to Alfred's Private Investigations office. Alfred was picky about what cases he took, but Feliciano was confident he'd help him. Robbery, Mafia, danger, and bragging rights to the NYPD was right up the adrenaline junkie's alley. Not to mention the fact that Feliciano offered to pay him enough to live comfortably for the rest of the entire year.

Alfred was on the case!

oOo

It didn't take long for Alfred to track down some lower ranked members of the Carriedo Mafia. The American led them out of the bar by flashing his very convincing (counterfeit) police badge and to a nearby alley. While this may have been a little on the reckless side, Alfred wasn't all that worried. With names like Boozy Sam and Jimmy the Worm, the P.I. wasn't expecting that much trouble.

Alfred tried to ask them nicely, he really did, but at some point they began to suspect he wasn't with the cops and refused to cooperate. The blond sighed, readjusted his hat and began a different interrogation tactic involving the back of his Colt M1911A1 pistol and his right hook. This proved super effective and the two thugs coughed up a name to go with the fancy car – Roma the Fox, aka Romano Vargas.

The good news – Romano was in town.

The bad news – Romano was one of the Carriedo Family's top assassins, said to have an explosive temper and a chunk of ice where his heart should be.

Shit.

Alfred politely thanked his two stool pigeons for their assistance and made his way out of the alley. They replied in kind with something angry in garbled Italian that Alfred assumed translated to "You're welcome, kind sir. Please let us know if we can ever help you again. It was an honor working with you!"

Alfred wasn't worried about them talking to their superiors or even the moody Italian in question. If their bosses found out they had ratted someone out to a detective, they'd be signing their own death warrants. Instead of blindly looking around for some guy he'd never even met, Alfred returned to his apartment to see his roommate. He needed all the information he could get on this Romano guy. If anybody would know, it would be the biggest gossiper (Pfft. Fine. 'Information Broker') in town.

oOo

"Did you find who you were looking for, Alfred?" his roommate asked after the P.I. entered their apartment.

"No, but I did narrow down the culprit," the blonde tossed his coat off and slumped into the couch. "That's where you come in."

"Oh?" smiled Kiku.

The Japanese man was probably one of the most talented rumormongers in town. Kiku could track down people by rumors, spread false info, take stealthy pictures, and was caught only when he wanted to be. He didn't like to get his hands dirty, but his recon work was top-notch. He was also the only reason the landlord hadn't kicked them out yet.

"What do you know about Roma the Fox?"

"Romano Vargas?"

"That's the one."

"He stole the item you're looking for?"

"Yeah, is he famous or something?"

"He's one of the Carriedo Family's best trained men," the black haired man began digging through a folder for his picture. "I believe his main task is to handle any traitors or moles within the organization. He often works alone, so there's more rumor than fact about him. So far, he's completed every hit given to him."

"So there's no way those flunkies are going to talk…" Alfred grinned. He'd have the element of surprise for sure.

"What was that?" Kiku blinked, placing a photo on the table.

"Nevermind," the American waved off his question. "So, this is Romano…"

Alfred had to admit he was surprised. He was expecting some giant, seven-foot tall killing machine with biceps the size of his head. Instead, Romano Vargas was a handsome-looking man in his early twenties. He wore a fashionable suit, sunglasses, and scowl etched onto his face. The blonde wondered what he'd look like if he was smiling. How did somebody like him get caught up in the mafia? Alfred hadn't even realized he'd been staring until his roommate coughed discreetly.

"Sorry, what were you saying?" he grinned sheepishly.

"His eyes are green and his hair is reddish-brown, like a fox," Kiku continued.

"Is that why they call him Roma the Fox?"

Kiku shrugged. Alfred was more surprised by how much the hitman resembled his client. Must be the hair curl… The blonde pocketed the photo and stood up again. He never questioned why his roommate had a picture of him; Kiku had pictures of everybody. The strange look of excitement and delight that sprang into his roomie's eyes when he told him who he was looking for was a bit odd though. Normally people discouraged him from taking on dangerous cases with the mafia involved.

Alfred thanked Kiku for his help and walked out of the apartment building. He had no idea where he was going to find this guy, so he let his feet aimlessly carry him. Blind luck was one of his strengths.

oOo

Romano was trying to enjoy one of his rare days off, but the universe seemed bound and determined not to let him.

It started out small with his Don asking him to be present at the sit-down tomorrow with the Russian Mob. Romano hated Russians. He understood the mafioso logic of keeping your friends close and your enemies closer, but he drew the line at homicidal maniacs and their psychotic knife-wielding little sisters. As if that wasn't enough, two of the Family's more brainless henchmen accidentally spilled coffee on his shoes. After he glared at the babbos, they apologized, wet themselves, and fled. Romano made a mental note to outfit them with a pair of cement shoes as soon as he got the chance. He would have normally broken their noses for the offense, but it looked like somebody else had done a good job smashing their faces in already. Serves them right.

Of course now, he found himself at the park, one of the few places he could actually relax a little (after secluding himself from the lovey-dovey couples out for a stroll, screaming kids, and wailing babies). He didn't worry too much about rival Mafia Families trying to whack him. Out here it was too risky and had too many witnesses. They were the only ones who would be able to recognize him through his simple, but effective disguise consisting of sunglasses and a stylish fedora.

Or so he thought.

"Hi, there! This is some weather we're having, huh?"

"You talkin' to me?" Romano eyed the obnoxious American before him. He pulled down his shades a little, so the blonde could see he wasn't in the mood to chat.

"Uh, no?" Alfred sweatdropped, a little taken aback by the moody man's threatening tone. Geez, he'd barely even said hi to the guy and he was already biting his head off. His mouth started talking on its own. "Sorry, some other guy."

"Well, I'm the only one here, dammit!"

This is going well…

Alfred internally winced. Here he had such a great stroke of luck finding Romano right in the middle of an open park of all places, but the thief in question was already grinding his teeth and looking angrier than his mother's cat after that one time he tried to baptize it as a kid.

"I was just making conversation…" Alfred sat down next to the hitman, in efforts to seem friendly and harmless. He did make sure there was enough room to jump the bench and bail if he had to.

"Fuck off."

Alfred could see by the budge in his jacket that Romano was armed. Luckily, so was he. The sidearm in Alfred's holster helped relax him a bit, but he wasn't stupid. If things went south, this guy would have no problem drawing his gun on him. The blonde just hoped the public place environment would prevent that.

"Didja catch the game last night?" Alfred rambled on as if he and the mobster were old friends.

"No."

"Hell of a play in the last inning, huh?"

"Fuck you."

"What's the matter?" the blue-eyed P.I. blinked.

"The hell's your angle?" Romano growled.

"Huh?"

"Why the hell are you talking to me?"

"…You looked lonely," Alfred answered honestly.

"I'm out of here," Romano glared at him. Nobody went out of their way to talk to him. Not even his own henchmen. This guy was either brain-damaged or up to something. "Don't even think about following me like some kind of lost puppy either, dammit."

"But you seem like a dog-person…"

"And you seem like an idiot," the brunette scowled and stormed off.

"Have a great day, buddy!" Alfred waved cheerfully from the bench.

Romano flipped him off without turning his back. Naturally, Alfred followed him.

oOo

The private investigator had been expecting Romano to lead him back to a mafia safehouse or a mysterious black car or…something. He had to admit he was a little disappointed when he found himself standing outside Pino's Pizzaria after a few blocks of trailing the Carriedo Family's top enforcer. Apparently the guy was hungry. Oh, well. Alfred could respect that.

Knowing better than to draw too much attention to himself, he waited for a group of people to enter and snuck in with them. Romano didn't even look up from the bar. Alfred slowly made his way over to the opposite wall, keeping a close eye on the Italian. It was so crowded, the detective knew he'd never get anywhere with questioning Romano about the Fairy Necklace. He also had to see if the brunette had it on his person. The blonde needed a way to clear out the crowd so they could chat and he could check on the necklace's location. Fortunately, Alfred was good at creating chaos. His mother had always told him so. The American surveyed the scene one final time before pulling the fire alarm.

Romano's had flew to his pocket with the initial surprise tearing through the restaurant. Being used to danger, Romano pulled out an empty hand and joined the crowd exiting the pizzeria. This told Alfred that the Italian was keeping something important in his pocket…like the necklace. If that was true, they wouldn't even need to chat about it. The blonde sprung into action and slipped behind his target. Next, in a display of bravery, balls, and sheer stupidity Alfred stealthily snagged the necklace in the fire alarm chaos and tried to disappear.

Romano was having none of that.

Following the crazy blonde into the back alley, both began running like mad. Alfred ignored the angry Italian's demands for him to stop and laughed instead. Even when a few bullets whizzed by his head, Alfred refused to see the seriousness of his situation. He hadn't had this much fun in a long time.

"Hey! Why do they call you 'the Fox' anyway?!"

Romano flicked his wrist and sent two thin knives flying with deadly accuracy towards Alfred.

Oh. That'd do it. This little Italian had claws.

One grazed Alfred's shoulder and the other nearly landed between his eyes. Had Alfred been a typical civilian with typical reflexes, he would have been dead. Romano smirked and private detective realized he was just testing him. Next time he wouldn't miss.

Alfred decided now was a good of time as any to see if the fox could climb. Romano had stopped shooting at him after they hit a busier street filled with people. The blonde mused that seemed surprisingly nice for a Mafioso. This also gave him a chance to knock over every trash can, bike, and crate separating him from the pissed off Italian without worry of being shot. Once again, Romano surprised the blonde by skillfully dodging or jumping over every obstacle in his way.

The chase led back to an alley, but this time Alfred used his slight lead to begin scaling a nearby fire escape. He'd grown up playing with his friends on the things, so he was quick. He turned his head to taunt the hitman he was sure would be on the ground scowling at him.

He wasn't.

Alfred nearly shit himself when he saw the furious Italian merely rungs behind him on the fire escape. Who was this guy?!

The spry detective tore himself from the ladder once he got to the roof and began sprinting across it. Not even bothering to check for the brunette he was almost certain was breathing down his neck, Alfred jumped from one rooftop to the next. Romano followed, cursing the entire way.

"You're fucking dead once I catch you!" he shouted.

"That's not really good incentive to stop then, is it?!" Alfred shouted back, leaping towards another rooftop, narrowly avoiding the skylight in the process.

Another bullet whizzed past him. Neither was that. Maybe taking the literal high ground wasn't such a good idea after all. Deciding to fall back on the only kindness Romano had shown him before, Alfred leapt to a smaller building and gradually made him back to the populated streets of New York. They were near the docks, so maybe he could hide out there after losing Roma the Fox.

While his initial plan of getting the Italian to stop shooting worked out well, Romano was proving near-impossible to lose on foot. The young detective felt bad about shoving his way through the complaining crowd, but this was kind of an emergency. Alfred knew he had to hide somewhere, fast. He ducked into an abandoned-looking warehouse, but to no avail. Romano dove right after him and managed to get his hands around the collar of Alfred's overcoat. The blonde managed to break his grasp before he got a hold of his throat, but they still ended up rolling around the ground in a scuffle.

Suddenly, Romano froze and looked up. Confused (and a little dazed by that last punch the mafioso threw), Alfred followed his gaze. Apparently, they had ended up in a not so abandoned warehouse if the large, armed men standing guard over several crates of cocaine and a box of cannoli was anything to go by.

At first, everyone stared at each other in disbelief. Alfred could feel Romano's body tense up on top of his own. Had the setting been a little different, Alfred believed he would be feeling more embarrassed or flustered than high on adrenaline. Even more so when Romano leaned closer to Alfred's ear and hissed a warning to him.

"If you let something happen to that necklace, something worse will happen to you."

Romano didn't recognize this warehouse, but he recognized its guards as members of a rival Mafia family. He mentally kicked himself for letting that idiot investigator lead him into enemy territory during their chase. Now they'd have to fight their way out together. Before the others could react he had one hand on his gun and another on Alfred's collar. He shot at a fire extinguisher to distract the goons while he dragged the P.I. over towards cover.

It bought them some time, but their enemies were more than happy to get rid of a nosy civilian and a mafia rival.

"So, temporary truce?" Alfred grinned sheepishly while drawing his gun.

"Very temporary," Romano replied sourly, taking out the three men on the rafters with his Smith & Wesson model 10 revolver. He recognized some of the reinforcements as Boozy Sam and Jimmy the Worm. Clenching his teeth, he shot off several rounds their way. He knew he hated those guys for a reason. Now he had a good excuse to ice them and his boss couldn't complain. Nobody likes traitors.

"How are we going to get out of here?" asked Alfred, reloading his gun as bullets whizzed by overhead. There had to be at least 10 men shooting at them.

"I'll talk to Big Joe over there," Romano returned fire on the group of three or four men across the warehouse. Each of his bullets found their mark. "You cover me."

"What are you going to say?" the blonde asked in disbelief.

"I'll make him an offer he can't refuse…"

"Oh, god. You're not going to leave a severed horse head in his bed or something, are you?"

"Where'd you get that idea, bastard?" Romano shot him a look. "Actually, no, I don't want to know. I'm going to shoot him, idiot."

On his way over to the boss, Romano took a path that led him to the traitors. He was going to burn the bastardos for the offense. While covering him, Alfred saw the brunette pick up a discarded M1 Garand rifle. He knew whoever was unlucky enough to find himself looking down that barrel was in for a world of hurt. Sure enough, Romano went right for the thugs Alfred had encountered earlier. He managed to swiftly kick both their weapons away and kneecapped them without a second thought. As they begged him for their lives, he scoffed and told them he was going to make their deaths slow and painful for betraying the Carriedo name. With that, he fired off two short range shots and left sizable holes in their stomachs before moving on to Big Joe.

"W-Wait! Hold your fire! Hold your fire, dammit!" the large man nearly choked on his cigar, giving the order to the few remaining guards he had left. Romano had a gun to the back of his head and was not happy.

The other goons quickly stopped firing when they saw their Boss being held hostage. Alfred followed suit, but kept his gun trained on the two guards closest to Romano just in case. The Italian would be able to see them move if they tried to blindside him, but better safe than sorry.

"L-Look, Roma, we stopped firing, so let's just sit down and talk about this…" the capo stammered, sweating like a pig. "I don't have a beef with you! I can pay you any amount of money you want to just walk away from this!"

"Not interested."

"Have some mercy! I-It's my birthday, for god's sake!"

"So it's your birthday, you fat bastard?" Lovino cocked the hammer back on his gun. "Well, happy fucking birthday."

The large man's pleas to live fell on deaf ears.

"Make a wish…it'll be your last."

More begging before a gunshot silenced the capo once and for all. Alfred looked away as Romano began wiping the blood off his gun. Was this really how 'Roma the Fox' lived? How could anyone live like this? Despite Romano's status as a criminal, Alfred couldn't help but want to help the guy. He wasn't that much older than him, but his green eyes looked tired and ancient. He'd already seen more than men twice his age.

After they won the shootout and the few survivors had bailed, Alfred noticed the piece of work they had left behind – an M1A1 Thompson submachine gun, better known as a Tommy Gun. His father used to have one, but it disappeared the same day he did. Alfred had always wanted one for himself, especially after his 2nd or 3rd shootout involving one. Not even to actually use in a fight. Alfred was pretty sure just the sight of one would be enough to help convince even the most stubborn canaries to sing…which led to his current moral dilemma.

"What the hell are you doing?" his temporary partner asked, tucking his revolver away.

"N-Nothing!" Alfred answered quickly, looking away from the gun.

"I didn't know you played the piano…" Romano actually smirked at him.

"Huh?"

"The Chicago Piano…" the Italian laughed, gesturing to the Tommy Gun.

"Oh, right…" the blonde scratched the back of his head with a grin. "I don't, but, well…a man walks down the street with one of those and you know he ain't afraid of anything."

"You like it?" Romano asked, raising an eyebrow. "It's yours."

"But I can't just take it; that would be stealing!"

"Fine," Romano spat. "Leave the gun, take the cannoli."

"Why?"

"I'm starving."

oOo

As if by some act of god, Alfred was able to talk to Romano by exploiting the only weakness he showed over the last three hours – his stomach. Not even Carriedo's finest hitman could refuse the promise of warm food and a good drink. Especially since Alfred offered to pay.

Roma the Fox led the way to a lesser-known bar where he knew less eyes and ears would be open and on him. Each took a stool at the bar and ordered a drink. Alfred dabbed his wrinkled tie in his glass of whisky to apply to his shoulder before this interrogation. It stung like a bitch, but Alfred did his best not to show it and wrapped it around his arm. He'd take a better look at it when he got back home. Romano eyed him all the while, not missing the low hiss of pain. He'd never admit it, but it was fairly impressive that the only injury Alfred took was getting grazed by his knife earlier. There were at least 15 men at the shootout, but the crazy American didn't get a scratch from that. Romano had half-expected him to turn tail and run the second all the guns were aimed at them, but for some reason he didn't.

"Why's this so important to you, bastard?"

"It's my job. I took it on for a client who seemed pretty distraught about not getting it back."

"…Feliciano," he grumbled. "That idiot."

"You know him?"

"Yeah, I know him. He's my half-brother."

…Half-brother? How could his girly-looking, semi-cross-dressing, effeminate client be related to one of the top assassins in the Italian mafia?! Alfred was in shock. He barely noticed the bartender setting down two plates of hot food and leaving.

"It's not like the little idiot knows that. I changed my name after joining the Carriedos," the Italian added, noting his companion's confusion. "I used to be Lovino Vargas. Feli doesn't know me as Romano."

"If you know him, then why'd you steal the family heirloom?" Alfred asked, eyebrows furrowed. It was the one piece of the puzzle that didn't make any sense yet.

"I just…" Romano began. "I just wanted something to remember our mother by."

He wasn't sure why he was telling all this to Alfred, but went on anyway.

"As you can see, I'm part of the mafia now," the brunette explained, taking an angry bite of his sandwich. "I had to leave my family to keep them safe. No contact, no letters, no phone calls, nothing. Because of that, I missed my own mother's funeral."

Alfred felt bad for the guy. Clearly his life hadn't been easy and it wasn't getting any better by staying with the mafia. He wasn't an idiot, he knew how it was next to impossible to leave the Family after you've joined it, especially a man with Romano's rank. He'd seen the way deserters were executed and it wasn't pretty. Hell, wasn't it even Romano's job to deal with Carriedo's runaways and snitches? Irony could be a real bitch sometimes.

"Maybe you could talk to Feliciano about it?" suggested the blonde after carefully chewing through his hot roast beef. "I'm sure you could work something out…"

"I can't do that," Romano took a swig of his drink. "I can't put my family in danger again, dammit…Ugh. Why am I even telling you all this? I must be out of my goddamned mind…"

"I just have one of those faces," Alfred grinned, trying to lighten the mood. "You wouldn't believe the things people tell me!"

"Heh. I'll bet," Romano finished his drink and slammed the glass down. "You know what, you go ahead and keep the necklace. I don't want it anymore."

"You sure?" Alfred raised his eyebrows, left a few bills behind on the counter, and followed the other outside.

"As long as you make sure it gets back to Feli, then yeah, I'm sure," Romano lifted the collar of his coat upwards. It had gotten cold in the half hour or so they'd spent in the bar.

"You got it," the blonde promised.

He had expected a simple nod as thanks from the mafioso, but as usual, Romano was full of surprises. Alfred wouldn't say he was swept off his feet per say, but when Romano thanked him by kissing him all of the sudden, Alfred had to admit he was surprised. He was surprised by the sudden wave of heat that overtook his body and the sensation of Romano's lips crashing against his own. He was surprised to find the other's fingers raking themselves through his hair and the way the Italian's fiery tongue practically danced inside his mouth. But most of all, he was surprised to find himself kissing back.

They finally broke apart and Romano flashed him a cocky grin.

"Seeya around, detective."

That was all he said before he took off. A breathless Alfred barely managed to wave back while using the side of the building for support, still a little stunned by everything that had happened. He shoved his hands into his pockets to keep himself warm in the frosty breeze (although Romano had done a pretty good job of that already) and he realized it – the necklace was gone.

oOo

A/N – I may or may not have had too much fun trying to slip in as many mafia/gangster movie quotes as possible into this chapter. I also had Guns & Roses (the opening theme to Baccano) playing the entire time XD

I know I didn't really dive into a full-fledged mafia tale with this chapter, but hopefully it was still okay? I had toyed around with making Alfred and Lovi members of two rival mafias, but ended up using this one, as it was simpler (and shorter) to write. Let me know if you want to see the other one in another chapter or not :)

~Rajikka

Translations

Babbo = an idiotic/useless underling (Italian)

Bastardo = Bastard (Italian)

Idiota = Idiot (Italian)

Si = Yes (Spanish/Italian)

Capo = Boss (Italian)

Cannoli = A type of Sicilian pastry dessert. Just writing about them makes me want to have one. The singular form is cannolo, which means "little tube" in Italian.