Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.

A/n1: Well, please don't mind the very weird, very absurd, very silly thing that's going to commence a few minutes after you've started reading this chapter. Guess I felt kind of giddy, and I probably watched too much Yu-Gi-Oh!, the Abridged series.

A/n2: I actually named the other kids, too! And I have no doubt that there will be names that people might not find typically Finnish or Lithuanian, for example. I'm sorry for that – but I tried very hard to look up names that would fit the nation's kid the best. I actually put hours into it – and I wish I was kidding about that. So I hope you like them! ^^

A/n3: By the way, I kind of feel bad for not including Moldova and many on the other new characters into this fic. You see, I posted chapter 23 around Halloween, when all the new characters were created – and by then, I was already busy writing chapter 28. So yeah… that's why I had to exclude them, in order to avoid too many characters/kids. Well, I guess these countries and their kids are still physically there during the meetings and everything, you just… won't ever hear/read them talking. …I'm so sorry. OTL

A/n4: Did I thank the anonymous reviewers lately? I haven't done that for a while, right? Well, let me grab this opportunity to thank everybody who left me an anonymous review. ^^ Thank you very, very much!

~~ And Three Makes Five ~~

Chapter 26:

Ask the young. They know everything.
Joseph Joubert
(French moralist and essayist)

And then it all of a sudden was Tuesday again.

In other words: time-to-meet-up-with-the-other-European-countries- and-see-what-they've-been-up-to –day.

…

How fucking lovely. I much rather would have stayed home and watch grass grow.

Not because I had a grass-fetish or disliked the other nations. Oh no, I didn't dislike them, I just didn't really like them. Which is kind of the same, but not entirely. And that makes the whole fucking difference. And that makes perfect sense. Because I say so. There.

Anyway, the reason why I didn't feel like meeting up with the others, was the simple fact that I was still pretty damn stressed out. I felt that I would only get more upset if I went to the meeting, because I felt like there was disaster knocking on our doors while the other nations of the continent were acting like happy-go-lucky, parenting idiots that didn't hear the impatient knocking of DOOM on the door (or the wall, window, or whatever it was knocking on, I guess DOOM doesn't discriminate knockable objects and what the fuck am I rambling on about, dammit).

I mean, so far, the only ones that seemed to understand in what kind of weird situation we all were in, and what could possibly happen, were Antonio and America. The former was my dense lover and the latter was kind of a drama queen when it was about conspiracy theories.

Yeah. Not exactly a good, solid back-up team, but hey. At least there were some people that also thought something wasn't right.

Not that I had talked to Feliciano or other nations about my fears and worries. Hell no, they'd just laugh at me and say I'm overworked or something. Besides, I'm just a part of Italy – and not even the most important part of it. Why would they listen to what I had to say?

So yeah, there you have it. That was way I didn't feel like meeting at the meeting.

…

I still needed to go, though. There was a lot of shit and trouble going on in Europe, after all. Italy certainly wasn't an exception. No, Feliciano and I sure weren't. We were like the annoying little siblings the rest of Europe had to take care of, whether they liked it or not. We could better do what the others asked us to do, if we didn't want hate raining down on us or something.

So off we went – me, Antonio, Luisa, Matteo and Alejo.

\0o0/

'And here we are!~'

Antonio looked over his shoulder, to me and the kids sitting in the back of the car, and beamed a big and happy smile at the four of us. His smile seemed to grow bigger when he saw I had somehow managed to have both boys sleeping on my lap, while Luisa had cuddled herself up to me as well.

'Not a word,' I warningly said to Antonio, as his mouth started forming the words "so cute, so cute, so cute". 'Seriously, Antonio – one word and I'll rip off your tongue.'

'Oh, we both know you won't do that anyway, my sweet little sugar-daddy.' Antonio winked at me and grinned when he saw my face flush in embarrassment.

'A-asshole,' I muttered – but then decided to concentrate on waking up the kids and getting out of the car.

Thankfully, it didn't take too much effort to do just that, probably because Antonio had somehow realized there were more important things to do than making me blush, like helping the kids out of the car.

And helping me out of the car, because he apparently thought I had transformed into an old, handicapped geezer that couldn't come out of cars on his own in the few minutes that had passed.

'The fuck?' I huffed, staring at the hand he held in front of me. 'Are you really trying to help me get out of the car? I'm perfectly able to get out of the car myself, Antonio, thank you very much. I'm still very young and vital.'

Antonio blinked his eyes. 'Young, Lovi?'

I grumped. 'Well, at least I'm vital.'

'Ah, that's true.' Antonio smiled, but took my hand in his anyway. 'I still want to help you out of the vehicle, though.'

'W-why,' I mumbled, hesitantly allowing him to pull me out.

'Because you've been in this cute, shy virgin mode all day long already and I'll never forgive myself if I don't milk every second and opportunity to make your cheeks red out of it.'

'I'm NOT in a cute or shy virgin mode!' I bravely nagged.

'Oh, so?'

As soon as I had got out, Antonio suddenly pressed me against the car. That is, he pressed his chest to my chest and just stared and smiled at me.

'G-goddammit,' I stammered and weakly protested against his… his leaning for a while, until I just couldn't take it anymore and hid my eyes behind my hands, blushing so damn hard that you could actually bake a dinosaur-steak on my face.

Antonio laughed softly and pulled away my hands, gently massaging them with his own.

'You're beautiful.'

'Fuck you,' I fired back.

Antonio simply ignored that and leaned closer towards me.

'Ah, I love the fact you still get like this around me, Lovi. It makes you so very interesting and lovely, I just don't know what to do with it. I mean, in about a few months, we'll be married for a year – and yet you still… ah, you know… mesmerize me.'

I didn't know I could turn redder or scowl even more unconvincingly, but apparently I could, dammit.

'I'm falling in love with you.' Antonio tenderly touched my burning face and finally seemed to get a warmer face himself as well. 'Each and every day, I'm falling in love with you. Even after all this time. You should stop making me do that.'

I growled a bit and looked away from him. 'I-I still love you, too.'

Antonio laughed gently and caressed me with the back of his hand. 'You… you should look me in the eye when you say that, sweetie.'

'N-no, dammit…' I muttered, but still gripped his shirt, because I loved him and wanted him to stay like this, with me, ignoring the stupid things that came out of my mouth while he wrapped himself around my heart again.

'You won't look at me? Ah, but Lovi, how am I supposed to kiss you and show you how much those words mean to me now?'

'Shit, I don't know. But you'll figure a way. W-won't you?'

'Ah, yes. I will. Now, then…'

Antonio softly started to pull my chin into his face's direction, kissing every inch of my slowly turning, FUCKING RED face as it, like I said, slowly turned.

And I just stood there and shivered a bit out of delight and shut my eyes and waited in anticipation to feel his lips connecting with mine, over and over again, and again, when—

'Ewwwwww.'

'Yuck.'

'Gross!'

I instantly forgot my shy state of mind and pushed Antonio away from me to growl at our three kids, staring at us in disgust.

'You little homophobe gangsters! It's only normal me and Papa Toni make out, dammit!'

'No,' Luisa said, pointing a finger at me, 'kisses are icky.'

'Icky!' Alejo agreed.

'Jus liek gurls!' Matteo yelled, swinging his little fists around. 'Gurls are yucky, too!'

'No, you are yucky!' a bright, shrill voice suddenly said, and there Feli and Germ-many's little potato sprout was, all dolled up like a blonde, blue-eyed Barbie doll, with pink ribbons into her straight, carefully braided hair.

'And your glassessss're stoopid, stoopid!' she carried on nagging at Matteo.

Matteo, just as manly and brave as his old man, instantly started bawling, fogging up the glasses of his… glasses, and hiding for cover behind Luisa.

…

Antonio and I were bad role models. Such bad, bad role models.

Speaking of Antonio – he had finally got over the terrible shock of me, being able to resist him while he was in Irresistible Hunk-Hank-Honkatonk Mode, and stared at the little blonde girl in fear.

'What is that!'

I glared at him. 'Damn, you're rude, Antonio! Can't you see that's Feliciano's awfully creepy bimbo-daughter Heidi?'

'With all due respect, Romano, you're not that polite either.' Germany suddenly also made his cameo and stepped in-between the girl and yours truly, snorting sternly.

'Also, please don't call her Heidi. Her name is Mira… wuh… Isa…Machteld… well, we call her Mimi.'

'And she's the cutest girl of all, veeee!~' Feliciano suddenly popped up from behind Germany, like some demonic jack-in-a-box, scaring the shitlights and a very girlish scream out of me, goddammit.

Feliciano blinked his light-brown evil Satan-reborn eyes at me in amazement. 'Wow, you've been practicing on your singing voice, didn't you? Veeeee, you now can almost reach the same high notes as I can!~ Maybe we can join an opera club and make some loot!~'

Hearing the word 'loot!~' coming from my stupid brother's mouth like that was almost just as horrifying as watching Alejo getting rid of the mosquito's in his room (with the flamethrower that Antonio forgot to lock up in his Terror Shed a few days ago), but I managed to calm down and keep my face as straight as an arrow.

'Feliciano, why is your daughter looking like a baby hooker?'

And I talked so very sophisticated, too.

My moronic brother gasped and grabbed Mimi off the floor, hugging her against his chest.

'She's not a baby hooker! She looks fabulous with her dress (by That's a Lot Of Money), little boots (by Very Expensive, Oh God) and her stunning make-up (by Good Luck Paying Off Your Debts Now)! Your kids, by the way, look like they got their clothes from some random Spanish market!'

'The fabric, yes,' I said, nodding. 'That's because we made their cloths all by ourselves.'

Feliciano gasped again, but Antonio beamed with pride as he took my hand in his.

'Lovino's getting so skilled in making clothes for our kids!~ Don't they look adorable? Matteo looks more and more like a giant red Kafka-esk bug every day!~ Only cuter and actually liked by the people around him!'

I grimaced. 'Seriously, Antonio – cut back on the reading.'

'But everyone should read "Metamorphosis" one day!'

'One day, Antonio. Not this day.'

'Let me interrupt your obscure book reference by commenting on your kids' shoes,' Germany suddenly said, intensely watching the awesome shoes Luisa, Matteo and Alejo were wearing. 'Did you make those yourself, too, or did you pull a Feliciano and "lend" them as well?'

'Veeeee, Luddy! Why did you have to tell them that much!' Feliciano whined.

'Come on, Feliciano. You don't think they believed you actually bought Mimi's shoes? You don't have any money. You have no idea how many apologizing notes I have to write each and every day thanks to you.'

'I would have enough money to buy shoes if you German people had handed me over some more dough.'

'But then Romano would have gotten some as well. And since he obviously spends a lot less money on clothes and other useless junk, I couldn't have let that happen now, can I? I'm not as gullible as you.'

'Feliciano, why do you manage to get even weirder than you already are each and every time I meet up with you? And why are you using actual pirate phrases when you're talking about money? And why's Germany such an illogical douchebag?' I asked.

'Also, no, we didn't steal or make the shoes,' Antonio successfully attempted to make things even more confusing, 'we just went to the local thrift shop! After all, there are loads of thrift shops of where I come from.'

'You don't say, Antoine, but it does actually make sense,' France wooshed into our conversation out of nowhere. Then America also abruptly fell out of the sky right next to us (don't ask, I don't fucking know, honestly).

'Hahahaha!' The American laughed. 'I bet you only got twenty dollars in your pocket when you were looking for that come-up!'

'What,' I stammered.

'This,' America carried on, snatching Luisa off the grind to take a better look at her shoes, 'is insert censoring bleep here awesome.'

'Hey! There's only one person allowed to use that word! And you're not even using it right! You should emphasize it with bold and italic! Awesome!' Prussia yelled somewhere in the distance.

'I'm America! I don't have to emphasize anything, you fourth-wall-breaking albino man – I am emphasizing itself! Hahaha! Grandpa-style! And now I'm bored again! Take this Latin-American looking kid, Romano! Macklemore you later, same-lovers!'

After America had just as suddenly taken off again, the Netherlands and Russia came along as well, bickering about something that had got something to do with diplomacy and kids, and then also Denmark and Norway butted into our increasingly getting more and more freakish discussion with no one special, but let me do us all a favor and skip that whole crazy European discussion shit and just go straight to the part when Belgium finally came telling us the meeting was about to begin.

No, it's not a big deal I spared you hearing about all those different kinds of crap. My pleasure. You're very welcome.

…

So we all went to the conference room and then things finally started making some sense again.

\0o0/

Inside the conference room, there actually was a nice ambiance.

Which was surprising, because the last time all of us European suckers were having our useless meetings here, everybody was feeling depressed and shuffling around with their arms dangling on the floor and everything.

This time, however, most of the countries seemed to be in an almost disturbing good mood. Instead of practicing a deadly silence en masse, people were talking, laughing, bickering, comforting crying children and showing off their kids to the rest of the continent. Furthermore, aside from the fact that most countries still looked exhausted, they also looked happy. Tired, but happy.

It also helped that it was really nice weather outside. People love talking about the weather, especially the Western European nations. Really, they just sat there, in their chairs, looking at the windows bathing in sparkling sunlight, and they nodded and told each other over and over again what an unusual nice day today was.

'Let me tell you over and over again what an usual nice day today is,' Luxembourg told Germany.

'Yes, it really is a very nice day,' Germany agreed.

'Hm-hm,' the Netherlands nodded.

'Why, it's been a long time ago since the last time the weather was this pleasant,' Austria commented.

And this continued for at least ten minutes, so that all eleven nations that considered themselves Western Europe could explicitly mutter something about the weather and how damn fine it was.

When Switzerland had finally uttered his opinion about the weather as the last one of the line as well ('I think yesterday's weather was better, actually'), Femke raised up from her chair and looked around the room with a dazzling smile.

'Okay, can I have everyone's attention please?'

I actually hadn't expected her to successfully grab everybody's attention like that, since it was kind of loud and stuff, but she actually did, maybe because she looked pretty fucking beautiful and beaming with joy today and the sun shone its rays directly on her and her beautiful yellow dress, so she kind of looked like a goddess right now. And you can't go ignoring goddesses, now, can you?

Also, Russia sat right beside her.

'Hi everybody!' Femke started. 'Let me officially open this meeting! Welcome to this lovely conference room on this lovely day! Has anybody noticed the wonderful weather outside yet? Such a wonderful weather indeed! It's great weather to take your kid out to a nice park! Maybe you should do that after this meeting's over!'

'We should! And we, like, totally will!' Poland instantly chirped.

'You would be amazed if we told you how much a kid can learn from playing outside!' Finland enthusiastically said, his "we" referring to all of his Scandinavian comrades.

'That's because you all suck at nurturing kids in comparison to us. Psych!' Denmark grinned, putting a foot on the table for no adequately explained reason.

'Please don't put that nasty, muddy thing that's representing your shoe on the table, Denmark.' Femke cleared her throat and continued her smiling welcoming word. 'Well! I sent all of you an actual agenda about this meeting last week, so I'd like to hear if there are any remarks or comments on the different points I put in?'

…

Now there was a silence falling in. A very loaded one.

Until Femke started to laugh and wave her hand.

'Oh I'm just screwing with you – there's no way we could ever work with an agenda. Let's just talk about our kids and the weather today, everyone!'

'Is she high or something?' I hissed to Antonio, as Femke kept smiling and radiating pure happiness.

'I guess she got laid,' Antonio, shockingly blunt, said, stroking his chin like it was a beard. 'I know that look in her eyes – it's the "I just got sex and man I loved every second of it" –look.'

'What the— Femke had sex? With whom!' I almost shouted, but I just in time reminded myself it was pretty rude to be surprised at the fact that Femke actually had sex.

Antonio didn't answer me, he just pointed to Russia, who had this kind, sweet and absolutely not-creepy (which actually only seemed to be creepier) serene smile on his face, while Femke bent over to him to explain something to him, leaning one hand on his shoulder and flipping her hair back with her other hand.

Hell, forget about the happiness she was oozing out – that hair-flip said it all.

'God, you're right,' I said. 'She nailed the bastard. No wonder the Netherlands looks like a smoking, ticking time bomb!'

I cast a side-glance to the Netherlands, seated a few seats away from me. He had folded his arms and tapped one finger on his arm fanatically, gnawing on a cigarette and looking royally pissed and incredibly murderous in general.

Not… that much different from other days, I suppose, but that little sign in front of him that said "Please don't speak to me or I will have to hate you like I hate the Russians" was new.

I think.

…

What, Belarus? What she looked like?

Man, forget it! I didn't even dare to look what she looked like right now!

…

…I did smell something burning, though.

\0o0/

The European Union hadn't had good news ever since getting that Nobel Peace Prize last year (we are still trying to figure out what the hell Norway was thinking), just like the rest of Europe, so we all kind of agreed with Femke to talk about our kids – and apparently the weather – rather than all kinds of shits that was hitting our collective economical and political fan.

Even Germany admitted he didn't mind talking about that.

'Although I'd like to have a fierce discussion with America about those eavesdropping ninja's I've been seeing jumping around my Boss, I have no choice but joining you in talking about my daughter. After all, it doesn't look like America's around right now anyway.'

Yes, for some reason, America wasn't butting in on our meeting, for a change (I guess he was looking up more popular American artists' songs somewhere). On the other hand, neither was England. Both once again stood out by not-being present. At all.

…

Man, I can only imagine how cool that must be. Standing out by being somewhere else. I mean, wow. I wish I could pull that off, but I guess I won't even stand out if I jump on this table completely naked.

…

…

Fine, some might notice. Might.

But still! You get my point! Popular bastards always stand out, no matter what they do, dammit.

But I digress.

So. About the meeting. Instead of talking about interesting topics and problematic issues, or pretending to talk about those things, we all talked about our kids, as in… introduced them to the rest of the continent.

Well! The names of the European Minions of Death – well, the ones I faintly remembered – were…

Mimi (full name: Mirabelle Ilse Machteld Isabellissima): Feliciano and Germany's kid.

Anya (full name: Annette Nina Yvonne Alisa): Femke and Russia's kid.

Aimee Bibiche Cherie Desiree Estelle Françoise: France's kid (but we could call her Desiree).

Sebastiaan "Bas" Tom Dieter: Liechtenstein and the Netherlands' kid.

Emile Oswald: Prussia and Canada's kid.

Benedikte (but we should call her Berit or something): Denmark and Norway's kid.

Thorsten Jaakoppi Olaf (just "Olaf" was fine, Finland reassured us): Finland and Sweden's kid.

Katalin "Kaja" Ronika: Poland and Lithuania's kid.

Wolfgang Wiebrand Wilhelm (nice alliteration, huh?): Austria and Hungary's kid, of course.

Coskun Jarrin Volkan Petrus (Coskun alone was fine): Turkey and Greece's kid.

…

Then I kind of stopped paying attention to the full names, so as far as I know Iceland's kid was called Mayra, Belarus' kid was called Inna, Switzerland's kid was called Falk, Estonia's kid was called Stanislaus (seriously), Latvia's kid was called Jorie and Ukraine's kid was called Yosyp.

Yes, there were more countries with kids. Yes, I should have been able to remember them and cram them inside my head like nobody's business.

But I fell asleep after Ukraine had stuttered her kid's name.

…

Sorry. But in my defense, it was really, really boring.

…

So yeah.

Antonio had to literally poke me in the ribs to wake me up when it was our turn to introduce our kids to the rest of the nations, and let me tell you how incredibly awkward that was.

'Alejo, Matteo and Luisa,' Antonio said, pointing at the kids sitting in-between us kind of stiffly. 'Those are their names.'

Once again, a quiet hush fell over the people inside the conference room.

'That's it?' Turkey then suddenly asked. 'Nothing more?'

'No?' Antonio – almost apologizing – said.

'You two disappoint me greatly!' France dramatically stood up from his chair to glare at us. 'Antoine, you're an idiot, so I can forgive you for coming up with such simple names – but Romano! Shame on you! I expected entire Spanish/Italian masterpieces of names to fabulously float by, not such… hobo names!'

What the – hobo names?

'Nothing's wrong with their names!' I instantly snapped back at the French douchebag. 'Insult their names again and I'll… I'll tell Antonio to cut you in tiny little fuckfaced pieces!'

Because I didn't want to touch France myself, for I was still kind of afrai— I mean disgusted by him, after all. That perverted creep. Ugh.

Antonio furrowed his brows wearily. 'Please don't give me such questionable tasks, Lovi. I might actually do it.'

'Well!' France said, completely ignoring us, 'I still think you could have thought of better names. That one boy, for example. You called him Alejo. Nice name, sure, but why didn't you just call him Alejandro?'

'Did someone utter an American artist's song?'

America and his mini-me spontaneously jumped through a motherfucking window, effectively shattering the glass and invoking all of the other nations to scream and shield the kids for the flying shards.

Then he flew over the table, laughing like "hahahahahahahaha!" and waving like he was Santa, before finally crashing his face into the wall.

'Mrrrhgf.'

'Oh my god!' Femke and Russia cried out at the same time – one of them sounding horrified, the other one delighted – as America fell down on the floor and was flattened by Johnny the Annoying Kid Wonder's butt right after.

But of course America immediately sprung back to life – and back on his feet – and I could hear several people groan in disappointment when they noticed the blonde America was perfectly fine, not even a scratch tainting his features. Nope, he only needed to adjust his glasses a bit.

'I'm okay! No worries, peeps. A mere, rock-hard wall can't stop me from making an entrée that makes girls and gay boys instinctively drop their panties.'

All the nations instantly looked down in shock.

…

Well I did.

…

But goddammit, just when you thought things were actually getting a bit boring, this shit happened.

Me and my big mouth.