Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.

A/n1: Annnnnd I'm back again! ^^ Hi. And sorry for not updating last week. I really had a very rough week, but I feel better now. The reason? Well, just read the note here down below.

A/n2: Since it's not exactly easy to get a job as a pedagogue nowadays, I'm seriously considering going back to school. I want to try and become a teacher, because apparently they do need more teachers. Also, I get to work with kids, and I like kids. ^^
I'm hesitating between two studies, though: I either want to become a teacher that teaches Dutch, or a teacher that teaches English.
Maybe Dutch is better, since it's pretty hard for us Dutchmen (seriously, Belgian people are better at Dutch than the Dutch) so there would be more job possibilities, but I really like English as well. Also, the English literature is better, since all the good Dutch books can babble about is sex. Sex, sex and sex. Not even awesome, pleasurable, nice sex, but shitty, blunt, loveless sex that makes me want to forget about sex. Never read shit by Karel Glastra van Loon, Jan Wolkers or Kluun (hate that dying-wife-cheating bastard). VERY depressing and at times even downright disgusting. Ugh.
What would you do, if you had to choose between studying your mother language or another one that you're also familiar with?

A/n3: For all the Romain-lovers – you know who you are ;-) – that might feel a bit disappointed after reading the first fragment, don't despair, for I will write bigger scenes for seme!Lovi in other, future chapters. Because of a sad reason. But you'll find out more about that later.

~~ And Three Makes Five ~~

Chapter 35:

What is so real as the cry of a child?
A rabbit's cry may be wilder
but it has no soul.
Sylvia Plath
(American poet, novelist and short-story writer)

So the rest of the damn day, Antonio and I spent our time packing our (and the kids') bags, belongings, stupid but handy shit and other kinds of garbage that we needed to take with us if we were really going on a vacation.

By the time we were finally finished and had dragged the last trolley to the front door – you know, so that it would be easier to leave tomorrow morning at ten in the morning – the kids were passed out from playing and blocking our way and being awful little pests in general. I didn't mind, in fact I was very happy the kids were exhausted, because that meant it would be very easy for me and Antonio to toss them in bed and have a good nap ourselves as well, since if we were going to travel by bus tomorrow (and the day after tomorrow as well, probably, I didn't know how many days it would take a bus to get to Turkey from Spain), we needed to get our rest now.

Having that said, Antonio and I decided to have sex anyway.

…

GOD. Our LOGIC. So very TWISTED and STUPID.

One moment Antonio's telling me we should catch some sleep, and I'm agreeing, like sure, we should, so let's, and the next moment we're lying on our sides and he's rubbing his behind against my crotch and sleepily wondering whether I was going to tap that or not.

…

…

Well I was.

So yeah, I pulled down our pants and quickly prepared him and indeed had sex with him, closing my eyes and loving those low, humming, gasping moans he let out as I moved inside of him and softly bit his neck, and it was pretty damn good. Slow, a bit clumsy, sure, but still very enjoyable and we both probably fell asleep with a very satisfied feeling afterwards.

But that.

Nice feeling.

Was going.

To CHANGE.

\0o0/

The next morning, I was still in this nice "yay-we-had-sex-once-again!" –mood, and I shamelessly milked every fucking wonderful feeling out of it as much as I could.

It's because I loved these moments, these… mornings. These nice, quiet, peaceful mornings after an intimate night. God. If only I could have all of my mornings like this one, I would die a happy man.

Except I wouldn't because I'm immortal and stuff. But I would at least lose consciousness for a few minutes.

…

Whatever. Fuck it.

Anyway, I yawned a bit, not too loudly since I didn't want to wake Antonio up yet, and nuzzled his back. The morning sun shone its loving, golden rays on my and my lover's nude backs (my poetic musings are so fucking epic) as I hugged Antonio some more and smiled, and then I heard him sigh in delight.

'…ah, you're awake, Lovi?'

Dammit, and so was he. And I thought I was being careful.

Oh well.

'I'm awake,' I admitted, my voice still croaky and despicable like it always is in the morning. 'Awake and… and awake and shit…'

'Hmmn, you just said awake twice…'

'Do I look like I care?'

'I don't know, I can't see you like this…'

'Then turn the fuck over, dipshit.'

Antonio laughed, amused, and indeed turned over, so we were face to face.

'Well,' I said, swallowing something as I noticed the way his eyes were smiling at me, 'I-I'll repeat myself. I do I look like I care?'

'Care about what?' Antonio frowned, putting his hand on my chin and gently moving his thumb over my lower lip.

'You forgot what we were talking about, haven't you.' I rolled my eyes. 'Man, your memory is like the memory of a damn goldfish.'

'Now that's rude. I have a lot more memory than a goldfish. For instance, I still remember last night like it was yesterday…'

'It was yesterday.'

'And thus I have proven to have more memory than a goldfish. I mean, a goldfish would have forgotten all that wonderfulness already after a few mere seconds. Maybe I even have the memory of a newt.'

'Holy shit, Antonio, don't get too fucking cocky!'

'I know. It's a good thing I'm so modest about my talents, abilities and memory. Who are you, by the way?'

'Moron.' I started to chuckle.

'You're pretty hot, whoever you might be.' Antonio grinned and rolled on top of me. 'We should explore each other some more… you know, get to know each other a bit better… have some sweaty sex and all that jazz…'

'Th-that's an interesting way of getting to know each other better…'

'Mnnn… I like interesting…'

I sighed, but it probably sounded more like a silent gasp as he suddenly began to kiss me – feverishly kiss me. But since I was so damn generous and also slightly horny, I was more than happy to wrap my arms around him and stroke his naked, hot back, muttering softly how warm and nice he felt (after the kiss ended, of course).

'Ah, so do you, sweetie… so do you… mhnm…' Antonio's hands rested themselves on my ass, but his touch felt strangely, wonderfully tender. 'Lovi… oh, I want you so much… would you mind lifting your hips a bit…'

'O-okay,' I mumbled with a shy smile and tried to do as he said, only to stop moving and even temporary stop breathing when my glazed eyes happened to notice the time on my tiny tomato-alarm.

09:45 AM.

…

09:45 AM?

…

…

Shit.

Shiiiiiit.

'SHIT,' I finally blurted out, and attempted to push Antonio off me.

'What, now?' Antonio said, confusedly rolling off me. 'God, Lovino, you should have told me! I wouldn't have felt you up if I knew you had to—'

'Finish that sentence and I will slaughter you, I swear to God I fucking will,' I warned, shuddering.

Antonio pouted and sat up as he watched me get dressed in a bordering on outright furious way.

'Lovi, wh-what's the matter?'

I shot a hysterical glare at him. 'It's ALMOST TEN O'CLOCK, bastard – look at the fucking clock! THE BUS CAN BE HERE ANY FUCKING MINUTE!'

'Oh,' Antonio said, scratching his head. 'The bus.'

I stared at Antonio, who still needed some time to start up, judging from his dense smile. Then I leaned my shoulder against the closet, folded my arms and waited. It wasn't before long I saw realization sneak its way into his head, as his forehead started to wrinkle and his eyes slowly narrowed themselves.

'W-wait a minute… Lovi, what day is it?'

'Guess,' I calmly advised him, despite being fully aware of the fact I had absolutely no reason to stay fucking calm right now.

'It's… oh god.' Antonio smacked his hand against his head.

'Ah.' I nodded contently. 'We have landed, haven't we.'

'Lovi,' he gasped, overreacting big time now, 'we're going on vacation today!'

'Ohh, was that today?'

'Yes! Oh god – we have to hurry up! We have to wake up the kids… we have to eat something… make some food for on the way… we… GAH—'

And Antonio stumbled out of bed, just like that. He normally didn't tumble out of bed, shrieking a bit and everything, so for a sec I panicked and wondered if he was having some sort of stroke – until I saw him rubbing his behind and whining about the pains.

'U-uhm,' I carefully asked while Antonio gave me this angry look and pulled himself up with a little help from the side table, '…I-I didn't hurt you that much last night, did I?'

'Well, it was fun, while it lasted. But really…' Antonio hissed as he continued rubbing his butt. '…it would be nice if you prepared me a bit better, next time you decide to shove your organ into me.'

My organ?

'Wha-!You were the one that said I should hurry the fuck up, dammit! I-I was trying to properly… but you-! And now… ugh…' I started to shake a bit and bit my lips, before looking up again. Antonio was busy getting dressed.

'S-sorry,' I finally stammered as he turned my way again – and I could tell he was shocked to see my unsure expression.

'N-no, no!' he quickly said, walking over to me and folding his arms around me. 'It's not that bad! I just felt like teasing you a bit, is all. I'm alright! I barely even felt you! I feel so good, I can run a marathon if I want to!'

Wow now.

'…are you still trying to make me feel better?' I scowled at him – which made Antonio sigh.

'It's not easy to say the right things to you, is it? Well, let me put it this way…' he leaned towards my ear and carried on in a sensual voice: '…it was very nice, somewhat painful, but definitely wonderful.'

'Oh,' I said.

'Just as I expected from my sweet Lovi, my hot little love-maker.'

'A-ah.'

'…'

'…'

Antonio gulped and lowered his hands half-promisingly.

'God I really shouldn't be asking this, Lovi, but shall we… hm?'

He pressed a hopeful, hard kiss to my neck.

'W-well…' I murmured, looking at my alarm again, hoping its time would be—

09:57 AM GODDAMMIT!

'THREE MINUTES!' I yelled this time.

'A quicky, huh?' Antonio said, as he started to fucking strip me, 'consider it done, Lovi.'

'What the… NO, you perverted douchebag!' I once again tried to push him away from me. 'W-we have only three minutes left before the damn bus comes!'

He paused from pulling down my pants. 'Really?'

I stared at him, completely lost of words.

'You're so getting a watch,' I finally said.

And then we didn't have any time left to bicker, have sex or complain – at least not if we wanted to get ON FUCKING VACATION.

\0o0/

But you know what? Miracles do happen. Now I know for sure they happen. And that's because when Antonio and I had finally talked about enough stupid things to make even Feliciano look like an Italian Einstein and raced outside the room, we almost bumped into the kids, who were patiently waiting for us on the corridor.

All dressed up and all with an extremely judgmental frown cemented into their collective foreheads.

'You're late,' Luisa started, sounding very businesslike for such a small-fry as soon as we came out of the bedroom. 'So I put on my shirt and pants. All by myself. And so did Allie and Teo.'

Indeed, all three kids had put on their clothes, all by themselves.

Antonio was heavily impressed. 'Wow! Lovi, they already know how to pick out and put on clothes by themselves!'

'Hm-hm,' I murmured, noticing Luisa's clothes weren't matching (so fucking AWFUL and she even wore it inside-out), Alejo had put on Antonio's kid clothes again and Matteo was wearing a FUCKING SKIRT and a sweater he shouldn't wear during summertime.

'This must be a sign that the kids aren't human,' Antonio meanwhile reasoned, somehow unable to see all the fashion errors his kids had made.

'No, this is a sign that they're getting used to our shitty parenting,' I explained, while wincing as I observed Luisa a bit better. 'And that they haven't inherited anything from my fashion sense, whatsoever. I mean, wearing pink on red? Really, Luisa?'

'I like it,' she decided – and I heard this was the end of the discussion for her.

Okay, I could – begrudgingly – accept her clothes, as it would be wrong to belittle her awful but somehow inspiring clothing choices… but as for her brothers…

NO.

Alejo's clothes were covered in old, dirty blood that wasn't even his nor Antonio's. Matteo's clothes weren't his either (yep, both that kid skirt and that grown-man sweater were actually mine and he was totally drowning in it and TOO FUCKING CUTE, DAMMIT, WHY DIDN'T I CARRY A CAMERA WITH ME ON MOMENTS LIKE THIS) and so they really needed to change clothes.

After a quick round of paper-scissors-rock, it was decided that Antonio would put our sons in more suitable clothes, while I would fucking sprint downstairs with Luisa and hastily prepare some take-away breakfast for the five of us.

And we had less than two minutes left, too.

…

Ohhhhh, people in that bus were going to get angry…

\0o0/

It's a good thing I can prepare breakfasts like the Japanese can prepare shitty game shows in which people have to do the most humiliating things to get a fucking lousy prize, because if I wasn't able to do that, I would probably be sitting in the corner of the kitchen right now, cradling and hating myself for not being able to quickly make some breakfast.

…

Look at that damn sentence. LOOK at it, dammit. – I'm such a BOSS when it's about super long and awesome sentences and sprint-breakfasts, it's not even remotely funny.

As I raced my knife and hands through the bread, butter, meat, cheese, peanut butter and Nutella sections of the kitchen, Luisa ate her breakfast at the table with a very stingy expression. Like she really didn't want to eat, but decided to do it anyway because she felt like a bitch if she didn't after seeing me acting like a monkey on coke on the kitchen counter.

'Luisa?' I asked, stuffing some bread in a lunchbox. 'Are you okay, baby?'

'Hmmmm,' she just muttered and studied her slice of bread like it was a miniature version of the Eiffel Tower – but it wasn't, because I would have known if it was.

'Are you nervous for the ride?' I tried again.

'Hmmmm,' she responded again and hid her face from me.

She did that pretty often, or so I noticed every now and then while packing the backpack (that I had officially baptized and renamed Snackpack, for obvious reasons), but she was forgetting one important thing: being a parent had made me ultra sensitive for troubled-kid-emotions, and man, was my radar going crazy at the moment.

Eventually, the Snackpack was stuffed with drinks, snacks, food and other kinds of edible products (seriously, the House was completely out of food now). But the bus still hadn't arrived, so… I could have a breather and talk with Luisa some more. While eating something as well.

'Okay,' I sighed, sitting myself down on a seat next to my daughter's, holding a sandwich with chicken filet, 'I'm done packing yummy things, Luisa, so Papa Lovi wants you to tell him right now what's bothering your cute little head right now.'

'N-not cute!' Luisa protested, looking up at me with cheeky, blushy cheeks and accusing eyes.

I just grinned and took a bite of my bread. 'Just tell me what's wrong, baby. I won't get mad of you or anything.'

'You…' Luisa started squishing her breakfast in-between her adorable, but ruthless pudgy fingers, 'you promise?'

'I promise.'

'I read a book,' Luisa instantly started, wiggling her body so that she could look at me.

I groaned. 'Last night, you mean? You were flipping through a book again, even though I told you to get some sleep? Shit, Luisa. You should have known better.'

Luisa pouted angrily, tears of embarrassment and disappointment almost coming out of those huge green orbs.

'Not mad, not mad,' I quickly said. 'Carry on!'

She sniveled, but complied.

'A-a boy. In… in the book. He always looked at stars with his papa.'

'Oh, well isn't that nice,' I said, trying to sound interested while at the same time I tried to hear if there was a huge, environment-polluting bus stopping somewhere near the villa.

'His papa knew lots and lots about stars,' Luisa stated. 'He was lots smarter than you and Papa Toni, 'cause you don't know anything 'bout stars.'

I frowned and folded my arms. 'Well, excuuuuuuuuse me, princess. Sorry for being dumber than the fictional daddy inside your book.'

'He went dead,' Luisa then said.

I lost the frown and stopped listening to suspicious bus-sounds.

'The papa died, papa.' Luisa looked at her bread, now deformed and kneaded into something horrific. 'Boy said he's a star now.'

I couldn't help but roll my eyes at that. Really, children's book? The man told his kid he'd become a star? How fucking lame. I mean, it was clichéd as fuck. I bet the geezer even assured his son right before kicking the bucket that he'd be the brightest star in the sky, so that he could decently look over him, so that that the boy wouldn't have to feel alone or something like that.

…

O-okay, maybe it did have a bittersweet ring to it, clichéd script or not.

'So the kid's dad became a star?' I said as gently as I could, since I sensed the heaviness of this subject. 'That's beautiful! Right?'

Luisa aggressively shook her head, glaring at me. 'No! It's not! It's mean!'

'Mean?'

'He died! He left the kid alone! He didn't change into a star – that's a really dumb and mean lie to say to the boy! – he's just… dead, papa!'

I didn't know what to say, so I said nothing.

'Papa's shouldn't die,' Luisa decided, still glaring at me. 'They shouldn't, dammit!'

Finally, I gathered the courage to smile a bit and took a hold of her tiny fists, ignoring the crumbled and mashed remains of bread clasped into them.

'Are you saying you're scared Papa Toni and I will… become stars?'

Luisa puffed her cheeks until she looked like some sort of depressed hamster, leaking eyes and everything.

'I-I don't like stars…'

'They're pretty, though.'

'No! They're ugly! You can't be one!' Luisa gave me a very complex look, trying to pull her hands free at the same time because she took after me like that.

I laughed softly. 'Baby—'

'You won't, will you?'

Luisa's voice sounded alarmingly vulnerable all of a sudden. The anger, the panic, the pride – it was like she had pushed all of those scary and unhelpful emotions to the background for now, just to let me know how she really felt. Although her face still said she was shaking with a weird kind of rage, a rage she always seemed to have inside of her, her worried mutterings and insecurity made me realize I should never, ever let that anger of her fool me.

Fuck. Could even I be one of those people that was going to be fooled by an angry face? But who else did she have to rely on, then?

I opened my mouth and wanted to tell her something that had always been an undeniable truth to me, and Antonio, and all the other personifications I knew, but then I remembered Grandpa Rome. And I remembered some of my most fearsome mental images of the future. And I remembered three kids that had some unsettling, but striking resemblances to me and my Spanish husband.

Was it really responsible to tell Luisa her papa's couldn't die, while I had all these dark memories and thoughts in the back of my mind?

No, I decided – so I tried to comfort Luisa a bit differently.

'Listen,' I said, picking her up by her tiny shoulders and making her stand on her chair, looking at her with a – hopefully reassuring – smile, 'listen, baby, listen to me. Are you listening? Luisa?'

'Uh-huh,' Luisa mumbled, rubbing one of her fists into her eyes as I clumsily clasped her little girly arms.

'I'm not sure Papa Toni and I will always be around. I wish I could tell you that we won't ever die and leave you and your brothers behind, and, honestly, I thought I could, but I can't. I can't answer that question. Not yet. I… I'm just not sure.'

'Papa,' Luisa looked at me bewilderedly, 'are you scared?'

I blinked, then I started laughing again. 'Hey, you started asking scary questions – of course I'll get scared!'

Luisa seemed to calm down a bit, now that she had seen and heard me laugh – Antonio was right, laughing makes everything better – but she wasn't completely satisfied with my promise to answer her question later.

So she all of a sudden took a firm and pretty much bruising hold of my face, with those mean little claws of her, and squeezed it tightly.

'If you go away, I… I will find you!'

'Wha?' I attempted to say, since it wasn't easy to talk while your face was getting squished.

Luisa's eyes lost the insensitivity and instead, her cheeks became red-hot, all in a matter of milliseconds.

'N-not saying it again, dammit!'

And to stress her point, she naturally gave me a very hard, immensely painful headbutt to the fucking face that made me let go of her, yell something like 'griaaargh!' and fall off my chair.

'You evil little twerp!' I nagged as a thin stream of blood dripped out of my nose – but immediately stopped roaring when I saw Luisa was bleeding from her nose as well as big, desperate tears rolled down her upset face.

'Don't die.'

'Luisa?'

She gulped, didn't know what to do with herself and just sat her trembling, small figure down in front of me, on the cold floor.

'D-don't die, papa.'

'Luisa…'

I sighed and stretched an arm out to her, pulling her against me, which she didn't seem to want at first, but eventually happily allowed me to do.

'You silly little ball of hair and worries,' I said, trying to stop her muffled sobs and tears by pressing her bloody face against my chest, 'it's okay. I'm not mad at you.'

'I'll find you,' she whispered determinedly, in spite of her tears.

I smiled. 'I know you will.'

'I-I really, really… p-papa…'

'You'll find me.' I nodded and patted her head. 'I know you will, baby.'

Goddammit, I had no idea what she was trying to tell me.

Then I suddenly came to my senses, somewhat, and heard there was a loud, honking noise coming from outside, and hasty footsteps coming into the direction of the kitchen.