Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.

A/n1: At my new job, there are a lot of people from different nations. In fact, I'm one of the not-so-very-many Dutch people there, and let me tell you – it's not always a lot of fun to work in an environment in which you can't hear or speak your own language. I have to talk English, and my English (talk-wise) is TERRIBLE. Just TERRIBLE. I mix Dutch up with English, I have a wrong accent and I stammer and stutter through the day. XDDDDDDD
However, maybe it's nice to know that I managed to make a few sort-of friends: a couple of Dutch girls, but also a Polish girl and a Hungarian girl. And it's pretty cool to get along with many different people! ^^

A/n2: I'll be having lots of tests upcoming this week. The first tests of the schoolyear! I hope everything goes well… I'm pretty anxious about it, if you must know!
Better wish me luck, peeps, 'cause I have a feeling I might need it!

A/n3: Lots of sexual tension in this chapter! Don't you just love sexual tension? Well I do.^^

A/n4: You know the English sayings (or hymns, or whatever) "there's no place like home", and "home sweet home", right?
We Dutch people have another, slightly different version of that:
Zoals het klokje thuis tikt, tikt het nergens (The clock ticks nowhere the way it does at home).
It's not a very strange saying this time. This saying is fairly well-known and you can use it when you feel like telling others that no matter how beautiful the many places you're visiting are, it's still nowhere as wonderful as your own home.
D'awwwwwwwws!~

~~ And Three Makes Five ~~

Chapter 74:

There is no home as comfortable as your father's arms and no bed as soft as your mother's lap.
Faraaz Kazi
(Indian author)

Spain's son had a lot of flowers to offer, but he didn't have pictures from all of them.

That's why he started drawing them – just like that, on my kitchen table. He took plain, white paper and some pencils out of his bag, things he apparently always carried with him when going to an appointment, and… well, sketched away.

'I'm not a very good drawer,' he said as he scribbled the petals on the long stalk he had just drawn, 'but I just want to make clear to you how beautiful certain flowers can be if they're watched at from the right angle, you know? Um… now… let's see…'

I noticed he squeezed his eyes tightly, until they were almost shut, and I felt like I had to do something to help him out.

'O-oh, can't you see it? Well, it is fairly dark in here, so… wait, I'll… um, I'll open up the curtains for you, okay?'

'That'd help a lot, thanks!' The kind florist beamed a bright smile at me as I stood up and I had just enough time to turn my head, so that he couldn't see my burning cheeks or my hands, that anxiously clutched my chest.

My mind was a whirlpool of feelings and emotions right now, one huge, scary, chaotic mess – but I caught myself thinking I didn't even mind it all that much. I had been alone for such a long time, never getting visitors – well, who was going to visit me if I didn't know a single soul in the world apart from the neighbors? – so now that I had people that didn't mind staying here just a little bit longer… I-I knew I had to do my best for them, to… you know, to make them feel comfortable.

So I opened up all the curtains in the room and, since I was busy anyway, I opened the windows as well. All that dust floating around in the musty room here… that couldn't been good for the florist's daughter. She was sitting down at the small table in front of the television, having discovered a few crayons, and she attacked the furniture with them.

'Rakel! Lookie look!' she grinned at me, pointing at the old chair with oh god the rope still dangling above it. 'Ah made it pwettier, heehee!'

…

…well yes, she did drew sticky hearts, flowers, clouds and stars on the ugly surface of the chair, which did seem to make it slightly less depressing – but that eerie rope kind of ruined the mood anyway.

'Mia!' the florist gasped, looking up from his paper. 'Now what did I tell you about crayons and things you can draw on?'

His daughter looked down and fumbled with a green crayon. 'Dun't eat them, theyy're no foods an you can poop out weird craps 'n turds.'

'…okay, yes, that's what auntie Lulu told you – still have to take revenge on that evil sister of mine for that – but… okay, what did I tell you about crayons and things you can draw on?'

'Alwais ask, first!' She gave her father a big smile. 'Yea!'

He scratched his head. '…uhm…'

'It's alright!' I swiftly said when he gave me an apologetic look. 'She can color that chair if she wants to – it's a very ugly chair, though, I doubt she can get it even a bit prettier.'

The girl shrieked, jumped up and gave me a passionate look, squeezing the crayon in her hand so very enthusiastically that it was starting to bend. 'Oh! Oh oh oh oh oh oh! Ah can do it, Rakel! Ah'll make it sparkleeh!'

Spain's son sighed. 'I hope you realize in what kind of mess you've brought yourself into. Mia always wants to make things sparkly – and she seldom succeeds.'

'It's no big deal, really. Oh, but… but I'll have to clean it up a bit in here, though. It might be too dangerous for a little girl like her,' I mused, tapping my chin. 'Wait, I'll just go grab the vacuum cleaner real quick, and… oh, maybe dust some things off a bit, too, and—'

'Ohh! Cleaning! Great! Let me help you out!' The florist hopped off his chair and took some aprons that hung from the wall, next to the refrigerator.

I watched him put on one of the aprons and frowned. 'Um, you don't have to help me, I'll—'

'Of course I'll help you.' He came my way and made a swirling gesture with his finger. 'Turn around, please?'

'Ah-uh… o-okay…'

With a lot of self-discipline, I managed to keep myself from uttering shameful shrieks and eeps as the florist's arms suddenly were above and right next to me, working me inside of the other apron. He wrapped it around me and struggled with a knot, while I was mainly concentrating on my breathing.

'So. Um. You… always clean stranger's houses?' I asked him, for a lack of a better subject.

He chuckled. 'Only when they have aprons.'

'Ah.'

'You should always clean the house with either aprons on or while wearing old clothes, you know? It's such a waste of your clothes if you just go with whatever you're wearing.'

'Wow. God. Thanks for the advice. I'm sure it will save my life one day.'

Oh god, that came out way too snarky!

'I'm sorry! I-I…' I stammered, hastily spinning around, 'I-I didn't mean to… I sometimes just… blurt out mean things that I don't mean that way. It's just… it's what I think, and then I just… say it. S-so…'

But the florist grinned broadly, looking at me with an amused smile.

'You're more than just very beautiful, aren't you?'

Oh. Oh, h-he called me beautiful again. But look at that clueless face – god, he had no idea what he was doing, did he? If he wasn't such a nice guy, I would've been sure he was just playing around with me, but…

Anyway, I coughed and looked away, trying to think of what to say to that.

'Oh! Oh! Papa! I wanna help, I wanna help, too!' the little girl suddenly piped up all of a sudden, before I could think of something to say.

'Alright, alright,' the florist snickered and hopped over to his daughter to – god, that was kind of cute – bind a large, pink towel around her, so that she wouldn't get dirty either.

'Pwetty!' she giggled. 'Imma pwincess!'

'Yeah you are!' the florist beamed.

'Papa pwincess, too?'

'…sssssht, not now, Mia, maybe later.'

He coughed, a bit embarrassed as he caught my curious glance. 'I… um. I like to dress up as a princess as well when Mia wants to play dress up. You have no idea how hard it is to get man-sized dresses and still feel pretty these days.'

I snorted – I couldn't help it. 'So… s-so you and your daughter do all kind of princessy things together, then? When you dress up?'

He laughed. 'Oh no, nothing like that at all! We go on long journeys to faraway lands, fight with mutilated pirates (when Alejo is visiting) and mean real-estate agents (when Luisa's visiting – don't ask, she just likes to play mean real-estate agents). It's very dangerous to solve our problems most of the time, it involves a lot of bear-wrestling and snake-wielding.'

'…as princesses?' I wondered out loud, from all the questions that danced around in my head.

'As princesses!' He nodded. ''We're badass princesses.'

'BADBUTTS,' the girl shrieked. 'YEA!'

'But anyway!' the florist then said, as he and his daughter both stood in front of me and grinned equally big and excited smiles, 'we were going to clean this place up, right? Well, just tell us what to do and where to fetch the right cleaning stuff, and we'll be on it!'

'O-okay!' I stammered – and as I started to look around to see what the florist could do and what his daughter could do, like it was perfectly normal for a florist to just… help out with cleaning, I felt a strange sensation shooting through me, a sensation I hadn't felt in years.

…

Oh.

Fun.

So this was how that felt like again, huh?

I liked it.

RSS

So for the rest of the afternoon, the flowers and the original task of the florist was simply forgotten – hop, chucked out of his system like that – as he and his daughter helped me with tidying the house.

Well, Spain's son and I cleaned – the girl was most of the time busy tripping over her own feet or petting gross bugs or drawing faces on dusty objects. But that was okay.

I had to say – Spain's son could handle a wash-leather (for cleaning windows) and a mop far better than I could. The windows were shiny and spic and span in no time, all of the spiders were rapidly taken outside, the floors got brighter and clearer than I had ever seen before and the dishes, that I had been ignoring for God knows how long, were just a bad dream after the florist had been in the kitchen for only one mere hour.

He was like a cleaning miracle! And fast, too! He didn't ask for what he could do after he had finished polishing a table – no, he simply grabbed a sponge and started cleaning another desk, or counter, or table, or whatever that was in his way.

And though he was very focused and concentrated on what he did, and though he always made sure he had his daughter in his eyesight, he also managed to pay attention to me.

Just… just small things, really. A quick smile when our eyes met, a soft grip around my shoulder when he had to walk past me, a touch of the hand when he asked me if I could hand him over a bucket with new, clean water…

He didn't do it on purpose, I'm sure he didn't, but it made my heart bonk in the center of my throat, constantly, and at a certain point I didn't even dare to respond to any of his actions anymore, just because I was afraid of what would come out of my mouth.

But of course, after another half hour of silence (well, except for Mia's excited babblings), I couldn't take it anymore and paused from scratching off some old tape from the fridge, to give the florist – who stopped wiping the windowsills at that – a sorrowful look.

'U-um… I-I'm sorry. I'm afraid I'm not really sociable.'

'I know. So?' He looked at me with comically raised eyebrows as he turned around to – completely – face me. 'There's nothing wrong with that, Raquel.'

Oh god. It happened. I felt it happened. My entire head – it lit up like a red lantern.

He noticed and chuckled. 'Sorry, I didn't mean to embarrass you.'

'Y-you. Um. My name. You… um.'

'Oh, you rather don't want me to call you by your first name?' He blushed as well. 'Ah, I'm being impulsive and persistent again…'

'Um, no, it's no problem, it's just…'

It's been so long since anybody called me by my first name. Well, other than Spain, I mean (and Spain's son's daughter, sort of). And South Italy had never addressed to me by my first name, he insisted on calling me Newspaper Nicker. Or Speedy Bitch. Or, you know. What's-her-name.

So it felt good – it felt so very wonderful to hear somebody say my name. It was like it was a confirmation that I did exist, that I did matter, and that I really was here. As a person. A normal, regular human being. I even began to cry – I didn't try to stop those few tears that escaped from my eyes.

The florist got pale now and quickly came my way, panicking a bit. 'O-oh, you're crying! I'm so sorry – was it my fault? Wh-what can I do to make it better, wh-what—'

'Say it again.'

'…I beg your pardon?'

'My name.' I stared at him. 'Say it again. P-please.'

He stared back at me for a few seconds, before taking some more steps towards me and stopping right before me – still looking straight at me. If he moved even an inch closer, his body would've bumped into mine. But he didn't move closer.

'Alright,' he muttered, suddenly very calm and collected again, 'I'll say your name.'

'That's—'

'But only if you say mine, too.'

I looked at him oddly, but my questioning frown disappeared when I saw he wasn't joking around. He really did want me to say his name.

'Why,' I breathed out softly, '…w-why do you want to hear your name? W-why from me?'

He chuckled – just for a bit, though.

'I have no idea who you are, what your story is or why you seem to be so lost. And if you speak the truth, if we really just played together for one single day, I'll probably won't remember you, ever. I'll never get to know the girl you were when you were young.'

'A-ah.' I swallowed and looked down. It felt like he was busy scraping long, sharp nails down my the walls of my ridiculously vulnerable heart and I wanted to step back – go away, push him away, whatever – but then the florist suddenly grabbed my hands again and pressed them against his chest, more or less forcing me to look up at him again.

'But I'd like to get to know the interesting young woman you are now, Raquel.' He gave me a friendly look. 'So… can you say my name as well?'

I gulped, but I couldn't escape from those eyes. 'Y-you… you really… want to… get to know me?'

'Yes.'

'But I-I'm a stranger. I'm not even your client. You know nothing about me. So why…?'

'I like you.' He smiled and gripped my hands a bit more. 'So why not?'

His simple, honest answer should have pleased me – should have convinced me to… to… I-I don't know, to do something, but how did he want to get to know me? As a friend? As a possible love interest – I-I didn't know!

But then another, very crucial fact came into mind.

'Y-you're engaged, Ma… Matteo.' I took a deep breath and plucked his hands off mine. 'I-I don't know what you're thinking, a-and, um, it's… it's fine if you just want to be friends with me, i-if that's okay with her, but… b-but… maybe I'm horribly wrong here, who knows, but… I-I hope you're not thinking of cheating on your fiancée with me…'

Matteo blinked, then blinked some more and gave me a somewhat sad smile, opening his mouth to answer me – but right then, a loud, annoying ringtone started to play from his pocket.

Matteo groaned. 'Okay – Raquel, please… don't run away or think of your own conclusions just yet, just… let me answer this – it could be important. Okay?'

I nodded a bit and watched him leave the room. Oh god. I just wanted to smack my face into a freshly-cleaned wall or something. I was such a moron. No way Matteo was going to cheat on his no-doubt gorgeous fiancée with a mess like me – hell no! He was probably just looking for a new friend, maybe even a babysitter for Mia (who by the way had been watching from the floor and seemed to be very intrigued and not disturbed by her father's moves in the least). I mean, Matteo didn't look like the type that would cheat on his lover – no way. And certainly not with me.

Don't get me wrong: I didn't hate myself or thought that I was disgustingly ugly, but I just don't see people falling for me – for a person that didn't even know who she was. I mean, I was just a shell. Sure, there were thoughts and personality-thingies inside of that shell, naturally… but what were they? What did they look like? I didn't have a clue.

And also, there was that little funfact about me, having spied on his parents for years.

All of the blood was drained from my face when I realized that.

Oh god. I totally forgot for some reason. Matteo was one of Spain and South Italy's long-lost children. I knew that, but neither the personifications living next to me or their kids knew.

What should I do? Wh-what should I do?

Tell Matteo?

He wouldn't want to believe me – he'd probably think I'm crazy. Or he'd want to know why I was so sure about who his parents were. He'd discover my activities over the past few years and think I'm a freak. Maybe he'd even come to hate me.

Not tell Matteo?

That was a logical second option, yes. But he'd definitely hate me forever if he would somehow find out who his real parents were then. On the other hand, maybe I'd never see him again after today, so keeping quiet about his parents wouldn't have to have such a big impact on… anything. Not if he was going to disappear from my life anyway.

…

…

I should repel him.

Yeah. Y-yeah!

I should… should somehow steer him into the direction of his parents. He was very close-by, after all. Just one conversation with Spain and South Italy might just do the trick – trigger their memories and everything. He'd be happy, oh boy oh boy, my parents, I have found you, hooray, let's totally forget about what's-her-name and her weird life, and no one would ever know what kind of vile role I had in this dark play.

I wouldn't get involved in their lives at all that way, no, not anymore, and Matteo and his siblings would get their parents back. Problem solved. And I'd finally have repented enough for all that my mother and I had said and done in the last twenty years.

Right?

R-right…

Just as I had made my decision, Matteo came back from the other room. His facial expression had changed a lot, he seemed worried and a bit confused now.

'That was my brother – Alejo,' he explained to me. 'He was raving about some guys he saw during his work, and that I needed to come to his place right away since it might be interesting for me as well, and he was going to call Luisa, too, and… well, lots of chaos and stress, in any case.'

I watched him as he ran a hand through his hair and heard him sigh.

'Then you should go, right?' I said.

He looked up, disappointment all over his face. 'You want me to leave?'

'I-I never said that,' I hastily corrected myself – even though I realized later that this could have been the perfect opportunity to get rid of him, 'but if your brother really sounded as upset as you suggest he did, then maybe you should… just go.'

Matteo frowned. 'But we're in the middle of cleaning your house. And we haven't made any decisions yet. Oh, we haven't even picked out flowers yet!'

I shrugged. 'Then you'll just have to make an appointment with Mr. Fernandez and Mr. Vargas to come to a satisfying conclusion. I'm sure they'll have time tomorrow.'

It's not like they do that much all day long, after all.

Matteo cocked his head. 'But you are their personal assistant, right? You even know what kind of flowers they like. So I think I should make a follow-up appointment with you.'

Oh. Right. I did say that.

…

…

Me and my big mouth…

'I'll have to check my agenda…' I started – but I was not even able to finish my sentence before the florist pushed a little card with his personal information on it in my hands.

'Give me a call when you know when I can come again,' he told me with a gentle smile. 'Is that okay?'

'O-okay…' I mumbled, putting the little, colorful card away in my pocket.

So… I guess I should help him out with the flower-arrangement. I could at least do that much. But after that, I wouldn't have to ever meet the florist again. Yes. After that, I'd send him over to Mr. Fernandez and his lover, straight away, and our ways would split apart.

Yes! A plan! I had one!

'I suppose I'll have to go, then…' Matteo then groaned and beckoned Mia to come to him. 'I don't really want to, though. I had a great time with you.'

He gave me yet another smile. A smile that could either be a very polite one, or one that tried to told me he really did like me. I couldn't tell. I just couldn't. Matteo may have had a lot in common with both of his fathers, but in the end, he was different. His smiles didn't had to have the same meaning as Spain's, and his indiscriminating kindness towards a girl like me didn't have to be something he inherited from his Italian father.

'Your fiancée,' I suddenly blurted out again. 'You… you should have a great time with her.'

…

I didn't know where that came from. I-I really didn't.

Matteo, who had picked up his daughter again, had the same sad smile on his face as earlier. He slowly shook his head.

'I can't have a great time with my fiancée. She's… not here anymore.'

'What do you mea...'

Oh.

…

O-oh.

'I-I'm so sorry… I-I didn't mean to pry,' I blabbered, 'I-I had no idea you were a widower…'

He chuckled. 'Well, we never got married, so technically, I'm not a widower. But… I get what you mean.'

I looked at him awkwardly and rubbed my arm, thinking hard about how I could, somehow, say something… good, or nice, or just… helpful, anything, but… b-but nothing came to mind. So I ended up acting like a weird, mute person that didn't know what to do with her limbs. Oh, that was just great.

'I sometimes… wish I was a widower, you know?' Matteo's eyes got a bit dull and lost their brightness. 'Then I could've had more of a connection with her… then I would've been "the man she married" and not just… just "some guy she dated for a very long time"…'

'You have a way better connection with her than you could ever have, even if you had married her.' I gave him a critical look, before I could stop myself. 'You're holding her in your arms right now.'

Matteo stared at me, while Mia giggled and high-fived herself for no apparent reason.

I mentally started kicking myself. Oh god – I had said too much again, hadn't I? I'm such a know-it-all – what do I know of losing a loved one? Well… well, okay, I knew enough about that, but I didn't know anything about losing a person that I romantically loved, and so I had given my opinion on something that I knew nothing about, and oh god, oh god oh god oh god, I was such a—

'I'm taking you out for dinner this week,' Matteo suddenly cut off my annoying string of thoughts.

I gaped at him, forgetting all about my stress. 'E-excuse me?'

'I'm taking you out for dinner this week.' He nodded, very much agreeing with his own words. 'You look up when you have time, and I'll take care of the rest.'

'B-but…' I stammered, because the plan – my plan, the plan of cutting him out as soon as I could, my p-plan…!

'You don't want to?' he asked, when he saw my panicky response.

…

Reject him.

Reject him.

Reject him reject him god reject him already.

But I kept quiet. I didn't move a muscle, even, too afraid that every move could be a wrong answer.

'If you don't say anything, I'm going to take it for a "yes, I'd love to have dinner with you, Matteo".'

Matteo smiled at me. Again. But this smile seemed slightly different from all the others he had shared with me so far. More hopeful, more open, more… more special. It was a smile for me, and for me only. It was my very own Matteo-smile.

So I nodded.

Despite my fears and plans, despite my problems and despite the fact that this could turn out to be a very stupid move of me that would perhaps hurt me badly – I nodded.

As if my life depended on it.

o\00/

During dinner, after Seb had returned home from work, I had gotten so very enthusiastic and wastefully energetic about all my new findings that I just could stop talking – even while eating, I kept yapping to Seb about the book I had read, the girl I had spoken and the promise she had made to come to our place as soon as possible.

I also told him about the fact that I suspected I was a child of two personifications… no, that my brothers and I all were children of personifications, and that it was such a weird idea, such an unrealistic, ridiculous, stupid idea, that it just had to be true. Because that's usually the case: whenever you read of hear something extraordinary, you're like "there's no way that can be real!" and then you go discover that reality is even more fucked up, and that's why it had to be true.

…

Yes, I know I was being very vague and all over the place, but whatever, I knew what I was talking about and that was all that mattered right now, dammit.

I explained more to Seb, like that I was feeling that I was getting very valuable memories back from the past, from the moment that my parents and I were broken apart, and even moments and dialogues before that happened, and oh, I was getting close, I was getting so very close!

…oh, and I swiftly mentioned that Alejo had called, something about some people he had met in the streets today, babbling about how important it was for me and Matteo to come and visit him as soon as we could, yadayada…

But I had brushed him off by telling I was fucking busy, dammit, I didn't have time to talk about some random gay couple he had met while working, I had a life, thankyouverymuch, and I was doing something epic, namely discovering new shit about our past, and so he just had to hang out with Matteo to talk about gay people for now.

Alejo had stammered more things, but then I just hung up the phone – down you go, shut up, go have creepy sex with your pervy girlfriend already. He thankfully got the message and didn't try to call me another time.

ALL of this – I told Seb ALL of this, barely breathing in-between words, and by the time I had finally finished saying the things I had wanted to say, my food had gone cold and my mouth felt like the fucking Sahara-desert.

'Well,' Seb said while I took a huge gulp from my glass of water, 'that's a lot of information to progress.'

I put the glass down again and wiped my mouth. 'I know! But isn't it exciting? I'm finally going to meet up with somebody who can tell me more about my parents – somebody who might lead me back to them!'

'You have that necklace with their address on it,' Seb dryly pointed out. 'You can go look them up whenever you want, really.'

'Not before I know more about them. I don't want to look like a total dork if I go visit them. No, I have to be prepared before I go there. I need to remember more things, I need to get that feeling that's desperately trying to reach me… you know what I mean? I don't want to come over as a crazy person. Which reminds me…' I gave Seb a weary look.

'What?' he asked.

'You…' I started, '…y-you believe me, right? You don't think it's weird that I think my brothers and I are the offspring of two personifications of nations… do you?'

Seb stared at me – the same, blunt, kind of confronting way he always stared at me, even if he didn't want to stare like that.

'Luu, you never do anything unless you believe it's the right thing to do. And I've seldom seen you so passionate about anything before – especially when it comes to your real parents. I'm happy you're so fanatic about this.'

'…and?'

'…and yes, I believe you.' He smiled a bit. Seb wasn't a smiler – and neither was I – but when he did smile, it always was a very kind one.

'I'm glad,' I said, breathing out. 'I-I wouldn't have known what to do if you didn't want to support me in this.'

'You'd have continued your quest without me,' Seb simply said, as he stood up to clean up the table. 'You're not the type to let things like minor setbacks and unwanted happenings bring or slow you down, after all. That's what I like about you.'

Seb gave me a sweet, but also pretty complicated look. It wasn't only his way of saying that he'd be there for me, no matter what, but also his way of saying that he totally wanted to do me tonight.

…

When you've been together for a couple of years, you start to see such things, is all I'm saying.

'Um, I-I'll help,' I stammered, after cutting off my sheepish gazing at him, and got up from my chair as well. I didn't like cleaning, but I didn't want to let Seb do all the cleaning – two people were faster than one, after all, and the faster we had cleaned the dishes, the faster we'd be making out – I mean, getting undressed – no, I mean…

…well you know what I meant, dammit.

Anyway, usually, I washed the dishes and Seb dried them off and put them away – since he's a giant and everything, and since I'm a petite, delicate flower that can't even grab the showerhead when she's taking a shower and therefore starts yelling horrible curses whenever that happens.

But this time, we had turned the tables anyway: Seb washed and I dried. It was no big deal, I could always use a chair if I couldn't reach a certain height, after all.

'Luu?' Seb suddenly said during the dish-washing-activities (or whatever it was called).

I looked up at him. 'Yeah?'

'Mind if I read that book of yours as well?'

'The book from Dr. Tosca? Sure, you can go read it!' My voice got all high and excited, because Seb didn't read all that much and oh, ohhhhhh, if he read this book, we could have something interesting to discuss about later!

'Because I called my parents again today – you know, my not-biological ones,' Seb carried on.

'Yes?'

'They mentioned I should read it.'

I stared at him and almost dropped a plate. 'So you… too?'

'I don't know. But… Luisa?' Seb looked back at me with a slightly anxious expression on his face. 'I'm scared.'

…

Oh god, just look at him goddammit, all frail and cute and awkward!

'No, no, you don't have to be scared, you – you don't have to be scared at all!' I instantly put the plate down and wrapped my arms around his waist. 'Now listen, okay? Listen. You're going to read that book, and you're going to look at pictures, and you're going to discover who you really are, and who your real parents are, and then you're going to have a talk with Tosca's daughter as well and you'll go meet them!'

Seb blinked. 'You sure are happy about this.'

'Of course I am!' I grinned a wide smile at him. 'Because now I can support you, too!'

He didn't say much at that – he did collect my face in his hands and pulled it really close to his, though, pressing a few rough but very well-meant kisses on my lips.

'Don't smile like that all of a sudden,' he whispered softly afterwards, as I gasped and gently caressed his wrists, 'you have no idea how astonishing beautiful you are when you smile like that.'

I just blushed and muttered 'right back at you, d-dammit' and allowed him to kiss me some more.

Of course, the kissing got more and more intense, with lots of… touching and grabbing and fondling, and soon, the remaining dishes had no choice but to wait for tomorrow as Seb all of a sudden lifted me up from the floor and made his way to the bedroom – with huge steps, too.

'Y-you… you can cross entire oceans, you know,' I panted as I observed his moves.

Seb – who had just opened the door of the bedroom and was about to chuck me on the bed – gave me a weird look. 'What?'

'If you walk like that.' I swallowed a bit and swallowed again when he gently put me down on the bed and gently started pulling up my dress. 'You… you can cross entire oceans if you… walk like that.'

Seb threw my dress next to the bed and leaned down, kissing my shoulder.

'Maybe I will – if I can bring you with me.'

'Y-you can.' I closed my eyes. 'Of course you can.'

Then I stopped talking, because he suddenly brought one of his hands right to my—

/0o0\

'No. NO. Oh please, GOD, NO. STOP IT! GET YOUR FILTHY MONEYGRABBING MITTS OFF MY—'

'Antonio! Hey! Antonio! Wake the fuck up!'

I indeed woke up – but only after being shaken and pushed back and forth pretty violently. I opened my eyes and gasped, trembled and sweated like nobody's business, feeling extremely upset about…

…

About…?

…

Huh. I had no idea.

As I sat there, panting for dear life and trying to pluck my wet shirt off my clammy body, I noticed Lovi's worried/annoyed eyes, staring at me like I had just started a wild and very unwanted party – in our bed. Because believe me, if I had done something like that, his accusing glare had been exactly the same, safe for the worried-part.

'Oh,' I said, beaming a dopey smile at him. 'Looks like I had a nightmare again. Ahahahaha!~'

Lovino sighed and turned, so he could look at me. He had a sleepy face, which was just adorable, but I feared that gushing about how cuddle-worthy he looked right now would only result in a snarl and an short but intense aggressive flipping-the-bird-session.

And cuddling, eventually, because I knew Lovi longer than today.

'That's, what – the third time you've woken up screaming like that tonight?' Lovino frowned. 'Seriously, Antonio, you should see your doctor for that. You've been restless all night and it's starting to get really bothersome.'

'I don't get it either,' I mumbled, pulling out my sweaty shirt – the third one tonight. 'It's really annoying I instantly forget my nightmares when I've woken up, too…'

'Are…' Lovino gave me a genuinely troubled look as he scooted closer to me and got a bit white around his nose, '…are you having those nightmares about your past again? A few decades ago you used to have those, remember? About dying people, people suffering, people perishing in agony...'

'I don't think so.' I lay down again and wiped my hand over my forehead. I was still bathing in sweat. 'This may sound weird to you, but I think I keep on dreaming about…'

'About?'

I gave him a stupid look. 'People having sex…?'

Lovino's expression fell right from his face. 'What.'

'I-it's true!' I tried to defend myself. 'That's a feeling I have after I've woken up: as if I've just seen people having sex that you really, really don't want to… have sex. Like… for example, the feeling you'd get if you walked in on Feli and Germany getting it on!'

'Thanks for that mental image.' Lovi groaned. 'For your information, I actually did walk in on Feliciano and that Potato Muncher having sex once. It was horrible.'

I nodded understandingly. 'It must have been awkward for them, too.'

'NO, IT WAS AWKWARD FOR ME AND ONLY ME, BECAUSE THOSE DIRTY BEASTS DIDN'T HEAR ME AND NEVER STOPPED.'

'Ouch,' I chuckled a bit and leaned on an elbow to look at Lovino.

'You have no idea,' he rambled on, 'how many graphic horror-movies I had to watch after that to bleach my brain from that experience. Really. I rather see people getting eaten alive by smelly zombies that used to be their friends or getting ripped apart by dysfunctional machinery than that I watch my stupid little brother getting molested by a blond bear.'

'Maybe you should go see your doctor,' I suggested – which earned me a fierce smack on the bare chest.

'O-oh, sorry!' Lovi stammered, realizing I wasn't wearing a shirt, 'I-I didn't see you weren't wearing your shirt anymore.'

'It's okay,' I assured him.

'Why are you sweating so much, by the way?' Lovi raised an eyebrow. 'Was that dream of yours that scary?'

'No, my sweating's your fault – I just get the hots from you,' I joked.

Lovino didn't really get it, though, and his eyes grew in size, just like the blush on his cheeks. He clenched the sheets in-between his hands and smiled at me – a smile that was a combination of adorable shyness, sneaky satisfaction and a hint of arrogance.

'Y-you asshole – I-I thought you didn't feel like going at it tonight…'

I stared at Lovino – at his flushed face, his strained breathing and his longing eyes – and I abruptly pulled the sheets off him, replacing them with my own body.

Lovino uttered a startled yelp, but didn't stop me when I kissed him hard and deeply, even going as far as trying to pull my pants down with one impatient hand.

'You're so gross,' he breathed out as I helped him getting me out of my pants, 'you're all wet and slippery and disgusting, and for fuck's sake, screw me senseless already before your stinking body drives me crazy.'

I laughed, lowly and soft, and spread his – already naked and very cooperative legs – apart. 'Hnm, don't… don't mind if I do, Lovi… ah, my lovely Lovi…'

Mere seconds later, I slid my hands down his quivering legs and inserted a few very eager fingers rapidly into his—

o\00/

'No, no, no, no, nonononononono, OH NO, WHAT ARE YOU DOING – I DON'T WANT TO FUCKING SEE YOU DO THAT!'

My eyes snapped open and I gasped for breath, staring at nothing in particular as I slowly realized that it was just a dream, thank god, and that my own yelling had woke me up from… from whatever that nightmare was I had.

'And a very good morning to you, too,' I heard Seb comment right next to me – and so, I looked up. Seb was still in bed, still naked and stuff, and he sipped from a freshly-made cup of coffee while reading some book.

No, not some book – the book.

'O-oh,' I said, sitting up – and immediately wrapping the sheets around me because I felt a bit pudgy today, 'you're reading that book already!'

'Yep.' Without looking up from his book, he simply ripped my purifying sheets off my body again and pulled me closer, kissing me on the forehead.

'S-Seb!' I nagged. 'Y-you—'

'No. I boiled the water for you and you're going to make yourself some tea, naked.'

'What!'

'That's right, you're going to take that nice ass of yours to the kitchen, naked, and make yourself some tea, naked. Then you walk that same nice, naked ass back to me and we will talk about the wonders of your gorgeous body, having free from work and looking up biological parents in a book. And maybe, we'll have some more sex. Naked.'

I tried to get mad at him, but I couldn't – not with that stupid grin on my face.

'It's dangerous to wander around butt naked with tea, you know. I could hurt myself. Or my ass.'

'Don't say that. Don't even think it.'

I giggled, and gently touched his hand. 'Hey, Seb?'

'Yes?'

'If… if I'll go make myself tea - naked - then you have to promise me you'll always come with me when I need go to the gynecologist. Like... um, today.'

Because let's not forget the fact that I was pregnant and had made an appointment already with the same doctor who had helped Kay, in-between my activities to find my real parents.

That's right, you can call me whatever you want, but I'll do what it takes to take care of that little human growing inside of me, dammit!

'Oh. O-okay, it's a deal.' Seb nodded and, it could have been me, but I swear I saw something that looked a lot like a flattered blush coloring his cheeks.

I was satisfied and grinned. 'Thanks, Seb.'

'Don't thank me yet, you sly woman – it's been a few minutes now, and I still haven't seen your tush dance around in all her lovely nakedness.' He gave me a soft, teasing push. 'So go forthwith, my moody queen, and make thy some tea with thy olde awesome jiggly butt.'

'You're so weird - seriously, how can you say those things with such a straight face,' I chuckled, while indeed climbing out of the bed.

Seb smiled and wanted to answer me, but at that moment, my cell phone started ringing.