Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.

A/n1: I'm not sure if you guys have heard about it as well, but last Thursday, a lone, young intruder had made his way into the studio of the NOS – the most important news station of the Netherlands. He wanted to say something on live television (there always is a news update around eight o'clock in the evening) and he threatened a doorman with a gun, taking him hostage as he demanded the doorman's co-workers to bring him to the studio where the news was being broadcast.
However, instead of bringing him to the most important studio, they put him away in a small studio that wasn't being used at that moment, called the police and PUT ON THE CAMERA in the studio. We could all see what happened in the studio (although not live, we all saw it later, when the situation was under control again). Apparently, the doorman had managed to talk to the man, to try and find out what he wanted. The man explained what his goal was, but it still sounded really vague. Then, several policemen stormed into the room and knew to take control of the situation – the guy gave up right away, so nothing awful happened.
Later, they found out that the guy was a 19-year old student that apparently was delusional. The gun was fake, too. But you can imagine the shock we all got from this! Seriously, I'm so relieved nothing really bad happened!

A/n2: Since I like to brag about it, you all probably know that my birthday's the 14th of February. I have told you many, many, manymanymany times already, and yet, there's still a funfact you should know concerning me and my birthday.
You see, I was born during Carnaval – the Dutch kind of Carnaval. The Dutch Carnaval is very strange: people from the more Southern regions of the nation dress themselves up really funnily (as nurses, soldiers, clowns, you name it we have it) and are allowed to party, booze and dance on extremely bad music for five whole days, starting from a Friday. Also, lots of crazy parades everywhere, whether you live in a small town or a big-ass city.
Now, when my mom was in labor and needed to go to the hospital as soon as possible, the ambulance that had to deliver her to said hospital GOT STUCK IN A FUCKING PARADE.
So while my mom was busy giving birth to me and everything, all the people watching the parade were like 'Sweet, an ambulance! They keep thinking up new stuff, hahahahaha!~' and it became a hellish ride for my poor mother (and father, for all that matters).
I ultimately was still born in the hospital safe and sound, but since that day, my mom never really liked Carnaval parades anymore.

A/n3: I'd like to make a shout-out to artdumppage, since this lovely artist made me fanart as well! ^^ You can look her up by her name, so you should definitely check it out. If you can/want to, of course!

~~ And Three Makes Five ~~

Chapter 86:

I believe that what we become depends on what our fathers teach us at odd moments, when they aren't trying to teach us.
Umberto Eco
(Italian semiotician, philosopher and literary critic)

Venetia explained it all to my parents.

She told them about Dr. Tosca, about grandpa Delgado, about the PPSS, about the plans they made in secrecy, about the book, about how her mom eventually allowed her to travel around Europe in search for all the missing/taken-away kids from the personifications and about how she got in contact with me and my siblings.

Papa Lovi and Papa Toni both listened, seemingly mesmerized by the entire story, and I was happy Venetia was the one telling them all of this, since I wouldn't really know where to begin or even end.

But I could see both my fathers' eyes dart towards me every once in a while, and I could see how many questions they still had – concerning me, concerning Venetia, concerning all kinds of things – but ha, psych, they had to let Venetia finish her story, first.

Unfortunately enough, Venetia was a professional and smart person who knew exactly how to explain things to people who weren't as smart, so she managed to explain the whole story about me and my brother and sister's quest in less than ten minutes – a fucking record, I tell you!

And as soon as Venetia had said what she had to say, she simply looked at me and said: 'Your turn, now.'

I looked at her and furrowed my brows defensively. 'Wh-what do you mean, my turn?'

'I told them about how you found them. Now it's up to you to tell them the rest.'

'What rest!'

'Your rest.' Papa Lovi gave me an odd look. 'Don't get me wrong, it's nice to finally meet the girl that was part of the plan that managed to bring the five of us together, but Luisa kind of told us all of that already.'

'Yes – but thank you, Venetia. You explained all of that really well!' Papa Toni said to Venetia.

Venetia smiled. 'Thank you very much.'

'I bet you had sex with him really well, too.' Papa Toni's smile got a bit dark. 'Am I right?'

'Definitely,' Venetia nodded, not even remotely scared – which impressed me. 'But don't worry, Mr. Spain. It was just a one-night-stand. Alejo broke up with his girlfriend a few days ago and I wanted to cheer him up. But things got a bit awkward and I think it's better if I leave now. Alejo will tell you the rest, no doubt. It was nice meeting you. Take care now.'

And with that, she instantly got up from her chair, buttoned her coat and walked past me, into the hall that leaded to the front door.

'…excuse me for a sec,' I told my dads – who both nodded – and went after Venetia.

'Are you leaving already?' I asked her in the hallway.

'Well yes.' Venetia turned to look at me. 'You are going to tell Mr. Spain and Mr. South Italy about what's been bothering you and I don't really see why there would be room for me in that situation.'

'Oh.' I leaned against a wall and scratched the back of my head. 'I guess you're right, yes, but… still. You kind of… um, confessed to me.'

Venetia's brown eyes stared at me motionlessly, making me feel pretty uncomfortable.

'Alejo.'

I jumped a bit – she sounded so serious all of a sudden. 'Y-yes?'

'I foolishly fell in love with you last night. That wasn't part of my schedule – and neither was it part of yours. I had fun, and I hope that you had some fun, too, but right now, instead of trying to convince you to forget all about that French bitch that broke your heart and start dating me, I'll leave you be. You were badly hurt, after all, and you need time to get over her.'

I sheepishly looked at her, guessing that this was the part where I was supposed to nod. I mean, sure, I heard and understood her, and I was happy she understood my current state of mind as well, but she reminded me of my stern teacher I had in second grade: very business-like and to-the-point.

'Anyway, call me when you're over her.' Venetia plucked a tiny card out of her coat's pocket and put it in my hand. 'I'm worth it, you know. I make a mighty cappuccino.'

I smiled, amused, and wanted to say something – but Venetia then stood on the tips of her toes and gave me a firm, Chanel-5-like kiss. It tasted like class and honesty and although I didn't feel like kissing her back, I really liked that taste.

She then stood back on her heels again and wiped the lipstick from my mouth with a nonchalant brush of her hand.

'Take care of my cake, now. Ciao.'

/0o0\

And then the real hidden truth behind Alejo's secretive behavior a few days earlier was finally revealed, right after my oldest son had returned from saying goodbye to his one-night-stand/possible love interest (with smudgy red lips and a dazed expression).

It turned out that Alejo had been in a relationship with Francis' daughter!

Yes! Francis' daughter! That little naked girl that liked to run up and down the Hungary's Homo Rainbow Bus or whatever she called the thing – that same girl! Apparently, she and Alejo had been an item! What were the odds of that happening? Just what were the odds of two nation kids' meeting and falling in love with one another? I'd like to know that, really!

Now I was surprised to find out about that. It wasn't like I was singing or crying tears of happiness upon finding out Allie had been in a relationship with Francis' daughter – and more than ever, I didn't want to know a single thing about his sexlife and oh god, he really did have a sexlife – but mweh, I didn't mind him having dated Francis' little girl that much. I'd rather have him dating a good friend's kid than, say, England's son or the Netherlands' kid.

Lovino, however, didn't take the news so very… yeah…

'You dated WHAT?'

'Not "what", Papa Lovi, but "who".' Alejo looked at him boorishly while Lovi made a pretty big fuss about something that was already in the past. The poor kid gave me a tired, confused and angry impression, and now that I knew what he had been hiding – and gone through – I couldn't blame him.

'Lovino,' I therefore said when Lovino's voice started to get high and squeaky, 'cut it out – regardless of your opinion of Francis and his daughter, it's not helping Allie. His heart has just been broken and it really isn't helpful if you're snarling at him like that.'

Lovi gave me a pissed-off look, but his expression changed when he glanced back at Allie's bend-over figure. He was now holding his head in his hands, sobbing softly.

'…a-alright, I-I'm sorry.' Lovino swallowed, reached out a hand towards our son and gently patted his unruly hair. 'You're hurt. I shouldn't…. I'm sorry, Allie. And I feel really bad for you. It's awful your girlfriend treated you like that.'

'I loved her.' Alejo looked up at me and Lovi with watery eyes. 'I-I really loved her. But she never loved me – she liked me. I can't buy anything with that, with... with "like".'

'I wish you had told us.' I bit my lip as Alejo sat upright again, sighing shakily. 'I can see why you were hesitant to tell us about you dating Desiree – your Papa Lovi doesn't really like her dad – but we could have tried to cheer you up sooner if you had told us.'

Alejo shrugged. 'If you say so. Whatever, it's too late for that now. But yeah. I'm glad I at least got that off my chest.'

'I'm sorry I snapped at you like that.' Lovino said, looking at him sorrowfully. 'Please don't think I wouldn't love you anymore or shit like that if you still were dating France's kid. Sure, I'd been upset about it for days, and I'd have to shun you for at least sixteen years out of childish spite, but other than that, I'd have still loved you.'

Lovino's awkward sense of humor didn't always pay off – many people didn't get or like it – but Alejo had the same sense of humor as his Italian dad had, thankfully enough, and snorted, laughing through his tears.

'That's good to know, dad.'

Lovino grinned victoriously, happy and relieved to see his way of making Allie feel better had indeed made him feel better, but then he lost the smile and frowned deeply.

'That troll Desiree. Shit – I should go look both her and her perverted father up and give them a piece of my mind, dammit! How dare she break your heart like that – it's sensitive enough already – fuck, that's just terrible. I'll never forgive them for that. I'll—'

I put my hands on Lovi's already-raising shoulders and gently pushed them back to their original position. It was time to be the eldest and most responsible and logical one here, once again.

'Sweetie, it really doesn't matter what you think of this situation. It won't bring Desiree back to Allie, and blaming all of this on Francis won't improve things, either. I'm angry as well, sure, and I hope she gets her heart crushed just as brutally and ruthlessly as Alejo's one day – maybe even worse, since she's an evil bitch and I hate her guts for toying with Allie god and my axe know I do– but in the end, let's just behave like adults and refrain from thinking spiteful thoughts. Okay?~'

I blinked confusedly when I noticed both Lovino and Alejo stared at me with slightly creeped-out faces.

'…what?'

'W-whoa…' Alejo whispered.

'You're fucking freaky,' Lovino commented. 'Thank god you're pretty and emotionally stable at the moment.'

'What? What did I say? Did I say something strange?' I wanted to know – because I didn't know, was anything I said that abnormal? Was it the axe thing? Oh god, it was the axe thing, wasn't it?

But Lovino merely gave me a subtle, comforting smile and shook his head, signaling 'never mind' to me before turning back to Allie.

'Anyway, what your Spanish dad and I are – very awkwardly – trying to tell you is that… if you want us to help you out, or do something for you that could make you feel better, just say the word, Allie. We know we're not the ideal parents you might had wished for, but we'll do what we can to… you know… show you that you're not alone. Not in this, not in anything.'

'Thanks, dad.' Alejo gave Lovino a grateful smile, immediately followed by a sight. 'That means a lot to me. It… it does. And I'm sorry for not telling you about Desiree. It was silly secret anyway – I should've just told you.'

'So that was your secret?' I asked him. 'That you dated France's daughter?'

'Pretty much,' Alejo nodded.

Lovino cocked his head. 'Sorry, with all due respect, Alejo, but I found all those things you told us about yourself a couple of days ago a whole lot more intense than your… French secret. Sure, I probably would've been shocked, but… I mean… y-you lost your fingers. You did drugs. Seriously – those two things were a lot more unsettling for me to find out than the whole "dating a girl whose father I loathe" -thing.'

Alejo smiled weakly. 'I know – that's why I regret not telling you about her. I mean, hell, Matteo and Luisa's secrets are a whole lot more dramatic and earth-shattering than mine, so why did I even bother worrying about mine? Ahahahaha!'

Naturally, Lovino and I made strange little choke-noises and exchanged horrified expressions.

'I feel better now!' Alejo decided, though still sounding like he had just been run over by a train – which indeed had happened, in a way – and didn't seem to notice our internal panic as he raised from his chair.

'Well!~ Now, would you like another cup of coffee or tea? I even have cake to go with that, if you'd like to eat some.'

0\0o/

'Celia! Hey, Celia – come on, leave those flowers for a sec and take a look at that, one more look, one simple, quick look!~'

Celia, my faithful employee that had been working in my flower shop since the day Kay and I had opened it, stopped arranging some flowers in a colorful bouquet, gave her customer an apologizing smile and then gave me a look that could kill puppies.

'Boss. For the last time. I don't care.'

I tore my gaze from the tiny window that allowed me to look into the kitchen-part of the annex at the back of my shop – because my shop was the front part of my house, while the back part of the house was the part where Mia and I lived – and pouted at Celia.

'But they're just so cute!~'

'I know they are cute. You constantly tell me they are cute. You even tell the customers.'

Oh, the customers!

'Mrs. Gómez!' I slapped my hands down on the counter and beamed an overly excited smile at the old lady. 'My daughter and girlfriend – my own little family – they are so cute!~ Did I tell you about them yet?'

'Gah!' Mrs. Gómez wheezed, gripping both her chest the counter for support.

Celia hissed. 'Would you stop that! She just got out of the hospital a week ago – don't yell her back in there!'

'O-oh, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!' I hastily rushed to Mrs. Gómez' side and patted her hand. 'I apologize for startling you so much – really, I do! I hope you can forgive me. Is everything okay with Mr. Gómez? And with your sons and grandchildren?'

'Y-yes, yes, thank you!' The elderly woman gave me a flustered smile as she allowed me to put her down on a chair. 'Why, Mr. Hernández. How could I ever stay mad at you? You're such a charmer!'

I laughed awkwardly at that, while aside from Celia also David – my other employee – made a 'tsssssssk' –sound and shook his heads.

'You always let him get away with everything, Mrs. Gómez. Can't you see it's that fiendish charm of his that always rains down despair on all of our heads, each and every day? That cad! Stop worshipping him!'

David was a philosophy student. He really was into Marx and Hobbes at the moment, but he apparently also liked really depressing Edgar Allan Poe-poems and even the occasional Kafka-book at times. Needless to say, he hated everything that was bright and happy, which for some people lead to the question why on earth he worked in a flower shop.

I didn't question that at all, though – I just questioned what he was talking about all the time.

'Don't ask him,' Celia had once advised me. 'It'll get him fired and he really needs the money to pay for his worthless studies.'

Well okay then!~

'Boss,' Celia suddenly said with a nod to the clock on the wall, 'it's almost time for our afternoon-break, so why don't you go join your girlfriend and daughter already? David and I'll handle the rest, so don't worry, we'll take care of it.'

I looked at the clock, and then I glanced around the shop. You could tell people were getting ready for their siesta – apart from Mrs. Gómez, there weren't any customers in the shop anymore. They'd come, certainly, but right now, it probably indeed was better to leave this one client to Celia and David.

'Okay,' I said as I took off the apron I always wore when I was working in my shop, 'but only if you promise me to leave for home as soon as you've helped Mrs. Gómez. It wouldn't be fair if you and David worked more and harder than me, while I'm the owner of this shop. Is that okay, David?'

'I despise this world. I despise this shop. I despise the UNIVERSE. And I especially despise YOU, Mr. Boss – or should I call you purchaser of emotion-manipulating objects that identify themselves as so-called FLOWERS? JUST HOW FAR WILL YOUR EVIL GO. HOW LOW OF A PERSON ARE YOU.'

'I'm actually not that short at all, you know?' I answered him, grinning cheerfully. 'I think I'm about the same height as the next random Spaniard, but you know what is strange? Raquel's got the exact same height as I have – well, maybe she's a centimeter smaller, but that's tops – so if you look at it like that, yeah, I guess I'm pretty "low"!~'

David stared at me like I had just been telling him about a razor accident – he was almost wincing, really, just not quite yet. And he had this twitch near his left eye. It was pretty interesting to watch!

'ONE DAY, I'LL LEAVE THIS FINE-SMELLING, CAPITALISTIC INSTRUMENT OF DOOM BEHIND ME – FOREVER – AND THEN YOU'LL NEVER SEE ME BACK, MR. BOSS. NEVER AGAIN.'

'Sure! After you've finished your studies, right?' I smiled friendly at him. 'Till that time comes, I hope you'll keep on strengthening my team here at Flora & Cacta!~'

David grumbled something I didn't catch, lowered his arm again and walked to the door.

'…anyways I'm off,' he said, as he held the door for Mrs. Gómez. 'I see you in about a hour or two, three, Mr. Hernández.'

'Okay!~ Bye David!~'

And he left.

'It's strange,' I told Celia while I helped her cleaning up the leftover-flower leafs and earth-crumbs on the counter. 'I can never tell what David's thinking, but I think he actually really loves working here.'

'You're strange,' Celia chuckled while snatching the leafs from my hands. 'Because one: you're still trying to understand David (and failing to do so), and two: I told you five minutes ago to go to your disgustingly cute family already. And you're still here! Now go!'

I grinned. 'But the longer it takes to go to Raquel and Mia already, the better the feeling will be when I'll finally meet up with them!~'

'Either you go chill with them or I'll go. And you know how I feel about tall, flat-chested girls…'

I gasped. Celia was attracted to women – I couldn't have her flirt around with Raquel! She'd treat Celia like a princess! And only Mia and I had the right to get treated like princesses by Raquel!

'No, no! You don't have to go, I'll go!' I therefore instantly said, making my way towards the door separating the shop from the actual house. 'I'll see you in about a few hours, Celia!'

'Works every time,' I could swear I heard Celia mutter, right before I went through the door.

RSS

'Okay! Okay okay okay okay Rakel wait wait, jusssss one thingy… YA!'

Mia, grinning widely as always when she was, well, awake, stopped attacking one of the many, many magazines in front of her with her cutesy little pink scissors and showed me an ad about…

…fish.

Tuna, to be precisely.

'Tuna,' I automatically acknowledged the fish, as if the little girl was teaching me new words, and then wrinkled my forehead, before shaking my head. 'Hmmm… I… don't think so.'

'Naw?'

'Nope. I think the taste lingers…'

'Whuh? Fissssh fingers?'

'Um, no, I mean… well I guess like those, but tuna's… no.'

'Okay!~ Ten tis gooos to the bad postah!~'

And with that, Mia slapped the sloppily-cut-out fish on the table, squirted kid-friendly glue all over it, and then smacked the poor, assaulted animal on one of the two posters on the table – the red one, therefore bad one. However, it still looked like the blue and therefore good poster had more pictures stuck on it. That surprised me, but at the same time, it was nice to realize that as well.

You see, I had a therapist now.

Or… well, maybe I should say that I was seeing a therapist right now… yeah, that sounded friendlier. Less… disturbing. Right? Y-yes, right.

I had to admit, I kind of liked my therapist. She was, I don't know, really kind and patient with me, and didn't seem to find me all that strange when I told her I was depressed because I don't know who I am, or what I like and dislike. She said that it was normal to feel that way after being raised in such a questionable manner. And besides, it even was okay to feel that way if I hadn't been raised in such a questionable manner, because people are the most interesting persons on this planet and the more they differ from each other, the more they learn from each other. That's what she said.

…I didn't really get what she was trying to say with that, but it made me feel better nonetheless, which was a clear sign of me, making progress! Oh, look at me, making progress!

Oh. A-ahum. A-anyway…

I asked my therapist what to do. I really wanted to get to know myself better, I told her, but I didn't really know how to do that. Because – this is my theory – the better I'll get to know myself, the more I'll pull myself out of my own pitfall of darkness and emptiness.

But you know what the thing is with therapists? They don't suggest anything at all. They simply ask you that same question in return.

Example! I asked her: 'What could help?' and she answered: 'Well, what do you think that could help?' and then I was all… blank stares and hollow thoughts again, because… well, she was nice and all, but was I paying her money for that?

But she explained that I needed to find out for myself what method to get to know myself better would help me the most, and my oh my, what a great practice it would be for me! Because if I found the answer to this question, I'd know myself just a little bit better, and that was what was exactly the point.

So I bought her psychological musings and went to Matteo's place, to ask him and Mia for help.

…

I mean… I felt like that was the right thing to do, since I really enjoyed being with these people. They knew me, at least a little, and they still liked me, s-so… that's what I did.

Matteo – who was more than happy to help me out – said that if he was me, he'd keep some sort of diary with him in which he'd write all the happenings down that gave me a good feeling, each and every day. No negativism – 'That's for a later stage, you're still a freshman now!~' – was allowed in this diary whatsoever, or so he made me promise, and then he went and bought me a notebook that would serve as my diary.

As for Mia, her suggestion was even more creative: I should make two posters and paste pictures, or drawings, or even random things that hadn't got anything to do with me or this practice whatsoever, on them. The blue one would only get images of things that I liked on them, while the red one would get images I didn't like.

It sounded very easy, really, and it was!

Especially when there's a bouncy three-year-old constantly flooding your personal space with all kinds of pictures, images, items and what-not. Those posters got covered more and more, every single day, and even though the posters both looked like big, almost equally messy smudges to me most of the time (Mia was creative, but she was also a small tornado), seeing them getting filled in like that still gave me a very warm and happy feeling.

I couldn't get enough of that feeling, really…

'Hey, Mia?' I folded my arms and leaned on the kitchen table a bit more, so that the front legs of the chair I sat on came off the floor, just a little bit. 'Don't you think the blue poster is getting a bit too… big?'

Mia stopped smearing tiny papery snippets of a grocery magazine all over her face and gave me a big, 'hee-you're-so-funny-when-you-say-dumb-stuff' –kind of smile.

'Tha bloo postah nevah gets two big, Rakel!~'

'You might say that,' I frowned, looking at the poster, 'but you and your father are supposed to be on it as well, and there's no more space on it for you guys now. That's troublesome.'

Mia blushed, just as heartbreakingly cute as her dad usually was.

'Ya liek us?~'

'Yes.' I looked at her strangely. 'Very much. Didn't… didn't you know?'

'Yea!~' Mia seemed to get only happier. 'Ah new! Ah new! Teeheehee!~'

I didn't know why she got so happy all of a sudden, but it sure was cute to watch – so I guess it was good.

Good!

I was about to ask Mia about… well… u-um, if she liked me as well, when all of a sudden, Matteo came in through the door – not the front door, but the door that leaded to his shop, the so-called in-between door. The front door was in the shop, I suppose, so… the living-part of the house didn't really have a front door, just that in-between door and back door they liked to call the back front door for reasons unclear to me.

But I digress.

'Papa!' Mia stood on her chair and pumped her fisted hands in the air. 'PAPA! HIIIIIIII!'

'YES! It's me – PAPA!' Matteo dramatically threw his little lunchbox on a nearby surface and spread his arms wide open while he ran to his daughter.

'Mia! Mia Mia Mia Mia Mia Mia aww you look so cute and adorable and is that glue on your cheek you so need a bath tonight!~'

'Papapapapapapapapapapappapa!' Mia spazzed, now hopping up and down. 'No baths!'

'Yes baths!'

'No baths!'

'Yes baths!'

And then Matteo had reached his daughter and swiped her off the chair, hugging her wildly but affectionately and covering her chubby little face with kisses while Mia kept giggling and saying she definitely didn't want to take a bath tonight.

For most onlookers, this somewhat too joyful reunion of father and daughter could make them want to question the sanity of both persons, but believe it or not – you get used to their enthusiastic cuddle-rituals after a few days. I felt uneasy about it first, since my parents, well, they… didn't really hug me, ever, but… seeing how happy these two individuals seemed to be, just by hugging and holding each other whenever they felt like it – it actually became something I got rather envious of.

I wish my parents had been like that. Not just like that – it's really exhausting to even watch them squeal – but… I don't know, just a bit more like that.

While I smiled and watched them, trying to ignore the fact my heart jumped against my ribcage as soon as I realized Matteo was in the same room as me, once again, Matteo apparently became aware of my gaze, since he pretty unexpectedly turned his head towards me.

He didn't burst out in another overjoyed name-mantra-frenzy, nor did he say anything else. He did something entirely different and far more nerve-wrecking.

He looked.

O-oh god.

I flushed more and more, the longer he looked – just looked! – at me, and eventually, I had to look the other way – I was afraid I might start twisting my face in the most ridiculous positions if I didn't avoid his eyes.

I then heard Matteo chuckle and say to Mia that it was almost time for her favorite television show, and while Mia greeted that newsflash with loud shrieks of joy (before sprinting off to the living room seconds later), I became more aware of the fact that I still hadn't gotten used to him, to Matteo, to everything he was and meant to me.

Love's a scary thing.

'So!~' Matteo abruptly exclaimed.

I gasped a bit – he just yelled so sudden – and jolted my face up. 'Yes, w-what is—'

I gasped some more and harder, too, when Matteo's face was a lot closer to mine than I had thought it would be, and then it happened, oh, it was so very embarrassing and stupid – I for some reason panicked, shot back, tumbled backwards, had Matteo grab me and made the chair fall right over, causing me and Matteo to roll over the carpet on the kitchen floor, like… like overripe apples or something.

I ended up on top of him, completely freaking out because god, I had dragged him down along with me, like an animal, and I totally hadn't meant to do that!

'Oh god – a-are you alright?' I panted, shaking as I attempted to get off him – I mean, how uncomfortable that must've been for him! I was all over him – that couldn't be good for his spine or head – what if he had bumped it?

'I'll get off you – just wait one more minute, then I'll… u-um… I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to… it just kind of happened, I—'

'Raquel.'

'…wh-what?'

'My Highness.' Matteo laughed softly and wrapped his arms around my waist, calmly pressing me down on him. 'Stop trying to make me fall in love with you even more already. I can't handle it.'

I got a red face and gave him a confused look. 'B-but I'm not even doing anythi—'

Matteo didn't let me finished, hooked his fingers into my shirt's collar and gave it a sharp yank, pulling my face down until our lips met. All my internal alarms started ringing and banging and falling apart and crashing through imaginary ceilings, and I halfheartedly attempted to stop him for… whatever what reason. But I eventually just… I… u-um… I-I gave in, s-since…

…w-well, I really liked it…

So I sighed a last, unsteady sigh before grasping his shirt and feeling his kind, never-hesitant body warmth heating mine up, finally closing my eyes and kissing him back – c-clumsily, no doubt, not even very sexily, either, but…

I wanted to.

Oh, did I want to.

'Raquel.' Matteo breathed a bit strangely when he managed to end the kiss, somehow, and he gave me a feverish look. 'Please stay for the night.'

'Again?' I answered, my heart's rhythm speeding up again when he tenderly caressed the side of my face, and had to suppress a laugh. 'But I've been… I haven't been home since… um… well, a… a very long time… you can't just keep on asking me to stay for the night… e-every single day…'

Matteo beamed me a bright, dazzling grin. 'Of course I can ask. I can always ask. You're my girlfriend, after all. I want to spend every single night with you!~ In the best kind of way!~'

'You're pretty shameless…'

'Y-you think?' Matteo smiled apologizingly. 'Ahahahahaha… s-sorry for that. But, well, you don't have to stay with me, if you rather go back—'

'No – oh no, I rather stay with you.' I kept quiet for a moment, gently brushing some of his dark curls out of his way too beautiful eyes. 'You make me happy, after all.'

Matteo looked up at me with eyes as big as the sun if you'd ask me, his cheeks getting redder and more flushed the more I looked at them. Then, he chuckled, tightening his embrace.

'Y-you make me happy as well!~'

'I do?' I felt my chest swelling up in a strange, but nice way. ''I-I make you happy?'

'Of course you do.' Matteo started to get up – and I wanted to assist him a bit with getting up, but he just laughed at that and managed to collect me in his arms before I could get off him, resulting in me, being kept in a rather… princessy position. You know, lying in h-his arms and everything.

It was really odd, and my annoyingly long legs and arms were kind of in the way, but I liked it, I liked it, I liked it so much, it was so nice, I just couldn't form of think of words to express how nice it felt to be treated as a… a girl. A precious one on top of that.

'Anyway,' I therefore decided to say, 'how… how's your day, so far?'

Matteo again didn't say anything, he only smiled, held on to me tighter and gently kissed my forehead, making me look at him speechlessly. But maybe that was fine. Maybe I simply wasn't supposed to say anything now – maybe I should just sit here on the ground with him and be in love.

Th-that wasn't too difficult...

\0o0/

'I think this is it,' I told Antonio as we stopped walking and stood still in front of the most fucking crazily adorable flower shop of the entire neighborhood. It had this old, antique taste and air and although the shop was fairly dark from the inside, I could already tell that this shop had been decorated with style.

Ah. Well. Good to know that my love for pretty buildings and a decent decoration had turned out to be inheritable as well. I mean, it never hurts to know what looks nice and what doesn't look nice when trying to change a simple, boring room into a beautiful chamber.

"Flora & Cacta" was stylishly written/caved into a wooden board above the door, and when we saw that, we just instantly knew this had 'Matteo' written all over it. Teo's love for flowers, plants and especially cacti had always been one of the most powerful natural forces of the world, after all.

'Ohh,' Antonio gaped as we both stared at the shop – and the many flowers beckoning us from the inside. 'This is so Matteo. It's so Matteo it hurts.'

'We should go in, but…' I frowned, approached the front door and looked through the window, '…it looks kind of closed.'

'Well, you know what time it is. He's probably having a siesta, like every other reasonable Spaniard.' Antonio looked worried. 'I'm kind of denying one of my country's most important unwritten laws right now, aren't I?'

I rolled my eyes at him. 'You are the damn country, so unless your behavior is upsetting you, nobody's hating you for being awake now.'

'And now I'm confused.'

I grinned and smacked his shoulder. 'Moron.'

'And now I'm confused and badly hurt, too!'

'Oh cut it out – just help me find a way to get into this shop already!'

Antonio gave me a weirded-out expression, watching me look around to see if there were any witnesses. 'You're seriously planning to sneak into our son's house while he's sleeping?'

'Pretty much,' I said, lifting up the ridiculously cute doormat.

He shook his head in disapproval. 'You're scary.'

'Stop calling the kettle black and look what I found, pot: a note!'

Antonio still had that "do-not-want" –expression on his face, but since he was just as curious as I was, he quickly gave in and read the little note with me.

This is what it said:

'Dear burglars,

If you have found this note, then that must mean you are trying to get in my house. Shame, shame on you! You shouldn't try to get into innocent people's houses! And shame on you for thinking I'd be stupid enough to leave a spare key underneath the mat! As if I would ever do that – I have a back front door that's never locked, so why would I need a spare key in the first place!'

'That dense idiot,' I muttered, while Antonio started to laugh.

'Now please be gone, or I will call the cops. Somehow. But I'm sorry to have disappointed you. Maybe you should come back during business hours: it's easier to get in then!'

'THAT DORK IS FUCKING ADVISING THUGS WHEN AND HOW TO ROB HIS SHOP,' I exclaimed with a stressful look at Antonio. But Antonio only laughed and now had to lean against the shop for support – he was laughing that much.

'Bye now! Have a nice day! XXX Matteo.'

'OH NO HE DIDN'T—'

'SHUT UP!' A neighbor of Matteo then shouted, somewhere above us. 'There are people trying to sleep here, you dumb tourists! Get back to your hotel! Come back around 5 PM, he'll be open then!'

An angry man was gritting his teeth at us from the second floor of the building he lived in – Antonio and I could see him right away, since he wore an incredible stupid nightcap – a fucking nightcap.

I glared at the man.

'Sweetie, don't,' Antonio said – but it was too late for that, now!

'We're NOT damn TOURISTS!' I yelled back at the old man, as loudly as I fucking could, 'and we don't need to wait until that dope opens the damn doors again – WE CAN JUST FUCKING SNEAK IN BY THE BACK FRONT DOOR!'

'NO! YOU CAN'T DO THAT! WHAT'S A BACK FRONT DOOR!'

'I DON'T KNOW BUT I'M GOING TO USE IT!'

'MANUELA!' The man now disappeared from the window. 'MANUELA, GET YOUR ASS OUT OF BED AND CALL THE COPS, SOME OBNOXIOUS TOURISTS ARE TRYING TO BREAK INTO THAT DORK NEXT DOOR'S SHOP!'

'DO IT YOURSELF, BASTARD!' a female voice cried somewhere in the house.

'Well done, Lovino, now the entire neighborhood will wake up and call the police on us. Are you happy now?' Antonio grumbled, while I hastily grabbed his wrist and dragged him with me, into a slim alleyway that should lead to the back of Matteo's shop.

'Quit your bitching – I can't stand noisy people, okay?' I hissed back.

'You're not just scary, you're funny, too,' Antonio smirked after a moment of perplexed silence. 'You're hilarious, you know that?'

I wanted to shoot a very angry look at him, but as soon as I had turned my head to do just that, I bumped into somebody.

'Oof!' I uttered, bouncing back against Antonio, 'who the fuck is—'

'I'd like to know that as well, really,' a huffy voice cut me off, and when Antonio and I looked at the figure in front of us, we were kind of surprised to find out that the thin, young woman we had crashed into hadn't fallen down on the ground. She looked so frail – but at the same time, she looked like she could tackle a giant if she wanted to.

Also, she looked somewhat familiar. Those boring, gray eyes, that lanky body, the short, black hair and the complex facial expression that resembled our former neighbor's a little bit…

'Raquel?' Antonio still beat me to it, staring at the young woman bewilderedly. 'Hey! It's Raquel! Hi Raquel! It's us, Mr. Vargas and Mr. Fernandez!'

The girl gave us a startled look, suddenly losing the surprisingly cool posture upon realizing who we were.

'S-Spain and South Italy…?'

…

Well what do you know – yet another person that seemed to know who we really were. Oh wait, of course she knew - she was a spy's kid. Whooptee-fucking-doo. I wasn't even surprised anymore.

Antonio was, though, and started to stammer. 'Y-you know that we are personifications?'

Raquel now had lost everything that had made her look tough – she now looked more like a distressed little kitten than anything else, really.

'U-um, well, y-you see…'

'Why don't you just come in first, Papa Lovi, Papa Toni?'

Matteo, out of fucking thin air or so it seemed, appeared next to Raquel and sent both me and Antonio super-duper-happy, blushy smiles. That kid was always over the moon to see us, whether it was in a normal situation or a dark alleyway. Very typical. Very weird, too.

'Hi Matteo. Yes, let's do that,' I agreed, grabbing Antonio's hand – since that poor sucker was probably only now finally realizing that she indeed was Mrs. Sanchez/Mrs. Superspy's daughter – and wanted to follow Matteo and Raquel inside.

But while Matteo excitedly started to rattle to us about… stuff, he also took Raquel's hand.

In the same way Antonio did whenever he took my hand.

And I all of a sudden knew exactly what this girl was to Matteo.

…

So he didn't only invite untrustworthy people to break into his shop, he dated them, too.

…

…

Somebody please fucking pinch me.