Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.
Note: I would be using their character names, mostly. This is an AU fic—a very AU one. Also, I would like to apologize early for any out of character behaviour and/or poor plotting.

..

Deciding to try and lose the stench of petrol and smoke (and whatever foul odour was back in the alleyway) on him, William walks towards the stalls of fresh and bountiful food ahead of him.

As one walks towards the middle of the marketplace, they could find a wide, open space with a few numbers of tables and chairs by the centre of it all. Sitting by one table, there is an old woman reading a book; on another, there are three men—the two brunets looked as if they were in a disagreement of some sort, but the taller blond sat quietly with an annoyed look on his face.

It seems a little bit too early for an argument, wouldn't anyone else agree?

Slightly curious to know what was going on, William decides to walk towards their direction as if he was just passing by. Getting nearer to the other three, he could hear both familiar and unfamiliar words of Italian bouncing between the two brunet men—"Quell'uomo…merda—non posso lavorare così tanto!"

The one who had said that looks to be someone one could easily anger; the other, however, looks a bit carefree and rather simple-minded. Both of the Italians are wearing clothes that are in the latest trends in Italy while the third man is sporting a suit...one could (easily) tell that the third one tends to be stern and serious.

As William becomes more interested with the other three, he decides to stay for a little longer—maybe they would do something entertaining. The Englishman sits on a chair that is just two tables away from them. Glancing at the talking two, he concludes that those two are brothers…the stray hair that curls at the end that each of them has is surely something responsible from genetics.

The other blond soon notices (almost immediately) the Englishman looking at their way, but he is then yelled at by one of the other two sitting with him at the table. "You're the one who did it, I just know it!"
"Romano, Ludwig will never do such a thing—sono contrario!"

The two Italians went back into speaking their native language, again. The man referred to as 'Ludwig' sighs deeply— you could now tell that he is of another nationality, as well.

The talk about this man who is in trouble (William could only understand as much Italian as that) seems to be going in circles. Romano would continuously accuse Ludwig while the brother—who is now known as 'Veneziano'— would, in turn, disagree with the other Italian. As the argument goes from one minute to the next, the Englishman is already completely bored with them.

Standing up from his chair, William now sees all of the many stalls around him open for business. He assumes that the time now is somewhere around eight, or so—he's been here long enough to know when shops usually open (which doesn't take much time to figure out, really).

Already walking towards a random direction, William now notices someone approaching the three men; he knows that another person has joined the group, but the Englishman didn't bother to look at who it is—his mind is now thinking about a clothes shop that he might be able to buy at.

He did burn his other set of clothes down at the alleyway, remember? It would also be very much inconvenient for him to walk (practically naked) around his apartment whenever he should wash the clothes he is currently wearing. Also, it's beginning to become a bit cool; he has no jacket or coat, whatsoever.

"…William?" a familiar voice blurts out. The Englishman turns to see that it was actually Kiku who has entered the scene. Giving a small wave at the other, William now gets the attention of the other three that he was listening to (he really wasn't eavesdropping … he just wanted to have a little fun in the morning. Besides, their voices could be heard even if he hadn't bothered himself into hearing them).

Suddenly, one of the Italians—Veneziano, was it?—comes up to William and looks at him with curious, child-like eyes. He looks at the Englishman's face then slowly looks down as if to see what the other's shoes are; he then moves to face the taller man's back and runs his hands on the other like an artist would as they shape a clay sculpture.

Evidently uncomfortable with it, William looks questionably at the others as if begging to hear a reasonable explanation from them—Romano shouts a few questions at his brother, Kiku only continues to look oddly at Veneziano, and Ludwig's expression looks to be as if he's seen this before and it's just an everyday occurrence to him.

Whether Ludwig's look should make William feel better or not, no one was sure. The Englishman blushes awkwardly as the other's hands touch his waist then goes down to his legs.

As the inspection (William will have no other word call it as) is done, the Italian begins to look at the other as if making a decision of some sort. With a wide smile—he grabs the Englishman and starts pulling him into another direction. "You need a bit of work, but I want you to try something on, ve?"

--

The next thing the Englishman knew was that he is now shoved into a room whilst having to carry a careless pile of clothes in his arms. As the door closes, he looks around and sees that the place does not look very much like stereotypical twenty-first century business headquarters (he asked); it just looks like a room meant to be in a magazine.

Looking at the shirt he was given to wear, the same label as the ones found on Kiku's clothes could easily be spotted in contrast with the dark colour of the fabric. No wonder why the other's clothes were from one designer—his friend (and boss) is the one who made them.

Not only does William realise that Veneziano is also 'Feliciano' (and that Romano is 'Lovino'), he knows that the Italian runs a multi-million dollar company; he also recalls hearing that that person is also the grandson of a former politician—

In short, the Englishman has walked right into a rich man's territory. That's rather lucky of him.

Suddenly, his eyes stop at a binder that lay on an end table. He soon goes over to it and flips it open—two individual pictures of women wearing intricate clothing are posing like the professionals they are meant to be (William knows that these are obviously models).

He turns the pages a few more times only to stop at the photo of a man with brown hair and matching brown eyes. The model is smiling broadly at the camera whilst carrying a wicker basket full of tomatoes; the background turns out to be a vast plantation of the same berries, fruits or whatever it really is. Unlike the previous pages, however, the picture looks as if the man was photographed showing a candid side of him—as if he hadn't been told that someone was about to take a photo of him.

If that's so, then why is it that the smiling man's picture is in the binder? The Englishman turns the pages once more to take note that the candid air is consistently felt in every photo where the model is in. He closes the binder to change into the clothes that was now scattered on the floor—

William now notices a picture frame at the same end table; Feliciano is caught waving at the camera, and the model is hugging a scowling Lovino from behind (neither of them are looking at the camera... it must have been what a person would consider calling a 'stolen shot'). The Englishman realises one more thing then smirks amusingly to himself as he looks more into the background that shows a familiar Spanish mansion.

Ah, it's the same person he framed— "Antonio, I do bid the best of British to you behind bars."

..

I do not speak any Italian, whatsoever; I don't mind anyone correcting me.