(A/N: LO SIENTO, MY-O READERS-O! *Gratuitous Spanglish* It has been a really, really crazy week. My dog was in surgery, but he's totally fine now. ^o^ Yay. And to make up for the wait, this drabble is really long. I don't know why, though, cause when I first saw the picture this is based off of, I thought, 'I won't have much to say/write about this one...

Thanks to my very very wonderful reviewers: Mamma Russia, The Fairy Cake, and Zelda-FF! You guys are an inspiration who caused me to waste my only free time (between school and taking care of my dog) writing stories! Wait, not thank you, it should darn you! It's school time now!

Anyhoodles, this chapter's RomHun was requested by Mamma Russia. I don't own Hetalia or the pictures that these drabbles are based off of, though if you want to see the aforementioned pictures, drop me a line! *shot for using old lingo*

Vlad Stănescu = Romania. Vlad, cuz, well...duh. Stănescu because Wikipedia's list of famous Romanians has, like, 10 Stanescus.

Please-o enjoy-o...don't expect too much :D)

There were many things in this world that Eliza hated: Gilbert, women chasing after Roderich, Sadiq, women chasing after Roderich, and being underestimated because of her gender...but she hated nothing more than Vlad Stănescu.

#Their shared history was long and complex, but the simple phrase, 'They hated each other' was a rather good summary. Except for the fact that it was the understatement of the century.

Eliza had named rabies-ridden mutts after the blasted Romanian. She had written novels on the very subject of her intense hatred of Vlad. And he had done nothing less to express his hatred of her, of course.

Indeed, if Eliza brushed all complicated feelings aside, she could summarily say that she and Vlad carried mutual hatred for each other. Nowadays, the loathing between the two was rather comfortable, and unless they directly exchanged glances, conflict could... usually... be avoided. Because of this relatively safe stalemate, (not a truce, never a truce) Eliza had to wonder why the cursed man found it fit to be waiting on her doorstep when she arrived home that evening.

Eliza was carrying bags of delicate groceries, and her darling Roderich was still sitting calmly in the car, waiting for her return. Nonetheless, when she saw her enemy's face, her own face broke into one of barely-contained rage. She dropped the grocery bags immediately (only slightly wincing when she heard eggs crack) and withdrew her frying pan from one of the bags.

Vlad stood up from his perch on her steps (*she'd have to scrub them clean later*) and eyed the frying pan with levity, as if it were a mere toy. This infuriated Eliza further - anyone who knew what was good for them feared the frying pan. Vlad obviously didn't fit in with this group of people who valued intelligence and self-preservation.

Eliza smirked, because this made her job easier. She raised the frying pan over her head...

Vlad Stănescu was a man of contradictions. Or at least Elizaveta made him act that way. Vlad knew his limits, picked his fights, and thought things through carefully. Except when faced with Eliza, it was almost as if there was no future, only the present. And so Vlad thought little of consequences, preferring to rush into battle and act on impulse alone when he came face to face with the easily angered brunette. Rational thought flew out the window as he side-stepped the dreaded frying pan and grabbed a fistful of her caramel hair.

"Fuck...you..." she breathed out raggedly as she struggled to escape from him. He only tightened his grip and laughed as she glared at him, her frying pan starting to slip from her fingers. He had almost missed her. Fighting her, that is. He assured himself that his body was getting out of shape and craving a nice skirmish. NOT craving to see her. Another thought that tumbled around in his head when she cussed him out and he grabbed her hair was, 'That voice belongs to me. Her hair belongs to me.' He had trouble tying such a thought to hatred in his mind, but weakly explained to himself that she had no business being a country- she might as well have been Romanian territory. It was only natural that he considered Eliza his!*

He only realized he had been lost in thought when she bashed her forehead into his. Hard. "Bitch!" he called out, cradling his head. Despite the curse word, a mischievous smirk played on his lips, revealing his one fang.

Elizaveta smiled and threw a corkscrew punch to her foe's gut. He expectedly recoiled and backed away from her, but she was only getting started. As the two began to exchange blows and parries, she at first attempted to convince herself that she was not enjoying the fight. Eliza was a respectable housewife for her beloved Roderich, and her days of combat were over (unless certain Frenchmen or un-awesome losers were totally asking for it). She left the warrior lifestyle behind long ago, so why was she engaging in this very unladylike behavior now? Why had she started the battle herself, even?

As Eliza took a sweep to the legs and fell to the dirty sidewalk, she stared at the Romanian's face. He smiled smugly down at her. Although the very image of his face usually made her sneer and spit on the ground, now, that same face was actually making her excited. She reached for her frying pan, which had been abandoned for the majority of the fight, and she looked up at the man with a similar smile. Her eyes told her enemy that she was looking forward to this fight as much as he was.

He offered her a hand and she could only guess that he was being facetious. So she kicked him in the shin and pulled herself up, casually tossing her favored weapon around in her hand. Thoughts of pianos, dresses, and maidwork completely escaped her mind as she reverted back to the way she had always truly been at heart. It was the rebirth of Eliza the warrior. And Vlad's mind completely denied enjoying her return.

There was the faint sound of footsteps coming up the driveway. Eliza at this point noticed nothing but the frying pan in her hands and the blood dripping from the corner of Vlad's lips.

But Vlad turned in the direction of the footsteps and his grin grew even wider, if possible. Elizaveta at this stage had lost almost all reason and would probably not even register who she was beating the snot out of. That just wouldn't do for Vlad. If...no, *when* he were to triumph over his hated enemy - for what Vlad would say would be the umpteenth time - he wanted her to know it. He wanted her to be fully aware of who he was as he proclaimed victory over her. So he did the only thing he could think of that would both snap her out of her warrior rage and cause her ultimate defeat.

Eliza and the person walking up the driveway suspected nothing as Vlad pulled Eliza closer to him by the arm...and pressed his lips against hers.

All Eliza knew when she came to her senses was that she was standing in the middle of her driveway, kissing her archnemesis. It was the most unpleasant feeling in her life, she thought. Then she turned around and she her husband, Roderich, his face buried in his hands and forgotten grocery bags by his side, and she corrected that first notion. Seeing Roderich like that was definitely the most unpleasant feeling in her life. And while the sneaky rat, Vlad, had snuck off and she left by herself with an upset Roderich and a pending explanation, she thought she could also vaguely remember the most pleasant feeling in her life. For a second, she almost felt like she was back in her childhood, thinking she was a boy and challenging anyone who dared question her strength. But the moment was fleeting, and she forgot it immediately. All she knew was that Vlad was going to pay for this.

(A/N: Urm...this one feels kinda disjointed to me, the way it keeps switching perspectives and their thoughts are so rambly. It's like: HUNGARY'S THOUGHTS, RANDOM FIGHTING, ROMANIA'S THOUGHTS, RANDOM FIGHTING, OH HELL LET'S THROW IN AUSTRIA BEING A PUSSY AS WE;;. [ I swear I don't talk the same way I type...I'm slightly more normal in person. :| ] But I did get in what I wanted to, which was that Romania brought out Hungary's "true self" or some such crap, and that they..enjoy?...fighting. :'D Please don't shoot me. I feel like I'll probably edit this later on, when there's no school and the week isn't THIS FRIGGIN HECTIC. *falls asleep on keyboard* Oh, and you really have to excuse me about Romania. I took so many liberties with his character, because we haven't seen him or his personality. -._-.

Also, I have several of these "heterotalia" drabbles already written. I have AmeBela, AmeViet, AustraliaWy, AusHun, BelaRus, EngBela, FraSey, JapTai, JoanFrance, PolHun, PruHun, RomanoBelgium, UkrRus, and VietFra drabbles prepared. Please leave a review saying which of the previously listed pair you would like to see next,and I'll try to post a drabble accordingly.

THANKS SO MUCH FOR READING!(If you actually just scrolled down here and haven't read the drabble, well... D':) PLEASE REVIEW AND I WILL MARRY YOU OR STALK YOU UNTIL YOU AGREE TO MARRY ME!)