Oh look, I actually updated within a week. I'm sorry to say that you probably shouldn't get used to that, though, because my stupid brain had to give me a plot bunny that won't go away, so I'll be starting yet another story (it'll be a FrUK medieval!AU, in case anyone's interested).

Also, I decided (upon suggestion from a reviewer) that I'll tell you which pairings each chapter is going to be centered around as warning, in case you don't like reading about pairings you don't like. Not that I recommend skipping anything, though, since other parts of the story might not make sense to you.

So, in this chapter: RoGer (Rome/Germania) sort of, GerIta, FrUK, SuFin

Oh, and I've gone ahead and changed the rating to M for reasons you'll find out later in the chapter. I figure it would just be safe, either way.

Roma stepped through the threshold and slammed the front door with unintentional harshness. The world around him really wasn't on his mind much at the moment; he was still too overwhelmed by what had happened about two hours earlier.

He simply couldn't believe he had met Baldric again, after all this time. That kind of thing simply didn't happen…. It was the coincidence of all coincidences that it had—or not a coincidence at all. Perhaps it was fate just messing with him. Or both of them, really.

"Ciao, grandpa!" Feliciano said once he saw him walk him, waving to him with the huge plastic, forked spoon in his hand. He had made dinner—some type of pasta, obviously—and was scooping it into bowls that were out on the counter.

"Ciao, Feli," he returned, letting his huge gym bag slide off his shoulder and walking into the living room to set it down on the couch. His voice didn't hold the usual heartiness or cheerfulness, though, and his grandson realized it.

It worried him. Feliciano wasn't used to seeing his grandfather in a mood like this—actually, he didn't think he'd ever seen him serious like this. The man's voice and facial expression were closer to Ludwig than his usual self, and he looked pretty deep in thought…. And as… mentally slow as he could often be, Feliciano knew it was because of his friend's grandfather. So he hurried to finish putting the finished lasagna into bowls and carried them over to the bar at the end of the kitchen.

"Lovi, dinner~!" Feliciano called, and a few seconds later, he heard the click of his brother's bedroom door opening… and then it slamming. Roma then sighed and sat down on one of the stools, Feliciano doing the same.

"So… Grandpa, you said you'd tell me later about… that thing—"

"Tell you about what?" Lovino interrupted, having just walked in and grabbed the remaining bowl of lasagna. He frowned and narrowed his eyes at the both of them (or rather, gave them his usual face) and walked over to the counter to grab the parmesan.

Roma, looking a little surprised and flustered, honestly hadn't expected that he would have to tell Lovino as well. But in retrospect, he supposed that both his grandsons should know about this.

"Well…," he started hesitantly, "you weren't at the soccer tryouts, so it won't make as much sense to you, Lovi, but—"

"He was going to tell me how he knows Ludwig's grandpa and why they hate each other!" Feliciano cut in, almost cheerfully. Roma glanced over to him, thinking that he should probably be annoyed but then that he had made it better and less awkward for him.

"Woah, woah, woah—you knew the potato-bastard's grandfather?" Now even Lovino was intrigued. Both he and his brother knew next to nothing about their own grandfather's past from before their mother had died—it wasn't that he was super-secretive about it; they had just never asked much. So this was already pretty interesting. At once, Lovino snatched the parmesan and hurried back over to the bar to grab the remaining stool and pull it over to the side opposite the other two. "And you hate each other?"

Feliciano briefly frowned at his brother having called Ludwig a "potato-bastard," and Roma sighed.

"Yes," Roma confirmed, poking at his lasagna with a fork. "The story honestly isn't all that long, but… okay. Just listen." He took a breath and a bite of lasagna to give himself time to collect his thoughts. "Baldric—Ludwig's grandfather—and I went to the same middle school after I moved here from Italy. He always seemed pretty annoyed by me, but I made friends with him. And, well… we stayed friends for a long time. We were really close friends, too—I got into a lot of fights and he would always step in and fight for me and then tell me how stupid I was for getting myself into so much trouble."

"What, you couldn't fight for yourself?" interrupted Lovino, frowning and cutting his grandfather off from his flashback. "You're always telling us how you've always been the strongest guy around and shit…. I wouldn't think you'd ever need a bodyguard."

Roma ignored the swearing—mostly because he remembered Baldric once saying the same exact thing to him. And then he almost smiled fondly at the memory, but he stopped himself, thinking that he shouldn't be happy about any memories with that bastard.

"Yeah, well, strength isn't everything. There were obviously some guys bigger than me. Besides, it was more like he tried to keep me from getting into any fights in the first place. No more interruptions." Roma paused to roughly run his hand through his hair a couple times. "Anyway, we stayed friends all throughout highschool, and we even went to the same college. When we graduated, he was the first to get an actual job and he kept bugging me about how irresponsible I was…. Even then, I still got into a lot of fights. Usually barfights, though. Baldric and I went out to bars a lot. And he was still sort of my bodyguard. And—I didn't realize it back then, but now that I think about it, I think he was getting colder and colder towards me as time went on… and one night—I guess he completely snapped—he and I were the ones getting into a barfight. It… involved a lot of chair-throwing. And he must have been a lot stronger than I thought he was, because he ended up hospitalizing me. Later, when I was okay, I was ready to forgive him, since I'd thought he was just really drunk, but it turned out he wasn't at all. He did all that on purpose, and he wasn't sorry. And then he told me to fuck off—well, he told me that in German, actually—and I told him I never wanted to see him again. And he moved out of his apartment, so I didn't. Until today."

Once he finished, there were a few seconds of silence in which his grandsons just stared at him.

"…I think that was pretty long, actually," Lovino said bluntly. "But what are the fucking chances that that guy would go off and marry some woman, have kids, and then one of those kids would end up being the parent of the potato-bastard, and that he would end up making friends with your grandson?" Honestly, it was difficult just to wrap his head around that kind of coincidence….

"Do I need to wash your mouth out with soap, Lovi?" Roma warned him with a non-committal eyebrow raise. He never really did anything about the swearing, though, and he wasn't going to. He just felt like, as his guardian, he should at least try to get him to behave.

Meanwhile, the other one of the Vargas brothers wasn't speaking, but instead looking down at his bowl of lasagna somewhat sadly. He didn't want to think that his best friend's grandfather would do something like that to his grandfather…. He just knew that Ludwig would never purposely hurt him… would he? Ludwig would never get that fed up with him, right? …Either way, it was hard to think that their grandfathers hated each other. That made him worry that there was some established feud between their families, even though both of their grandpas had already said that there wasn't—and he really didn't want to fight with Ludwig….

Noticing that his grandson looked sad and that he was barely touching his pasta (which was actually the more worrying thing), Roma frowned, since he knew exactly why. Feliciano had always been pretty sensitive, after all….

"Hey—" He put a consoling hand on his grandson's shoulder, smiling, "Feli, it's fine, really. My relationship with Baldric is not going to affect your relationship with Ludwig, okay? You guys have been best friends for years, so what makes you think we're going to change that without even trying? Like we said, we only have grudges against each other, not each other's families."

That comforted him a bit, but not quite enough. Feliciano nodded and resumed eating his dinner, still lost in his own thoughts, and Lovino rolled his eyes at how much of a crybaby his brother was.

"And if you're really that worried," Roma went on, why don't you just finish your dinner and then go call Ludwig to ask if anything's changed? I'm sure he'll tell you that he still wants to be your friend." At that, Feliciano nodded again and started hurrying with his lasagna. "Hn… you know, I could really use some wine right now."

With that and a grunt, Roma stood up and walked around the bar to get to the pantry, from which he pulled out a bottle of white wine.

"Ooh, can we have some too, Grandpa?" Feliciano said, having seemingly gotten over what he'd been sad about and abruptly looking up from his dinner. Lovino looked over as well, eyebrows raised hopefully.

"Yeah, I guess you two can," agreed Roma, smirking a little. "But just a little, and you have to finish your dinner first.

There was a silent "Yes!" and fist-pump from the older brother, and they both emptied their bowls in less than five minutes. Roma was glad, too, since he really just wanted to be alone with his wine and his thoughts for a while. Once the boys had gotten their couple mouthfuls of wine, they both left to their bedrooms—Feliciano was going to do what his grandfather had suggested, and Lovino was going to struggle with his Spanish homework for about twenty minutes before giving up and watching TV.

Relieved, Roma poured himself half a glass of wine and sat down on the living room couch, just thinking about Baldric and trying to get rid of all the sudden stress.

There had been one major part of the story that he had chosen not to mention to them: About a month before the incident that had broken up their friendship forever, he and Baldric had slept with each other. Of course, it hadn't really been on purpose—it had been another drunken night for the both of them. But he apparently hadn't been drunk enough, because he'd remembered it the next day. And he'd liked it.

So for the following month, he'd slowly convinced himself that he might have been in love with his best friend. That had been the first time he'd had sex with a man, and it had honestly felt more right than all the girlfriends and one-night stands he'd had (which were a lot). Which was why he had felt more betrayed than anything the night that Baldric had beaten him so horribly, not only destroying a couple blood vessels but also his reputation….

In all senses, Baldric really had destroyed him. Destroyed the man he used to be, anyway. Everything had changed so much after that night… and there had honestly been times, in the beginning, that Roma missed him. But now that man was his superior at the highschool, and surely they would be seeing more of each other if only because of their grandsons' relationship….

He was kind of surprised that Baldric had ended up getting with a woman, though. After all that, he'd been so sure his friend was gay… especially considering that he had been Baldric's first, for all he knew.

Life is just really funny like that sometimes, isn't it…? Roma mused as he downed the last of his small portion of wine.

Ludwig stared at his grandfather, unsure what to make of the explanation he'd just been give. He had never thought of the man as violent, even if he had served in the German military for some time… so it was impossible to imagine him going completely berserk on Feliciano's grandfather and beating him to the point that he'd had to go to a hospital.

But he was also glad that Gilbert was at Francis's house for the time being, since he had a feeling that his brother would be overexcited by this kind of information, and he really didn't want to deal with that.

"Zare is one tsing I don't really understand…," Ludwig said slowly, frowning. "You say you snapped because he vas being more and more selfish und annoying und 'it vas ze last straw'… but…"—he narrowed his eyes and frowned more deeply—"I can honestly say Feliciano is very annoying at times, but I vould never hurt him for it. Especially not like zat."

Oh. He could tell that his grandson was disappointed in him, that he was having second thoughts about him in general… or possibly that he suspected he was lying. It made him hurt with shame, but he simply couldn't bring himself to tell Ludwig the whole and absolute truth.

"No, you vouldn't," Baldric half-sighed. "But I vas drunk. It's not my fault he decided to hold a grudge for zat. Und… you may not believe it now, but I did not hurt him as much as he hurt me."

Ludwig narrowed his eyes again, looking across the couch at his grandfather. There was something hidden there, he knew it. Something the man wasn't telling him. And he didn't think any amount of prying would get him an answer to what that was, either. But he figured that whatever he was hiding, he was hiding it for a reason, and he respected the man's desire to keep whatever it was a secret.

Still, though, he couldn't help but see the man very differently now….

"Yes, vell, I know now. I don't fully understand, but I know enough. I guess I'll just… go to my room now." Calmly, Ludwig stood up and started to walk toward the hallway. Baldric was going to just let him, but then something came to mind—

"Vait—Ludvig, are you and Feliciano… dating?"

Vhat? Vhere did zat even come from…?

Abruptly turning around and probably giving away more than he intended, Ludwig looked at his grandfather seriously. "No, it's not like zat. Ve're friends."

But Baldric could see his face turning a little red and his shoulders getting a little too stiff, which made him think otherwise. So he continued as though there had been no denial on his grandson's part: "Because I vould be completely fine vis it if you vere, you know."

"Vell, you don't need to be, because I'm not dating him," Ludwig said firmly before turning back around and leaving.

Hm. Baldric leaned back into the couch and sighed inwardly. He didn't know what that had been supposed to accomplish, anyway. Proof that his grandson liked boys wouldn't really have made him any more willing to tell him the truth—that he had (and still did) hated Roma so much for breaking his heart.

He woke up that morning in Roma's bed, completely naked but for the sheet on his lower half. His friend was lying on the other side with his back to him, hair utterly disheveled from sex and sleep. Everything from the night before suddenly came back to him in clear view—he had had much less to drink than the other man, so alcohol hadn't washed that memory away.

Of course, he was sure Roma wouldn't remember it. Baldric didn't think he would like to believe it if he was told about it, either. After all, with him constantly bragging about all the women he hooked up with… he would probably do anything to convince himself he was completely straight.

So Baldric's immediate thought was to get out of the bed and get some clothes on. When he did, though, he immediately felt the soreness in his ass that hadn't made itself known before. Gott, Roma had been relentless, hadn't he…? He wondered if that was the same with all of the women he had sex with. And then he felt almost too jealous to function, so he stopped thinking about Roma's relations with other people.

Once he was dressed, he didn't leave, but instead just went and made coffee and waited in his friend's living room. He figured that, once the other man woke up, he could just tell him that he'd crashed on the couch because he was too drunk to get home.

When Roma woke up, everything went fine and he didn't seem to suspect anything.

A few days later, however, Baldric overheard a phone call that he wasn't supposed to. It occurred to him that it might be his fault, since his friend didn't even know he was in his house at the moment—nor did he know that Baldric understood Italian, which he was speaking at the time, but what he heard pretty much canceled that out:

"Yeah, I finally got in bed with Baldric.—Unbelievable, right? Congratulate me.—I know, I never thought I'd get this far, either, but I'm really fucking glad I was able to.—That man's so… non-sexual, though, that I didn't think he had it in him, heh.—Giving it, obviously.—Well, I wanted to—"

But Baldric left in his anger before he could hear any more of that conversation. He didn't even want to know whom Roma was talking to; that was enough.

So the man hadn't been that drunk…. And he had known all about that night but hadn't said anything to him. Huh, unexpected. But him bragging about it on the phone to someone? Even more unexpected. In retrospect, though, he supposed he should have seen it. Of course that selfish bastard would only be in it for the sex and the bragging rights that came with that…. Roma never even acted like a real friend. Of course. Of course he should have expected this.

He really was a fucking bastard.

Baldric was surprised Roma had been able to settle down with a woman and get children and grandchildren. He'd always seemed so afraid of commitment when they were young…. Meanwhile, he had left to Germany as soon as he could, gotten a girlfriend, and then joined the military. All just to forget Roma, about whom he'd never told anyone. And then he'd been sent home and had a daughter, who ended up having Gilbert at a young age and then moving to America once she got married. And somehow, she had moved right into the area that Roma had apparently moved with his grandsons.

…Despite his hatred for the man, Baldric sort of wanted to know his story, too.

Tuesday's individual tryouts were somewhat of a disappointment, as it only yielded two people who had a chance of making it. Even then, Coach Vargas couldn't come to a definite decision as to whom he was going to put on the team, as there were still a lot of people to try out.

Lukas, to Mathias's great disappointment, didn't make it simply due to being too "average" on everything. Just a bit more skill, and he probably would have been considered… but he wasn't. And he was glad about it. The other one rejected was Li Xiao, who was pretty frustrated about not making the cut (but nobody could tell because his face certainly didn't show it).

However, both Arthur and Heracles were asked to stop by on Friday afternoon to see whether or not they made it, at which the former completely abandoned all subtlety.

"HA! In your frog-like face!"

Francis just kept walking and stared at the overexcited boy walking and practically jumping next to him, unsure whether to be amused or annoyed. Arthur's extremely thick eyebrows were knitted together in a somewhat angry-looking I-told-you-so! expression, and he was jabbing his pointer finger at him… and then holding up his first two fingers in what he knew was the British "Fuck you" gesture.

"Oh, super mature, Rosbif. Because of course everytsing's all about you. You're not even officially on ze team yet, and you're already jumping up and down like a deranged baboon."

"You're one to talk!" Arthur snarled back, suddenly ceasing his jumping. "You constantly get so close to people that you might be picking bugs out of their hair, and you're calling me a baboon? You just love ruining my fun, don't you, Frog?"

"Of course I love ruining your fun," he smirked. "It's what I live for."

"And it's what you're going to die for, too!"

Arthur swiped a hand across the air and hit Francis directly in the neck, and the other boy wasn't able to let out any noise of pain except for a short wheeze because of his trachea being abruptly blocked. He quickly got over it, though, and retaliated by lunging down to grab Arthur by the waist and tackling him to the ground. However, he realized that he was about to push the Brit's head straight into the cement, so he twisted himself on protective instinct and ended up landing on the ground straight on his back with the other boy on top of him.

Ugh… well, zat certainly backfired….

"The hell are you trying to do, you perv?" shouted Arthur once he was able to get over the shock, and he attempted to knee Francis in the groin. He missed and ended up hitting hip bone instead, but it still hurt. For revenge, Francis rolled him over so that he landed hard on his back on the cement—which got him a brief yelp and a harsh yank of his hair.

Heracles paid them no mind as he passed them on his way home, and Coach Vargas was standing far behind them, back past the gate inside the soccer field, just staring wide-eyed and unsure of what to do and saying to himself, "Oh my God."

"Hey, if you guys are going to stop having foreplay on the ground anytime soon, I'm ready to drive you home."

Antonio had noticed them fighting and had decided to walk up to them from his car instead of wait. Because waiting would have gotten him nowhere. It would have made for more entertainment, though….

"Yeah, alright," Francis huffed reluctantly as he pushed himself to his feet and then held his hand out for Arthur to grab and pulled him up.

"I suppose I probably should be in more of a hurry to get home…," Arthur agreed, brushing himself off and thinking bitterly of all the chores he had to do when he got home and how angry his father would be if he didn't finish them.

While they were walking over to the car, Antonio couldn't help but smirk to himself and think, Heh, neither of them denied it~.

On Wednesday, it was no surprise that both Ivan and Mathias were told to come back on Friday, considering how big they both were—though their main skills were brute force and intimidation. Toris was surprisingly very agile and had a natural skill in aiming his kicks correctly—however, his friend ended up getting too carried away and, while trying to kick a ball around the lined-up cones, directed it very fast and very hard toward the bleachers.

Unluckily enough, it headed straight for the section that Mathias's friends were sitting and watching in—for Tino's face, to be precise. The ball was going fast enough that Coach Vargas couldn't do anything, and there was hardly even time for Tino to duck—but he didn't have to because Berwald immediately sensed the danger and raised both arms to block the other boy's head, catching it directly as it was about to hit him.

As he'd only had time to flinch and close his eyes very quickly, Tino was surprised to find that he wasn't feeling the smack of a ball against his face. And then when he saw Berwald's arms in front of his face and holding the ball, he was too amazed to even thank him for a second.

"…Woah—I… thanks, Berwald…," he said weakly, and Berwald just took the soccerball out of his face and threw it back to the coach, looking as serious as ever.

"Y'r welc'me," he muttered, feeling relieved that he'd been able to stop the ball and glaring at the boy who'd kicked it. Feliks looked back and was intimidated into looking away within seconds.

"Holy… woah." Impressed, Coach Vargas looked down at the soccerball in his hands, walked over to the bleachers, and approached Berwald. "Hey—you, why didn't you try out for the team?"

Berwald stared at the grinning coach across from him, not quite sure how to respond. "I… d'dn't r'lly…"

"You have the reflexes and the build," Roma cut over him, not having really understood what he'd said anyway. "I think you should be goalie."

Woah, was it really going to be that easy…? Not that he even wanted to be on the team, but was he actually being offered a position on the team without putting forth any effort?

"Hey, you should totally do it!" Tino agreed, smiling encouragingly up at him and briefly squeezing his arm.

It was the arm-squeeze that did it. If Tino wanted him to, then Berwald was sure as hell going to do it.

"Okej, s're." He nodded and stood up, and Coach Vargas led him to the field, told Feliks that he was out, and then had Berwald go through a couple of trials just for procedure.

When the tryouts for that day were finished, Toris was thoroughly depressed that his friend wouldn't be joining him on the team and wished that he hadn't made it himself. Ivan, on the other hand, was very happy about that, and Feliks didn't really seem to care either way ("It's, like, okay—I could totes-McGotes be your cheerleader, though~!").

And Mathias was not very happy about the one member of his friend group whom he disliked joining the team. Berwald was aware of it and was very glad to be pissing Mathias off.

Sadly, Thursday's tryouts didn't turn out to give Roma anyone quite good enough except for one person, and that had been kind of a stretch. However, he did keep a couple people on for possible backup players.

Feliciano had been a little nervous all throughout Friday, as it was the day he (among others) would try out, and he'd had to be constantly reassured by Ludwig, who was getting steadily more annoyed.

He really hadn't needed to be, though, as Ludwig thought later, because he could run extremely fast and definitely knew how to play. His grandfather—ahem, the coach—gave him a congratulatory (and a little too hard) slap on the back when he was through and told him to stay on the bleachers and wait until the end.

Ludwig was told that same after his trials, which Feliciano had watched fervently, as he couldn't help but like watching his friend show off his skills. He was kind of jealous of his being so fit, too…. And the German wouldn't show it, but he was very proud of both himself and Feliciano for making it to the point where it was practically set in stone that they were going to be on the team, if not backups.

The last person to try out was Alfred, whom a lot of people were actually hoping wouldn't be on the team because of how much everyone was annoyed by him, but no such luck. Coach Vargas was much too impressed with Alfred's natural strength to tell him to go at any rate—seriously, that kid was inhumanly strong. The balls he'd kicked into the goalie net had nearly ripped it.

"Alright, that's everyone," Roma started once he was there was no one left but those he had told to stay and those he had told to come back on Friday, and he grabbed a clipboard from his table. "And I narrowed it down to the point where there won't be much room to reject anyone, so I can honestly tell you that you should get your hopes up. The members of the 2011 Freshman Boys' Soccer team are: Ludwig Beilschmidt, Ivan Braginski, Kiku Honda, Alfred Jones, Toris Laurinaitis, Heracles Karpusi, Arthur Kirkland, Mathias Køhler, Berwald Oxenstierna—as goalie, and Feliciano Vargas—congratulations, Feli~!"

He paused for a minute to let the boys fist-pump for themselves or cheer or whatever they wanted to do. Arthur stuck his tongue out at Francis, Mathias put his hand up for a high-five that he once again had to force out of Lukas, Berwald gladly allowed himself to be hugged by Tino in congratulations, Toris sighed in disappointment, and Ivan just laughed childishly in celebration.

And, sitting at the bottom of the bleachers, Feliciano let out a sort of squeal and hopped up to kiss his friend on the cheek (at which there were a few "Oooh~"s from behind them that they ignored). Ludwig immediately got a little nervous, and he couldn't stop himself from blushing slightly or his shoulders from going stiff. But Feliciano didn't seem to notice.

Coach Vargas soon told them to calm down and listed the few people that would be backups, and he then started to explain how things would go down from now on:

"Be sure to be prepared for next week, because there's practice every day for the first week of the season—including Saturday. Really, all of you are my only choices, so I can't afford to have anyone slack off or bail on me! Feel free to bring snacks. I also suggest you practice during the weekend. Your initial twenty-dollar fee is due on Monday, and your jerseys should be made and ready sometime during next week. First match is next Tuesday—home game. Any questions?"

For once, there was actually a hand in the air relatively quickly—and it was Mathias's.

"Um—friends can still be around to watch the practices, right?"

"Yes, if they want to." (At that, Mathias pulled his arm back toward his stomach in a "Yes!" and the three of his friends who hadn't joined groaned.) "Any others? …No? Okay. You're all free to go, then, and I'll see you Monday afternoon~!"

Well, that was successful, Roma thought as he walked over to his table and picked up his water bottle for a drink. Sort of. Watching all the boys leave, all of them together talking enough that the conglomerate noise was unintelligible from this distance, he honestly couldn't be so sure about this year's team. Sure, he had a few seriously skilled people like Berwald and Alfred, but he didn't think many of them were all too willing to work with others. Even Feliciano would surely need some work to make sure he could do everything correctly and have more endurance (and he was going to trust Ludwig to help him practice)…. And then there was the Kirkland kid, who always seemed angry and was just as much of a potty-mouth as Lovino, Kiku and Heracles, who hadn't seemed to talk to anyone yet, and Mathias, who was just… well, he was a lot of things. One of them being textbook narcissism.

Seeing Baldric meet up with Ludwig and Feliciano to take them home jerked him out of his thoughts for a moment, but Roma quickly shook his head and looked away. He didn't need the presence of that man in his mind getting him too angry to have his hopes for this year's team up.

I suppose I'll just have to wait and see how they work, won't I?

I think I changed my mind about making RoGer mostly platonic. Oh well. And I hope no one minds the underage drinking. Roma's just the sort of person to let his grandsons have wine with dinner, y'know?

ALSO SUFIN YAY. I know I introduced the Nordics and hinted at SuFin before, but it's more official that the arc for that pairing has begun now.

One more thing, I would love it if you reviewed~! Per favore? Bitte? S'il vous plait? Te kudasai? Qing? Pozhaluista? Pleeeeeeaaaase?