Authors not: HI! Sorry about my hiatus- stoppy story- unhappiness thingy! I got a nasty grade in geometry on my report card, so my parents took away my computer as punishment, but I'm back and better that ever, baby! WOOH! Okay.

Warning: Cursing. Really? Do you guys still even read this?

Disclaimer: Hetalia belongs not to me, but to the ever-beloved

Hima-papa. So sorry.

Antonio's POV

~~~~~~~TOMATOES~~~~~~~~

The young man frowned as he heard the racket coming from the living room. It sounded like the little Italian had decided to declare war upon his poor phone. This really wouldn't do. It may have been an older model of a home phone with a cord, but it was a good older model of a home phone with a cord. After all, it still worked, which was unusual after the tirades that Gilbert and Francis usually set upon it. Most phones only lasted two weeks, two and a half tops, but this one had stuck around for three months.

Getting up from his relaxed position on his armchair, he made his way to the pandemonium. This guy was supposed to talk for five minutes and leave, no questions asked. Sure, the spaniard felt a bit guilty about the whole door-locking situation, but it wasn't really his fault, was it? Feet all but dragging, it was a slow, gloomy procession. Using his shoulder to push the swinging door open, he made his way into the other room. Then halted.

Suppressed giggles turned to chuckles, which turned to full out deep-throated laughter. Practically doubling over, he watched the red faced Italian try to get untangled from the wires. It seemed as if Lovino had gotten into a fight with the cream home phone and was losing terribly. He was slumped against the counter and had somehow completely trapped himself inside a cage of knotted bits and ends. It was truly a piece of art worthy of the MOMA. Staggering forward, the curly haired man bent down beside the little tomato faced man to help.

Lovino suddenly seemed to have noticed the green eyed man. "What are you laughing at, cazzo? Your shitty phone attacked me and you're standing there? What kind of host are you?"

Antonio tried to stop his fit to no avail. "Lo siento, mi amigo! It's just, how does someone get to that position?" He choked out between snickers. The younger man scowled at the elders good humor.

"Who the fuck cares? Help me get out of this. Where'd you buy this thing from anyway, hell?"

That was actually a valid point on little Lovi's part. The seller on eBay from which this particular item had come from had been rather shady, and every once in a while it rang and no one was on the other line. It was really kind of creepy. But in the end it worked like a charm, so it didn't really matter whether or not it was possessed. As long as it didn't rack up there phone bills any higher than what Gilbert and Francis created, the small ghost was welcome to call to it's little hearts desire.

Kneeling down, he tried to un-knot the wires.

"Stop struggling, this will only take a moment." The spaniard had to get some wires out of Lovino's hair. He somehow had gotten them hopelessly entwined together.

"Ow, watch it! That hurts, bastard."

"Just hang on, I'm almost done."

If this had been a movie, the spaniard would have had a friend with a questionable sexuality run in after hearing this conversation from afar. They would then ask, without taking in the actual circumstances, how the spaniard had gotten the hot neighbors tight little ass. This, however, was not a movie, so the friend's sexuality was quite obvious to any onlooker who had the unfortunate luck to encounter him.

"Oi, Antonio! Score! You got him laid after only a day! Not a new record, but still pretty good."

The tanned man looked up, nonplussed. He had gotten used to his german friend's antics, and he was pretty much immune to this charade. The Italian, who looked as if he were going to have a heart attack soon, obviously wasn't.

"What are you talking about, bastard? As if I would get together with this guy!"

"Well, at least your first answer wasn't 'I couldn't, I'm straight' so there's still hope!"

This really seemed to hit a mark. "What the hell are you talking about, fuckhead? What does my sexuality have to do with anything?"

"Ah, defensive. So, masochist or sadist?" The albino said as he leisurely slumped down next to the Italian, elbowing him slightly in the ribs and giving a shit-eating grin.

"Gilbert, I think you may have broken him."

The poor brunet, who was still ensnarled, seemed to have malfunctioned. He had started babbling a string of indiscernible words- actually, was that Italian?- in rapid fire. Then, seemingly realizing no one could understand a thing he was saying, he switched to english. It was still too fast, and neither of them could make out a thing. Shrugging away the matter, since the Italian would probably be able to afford a therapist, Antonio finally got the last wire unraveled. Immediately leaping up, all grace seeming to have deserted the boy, Lovino clumsily tried to run away, only to be stopped.

Wow. This really was deja vu, wasn't it? History was supposed to repeat, but not this soon. The young man grabbed the hand on his shoulder and tried to pull it off, only managing to make them both drunkenly collapse on a nearby sofa. Gilbert smirked as the Italian landed with an 'oof' on his lap.

"Eager to cut to the chase, huh?" He asked, patting the flushed man on his head. Antonio groaned slightly and went to save the damsel in obvious distress before the little guy had a hernia.

A dead man in the living room would look nasty, no matter the reason. Judging from Lovino's expression, though, maybe the oblivious idiot he was sitting on would be the one he would have to clean up. Getting bloodstains out of the carpet was hard.

"Let the nice neighbor go before he kills you." Antonio said in a firm voice, as if he were talking to a dog. This, he had learned, was pretty much the only way to get Gilbert to do anything. It was really the only time he ever sounded even slightly strict.

Reluctantly, Lovi was released. In a whirlwind comparable to the Tasmanian Devil, he was gone.

"Gil, I think you're the reason no one in this complex visits."

"What're you talking about? I'm fucking awesome. It's Francis who drives them out. He's the raging pervert."

The irony of that statement seemed to go unnoticed by either of the roommate as they watched the open door from which the Italian had ripped through swing slightly in the breeze.

~~~~~TOMATOES~~~~~

Lovino's POV

Sweet Jesus on crackers, what was wrong with those people? Something was seriously wrong when that Spanish bastard was actually normal when compared to those bastards of roommates he had. No, bastards wasn't creative enough. These guys were in a class of there own. A trio of hooligans.

Let's see, there was that french pervert, who is now on and forever named wine-fucker. That worked, as long as you didn't think to much on the meaning of it. And that german guy, Gilbert, right? What was it with all these fucking germans? Anyways, he was now hailed as the Prussian-bastard. Why Prussian? Who knows. It just seemed to stick. And lastly, that fucking annoying (And admittedly hot, nononono we are not going down that road mister you have had your doughnut privileges revoked!) Spanish guy would now be called tomato-bastard. Honestly, tomato's were amazing, but being an illegitimate child of a fruit was really nothing to be proud of. And all together they were the Bad Touch Trio.

(There was a problem with naming these guys, though. After all, it's a well known fact that once you name it, you start getting attached to it. Or, you know, it wriggles it's way inside your life like a tapeworm and feeds off your nutrients, and therefore becomes attached to you. The end result is usually the same, though. Messy and full of pain. Lovino should really start watching Disney. He could learn an awful lot about life.)

Authors note: And there you have it, folks! A glorious confusion of 26 letters and a few symbols mixed together to create this monstrosity! Somehow, I'm not happy with this. I really wanted to advance this plot a bit further. That'll just have to wait. *sigh* There was supposed to be some awkward pre-relationship fluff in this! *her sighs have now turned to wails of agony and disappointment* Also, should I change the genre from drama to humor? Because I don't think there's been to much angst so far, but I don't know if this is actually amusing or if it's all in my strange little head.

Thanks for reading and see you on the flipside! Reviews are my triforce of power! PLEASE! Love y'all.

May lollipops fall from the sky and all turtles fly,

LollipopTurtle