Authors note: I started on the podcast Welcome to Night Vale. Oh my gosh, it is perfect. You have to start listening to it. I mean, it's sort of like the Adam's family and Twilight Zone and all those other great oldies mashed together into one fabulous mix. Also, sorry if Antonio seems a bit OOC in this but… I'll give you the reasons later. No need to spoil your next ten minutes of reading. Also, dreams are long paragraphs in italics and between apostrophes.

Disclaimer- Me no owny Hetalia

Warning- Do I even have to post this? Cussing, of course. It wouldn't be Lovi without it.

~~~~~TOMATOES~~~~

Lovino's eyes fluttered open slightly to the morning light streaming in through a nearby window. Dust particles flew suspended in the air, and the Italian absently watched them for a while. Trying to sit up, he noticed something strange. There seemed to be a heavy, warm weight on his noticeably bare chest. That's never a good sign, is it? Turning his head, he dreaded that he might be met with a hooker, or worse, Francis. He was somewhat pleasantly surprised when it was just Antonio.

Oh, something was wrong. He shouldn't be pleasantly surprised by this. He should be in a murderous rage. Lovino focused, willing himself to come up with some stunning insult, but strangely he wasn't in the mood. That settled it. Someone had slipped him a roofie.

With that being his final decision, he shifted ever so slightly so that he was facing the spaniard. They were mere inches apart now, and the Italian could feel the elder man's warm breath. Leaning into Antonio's face, he could see his slight stubble and full lips. Then he raised his leg and kicked.

Poor, poor Antonio didn't know what hit him. One moment he was dreaming about being a dreaded pirate and the next he was on the cold, hard ground. Puzzled, he patted around himself, still half asleep. The blanket had to be around here somewhere. Finally finding the edge of the bed, he pulled the light green comforter off Lovino and onto himself. The Italian shot up and tried to grab the blanket back, but it was no use. Antonio had an iron grip and wasn't about to surrender.

Muttering darkly, the younger man curled in on himself for warmth and tried to fall back asleep. Vaguely, he wondered why he had been sleeping in boxers with Antonio. Wait, what?

Lovino launched himself off the memory foam mattress with a surprising agility and rocketed over to the green eyed man. Grabbing the man's shirt in one hand and pulling his other fist back, he roughly shook the man awake. This would usually be surprising for such a physically passive man, but it had taken him fifteen minutes to realize he was sleeping with someone. Clearly he wasn't thinking straight.

"Hey, bastard! Why the hell was I in your bed?"

Antonio slowly woke up at first, but after seeing a fist in his face his instincts kicked in. He wrestled Lovino down so that he was on his hands and knees over the much weaker opponent. Seeming to finally realize what was going, he calmed down slightly. But not by much. This guy had come into his home, slept in his bed, kicked him off the edge, and was now threatening him? That's enough to make anyone blow up.

"Why do you think? You came into my bedroom in the middle of the night and asked to sleep with me! And I was nice enough to say yes for some reason."

"Oh." Lovino said in a small voice. He hadn't actually expected the spaniard to get mad. He wasn't sure what he had expected. The Italian slightly recalled havingd a nightmare last night, but he couldn't remember for the life of him what it was about. "Uh, yeah. Of course I knew…"

Sighing, Antonio shook his head. He got up and left the room quietly. The elder had seen how scared the Italian had gotten, but he didn't feel too guilty. The guy was lucky it was morning and he was still in a good mood. Had it been any later, the kid would have gotten the bashing he deserved. There's a reason Gilbert listened to the Spaniard. One drunken bar fight was all it took.

Lovino sat alone in the room, slightly shocked. For whatever reason, his heart clenched and he felt a bit like crying. It made no sense. Plenty of nice strangers had blown him off after he gave them enough trouble, how was this guy any different? Yet his emotions and logic were obviously not on the same wavelength. Slowly gathering himself, he got up and went up the door. Taking a left, he staggered back towards the guest bedroom where he was supposed to have stayed.

He started to remember the nightmare, but as soon as he realized what it was about he tried to push it back down. No use. It seemed as if the floodgates to hell had opened, and nothing could stop them now.

'The dream was hazy at the edges, as not much needed to be recollected. A simple splash of color in the center of a vast painting. There had been a small blond boy with sky blue eyes. He had worn the funniest black hat, and the much younger Lovino had often liked to tease him for it. He distantly remembered that Feliciano quite liked this kid, to the point of him innocently stating that he was in love. Of course, their mother had nodded and smiled at this statement, their father warmly chuckling in his deep voice. Then the dream's landscape, a white portrait, suddenly turned black. The colors seemed inverted. As he stared in to the darkness, there was a shout. A sickening crunch pierced the gap, and then a splash of red across the canvas. Suddenly, the young boy returned, his sky blue eyes growing dull as he lay, his hat discarded and torn. The young boy who had traded his life for Lovino and Feliciano's. A scream ripped through the air, but Lovino couldn't remember who's it was. The looming adults gathering around? The small children who watched, not understanding? Or was it his own?'

Lovino pushed open the sandy beige door to his bedroom, still deep in thought. Nearly tripping over the pile of clothes, the room looked like someone had rushed to escape. The blanket was a tangled mess and a pillow across the dream machine or whatever it was had finally slowed to a stop. The brunet made sure to push it all away. No need to mull over the meaning of it for to long. It was a long forgotten memory he no longer had any more need for. There. Stored back in it's box on a dusty shelf of repressed emotions. Done and done.

Crouching down, he pulled back on yesterday's shirt from the mass of clothing. A sweatshirt and his pants came up with the pile, an afterthought. There, now he was presentable to society.

Feeling around in his pocket, he made sure the flash-drive with his presentation for class was there. The Italian thanked his lucky stars that his past self had thought ahead and saved it in case something went wrong. He couldn't afford to fail this course. Glancing up at the clock, Lovino was glad he had arranged his schedule so that is classes were at noon. It was almost impossible for him to be late.

Walking down the hall, he supposed he should apologize to that tomato bastard. Seeing that more serious side of him (Which was very tame compared to when Antonio really got worked up) made him realize he really didn't want this guy for an enemy. Apologizing really wasn't Lovino's style, but he would bow down and grovel if it meant he could stay out of nasty situations. He really didn't need anymore foes.

Lovino casually strolled through the doorway in an attempt to look natural and totally not like he was eating whatever atomic size of pride he had left. These last few days really had it out for him.

The brunet was then assaulted by a very…interesting sight.

It seemed that Antonio had gotten over their waking encounter, as he was now in a stunning dress. You got it right, a dress. A red skirt flowed around his ankles, ruffles adorning it's bottom, with a tight scarlet top. There was a scoop neck that stopped just short of his shoulders, with tight sleeves that ended in more ruffles on his mid-forearm. A "traje de flamenca" (An outfit traditionally used for the flamenco) that looked surprisingly good on him. Like, really good.

Francis had followed his lead. The man was in a baby blue dress that looked like it belonged in medieval times. It had a layered skirt with a white trim on the edges. His gown had a white coat shown between the surcoat of his dress, frills adorning it's outline. The sleeves, much like Antonio's, ended mid-forearm, also with white ruffles. His long hair was tied back in a ponytail by a large baby blue bow. Strangely enough, he looked quite comfortable in the dress.

Finally, there was the ever-so-awesome Gilbert. An unidentified yellow ball sat in his hair and cheeped as he finished tying his boots. The white blouse went down to just below his knees, with puffed sleeves on his biceps. There was a black bodice over the blouse, with a full skirt and pitch apron to finish off the look. A german dirndl. (A traditional german dress. You know, like those dresses that milkmaids used to wear?)

"…What are you doing?" Asked Lovino, not sure he actually wanted to know.

"Dressing up as fabulous women." All three chorused. As if that weren't already obvious.

"Did someone put you up to this?" Hopefully this would easily explained as a lost bet or a dare. Please. Something not completely mind-fucking. Just a straight up, easy answer.

"Hm? Nah, Mathias and Alfred invited us to this awesome party down the street. If you don't bring beer, you have to cross-dress." Answered Gilbert as he finished lacing his knee-high boots.

Mathias and Alfred? Oh, lord no. Those party animals knew these hooligans. A meeting between these two groups could only mean chaos. And with that he was off, rushing himself out the door and completely forgetting the owed apology. That was going to come back and bite him. Hope he's got his rabies shots.

Authors note: Did you like the dream scene? I tried to make it as vague possible. Sortofnotreally. Anyways, long story short, a young boy had saved Feli and Lovi by pushing them out of the way of 'insert dangerous object here' and died in the process. Can you guess who? Hint hint: do you really need one? I sort of spelled it out with the hat, blond hair and blue eyes, and the fact that Italiano had a crush on the kid. Just to let you know, the Vargas's parents are alive and kicking. They just live in another state. You'll be sure to hear from them sometime soon, don't worry.

Also, the deal with Spain. I don't really think he was too OOC, but some people are used to the ever-so-cheerful country of sun and passion. Here's the thing. After Spain first received Romano, he tried to trade him for Feliciano. Obviously they didn't hit it off so well. So no immediate magical crush on Antonio's part. I'm not really the type to give someone a love complex without reason, and Romano has been really grating on the guy. I know I would have snapped long before, and Toni's not actually a country in this. Antonio hasn't lived as long or interacted with as many people. Only 26 years to 2000. So, long story short, Lovino's lucky Antonio hasn't booted him into next week.

Lovino's relationship with the rest of the trio is almost nonexistent. He's afraid of France and unsure of Gilbert, though his anger issues sort of taint this overall view. I'm trying to get his actual attitude towards characters in line with the real ones. Though I will shift things around for writings sake and make sure that Romano isn't terrified of freaking everyone. Seriously. I mean, America, Britain, Russia, France, everyone who I hold near and dear to my heart… Why must you make things so hard? Ahh well.

In case you haven't noticed, Lovi's falling for Antonio. Mm-hmm. The emotionally retarded man is falling for the guy who doesn't particularly like him. Now then, I hope the drama will just get off it's lazy ass and hurry up. I can't stand all of this rising action.

If you made it through this author's note, I commend you. Congratulations! I know I would have skipped. I have such double standards…

Reviews please! I don't believe you realize they mean the world to me. Remember, none of us get paid for this. Therefore, I need another motivator. And your opinions are a really good motivator! XP

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May lollipops fall from the sky and all turtles fly,

LollipopTurtle