Authors note: So… yeah. Nothing vital to report on. Just to let you know, when nothing happens, I, the author, feel the need to make smart-ass comments in my stories. There aren't many, but I'm not about to go back and delete them. Oh, yeah! I almost forgot. Just watched Hotarubi no Mori e! Really nice movie, totally didn't make me really cry for the first time in three years. If you're in the middle of a breakup, watch this movie. It'll make you feel A LOT BETTER. (About how your life is.)

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia

Warning: Cussing

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

Lovino looked down in disbelief at his receipt. Fucking cheap-ass insurance. Refusing to pay for water damage because unnatural causes don't come with the the clause. Not his fault that he didn't think that being "locked out of the house by a fucking annoying neighbor only to break back in and find out the cat has flooded it" was necessary in fine print. That should be left unsaid. Even the constitution stated it. Implied powers from the expressed. Goddam lawyers, always finding loopholes.

Sitting heavily onto his couch on his newly dried rug, he heard a squawk as Micina shot out from under him. Served her right. She's the one who got him into this mess. Lovino should have called a locksmith. Only a couple hundred to get in and stop the water, instead of a thousand dollars to dry it all back up.

The horror, the despair, the fucking second job he'd have to get.

This called for gallons of alcohol in which to drown his sorrows. Grabbing the keys off his granite countertop, next to his newly refurbished cabinets and sink (Now toddler, cat, and idiot-proof), he walked out. The Italian was very careful to double-check that he had everything. No need to recreate that particular mishap.

Opening his formerly-scarlet-458-Italia-Ferrari-now-silver-Ford-Mustang, he almost teared up. His beautiful baby, now sold to afford his apartment. It had been a stunning gift for his seventeenth birthday from his filthy rich uncle. (Who was now in jail for reasons the FBI wouldn't discern)

Driving in this… monstrosity couldn't hold a light to what he used to have. It didn't have the same power to go from 0 to 120 mph in six seconds. The rush of adrenaline you got when you stomped down on the gas pedal, the looks of awe and envy from peers. Nope. This car would do in a practical, everyday situation, but Lovino was far from practical. He wanted the sleek and stylish wonder he had once owned, dammit.

Feliciano, lucky bastard, still had his gold Lambourghini Veneno. But that wasn't the point. This story is about Lovino, not his little bro.

About twenty minutes later, the brunet arrived at a structure of forgotten woes and blind happiness. The bar. It was a white brick building, not a stereotypical alley, thank you very much. Modern and chic, with long windows showing a dimly lit wooden floor and a sparse crowd, it was located in the good side of town. No need to get drunk and mugged. He almost smiled as he walked in through the revolving doors. (That's got to be a pain to crawl out of when shitfaced.)

Sitting on a black vinyl swivel chair in front of the bartender, thankfully no one he knew, he ordered a martini. A perfect, wet vodka, shaken and straight up on the rocks, martini. Might as well start strong. As the delicacy was being created, he scanned the area around him. Nice, quiet, and as homey as a bar could be. The nearest person was an elderly man two seats to the right nursing his gin.

Suddenly alert, he looked around again with more purpose. His spidey-senses were tingling. Not really, but there was a damsel or a really feminine man in distress in the near vicinity.

"Hey, hold my drink for a sec, would ya'? I forgot something." He asked the bartender. The young blond woman, uninterested, nodded vaguely as she raised her hand flippantly.

"Sure, sure. Not like I have anything else to do."

"Grazie, bella." He responded as he hurried out. Now then, where was she? He was, after all, a defender of beautiful ladies all over. Especially damsels who would swoon over him as he swooped in.

A emphatic voice called rose from around the corner. "I must insist that you leave me alone, you disgraceful hooligans!" A young woman shouted, her face flushed. She had long, rich chocolate hair that was slightly pulled back, a amethyst holding it in place. An old-fashioned white dress with a light purple trim and a single flyaway hair were adorned, giving her an elegant appearance. The creep who blocked her way, gripping her left arm, smirked.

"C'mon pretty lady, I just want to buy you a drink or two." Oh, how dull. Typical thick-headed gorilla. No character development at all. For shame!

Leaning against the wall and exuding a cool guy attitude, you could practically see the sparkles coming of of Lovino.

"Can't you see you're upsetting the lady, you asshole?" he called arrogantly. The stunning woman in front of him shot him a grateful smile as the man's attention was diverted. He turned and let go of the woman's forearm. Finally able to reach into her handbag, the brunette pulled out… was that lipstick? As the man in front of her screamed in pain, Lovino became aware that it was not Coral Blue number 5 semi-lip gloss, but was, in fact, a taser. Interesting.

The elegant lady hurried up to him. "Thank you for the assistance, sir. It was of a great duty on your part." And with a peck on the cheek, she was gone into the bright afternoon sun, an angel in disguise.

Score one for the Italian.

Happily walking way from his scene of heroism, I'll let you guess. Yep. He was stopped by everyone's new favorite gorilla. The Fates were probably up there laughing their asses off as Lovino suffered.

"Where do you think you're going?" The noticeably really buff fellow demanded as he pushed the younger into a conveniently placed alleyway.

Now was the time when the protagonist realizes that he is weaker than his little freaking brother, and often hid behind him in times or great fear. Oh, the majestic bravery that is he.

As the gorilla with awful, rank breath loomed over the (totally not shaking in fear dammit!) brunet, he shut his eyes tight.

Just to let you know, Lovino was in a position where the giant in front of him wouldn't allow him to knee, kick, or otherwise harm him. Also, it wouldn't do much damage since the tomato enthusiast was born for speed, not strength. Or brains, but that's a whole other matter. Just so you don't scream at his utter lack of common sense.

~~~~TOMATOES~~~~

Antonio watched the scene unfold as he sat outside the café, calmly drinking his cappuccino. It was surprisingly decent of Lovi to step in for that woman. Maybe he wasn't as much of a dick as he had thought.

The floored man, with multiple piercings and a tattoo across his arm that spelled "Your dead" with no apostrophe, slowly crawled back up. The fair dame kissed the amber-eyed man on his cheek, and the student's face bloomed into a tomato crimson. The young man watched with a dazed smile on his face as the brunette waved a slight goodbye, hips swaying as she sashayed away.

The spaniard had hoped that Ugly would slink back to whatever hole he crawled up from, but nope. The sorry kid really had it in for him. Wonder which gypsy he pissed off?

When the wanna-be gang member's hand clamped onto his neighbor's shoulder, the emerald-eyed man sprang into action. Vaulting over the iron fence that separated the outdoor dining area from the sidewalk, he raced across the street. Nobody was getting hurt on his watch. At least, nobody he knew and could consequently be sued for, since he didn't intervene.

As he saw the terrified Italian's face, his heart melted into a sappy puddle. Okay, now this was personal. Lovino was too cute to be bruised. Walking down the alleyway, he grinned. He wasn't to prone to violence nowadays, but that was the key part. Nowadays.

~~~~~TOMATOES~~~~~

Lovino saw his damn neighbor out of the corner of his eye. Goddamit, even in this situation the tomato-bastard was beaming. But something wasn't right. He was smiling brightly in the way the Hannibal Lector might, or the Cheshire cat. It wasn't a happy smile, or at least a sane one. The man's eyes were narrowed in a way that chilled the Italian to the bone.

"Hola, amigo mío. I was wondering if you could spare a moment to talk about our Lord and savior, Jesus Christ?"

Both idiot and tomato-face were utterly befuddled. Turning his head slightly to see who the damn psycho was who asked him the question when he was in the middle of beating someone up, he felt a sharp right hook come at his jaw. Staggering backwards and forced to release his prey, he finally caught his balance and landed in a defensive position.

Lovino scurried over and cowered behind the spaniard and was in no way admiring the guy's ass. Fear did not make him jumpy and distract him like that. Never.

The tanned man's eyes glinted and his jaw was tightly set. His posture's body language was confident in a way that absolutely screamed alpha. This was a man who was used to fighting, whether on the streets or for fun. Not someone to fuck around with.

Antonio's footsteps were quiet and his fists balled. Even the lug knew a dangerous man when he saw one. Still, he had to smirk. The individual was at least five inches smaller and half his muscle mass. Though the guy might have some skills, they were no match for his sheer braw. Or so he told himself.

"Odd, that should have knocked you out. I hope I'm not getting rusty." The curly haired man said amiably. Tough guy routine, but Gorilla was sure the spaniard was quaking in his boots. "Maybe it's the lack of a brain? Or maybe that extra thick skull."

That's it. No insults on his intelligence, or lack thereof. With a roar, he charged toward Antonio. The roar soon changed to a small whimper as he looked up from the ground, a muddy brown boot planted on his chest, but no passers-by were around to hear it. A bitter metallic taste crept into his mouth and his head felt like cotton. The last thing he saw before everything faded to black were two eyes, coldly glowering down at him. The last thing he heard;

"Thank you for your time. God bless."

Author's note: I feel as if it's bad that I fangirled over my new chapter. Is that self-centered? I think it's self centered. Just to let you know, I'm really proud with how this fight scene turned out. I don't care what anyone else thinks, I'm really proud. By the way, tough-guy's name was Jeremy. I just felt as if I should throw that out there. Do with it what you will. I didn't really base him off of anything other then the traditional bad guy, so don't try and look for some country he was inspired by. Speaking of countries, can anyone guess who Miss Old-fashioned was? Shouldn't be that hard if you look around. Oh, but how I would have loved to be in her place! The kissing Lovi place, not the getting harassed place. You know, I think tough pirate/conquistador Spain is hot as hell. And I'm pretty sure I'm not alone in that. So, with that mentality, where do you think Antonio got his fighting prowess? You're answer isn't going to change what I've planned, but it might be nice to see who else thinks like me. Also, Romano is so spoiled! I would kill for a Ford Mustang! Or, you know, a car in general.

Now then, today on "Guess the reference corner"

Q. Spidey-Senses? Hur-dur, what do you mean by that?

Ever heard of Spiderman?

Blue number 5? Why so specific?

, someone hasn't been studying up on their Spongebob.

Q. What do you mean by the gypsy that Lovi pissed off, oh great LollipopTurtle?

Reference to the horror movie Thinner. Can't blame you if you didn't get that one.

Last of all, the scenario where Romano helped out the nice lady? Stole that from a comic Himuraya made about how South Italy defends women from creeps.

Remember dearies! Reviewing keeps the boogeyman away at night! Don't want to have centipedes crawl in your ears as he makes you count backwards from 1000 by 7, do you? I love Tokyo Ghoul… Anyways, Reviews are always loved! Thanks to Varanus K for correcting my Spanish so long ago, I am now putting it in use. See! Reviewing pays off. So REVIEW.

May lollipops fall from the sky and all turtles fly,

LollipopTurtle