And cue the hard-assery. XD

Warning: Weapons, injuries, innuendo.

Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN HETALIA. I have fun manipulating their characters, though

Then There Were Eight

"You idiot!" Lovino was shouting at the top of his lungs, struggling to walk with Feliciano leaning on him for support. "Do you not know how to take care of yourself?"

"Lovino, please don't shout!" Feliciano was in tears. "Please don't be angry with me! I didn't mean to!"

"What do you mean you didn't mean to?" Lovino asked venomously.

Feliciano fidgeted on Lovino's arm, making his injured shoulder smart. "I-I d-don't know! I was s-scared! Please, don't hate m-me!"

Lovino rolled his eyes, trying to hide the fact that his own brother thought that he hated him made his heart sink. "Of course I don't hate you, dammit."

"Lovino?" Francis stood frozen, pleasantly surprised.

"Looks like you were wrong, Frog." Arthur smirked.

"Wine Bastard?" Lovino looked up in shock. "England? America?" He frowned. "Potato Bastard and Potato Bastard's brother?"

"And Canada," Alfred added, walking over and throwing Feliciano's other arm over his shoulders. He helped the still-crying man hobble his way over to the chairs.

"How the hell did you guys get here?" Lovino asked, settling down in the chair next to his brother, who buried his face in Lovino's uninjured shoulder and continued sobbing. Lovino gently patted Feliciano's head as he continued, "Was there some sort of message I didn't receive?" He looked more than a bit peeved now.

"No, we were just directed here." Arthur replied.

"Eh, look who is joining us!" Gilbert called from across the room. He stood and waggled his hips. "The party is just starting, right bruder? Kesesese,"

Ludwig glared at him. "Shut up and sit down." He waited until Gilbert did as he asked before walking over to investigate, wiping his bloody hands on his shirt. "Veneziano?"

Feliciano lifted his face from his brother's shoulder and sniffed, his eyes puffy. "G-Germany!" He moved to attach himself to the other man, but Lovino prevented him from doing so.

"Don't go near the Potato Bastard, fratello."

"You look hurt." Ludwig said to Lovino, eyes examining his bloody shoulder.

Lovino hissed. "Touch me, and I'll rip your wurst off, bastard."

"Whoa, there, Romano." Alfred said, craning his neck to get a good look at his injuries. "There's no need to get hostile. And… Germany does have point."

"Nosy git…" Arthur muttered.

Lovino sat back in his chair, still holding his sniveling brother with his good arm. "It's nothing. Feli's in worse shape than I am by far."

A flash of concern showed in Ludwig's eyes, but it was gone just as quickly as it had appeared. "Oh? What happened?"

Lovino sighed. "The damn idiot nearly starved himself to death."

Francis looked worried. "Mon Dieu! How horrible. How?"

Lovino glared at him. "What do you mean how, Wine Bastard? He fucking starved himself, what else can I say?"

"Well," Feliciano began after a few sniffles. "The Uprising broke out and it was really scary, so I didn't come out of my house and tried to call Lovi, but he wouldn't answer, so I tried calling Germany, but he didn't answer either, and I didn't know Japan's phone number, and I didn't know where Lovino was so I sat in the corner of my living room and listened to the gunshots, and it was so scary, and I didn't answer my phone because I thought the bad people could trace my calls, and I didn't eat because I was too scared to get up, so I didn't move and stayed as still and as quiet as I could for a few days, then I heard a loud noise outside, and I cried because I thought it was the bad people coming to get me, so when I heard someone knocking at my door and shouting for me to let them in I said 'Go away' but then I realized it was Lovi, so I opened the door and he came in and started yelling at me because he was angry I didn't take care of myself, and then he said he came in a helicopter and picked me up because I my legs felt all tingly and numb and carried me out to the helicopter and started climbing the ladder up to the cabin, and then the rebels found us and started shooting at us and I got really scared and started crying again, and Lovino told me to climb onto his stomach so that I wouldn't get hit, but I didn't want to because I was afraid I would fall off, but he shouted at me and I did, and then I was grateful for doing it because I would have been shot if I stayed on his back, so Lovino climbed until we reached the cabin and he pushed me into it, and when I turned around to help pull him up, he took a bullet to the shoulder and started dangling by one hand and I thought I was going to lose him and started crying again, and it was so hard to hold him by myself because he was so heavy, and he kept telling me to let him go but I said that I wouldn't and then I pulled him into the cabin and he shut the door and I cried again and Lovino told me we were coming here and said that he hoped America was still alive, even Germany, and then we came here and I felt dizzy and Lovino kept yelling at me to stay awake, and I cried because I thought he hated me for not looking after myself and now we're here and I'm so glad to see everyone and now I feel… a little… tired…" Feliciano panted from the effort of telling his long story and laid his head back on Lovino's shoulder.

"So," Ludwig said. "That's why I couldn't reach Veneziano."

Francis raised his eyebrows. "Where exactly were you, Lovino?"

"That's none of your business, Wine Bastard!" Lovino snapped.

"Cool it, bro." Alfred said. "We only wanna help you."

"Ja," Gilbert said, suddenly standing among them. Arthur and Alfred flinched when they saw him standing behind them when he wasn't there just a moment ago. "My awesomeness will heal you!"

"Shut up, Prussia." Arthur growled, then offered his hand to Feliciano. "We want to help you Veneziano. Will you let us?"

Lovino glared at him for a long while before finally letting go of his brother and saying, "As long as the Potato Bastards and the Wine Bastard don't touch him."

Francis looked hurt. "But I missed you, Lovi. Didn't you miss me, too?"

Lovino scoffed, standing to help his brother into Arthur's arms. "You? Why in the hell would I miss a perverted, wine-drinking, cheese-sniffing bastard?"

Francis pouted. "Oh, you don't mean that, cher."

Ludwig approached Lovino slowly from the side, placing his hands gently on his injured shoulder. "This looks bad. It has gone right through the muscle."

Lovino rounded on Ludwig, shaking him off his arm. "Get away from me, Wurst Breath!" Then he gave a growl of pain, hunching over and grabbing his left arm as it throbbed from the injury in his shoulder. "Dammit…"

Francis rushed forward, providing Lovino support as he swayed a bit, dizzy from the pain. "Sit down, ami. You lost a lot of blood."

Lovino glared at him. "Don't, ngh, don't touch me, bastard…"

"What the hell is all this noise?" Matthew's small voice had an undertone of annoyance as he pushed his way through the group circled around the two brothers. Matthew's indigo eyes widened when he saw them. "Oh, the Italy's? Are you all right?"

"Of course we're not…!" Lovino snarled, angered by the pain, and he couldn't think of an insult because he didn't know who the hell this was. "Uh…"

Matthew frowned. "Canada. Have it your way, then. I could help you, though."

Alfred stared at him. "What fucking university did you go to, man?"

Matthew smirked. "The University of Preparedness." Then he pushed past them to where Feliciano was leaning on Arthur.

"He hasn't eaten anything in a few days." Arthur reported. "And hasn't moved from a single spot in two."

Matthew examined him for a moment before concluding, "Yep, dehydrated and malnourished. The muscles in his legs are also cramped from sitting in the same position for too long, that's probably why he can't feel them. He also seems to have a slight fever." Matthew tested his forehead with his hand. "Nothing I can't handle. I've packed all the necessary equipment, so he'll be fine within a couple of days."

"And what about Lovino?" Francis queried, worry-stricken.

Matthew turned to him, and nearly gasped with the sight of a massive blood stain soaking Lovino's left sleeve. He walked over to him, fingers gently prodding around the wound, ignoring the hisses and insults Lovino muttered under his breath. "The bullet's still lodged in his shoulder. You were right, Germany. Tore straight through the deltoid muscle. This'll take a lot more time to heal."

Lovino's now frightened face met Matthew's. "Will… will I recover?"

"You will," Matthew said slowly. "But not unless we get that bullet out. Infection is the last thing your shoulder needs."

"You mean, you have to dig it out?" Lovino squeaked on the word 'dig.'

"Yes," Matthew replied. "I'm sorry Lovino, but it has to come out." Then he turned to examine the rest of the group. "But I'm sort of squeamish when dealing with things like that."

"I will do it." Not surprisingly, it was Ludwig who volunteered. "Gilbert had similar injuries, but with glass, and I managed to get them out perfectly fine."

Gilbert laughed nervously. "Kesese, just don't insult him, and it'll be near painless."

"That bastard is not touching me!" Lovino snapped, defiantly, though he still looked a bit partial to the idea. He just wanted the damn thing out, one way or the other.

"Please, Lovi," Feliciano begged from his place seated in an adjacent chair. "Germany won't hurt you."

"I doubt that," Lovino muttered, then after much deliberation said, "Fine. But do anything funny, and I'll kick you Potato ass, got it?"

Ludwig nodded. "You don't have to worry." Then he added slowly, "But I cannot guarantee it won't hurt a little."

Lovino sighed wearily. "I know," He turned to Matthew who was now offering a cracker and some water to Feliciano. "Take care of him, please. I can't much take care of the idiot in my condition." The last word was dripping with spite.

With that, Lovino grudgingly let Ludwig escort him to where he left the first aid kit.

"Christ," Alfred said. "Romano carrying his brother up the ladder to a helicopter amid open fire. The world has officially turned upside down."

"You're telling me," Arthur said. "Since when has Romano let me touch him—let anyone touch him?"

"Looks like I still might have a chance, eh?" Francis nudged Arthur in the shoulder with a leer.

Arthur rolled his eyes, a disgusted look on his face. "Do you ever stop being a pervert?"

"Never, mon chéri."

Matthew yawned and stretched. "Well, I guess I won't be getting much sleep now. Come on, Veneziano. Please, eat something."

Feliciano shook his head, keeping his lips sealed shut. "No! Crackers don't taste good!"

Matthew sighed in exasperation. "I'm sorry, Veneziano, but I don't have any pasta or anything else you might like. Besides, your stomach can't handle anymore than this right now."

Feliciano finally relented, realizing his defiance was pointless. With a tentative bite, he chewed the cracker and swallowed it with a grimace. "It's dry," he choked out.

"That's why I have this." Matthew gave him the water bottle and Feliciano took a couple of long pulls from it. "That's enough." Matthew said prying the bottle from Feliciano's hand. "You'll make yourself sick doing that."

"But I'm thirsty." Feliciano pouted.

Matthew shook his head. "You've lasted this long without water, I'm sure you can last a bit longer."

"So," Arthur began, throwing an I-told-you-so look at Francis. "You were wrong."

Francis watched as Ludwig tended to Lovino. They didn't seem to be having much luck getting the bullet out of his shoulder with Lovino squirming away from Ludwig when he even got close to touching him. "Oui, but I have been known to be wrong. At least I'm not ashamed to admit it." He smirked at Arthur.

Arthur scoffed, "I'm not wrong, France. Turkey is dead."

"Don't be so sure, ami."

"Yeah," Alfred interjected, coming over to them after a brief absence, stuffing his face with chips. "He's a tough little shit, I'll give 'im that." His words were barely decipherable between his crunching.

Arthur gave him a disgusted look. "So I see that you've found the vending machines."

"Yup," Alfred said, offering him the bag. "D'ya want some? I busted the glass, so there's plenty more."

"No thank you, Alfred." Arthur grimaced.

"France?"

"I don't think that would suit my figure, amour."

Arthur gave Francis a how-could-you-care-about-that-now look, but Francis flashed him back an I-was-desperate-to-get-out-of-eating-that-crap look.

Alfred shrugged and finished the bag in moments. Then he said, "When do we call off the bets?"

Arthur thought for a second. "Well… as of now we have four hours until the rebels arrive, so we'll call it off then."

"Are you really serious?" Alfred gawked at his watch. "It's already five in the fucking morning?"

"Oh là là, so it is!" Francis said, looking at his own watch. "We should be resting now, oui?"

Arthur nodded. "One of us should keep watch, though."

"Since you brought it up, bro, I vote you." Alfred said. "'Night," And he headed off in the direction of the chairs before Arthur could object.

Arthur looked pleadingly at Francis—which took a lot of strength for him to do—but the Frenchman only shook his head. "I have to get my beauty sleep, cher. Sorry,"

Arthur huffed with annoyance as he watched Francis walk off, letting his eyes roam to examine the older man's arse. Well… that certainly was quite the asset. Arthur caught himself and shook his head with disgust as he turned around, taking out his gun and cocking it, scolding himself. "Damn addled brain, making me a delirious dumbarse…"

He eventually concluded that he would keep watch for an hour, then wake Francis. After all, the other man deserved it for taking advantage of Arthur's scattered mind.

No translations

A Word From the Writer: Dat ass. Even England can't resist it. XD