Spazz here. I’m probably going to get a lot of reviews saying ‘OH MY GOD YOU NEVER UPDATE’, and I’m SO sorry. Mom’s been trying to cut down my computer time, so writing this has been rough. So please don’t get too mad at me. I do love you all. And I love Germany, so sorry about the torment he has to go through during this chapter. I just felt like this story was lacking in humor, so a revival needed to take place. I don’t own Hetalia! Also, for readers of Parent Trap, there’s a side-pairing poll goin on my NEWLY RENOVATED profile, so check that out if you get the time!

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Turning the World Right-Side Up

Chapter 4: Revenge is Sweet

“I’m Elizabeta Hedervary,” the girl said warily, gazing down at him. Her father set her carefully on the ground and she took a few timid steps forward, extending her hand formally to him. Alfred grinned (not particularly formal), and, with a stern look from his mother, brushed a kiss to the back of it.

“Blech,” he mumbled, wiping the back of his mouth. “Cooties.”

A spark of rage ignited in the other girl’s eyes, but Alfred ignored her, too focused with his father’s hand which had just clamped down on his shoulder. “Alfred,” he said. The boy in question winced as he saw the warning look in his father’s eyes. “Can we talk?”

“Yes, Poppa,” he said sadly, shuffling off. He met his mother’s sympathetic sapphire eyes and twisted his expression into that of a long-suffering martyr. Alice (his mother) giggled, her flashing blue eyes and blonde hair the spitting image of her son’s. After a long lecture about chivalry and the proper behavior towards a lady, Alfred took Elizabeta’s hand with a more subdued smile and the two ran off to play in the garden.

--

“Ninety-eight, ninety-nine, ONE HUNDRED!” America cried in delight. He had always been good with numbers, but this was his first time getting all the way to one hundred without stopping or even pausing to think about what came next. He removed his hands from his eyes and blinked around the lush garden, looking for the girl with wavy brown hair. He peered into bushes for about ten minutes, starting to get worried, when suddenly the six-year-old he had been seeking out leapt from a bush and wrapped her arms around his waist in a forceful hug.

“Here I am!” she sang. Alfred turned to berate her about breaking the rules of Hide and Seek but stopped when he saw her face. On her eyebrows rested two enormous, black, fuzzy, caterpillars. “Don’t they look silly?” Elizabeta giggled, doubling over in laughter at her own joke. Alfred appraised them seriously.

“I dunno. I think they’re cute,” he said easily.

Elizabeta raised her furry eyebrows. “You’re crazy.”

“Am not!” He said defensively, a blush heating his cheeks. “I just think fuzzy eyebrows are kinda cute is all!”

Elizabeta ignored him. “Hey, do you think I should show my mom?”

“Sure!” he said, glad for the topic change. “I think she’d laugh!”

“Okay,” Elizabeta grinned, holding out her hand for Alfred. He took it and they both turned back towards the room where their parents had been. Both froze. The house was on fire.

--

America was roused from this dream-turned-nightmare by his dear friend Romano affectionately punching him in the kidneys screaming “WAKE UP, BASTARD!” He raised his head from the table and blinked blearily at Romano, a small strand of drool hanging from his mouth.

“Why is the sun all dark now?” He said incoherently.

“You’ve been asleep for three hours. It’s six o’clock now.”

“Really?” He said, shaking his head and rousing himself from his stupor. His eyes drifted to Hungary, who was looking at him curiously, but his pain-filled blue eyes sent a spark of recognition into hers. She knew he was dreaming about that day more than ten years ago again, and she smiled comfortingly at him before going back to stirring whatever was on the saucepan.

“So it’s six o’ clock? Germany’s coming in about ten minutes to pick up Italy, right?”

“That’s right,” answered Hungary. Italy had been attempting to ‘punish’ Germany for leaving him for the past three days (since they got back together). The method included having Ludwig carry his books to class and eating lunch together every day. The other boy seemed very happy with his ‘torment’. The two were going on a date tonight as well.

“It pisses me off,” growled Romano. “The bastard broke my brother’s heart. So what if it was a misunderstanding? I still want to kick him in the face.”

“Me too,” Alfred sighed.

Hungary thought a moment before a smile flickered across her face. “Remember that girlfriend Italy had in the seventh grade?”

“Which one? There were at least fourteen.”

“The one who had the Salsa incident.”

“With the-?”

“Yeah.” All three collectively shuddered.

“Remember what we did to get rid of her? We could use the same thing as a revenge tactic,” Hungary stated with the air of a general planning a battle. The other two nodded and all three began to smile.

“Dibs on bad cop,” America said, touching his fingertip to his nose.

“Good cop!” Hungary cried, also touching her nose. Romano swore.

“Does that mean I have to be the creepy one again?” He complained.

“But Lovi,” America whined. “Last time you did so well! Remember when you made a voodoo doll of that girl out of mashed potatoes? That was classic!”

“I guess it was,” Romano said proudly, a grin flickering across his face.

“We NEED you to be the creepy one,” begged Hungary. “It balances out the whole act!”

“Fine,” Lovino groaned. “But just because you need me.” Hungary hugged him affectionately and America slapped him a high-five. “Oh get a hold of yourself. Let’s just get this over with.

--

Germany tugged self-consciously at the collar of his red polo shirt. Maybe he should have dressed up more? But Italy had specifically demanded he come in causal clothes. He sighed and shrugged to himself in a resigned way, knocking politely on the door to Feliciano’s apartment building. Instantly, the door swung open and an ecstatic brunette pulled him into a massive hug.

“H-Hungary?” he choked out in surprise, trying to pry the girl off him (A/N: Ha, bet you thought it was Feli).

“IT’S SO WONDERFUL TO SEE YOU, GERMANY!” She said between what sounded suspiciously like sobs.

“E-Elizabeta? Are you crying?”

“I’M JUST SO HAPPY THAT YOU AND ITALY ARE BACK TOGETHER AND YOU’RE SO IN LOVE AND IT’S JUST A BEAUTIFUL THING!” She clutched the suffocating blonde to her and wailed dramatically.

“I’m not happy,” a voice said snidely. Germany glanced over his shoulder to see America, blue eyes cold and… was he wearing a leather jacket? England would have died of a nosebleed-related blood loss. “Because, frankly, I don’t like you or trust you. And also, you smell.”

Germany raised his eyebrow, but he didn’t get a chance to respond because he felt a tug on his sleeve. He looked over to see Romano staring at him with massive and unreadable brown eyes. “What?” he asked, unnerved. Romano still said nothing. “What is it?” he repeated. Romano started at him for a few more seconds before giggling creepily and turning away, walking down the hallway. Ludwig shuddered.

“Ve, Ludwig! You’re here!” Feliciano cheered, poking his head around the hall. “Just in time for dinner! Please, come and eat with us!”

“O-okay,” Germany said uncomfortably, shaking his arm desperately to try to get a bawling Hungary off of it. America was still glaring daggers at him, and god knows what Lovino was doing. The last thing Ludwig wanted to do was stay for dinner, but he didn’t know exactly how to say that. So he smiled slightly. “Sure. Dinner would be great.”

--

Germany stared awkwardly down at his plate, pushing the wurst around delicately with his fork. Hungary was smiling massively at him and piling more and more sausage on his plate, despite the fact that he hadn’t really touched it at all. America was stabbing his meat viciously and glaring at it like it had wronged him in the past, and Romano wasn’t saying anything, just blinking eerily and staring at Germany when he didn’t think the blonde was looking. He always was.

“So, what are you two crazy lovebirds doing tonight?” Hungary asked cheerfully, leaning forward across her interlaced fingers, an odd habit of hers.

“Germany’s planning on spending the evening stomping on Italy’s heart with soccer cleats. So nothing unusual,” America said icily, not looking up from his plate. Romano finally locked eyes and uttered the one statement that made Germany’s entire face go bright red.

“I want to be an uncle, you know.”

Hungary grinned massively, taking up the cue. “That’s right! We haven’t given Italy the talk yet! Ludwig, I leave that responsibility to you.”

“What talk?” Italy asked stupidly.

“The ‘where babies come from’ talk,” explained Alfred. Ludwig looked like he might pass out.

“Oh yeah! Where do babies come from, Germany?”

That’s when the poor guy actually did lose consciousness.

“Nice touch there, Lovi,” whispered America as Feliciano leaned over Germany, frantically trying to wake him up. The three co-conspirators slapped high fives, Hungary grinning widest. Of course, that’s because she had been able to swipe Lovi’s cigarettes when he wasn’t looking. The little moron may be trying to kill himself, but Hungary would be damned before she actually let him do it. And maybe figuring out where he and Spain went wrong would help.