Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia, or any of its characters. Those belong to Himaruya Hidekaz-sensei, who made a lot more out of them than I ever could have. ^^;; I just do fanfiction for fun, and earn no monetary rewards for writing it. Reviews are, of course, worth as much as silver.

Summary: 52nd Street—the entertainment club run by a shady Russian, whose two top 'dancers' happen to be a pair of Italian twins. What can one poor Spanish grocer do? : Adult-life AU, Spamano main, also Spance and Framano. : Language, BL, prostitution, sex, drugs.

Title: 52nd Street

Chapter Three: (When she says she wants forgiveness, it's) Such A Clever Masquerade

Word Count: 3,694

Page Count: 7

[ Total Word Count: 13,612 ]

[ Total Page Count: 24 ]

Anime: Hetalia
Pairing(s) in this chapter: France/Spain, Romano/Spain/Romano, France/Romano

Warning: Language, adult situations

Author: Kita Kitsune (Call me Fox!)
Date: Friday, November 11, 2011

Miscellaneous notes: Sorry this is shorter, but it just seemed fitting to end it like this (it was supposed to be a oneshot [And this chapter was supposed to top 6,000 words, but I ran out of time because my new job starts today… Maybe there'll be an epilogue added onto this chapter when I have the time?], how did it become three chapters?). The middleground is all nice and organized, now~ Hope you guys like it! :D Also (if anyone noticed the published date), I'm so happy to be posting this today. Special-number days ftw~! :3

[ Next project will be finishing chapter nine of "Empire"! I am so stoked~! ]

Sorry for any typos, but I'm really short on time and need to get some sleep! I'll get to them, eventually~!

[15]"Stiletto" by Billy Joel

Warning: Time jump!

All events in this chapter take place after the end of chapter two (when they meet) and before chapter one (when they have a fight).

: : : : : : :


Antonio didn't know why he liked talking to Lovino. He'd discussed it with Francis, but all his friend could come up with was that Antonio was a masochist. Actually, just beside him, the Frenchman was shaking his head, blond curls coiling elegantly around his face with the motion.

"Antonio, I simply do not understand. No matter 'ow cute 'zis boy is, he seems not to be interested in you, oui?" Francis moved closer, then, wrapping an arm around him and cupping the back of Antonio's neck with his other hand, purring comfortingly. "Why waste your time~?" Antonio pouted, poking and prodding at Francis' arm, absently, his gaze focusing up on the ceiling as his head plopped back over the backrest of the old, worn-out couch they sat upon.

Francis wasn't rich, but he was a good friend and had crafted a pretty classy apartment for himself out of a meager budget. He'd even been nice enough to put Antonio up when he 'decided' he wanted to work at his aunt's grocery store (without wanting rent, even!). Antonio's uncle had grumbled about losing him on the farm, but Mama Carriedo couldn't be happier to see her boy around more often. Adela, too. He couldn't deny he missed the country, either. Wide fields of— Feeling soothing fingers on his scalp, Antonio sighed, closing his eyes and deflating into the old sofa, letting Francis' weight against his stomach push him further against it.

"I don't know, there's just something… I want to know about him, you know?" He heard a disbelieving puff of air against his ear and huffed, shaking his friend a little until he felt listening lips on his cheek.

"Mm?" Letting out another sigh, Antonio lifted a hand to rub under Francis' shirt, along the small of his back, thoughtfully.

"He just seems like… He's tried really hard in life, you know? And so he spits at me because he's not used to someone being friendly to him, or something like that—because sometimes he's really, really nice, and on those days he lets me hug him and laughs with me and his face gets so much brighter that it's like he never had anything horrible happen to him at all, and—" A nibble on his ear made Antonio giggle, and this interruption gave Francis ample opening to slip his own hand under the Spaniard's shirt. He traced his fingertips against the firm abdomen, nuzzling and licking at Antonio's neck before beginning to press against certain places that made Antonio's insides squirm.

"F-Franny, s-s-stop that, it tickles~" His friend chuckled against his throat, kissing up the line of it and sliding the hand at the back of Antonio's neck around towards his far shoulder, massaging it gently.

"Non, mon cher, I 'zink you need to relax~" Antonio blinked—noting the familiar codeword—and so turned his head to try and kiss Francis back. He then whined a little as Francis instead drew lower, pushing Antonio's shirt up, further, and pressing soft kisses against his stomach before moving onto his pectorals, laving around the peaked nipples.

"Fraaaaanny~~~" He felt Francis smirk against him and frowned, shifting his hold around the other's waist before pushing him onto the couch on his back, and climbing over him. The look on Francis' face was anything but surprised, although the Frenchman still tried to sport a innocuous smile.

"Ah… oui?" Still frowning, Antonio leaned down, pouting just above Francis' lips.

"Not being fair, Franny." Golden chuckles rippled against the air, and Francis' arms wound around his neck, pulling Antonio down so their mouths could brush, teasingly.

"But you're so lovely when you take charge, mon cher~" Antonio rolled his eyes, mussing Francis' bangs with a forehead-nuzzle before moving in to kiss him, at last.

"Then just ask, don't tease!"

: : :

Near the back of Carriedo's, Lovino watched (unnoticed!) from behind a shelf as a slightly-more-discheveled-looking-than-usual Antonio exited from the backroom, some blond manwhore trailing behind him. He even went so far as to twirl a short lock of the Spaniard's curly hair around his finger, kissing his cheek (and receiving one in return!) before 'gracing' Antonio with a wave as he made for the exit, turning only to blow him another kiss from the door which Antonio—now behind the counter, and tying his apron behind his back—only grinned at. Lovino's fingers tightened around the tomato he held, until he felt it bruising beneath his grip. Not looking down, he grabbed a few more tomatoes—not really paying attention to the amount of force he was exerting—and, stuffing them in a plastic produce bag, bravely made for the counter, a dark scowl etched firmly into his expression.

Naturally, Antonio was oblivious.

"Hi, Lovi~!" The cheery bastard barely glanced at the tomatoes as he grinned at Lovi, and the dancer felt something angry boil up in his gut at the look (which Antonio had just given to that blond bastard!). His glare only intensified, and Antonio still didn't notice! The idiot even hummed, finished checking the tomatoes out, and gave him the total with the same familiar smile. That angry bubble began to burst, leaking out of its shoddy edges and making Lovino feel strangely empty inside. He took his change and turned without another word, ignoring Antonio's sputter of confusion as Lovino simply exited—then, once out, proceeded to run home.

: : :

"Cher, you should come wiz' me to 52nd Street, sometime~!" Antonio blinked, glancing over his shoulder at Francis from where he was cooking dinner.

"Que?" Smiling, Francis stood from the table and advanced on him, wrapping his arms around Antonio's waist and pressing against his back. He didn't do anything more than that, so Antonio turned back to slicing the chicken for their quesadillas, tonight. "Where's that?"

"Oh, downtown, somewhere~ But 'zere are 'zese two adorable boys you simply must see, 'zey're so~" Francis let out an airy sigh, hugging Antonio close as though he were one of the adorable boys. "Mm, you would not regret it." Brow furrowing a little, Antonio continued chopping even as he asked.

"What, are they street entertainers, or something—?" Francis chuckled, pressing a sweet kiss under his ear before nuzzling into his neck.

"Ahh, you will see~"

: : :

It was a regular night. It wasn't a special performance or anything—Yong-Soo and Alfred were up, tonight—and so Lovino and Feliciano were working the tables, giving lap-dances. Damn perverted businessmen, their boners were so revolting... A flutter of a twenty-dollar bill caught Lovi's attention and—as Feli was already busy with that Austrian bastard—he made his way to where the hand was raised in the air. When he made his way over, the man was smiling lustily at him, patting his thigh and so Lovi smiled darkly at him—too well-practiced, for it obviously convinced this idiot that he actually wanted to do this—and made his way over, snatching the bill and pretending to inspect it as well-toned, hairy arms wrapped around his hips and drew him closer.

"Barchetta, cher, come sit wiz' me~" Chuckling, Lovino responded to his stage name—a Ferrari 2000 model—and slid onto the stranger's lap, pressing lightly against him and dropping his eyes to half-mast with a small smirk.

"Yes, sir? What would you like?" Lovino purred this, moving imperceptibly against the man who grinned at him and sat back, arms sprawled out on the top of the rest of his circular seat. Silently, Lovino thanked this man for his respect of propriety—customers weren't supposed to touch, not unless they were prepared to pay the fee for a VIP room.

"Just enjoy yourself, yes? Do what feels good~" Channeling the grudging gratitude he had for this oddly-thoughtful customer, Lovino braced his hands, palm-down, on either side of the man's head (against the back of the seat) and began his dance.

They'd barely begun, the man was already hard and Lovino was doing his best to instigate some sort of VIP-bargain, when he felt his bones chill at a too-familiar voice.

"Francis?" Turning slightly, Lovino realized that, indeed, fate enjoyed laughing at him far too much. Even in the darkness of the club, even with the knowledge that Feli—Maranello, to customers—was servicing men just as Lovino himself was (possibly in a VIP room, even)… None of this diminished the distance present in Antonio's green eyes as they just breezed over him. Lovino daren't freeze, instead just casting the Spaniard a quick smirk and turned back to his work, face burning. Francis wasn't looking at him, just smiling lazily against the warm thrum of arousal Lovino had instilled in him as he spoke.

"Mm, yes? 'Zis is one of 'ze boys I told you about. Lucky us, 'zat tonight 'e is working 'ze floor, non~?" Lovino felt Antonio sit down beside Francis, pushing them further into the booth and making the table dig into the small of his back. He arched to try and avoid the mild discomfort, eyes somehow wanting to watch Antonio, but he resisted. Lovino then had no choice as his chin was taken, his face roughly turned to Antonio. And then there was a flicker of awkwardness, before a flash of one of the spotlights from the stage illuminated Lovino's face and realization sparked in those green eyes as they widened.

"L-Lo—" Francis chuckled, apparently pleased with this response.

"Lovely, is 'e not~? You want to try?" And all-too-soon Lovino found himself shoved into Antonio's lap, straddling the Spaniard's waist and his own eyes wide and unsure as they'd never been, before—until he controlled himself, schooling his expression and calmly composing himself, glancing toward his customer without breaking character, eyes half-lidded.

"You want to buy another, it'll be more." The blond pervert grinned, flicking out another twenty before sliding a hand into his back pocket, and Lovino felt him cop a feel as he left it there.

"Please, do not allow money to be a barrier. It 'as been a long while since my friend—"

"F-Francis!" Antonio'd gasped that, and from his proximity Lovino could feel the heat coming off his face. Lovino nodded slowly, turning back to his 'new' customer as Francis slumped in his seat, the telltale sound of a zipper undoing. Pushing back his disgust at… Francis' dirty habits, Lovino smiled down at the wide-eyed Spaniard beneath him, fingers sliding against the seatback and loosely twining in dark curls. The heat on Antonio's face spiked, reverberating against Lovino's palms. But then two hands came up, grasping his wrists and Lovino felt a tingle down the back of his neck he couldn't ever remember feeling.

"D-Don't—Lov—" Silencing Antonio with a finger against the Spaniard's lips, Lovino leaned in and whispered hotly in his ear.

"The name's Barchetta, babe. Now why don't you just sit back and enjoy?" Pushing back any thoughts outside of right now, Lovino slitted his eyes in a way he knew made his eyes glint seductively, beginning to gyrate in the warm, broad lap—but a hand against his cheek made him stop. Unthinking, he flicked his gaze back up, almost glaring at Antonio through his bangs. Couldn't he just get this done and over with? Then they could pretend it never—

He stopped. Antonio was staring at him, expression half-hidden by shadows, and he looked—

He looked—

Like he was about to be sick. Lovino felt bile well up within him, that Inferiority Beast he'd tried so hard to quash clawing at the back of his mind as he painted his mother's face over Antonio's.


…Now was not the time for this.

Cursing, Lovino grabbed the twenty Francis'd slid into his back pocket and slammed it on the table behind him, stumbling out of Antonio's lap and toward the smoker's entrance. He didn't wait, didn't want to hear a call behind him, but maybe—

Maybe he should just shut the fuck up and stop going to that damn grocery.

: : :

Francis wasn't happy. He walked towards the door of 52nd Street, stewing silently and a hand wrapped protectively around a silent Antonio's wrist, pulling him along. Before they could get far, though, a dancer descended on them and Antonio jerked violently backward, so much so that Francis had to pull himself up and glare at the boy that dared to bar their path. But the boy's eyes were full of worry and bright and innocent despite his rather risqué dress.

"E-Excuse me! What did you do to fratello? He looked so upset! …Oh!" Maranello—this was who it was, the rude Barchetta's angelic twin—lunged forward into Antonio's face too fast for Francis to stop him, suddenly beaming. "You're that grocer, right? From, ah, uh… What was the name, it's on Third Street, and Lovi or I stop in, sometimes—" Francis' grip on Antonio's wrist tightened—"—and you always have really good vegetables, so—"—and the Frenchman stepped between them, frowning.

"Excuse us. We were just leaving." Maranello blinked at him, before then leaning up a little to try and smile over Francis' shoulder at Antonio.

"Ah—okay~! Thanks for coming!" He offered a cheery wave and took off through the tables, once more. Francis tugged Antonio out of there, trying to ignore his friend's uncharacteristic silence—as well as his own heavy heart.

: : :

One week later, Feliciano Vargas blew in through the door of the small grocery, only to blink in surprise as the grocer behind the counter vaulted over it and ran for him, grabbing his arms, green eyes wild.

"L-Lovi! I'm so sorry about what happened that night, I wasn't expecting to see you and especially not in a place like that—n-not that there's anything wrong with it of course, because it's a perfectly respectable job and everyone needs to put food on the table, right, but—" Feli yelped in surprise, wriggling a little at the sudden outburst—enough that he could see his assaulter's nametag, at least.

"A-Antonio! I'm not Lovi, I-I'm Feli!" The grocer stopped, then, staring dumbly at him and Feli smiled a little to try and cure the awkwardness, patting his arms with a cheerful laugh.


"Haha, you must really like my brother if you feel that bad about something that happened a week ago~!" Antonio's cheeks pinked and he let go, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly and averting his gaze to the floor.

"S-Sorry, I-I thought… I mean, of course Lovi hasn't thought about it since then—a-and I'm sorry for mistaking you for him, I—" Feli leaned up, kissing Antonio's cheek and he froze just long enough for the Italian to whisper in his ear.

"You aren't dating that French blond man, are you? …Lovi told me." Then Feli dropped back on his heels from his tiptoes, regarding the Spaniard seriously, his hands in the sky blue pockets of his coat, the white scarf around his neck making him look like he belonged with the clouds. Antonio just stared down at him a moment before he blinked, blushing again and shaking his head, looking off.

"N-No, Francis is letting me stay in his apartment while I'm in the city… He's an old friend—" Feli's smile grew a little warmer, and he turned on his heel to walk out, calling spritely behind him.

"Then I wouldn't worry~!"

: : :

Three months later, Lovino found himself back in front of Carriedo's. The winter months had almost passed, but the air was still cool, so he had a cream-colored scarf wrapped around his neck, hiding his chin and most of his mouth. His olive green coat, cut fashionably and rather flattering (courtesy of Ivan, four years ago) was tucked warmly around him, keeping out the wind. The only reason he was here was because Feli was sick, and couldn't get the ingredients, tonight. Lovino had managed to avoid this place for the better part of the winter months, because they had both been busy with work, and hadn't expected there to be much produce in due to the weather.

He stepped inside, glancing surreptitiously at the counter. Adela perked up, waving and smiling at him and he gave her a sheepish, awkwardly relieved grin in return. Then maybe Antonio wasn't working here, anymo—

"Antonio~! Someone at the door for you!" His mouth dropped open, face turning beet red at the shameless announcement the Spanish girl had just made over the store's crackly intercom. Scarcely a moment later, the door in the back slammed open and she winked at him before he tore his gaze from her to the back—and there was Antonio, barreling towards him at full speed, face intense. Lovino screeched, pivoting and lunging for the door but his legs were caught in a tackle and he tumbled to the tile, barely missing his head and groaning from the impact.

"Dammit, if there're bruises, I'm blaming you, Spanish bast—!" Antonio flipped him over, breathless and, for once, not grinning. It was enough to set Lovino's foolish heart all aflutter, but he crushed the reaction down into nothingness, scowling his very best up at the idiotic grocer. The silence lengthened, and still Antonio didn't make any move to get up. "Get off me, idiot!" Antonio shook his head, leaning down and Lovino flinched, trying to shy away into the floor.

"No. No, Lovino, listen to me. I like you. I really, really do. I'm not dating Francis, and I know what you do for a living—" The dancer's heart buckled a little, in shame, and he looked away.

"But—" A hand gently forced him to look back, and now Antonio was smiling kindly at him—unsure, hesitant, but for all the reasons of being shy, not for… anything else?

"But that doesn't matter. I still want to be around you." Feeling his gaze grow soulful, Lovino tried to strip the emotion out of his eyes but it was too late—Antonio had seen. And so the Spaniard moved that warm palm to his cheek—just like that night, so many months ago—and leaned down, to speak whilst looking him straight in the eyes.

"I didn't want Francis to pay you to dance with me. You understand, right?" A small pink flush darted out over Antonio's cheeks, and he glanced off. Lovino found he couldn't tear his eyes away.

"I-I didn't want it to just be 'part of your job'. If you never want to dance with me like that, it's fine, Lovi—it really is!" The earnestness in that voice and the sudden reinstated staring contest made the Italian somewhat bashful, so he quickly closed his eyes.

"B-But—but, if you'd want to… Would you like to go on a few dates with me?" The sweet hope in that voice was something, but the sheer absurdity of the statement made his eyes snap open in disbelief. Antonio was still blushing a little, smiling a little, and looking a little scared—but certain.

"W-Wh—" Lovino's brows furrowed downward as he was interrupted.

"It'd just have to be a few, I promise, and if you don't enjoy yourself you don't ever have to worry about seeing me again, Lovi, it's just that—it's just that—" Lovino's hand over Antonio's mouth stemmed the stream of nervous rambling, leaving just green eyes blinking over it. He frowned, fighting back the odd swirl in his gut that was beginning to knot itself up. That gaze took him in, and he remained silent for another moment.

"I have a few conditions, first." Antonio's eyes widened, and the Spaniard nodded quickly. Not removing his hand, Lovino nodded as well, closing his eyes again to think.

"One, no bothering me at work. Two, no bothering me about my work. I'm not going to lose my job just because you might not like what I do, capiche?" Lovi scowled at him, and Antonio nodded furiously, again. "Three, no more kissing or hugging or whatever you do with that French bastard… Francis." Antonio's brows furrowed a little in protest, but Lovino caught it and snarled at him, pinching his nose shut with the hand that'd kept the Spaniard silent. "No compromises! Feli and I use protection for work, but I don't know where that pervert's dick has been, and—" Antonio's mouth fell open.

"B-But Franny and I always make sure to use—!"

"—I don't want to catch anything from you if we—!" He trailed off as Antonio's gape slid into a sly smirk. Belatedly, Lovino realized what he'd said and flushed darkly, flailing to try and free himself from under the grocer's weight.


"G-Get off me, you fucker! I said nothing!"

"Lovi~! Do you wanna make love to me~?"

"Like hell I said that! I don't even love you, moron!"

"Aw~ Don't be so mean! You said you wanted to be safe 'if we did anything', right~?"

"I-I never said anything like that! Stop putting words in my mouth!"

"So that means you'll want to do it sometime! So I have a chance, right?" By this time Antonio was just plain grinning down at him, and Lovi's face would've perfectly blended in with a field of red tulips.

"N-N-No, it means nothing, I—!" Those green eyes entreated him to give in, warm, broad hands cupping his cheeks tenderly.

"So—Do you want to start dating, Lovi? You really do, right~?" Antonio leaned in closer, and Lovino abruptly found it much harder to breathe.


"Do you~?" The Spaniard's lips were a mere centimeter from his, and his body was tingling, but something wasn't right, and it—

"YOU'RE NOT GETTING A KISS THAT EASY, YOU ASS!" Lovino sucker-punched Antonio right in the jaw (and off of him), rolling to the side and bolting straight out of the store before he could be caught, again.

The winter air against Lovino's burning face did nothing to quell the stupid grin edging over it.

: : :

I've been so busy lately, but I'm just so delighted to get this final chapter out, today!

Comments would be appreciated? :3