A/N : I don't even know, man. Let me start this by saying : THIS IS WEIRD. Like, this whole story is one long acid trip. Literally and figuratively. I felt bad about killing the Italies in the other one, but maybe this isn't exactly the greatest recompense I coulda come up with. :/ Oh well. The day I write pure fluff is the day I've suffered a concussion.

Warnings! : AU. Human characters. Violence, language, very heavy drug use, dysfunctional relationships, strange ideas, illegal activities, lots of other bad things. I don't necessarily want to say that this is a dark fic, although it kind of is, but it's probably the weirdest goddamn thing I've ever written. I had this in my head for a while but was too afraid to go forward with it, but what the hell.

Pairings : Italy x Germany, Romano x Germany, and yes, that's the right order. No one pairing is greater than the other. Other characters featured are Prussia, Austria, Hungary, plus some cameos here and there.

As always guys, thanks for reading, and I always love to hear from you.

THE LOCK WON'T TURN

Chapter 1

Nice To Meet You

Ever since he had been born, he'd had bad luck.

His parents hadn't wanted him. He'd been in the orphanage as long as he could remember. When he had finally been adopted out, ten years old and too excited, it just seemed that he had brought his misfortune along with him. Nothing ever seemed to go right for him or those around him. After a while, his new parents had split apart and realized they hadn't wanted him either. Their oldest son, twenty and forced into a bad position, had taken him instead.

His name was Ludwig.

That was all he knew about himself.

His self-appointed big brother Gilbert, holding him by the hand when they set out alone for the first time, had told him it didn't matter, who his parents were.

'Look at me!' he had said, 'I know my mom and dad and they still hate me. So don't worry about it.'

Ludwig hadn't really taken that much to heart.

After a while, Gilbert came to rest with a man and woman he had apparently known for a long time. Ludwig had looked up at them, and tried not to get his hopes up. He'd probably bring them bad luck, too. In the end, maybe he did, if only by shaking up their household and being a strain on their marriage.

Gilbert, restless and not quite mature enough to be a real guardian, left Ludwig in Roderich and Erzsébet's care to go off on his own. They loved Ludwig, he didn't have much of a doubt about that, but the older he got, the more he was in tune with them.

He was a burden, as much as a joy.

On the day he turned eighteen, Roderich put hands on his hips, sent Ludwig a bright smile, and said, 'Damn! I can't believe how tall you've gotten. I'm proud of you, Ludwig.'

Erzsébet had wrung her hands as she had said, later on, 'Gosh, Ludwig, you've really grown. You're a man now, aren't you?'

He had understood Roderich's gushing as much as he had understood Erzsébet's hint.

Roderich loved him and wanted him to stay. Erzsébet loved him and wanted him to leave the nest.

He did her a service, and tried to be an independent adult by leaving the house soon after. He held her no ill-will. Hell, he wasn't their kid, and she had given him eight years of care. Let her enjoy solitary time with her husband.

Damn, though. If he had known how hard it was to be an adult, he might have imposed himself upon them a little longer.

He didn't want to stay with Gilbert, because that was just him relying on someone else. He hadn't even talked to Gilbert for nearly two years. He didn't want the first words he said after that silence to be him begging for help.

He tried hard to make it, and looked around for a job. Roderich had given him money when he had said he wanted to set out, enough to get him by for a while, but Ludwig understood better why most teens bemoaned their lives.

It was hard on the outside.

He couldn't find a job, two weeks after he had left, and his funds were dwindling. He was too ashamed to return to Roderich, and too proud to seek out Gilbert. A couple of nights, he had no choice but to sleep beneath an underpass or huddled in some alleyway, reluctant to spend the last of his money on a hotel.

How the hell did people do this?

He was too socially awkward to get the hang of life right off.

The weather grew colder.

He wandered, here and there, farther and farther from home, and a month after he had set out, he found himself in Innsbruck, not too far from the Italian border. He didn't know what had led him down there other than just another instance of terrible luck.

That was where the whole damn thing had started.

One chilly morning, irritable and on a three-day streak of sleeping beneath a bridge, he had wandered into the city and plopped down onto a bench in exhaustion. His feet ached. No one else sat down next to him, even when morning turned into afternoon. He held his heavy head in his palm, zoned out as he tried to plot his next move, and shifted every so often when his stomach grumbled with hunger. His cheeks were coated in stubble, his hair hung uncombed, his coat was dirty, and his shoes were scuffed.

His head hurt.

He sat there, dumbly, until a shadow fell over him in the late afternoon sun. The wind had picked up by then, and he had huddled up.

"Hey."

The sound of a voice so close to him startled him, and he looked upward with a jump. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the white sunlight.

A man stood before him, slouched in casual ease and hands tucked in his pockets.

The first thing Ludwig had noticed about him was that he was handsome. That was easy to see. He wasn't all that tall, kinda stocky, more so with the coat he wore. His hair, messy and brunet, whipped around in the wind, a dark shadow of stubble coated his cheeks, and his thick brows were lifted up. Skin that was a few shades darker than his own, square jaw and strong chin, a nose that was bumped in the middle, strong shoulders and a few sun-freckles on his cheeks.

He had pretty eyes. Brown, glowing golden in the sunlight. An odd thing to notice about a stranger, perhaps, but Ludwig had already thought it. Too late to take it back.

They stared at each other for a second, and Ludwig was painfully aware of how rough he looked in comparison to this handsome newcomer.

After another second, the man lifted up his chin, and spoke.

"Hey. You're sittin' on my bench."

His voice was mellow and smooth, not quite as deep as Ludwig's own.

Ludwig, feeling apprehensive and defense and so damn frustrated, just crinkled his nose and furrowed his brow, before snipping, lowly, "Don't see your name written on it."

"Actually, friend," the man said, amicably, "If you divert your attention to the left you'll see that my name is written there, as a matter of fact."

Oh.

He glanced quickly to the aforementioned left, saw a scrawl in the wood that read something like 'Feliciano', and looked back up.

Well, then. Seemed settled.

He stood up, legs feeling so heavy, and griped, "What kinda name is that?"

"Mine," came the breezy answer.

Another short glance between them.

The man had tensed up in the moment Ludwig had stood, bracing his feet and shoulders, and it was obvious that he was expecting Ludwig to be belligerent.

Yeah, what else was new? Everyone had always been a little leery of him. He hadn't ever known why. He had never even thought about hurting anyone. He avoided fights like the plague. He never had foul words for even those who antagonized him. He had always tried to use patience rather than violence. Gilbert had always told him he was too nice for his own good.

Still, though, most people avoided him.

So the man lifted a surprised brow when Ludwig slumped his shoulders in exhausted submission, gave the weirdo his bench, and turned his back to walk off in defeat.

Time to find somewhere else to crash.

As he went, the man spoke to him again.

"Hey, kid, wait."

Irritable as he was, he still stopped, and looked over his shoulder.

The man was staring at him, still standing there and still smiling in that friendly manner.

"I was just playin' with you, you know. You lost?"

Ludwig cast him a look of melancholy, and said, for some reason, "Not lost. Just don't have anywhere to go."

With that, he turned again and kept walking.

Footsteps behind him, and suddenly the man was trotting at his side.

"Hey, slow down! I can't keep up with those long legs a' yours."

Kinda the point, but Ludwig felt himself slowing all the same. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't a little lonely, being alone this long month. He didn't offer much in the way of conversation, but the strange guy didn't seem discouraged.

"Where are you stayin'? You look a little rough."

Fully aware of that, Ludwig muttered, "I'm not staying anywhere. I've been walkin' for a while."

The man smiled, still struggling to keep up even though Ludwig had slowed his pace.

"What happened? You get kicked out or something? How old are you? Where'd you come from?"

Ludwig furrowed his brow, couldn't get a word in for the quick questions, and when he spoke again, all he said was a low, irritable, "What's it matter?"

The man seemed hardly put off, and kept on following him.

Couldn't shake him, that much was certain.

"Since you don't have anywhere to go, I wouldn't mind puttin' you up for a while, until you get on your feet. What do you say, huh? I could use some help. Give you something to do."

Ludwig felt his feet fall still, and finally turned to look at the man. Hell, he needed all the help he could get.

"Well," he began, tentatively, "What do you do?"

"Ah, this and that. You'll see. So what do you say?"

The man saw Ludwig's reluctance, and tried a different tactic.

"Well, look. Just come home with me, and we'll talk about it, alright? You look like you could use a rest. I'll make ya something to eat, you can take a shower and get some sleep, and I'll just run it by you. Whaddya say? Don't look like ya got much to lose."

And that was true, so Ludwig finally caved, and nodded his head.

"...alright."

Just like that, the man's face lit up, and he reached out to clap a friendly hand on Ludwig's shoulder, saying, "Excellent! Name's Feliciano, in case you don't recall. Come on, it's this way."

He was turned around, led back past the bench, and they walked for a good half-hour until Feliciano started walking up steps.

A brick house.

Ludwig was so jittery that that was really all he had noticed. Didn't even notice the name of the street they had walked on to, or the house number. Probably shoulda paid more attention.

A key jingled the lock.

Felt so strange, stepping inside the house of a complete stranger.

His heart was thudding in his chest.

The first thing he saw, when he walked through the door, were paintings. All over. A flood of relief.

"Is this what you do? I don't know anything about painting. I'm not an artist or anything like that."

His relief didn't last long when Feliciano barked a laugh.

"Just a hobby of mine," Feliciano said, airily. "Don't you have one?"

"Not really."

"That's a shame."

He was led around a corner, Feliciano motioned for him to take off his coat as he took off his own, and Ludwig was led into a warm kitchen. The paint scheme was bright. The furniture was bright, too. Arched windows. Pretty decorations.

His anxiety subsided.

A nice little house, that was for sure. Nothing horrible like he had imagined.

Feliciano sat down at the kitchen table, reached down into his pant pocket, and pulled out a bottle of pills.

"Like it?" came the smooth croon, when Feliciano saw him eyeballing the scenery, and Ludwig nodded his head immediately.

"It's pretty," he offered, and Feliciano smiled.

"Thanks."

Finally, Feliciano kicked his boots onto the table, uncapped the bottle and shook a handful of pills into his hand, and when he looked at Ludwig, he spared another quick smile before putting them back.

Ludwig was happy not knowing what they were.

A shake of Feliciano's head, and he inclined his chin to the hall. "Bathroom's down there," he said, quickly. "Go get cleaned up, and I'll start lunch. You can spend the night tonight, whether you decide to work for me or not."

Ludwig felt his tense chest loosen a little.

Well. What a nice guy.

He grabbed his bag, trudged wearily to the bathroom, and heaved a sigh of relief. The shower was a welcome sight. He must have stayed in there for a whole fuckin' hour, just relaxing under the water and getting his fill of comfort, and by the time he toweled his hair off and started shaving, his mood was lifting. Felt nice, being clean and comfortable.

When he came back out in new clothes and hair neatly combed, Feliciano looked a little looser, too, and maybe his eyes and cheeks were a little red as he lounged at the table. Ludwig tried not to dwell on it, feeling so much more comfortable now that he was clean, and wondering if Feliciano had popped questionable pills was not high on his wanting-to-know list.

So when Feliciano motioned for him to sit, he did. He felt better, sitting in a warm house, freshly bathed and not feeling so damn lost, and his mood improved even more, Feliciano's sloppiness aside.

Off-guard.

Probably what Feliciano had intended all along. Getting him cozy.

The smile that Feliciano sent him over the table was something close to a leer, and he drawled, lifting his eyes up and down, "Well, you cleaned up nicely, didn't you?"

He didn't know about any of that, but tried to give a polite smile all the same. Probably looked more like a grimace. All the same, Feliciano pulled himself up, still leering, and went to the stove.

He thought he heard Feliciano mutter, under his breath, 'Damn good-lookin', too.'

His cheeks were as red as Feliciano's then.

Embarrassment.

Food was put in front of him before long, and he ate slowly and politely even though he could have easily shoveled it in his mouth like a dog. No doubt this kindness had a price, but he was more inclined to pay it with every minute that passed.

They ate in silence aside from mindless small talk, and he offered up his name and age, at Feliciano's request, and told him a little about himself. Feliciano rested a chin in his palm the whole while Ludwig spoke, and just listened. When he was done, Feliciano seemed pleased and interested. Strange, for Ludwig, because most people didn't pay attention to him at all. No one ever gave him a second glance unless it was out of fear.

"All that way!" Feliciano said, later. "No wonder you look so tired. I'll let ya get to sleep soon, don't worry."

Ludwig raised his brows, eyes feeling heavy, and nodded. He had come a long way, that was certain. Sleep was exceedingly appealing.

Feliciano pulled out a bottle of wine later, and Ludwig didn't refuse any glasses even though he probably should have.

The evening turned into night, and Ludwig felt at ease for the first time in a month.

Feliciano waited until his face was relaxed before he finally brought up the topic of work, and that a smart idea, when Ludwig thought back on it.

Feliciano sent him a wide smile, and studied him carefully. Ludwig fidgeted under his prying look, and Feliciano just smiled all the wider, canines poking out in a charming way.

"You're so shy!" he teased, when Ludwig looked down at the table with a red face, and maybe that was appealing to someone as bold and outgoing as Feliciano.

The conversation kept on from there, and Feliciano's next observation about Ludwig, although accurate, was not quite as benign.

"You're a pretty big guy, you know? I mean, now that I'm talkin' to you, I know you're just a big pushover, sweet as can be, but anyone who doesn't know you probably thinks you're tough, huh? You wouldn't hurt anyone, but they don't have to know that, right? I just want you to run a few errands for me, is all. All you have to do is look scary. You're good at that, whether you wanna be or not. Can you do that?"

Immediately, Ludwig's common sense said, 'Holy shit, get the fuck out of here right now, you idiot.'

He edged his seat backwards towards the door.

"What kind of errands?"

"The kind that you don't worry about askin' what kind," was the somewhat evasive response, and Ludwig stood up from the table, anxiously, and took a step back.

Feliciano's smile stood strong, and he hauled himself up from the table and took a step forward to counter Ludwig's attempt to edge away. It was then that Ludwig looked around, really looked around, and realized that there were quite a few pill bottles layin' around. In fact, every time he turned his head, it seemed, there was another bottle. How hadn't he noticed those before?

Oh, shit.

Feliciano was right in front of him suddenly, and his smile was showing his teeth again, crinkling his eyes in a handsome way. Feliciano probably could have gotten anyone to do anything, as charming as he was and with that bright smile, and Ludwig had always been a pushover, just like Feliciano said.

He hesitated, despite the screeching voice in his head.

"Come on," Feliciano goaded, "Where the hell are you gonna go? This is the easiest job you'll ever find. I promise, as long as you do everything I say, there won't be any problems. Let's help each other out. Where are you gonna go?"

A hand stuck out suddenly before him, and Ludwig stared down at it as if it were a snake.

Damn.

He didn't have anywhere else to go. He didn't have anyone else. So, in the end, he bit down his common sense, silenced the warning in his head, gave a weak, somewhat defeated smile, and took Feliciano's big hand within his own.

The first words that Feliciano said to him after they shook on it were, "You've got pretty eyes, you know. Come on, I got a room for ya upstairs."

Pretty eyes. Maybe that hadn't been such a strange thought on his part after all.

Feliciano put that heavy hand on his back, and led him upstairs. After that, it seemed, Feliciano's hand never left him.

He always seemed to find himself in unfortunate situations. He was easy to take advantage of. Always had been.

Bad luck.