Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia…D'X

Summary: Francis was definitely the best host, but maybe he wasn't so good at falling in love for real. Gilbert and Antonio want to devise a plan to get Francis a girl – nah, boyfriend, but then an interesting visitor is thrown in the mix…

Chapter 1

A tanned young man leaned back in his chair lazily, closing his eyes and letting the sun from the window shine on his unruly brown hair and warm his calm face. A little bell rang, and the man opened his eyes, revealing sparkling, green orbs that could make any girl's heart flutter. His trademark lazy but cute smile appeared on his face as he saw two women standing across the table from him.

"What can I do for you two lovely ladies?" He asked with a Spanish accent and a grin that made the women swoon slightly.

"Um, we're here to see…Francis?" One of the women asked shyly, and the Spaniard grinned.

"Of course, un momento, por favor~" He turned to the open door behind him. "Francis, one for you mi amigo~"

A man about the same age as the Spaniard appeared in the doorway, wearing a white, half-unbuttoned shirt and tight jeans, his long, wavy, golden hair tied back with a dark-blue ribbon. The Spaniard wore similar clothing, but his shirt was black and more than a bit clingy, hugging his abs nicely.

"Ah, merci, Antonio~" Francis replied with a flirtatious French accent.

The woman who had stayed quiet before was gazing at Francis, and if she were in an anime, Francis was pretty sure her eyes would be big, pink hearts. The Frenchman flashed a charming smile at the two ladies, before gesturing to a couple of sofas a little way from them.

"Shall we?" The women eagerly followed Francis as he strode over to the chairs.

Antonio watched the Frenchman's practiced performance with a chuckle, before returning to his seat near the entrance to the host-club they were part of. There were three of them, all together. Francis, Gilbert and himself, although Gil had recently gone out to get some more tea for their female company. From his seat, he could hear Francis' unique but strangely enticing laugh, the two young women were blushing and giggling also, one of them covering her mouth delicately as she laughed.

The Spaniard smiled as he watched Francis with his clients – he was by far the best at being a host, but Antonio mainly blamed it on the fact that Gilbert wasn't quite charming enough, and he was already in a relationship himself and didn't want to get too involved with his job right now. Which is why he was sat near the entrance, flashing his charming smiles but not opening himself to his responsibilities as a host anymore.

Mi tomate wouldn't like it…

The little bell rang suddenly as the door was shoved open and a man with white hair and dark, almost red eyes entered, grinning. He strode over to Antonio, slamming the newly-purchased tin of tea-bags on the table in front of the Spaniard.

"Yo, Tonio. Any more clients for the awesome me?" He asked cockily, his loud German accent making Francis glance at his companions, before flashing a winning smile and returning to his flirting. Antonio looked apologetic.

"Sorry, mi amigo…every client has been requesting Francis recently~" He gestured over to where Francis was holding one of the women's hands to his lips, brushing her knuckles gently before smiling.

Gilbert crossed his arms.

"Mein gott, why does he feel the need to pretend he is as awesome as the awesome me?" The German huffed, not admitting that he was just jealous because almost every woman runs away from him, when he's only trying to do his job.

"He's not pretending, mi amigo. Maybe he is just more charming than you?"

Gilbert snorted. "Ah ja, like that's even possible! No one is more charming than me!"

Gilbert narrowed his eyes in the direction of Francis, pouting stubbornly, while Antonio sighed, shaking his head and smiling at his German friend. The two of them continued to observe as Francis stood up and bid farewell to the two ladies, a thought suddenly crossing both their minds simultaneously.

"He needs a chick." Gil stated, and Antonio gave him a glance. Gilbert looked back and then shrugged. "Okay then, he needs a man…?"

Antonio grinned. "Si, he does."

Gilbert didn't like the mischievous gleam in the Spanish friend's eye, and nudged him a little.

"I think Franny can sort out his own love-life, Tonio…" Gil said, and Antonio nodded.

"Si, but a little help wouldn't do him any bad, would it?" His innocent smile made Gilbert roll his eyes, before grinning.

"Alright, I'm in. But only because you couldn't pull it off without the awesome me!" Gilbert grinned, shutting up as Francis approached them.

The Frenchman grew suspicious as his two friends fell silent, and frowned slightly. "Were you talking about moi?"

He was intrigued, and looked to Antonio who seemed to be the more trustworthy of the two. Both of them merely grinned in response before drifting off to busy themselves with other tasks – Antonio sitting down in his designated seat and shuffling random bits of paper everywhere, and Gilbert…uh…seeing Francis' clients out…sort of.

Francis decided to shrug it off, figuring he'd probably find out sooner or later…

XxX

A depressed, drunk blonde with huge eyebrows was slumped at a barstool, slurring his words and complaining to the world about his "bitch of a girlfriend" who dumped him today, "oh well she was a bitch anyway. Did I mention, she was a complete and utter bloody bitch?!"

The man was clearly English – you could tell from the accent and the way he swore like a soldier – and drunk out of his mind. His Chinese drinking buddy had left a few pints ago, fed up with his drunken rambling about his ex-girlfriend, as he had made so clear multiple times.

The Englishman dragged himself up off the barstool, standing up and swaying a little as he staggered out of the bar, ignoring the advice from the bartender as always.

XxX

Their host-club closed for the day a few hours ago, but Gil, Antonio and Francis always decided to stay behind and hang out together until Antonio's angry, impatient little boyfriend, Lovino, broke the door down, demanding that the "bastard come home right now, because….n-not that he was worried or anything….SHUT UP!"

It was about that time now, and Gilbert and Francis glanced at the clock, before counting down in unison, while Antonio prepared for the verbal abuse he was likely to receive.

"Trois, deux, un…"

"Drei, zwei, ein…"

A fuming Italian burst through the door.

"Bastardo!" He marched over to Antonio, spewing curses in English and Italian, while the Spaniard just smiled lazily, bidding farewell to his amused friends before walking out of the host-club, his Italian boyfriend yelling his ear off.

Francis looked somewhat baffled. "Poor Tonio…it makes you wonder why they put up with each other…I mean Lovino seems to get pissed off by his very existence – " Gilbert laughed. "It's obviously because they are in luuuuuuuurve! Und the sex is probably good too!"

He grinned as Francis' lips curved upwards in amusement at his comment.

"Well," The German rose from his slouching position on one of the sofas, "I'd better be off too. Roddy seems to think he has the right to give the awesome me a curfew…which ended around half an hour ago."

He shrugged, and Francis chuckled, about to respond when the door was roughly shoved open and a stranger leaned against the wall for support. Francis and Gilbert shared a bemused expression, before Gilbert spoke up.

"Excuse me, but I think you've got the wrong place…?"

Francis studied the man. The first thing he noticed were the huge eyebrows, then there was the dirty-blonde hair and emerald green eyes, half-closed, and a rosy tint dusting his cheeks.

"He's another drunk, Gil…" Francis sighed, remembering the last time a random drunk stumbled into the host-club, demanding all manner of things before getting pissy and wrecking the furniture.

"Mein Gott, not again." Gilbert groaned.

The stranger knocked into the table to his left, before teetering on the edge of collapse. Seeing this, Francis ran over and was ready to catch the man as he fell into Francis' arms. Gilbert watched with a bemused expression, for this wasn't like Francis.

"Don't just stand there, Gil! Help moi!" Francis struggled as he was trying to support the drunk man at an awkward angle. Reluctantly, Gilbert helped Francis to lay the man on one of the cream sofas.

"Well, now what are we going to do?" Gilbert asked, as they both stood, watching the now unconscious man. Francis shrugged.

"We can't turn him out now. Once he wakes up in the morning, he'll go back to wherever he came from." The Frenchman crossed his arms, "But we cannot do anything else now…"

Gilbert turned to look at Francis, his almost-crimson eyes filled with a sudden concern. "Will you be alright?"

Francis met his gaze, knowing why Gilbert was concerned.

Francis had been renting the room above the host-club for a while now, and when the last drunk came in, it was in the middle of the night and he had attacked Francis. The Frenchman later had to go to hospital, and Gilbert and Antonio had stayed with Francis for a few weeks afterwards, just to make sure it didn't happen again.

"Oui, I'll be fine…He doesn't seem like the aggressive type…" Francis glanced at the sleeping man's face thoughtfully.

"I'm not too sure." The German stubbornly crossed his arms. "I'll stay here with you tonight." His tone was decisive, and Francis knew not much could be said to sway him.

"But what about Roderich?" The Frenchman asked, and Gilbert stiffened a little in realisation.

He waved his hand dismissively. "I'm sure he'll be fine with it. I'll send him a text to let him know he'll have to go without my awesome presence for one night!" He grinned, his tone cocky, but they both knew that Roderich got paranoid whenever Gil was away for a long period of time. Even one night was too long, and it had caused many arguments between them before.

"If you're sure…" Francis replied, shrugging. So the two of them went upstairs, not bothered by the fact that there was only one bed, as they'd known each other long enough to cope with it, and besides…worse things had happened before.

Halfway up the stairs, Francis had another thought and collected a blanket, draping it gently over the stranger, before turning the lights off and joining Gilbert upstairs for the night.

XxX

A/N: Okay so, I wasn't trying to make France and Prussia a pairing, but yeah. Anyway, this is the first chapter of a hopefully worth-reading story! PLEASE REVIEW!