Title: Fem!America's strange need to Cling to people during Meetings

WARNINGS: Fem!America, Annoyed/Frustrated/Happy other Nations, Oblivious!America, and threats of death

Warnings for this chapter: Mild language, and Italy's love of Pasta

Pairings for this chapter: Femerica/N. Italy OR Amelia/Feliciano

warning: this chapter may cause the insistent need to go 'awww' and coo until your head explodes from cuteness. Viewer discretion is advised.

CHAPTER 1: Huggling the Pasta lover

"Ve~ Germany! Germany! Wait for me!"

Germany felt his irritation level grow as the little Italian cried out for him to slow down as they walked into the meeting room. When Italy finally made it inside he was suddenly glomped by a flash of blonde.

"Hiyah Feli~! How's a going?" Italy didn't seem to mind the hug so he started hugging the girl back. "Ciao Amelia~!" America released Italy's neck only to latch onto his waist, giggling. Of course both of them were oblivious to the snapping sound Kiku, and Elizabeta's camera's were making.

"America! Italy! Get to your seats!" Ludwig didn't seem to like that the meeting was being completely ignored because America decided she wanted to cling to Italy today. Arthur seemed to agree with Germany whole-heartedly, and was now lecturing Amelia about being a proper lady or something.

America pouted. "But I wanted a hug." There was the infamous puppy eyes. The same ones that managed to get Japan to her Christmas parties every year, that got Canada to make her pancakes whenever she wanted, and the same that made everyone want to coo and hug her till she popped.

"Just leave them be, rosbif. They aren't going to listen to you." France spoke up. "Shut up frog!" England shouted at him before sitting back in his seat. The meeting finally started, with Amelia sitting on the arm-rests of Feliciano's chair, with them hugging each other happily.

Like most meetings, nothing got done. But at least there were no shouts of 'Pasta~' or 'I'm the heroine~'.

NOW WITH OMAKE:

~After the Meeting~

Feliciano held the younger, on his way to his house. He'd promised her pasta, and no matter how much she protested, she was going to eat it.

You see, she had claimed her food was better than his, and although he had to confess that her Southern cuisine was quite tasty (Such as Louisiana crayfish, peach cobblers, sweet potatoes, and chili), his was always going to be superior.

So he sat her down on one of his kitchen chairs, and started cooking. Making homemade pasta took sometime, but it was worth it.

"Really Feli, I don't want any pasta! I- Mmmph!" Feliciano shoved a spoon of pasta sauce into her mouth, a slightly crazed look in his eyes. "Shh! You will like it! Trust me! Pasta is delicious! You will see!"

*~few hours of cooking later~*

A bowl of pasta was shoved in America's face, and Feliciano saw her eyes widen a little. Okay, he might have made a little TOO much. But if she could eat 3 bags of those greasy death traps in a row, she could eat this with no problem.

Seeing Italy's crazed look, Amelia quickly took the offered fork and started stuffing her face. Problem: The pasta kept slipping away. Italy saw this, so he walked behind her and took her hand, helping her twist the pasta on the fork. "Eat it like this, okay?"

"'Kay." She then started slurping it up, making Italy cringe at the sound. "Aent 'ou g'omg o 'ave anmy?" Feliciano translated what she said in his head, and smiled and nodded, taking another fork and started eating.

He started tugging his fork and found that one of the noodles was being very difficult. So, not wanting to loose the noodle, put the fork in his mouth and started fighting the food. It was-STARTING TO MOVE? Determined not to let it get away he started leaning over the table trying to get it. He chewed the part of the noodle in his mouth and continued to move, not seeing were he was moving, just focusing on the noodle until he found the end of it going into something blurry and pink. Not thinking to focus in on what the pink thing was, he smashed his lips to the pink thing. It was really soft, and he heard a little noise that made him open his eyes a little. It was blue eyes. What? What ha- Oh no.

Poor Amelia was blushing bright pink. Italy felt his own face turn pink. "Ah! America I'm sorry! I didn't mean to! I just wanted to get the pasta, but the pasta was getting away and-" Wait a second. He saw the end of the pasta. He had won! "I got it! Ve~! I got the pasta!" Italy then started dancing happily at the victory, while Amelia watched him with the kiss forgotten and continued eating her pasta. Europeans were so weird.

Had this idea in my head for a while~ I think this pairing is cute, don't you?