Hey Guys and Gals, CheeseCakeKitty15 here and back yet again with another Hetalia story because in the anime community, you do not find Hetalia, Hetalia finds you. So, I absolutely love the FACE family (that's France, America, Canada and England if you have been living under a rock, or alternatively, one of England's scones), their relationship and shenanigans they get up to on a daily basis. I thought that this would be a perfect basis for a collection of oneshots so I'm gonna give it a go!

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. If I did, this awesome misfit family would get more screen time together.

Without further ado, let's get on with the story!

Story One: Canadian Please

"You sure this is gonna work on him?"

"Don't worry about it, everything has just slid perfectly into place."

"Yeah, but still, Mr. Honhonhon isn't as stupid as he looks!"

"I wouldn't go that far."

"Bloody hell, I can't believe I let you two twits drag me into this…"

A churning stomach, pounding headache and an overall drowsy state of mind were the last things someone wanted to wake up to at five in the morning. Yet, today appeared to be the one day where this would happen to a certain Frenchman after a long and, um, unique night of drinking with Spain and Prussia. His glossy blond hair was a mess and clouded his already hazy vision as he slowly cracked open a single eye after what had to be the tenth time of trying to get back to sleep. He lazily reached around on his bedside table for a hairband to tie the tangled atrocity back and, after knocking over numerous plants, glasses and a growing collection of other miscellaneous items, France finally discovered a delicate one made of soft blue satin.

"Oui, this'll do for now I suppose…" he whispered to himself, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and stumbling over towards the stairs.

As you can imagine, the nation ended up tumbling down said stairs with all the grace and beauty of a dying pig, landing in a crumpled heap at the bottom. Dusting himself off, he outwardly sighed in exasperation and make his way to the kitchen where his two phones had been charging for the night. They both displayed two different times as a result of the frequent travelling that France did, but at this point it was too early and he was too tired to care about minor imperfections like that. Quickly grabbing a baguette, chopping it into multiple slices and then buttering all of them individually, he dropped them all into a small woven basket and slunk to his large sofa.

He switched on the TV, randomly flicking through the seemingly endless channels before settling on a romantic game show and nestling between the cushions. Turning the volume down to a setting that preferably wouldn't absolutely destroy his ears in his delirium, France grabbed a small piece of baguette and made himself comfortable in a position which he was sure he wouldn't move from in the next couple of hours at least.

"Bon, I could get used to this!" He thought with a smile, fixating his eyes to the screen and stuffing another piece of food in his mouth, "Ah, this is the life…"

Meanwhile, in a dimly lit room (complete with spinning chairs, cats and dramatic red lighting), three blond men crowded around three small electronic items, faces basking in the glow emitting from their screens. They sadistically giggled in unison like malevolent spirits, turning to each other and whispering words of misery and deception. Each man pressed a small button on their devices and proceeded to get many other pieces of equipment prepared for what was to come following the next events which were to take place that morning.

"Well then, you damn frog, enjoy the show…"

Perhaps France had gotten a little too comfortable, perhaps he had eaten one too many baguette pieces, perhaps he had watched a little too much romantic game shows; either way, he was getting slightly drowsy. His head kept drooping into the soft expanse of the pillow and he found himself loosing focus. Despite this, the blond was determined to stay awake and attempt to get over his stinking hangover, and, so far, he was doing a pretty good job of it. He had kept away from his long list of disliked music, the volume was at a preferred setting, not one person had come a-knocking at the door, and no work had to be done.

Suddenly, an incredibly loud drumbeat started making itself known from the kitchen, followed by swift finger clicks that resonated throughout the house. France had to cover his ears in desperation when a clearly edited and shrill female voice broke through the noise, yelling about how she apparently knows that he wants to be Canadian.

"Non….it can't be…not this song…I have to turn…it off!" the Frenchman groaned, still covering his ears and shuffling to the phone to see who was calling. It was America, so he tried to pick up the call. However, that only made the music play louder and louder and louder until it was almost unbearable. As if things could not get any worse, the second phone had also just begun to play the same song on an even less tolerable volume, with the same outcome as the first if he picked up.

France scrambled around the place for a pair of headphones to dull the continuous clatter of Canada's redeeming qualities that seemed to go on forever on an endless loop.

"Make it stop… Please make it stop!" he yelled at the top of his lungs as the house, upstairs and living room phones begun to blast the music to the world. The man also momentarily thanked his lucky stars that he didn't have neighbours because otherwise he would surely not hear the end of it, before ripping the house phone from the wall and hitting it with the nearest available object until it shattered.

Just as he was about to embark upstairs to destroy a few more expensive objects, the music abruptly cut off and was replaced by the sound of three all-too-familiar voices laughing as if there was no tomorrow.

"Dude!" America giggled, barely containing his laughter, "That was so funny!"

"I do have to admit, that was one of your more intelligent schemes." France could practically hear England shrugging his shoulders in defeat and raising his hands to the sky. He swore he could have heard Canada manically in the background like a crazed man whilst the other two begun to argue over seemingly nothing in particular.

"Excuse moi?" France begun, raising his voice just enough to put an end to the other nation's yelling.

"Yeah?" America had quietened down quite a bit, most likely a result of England slapping his hand over his mouth, as well as Canada whose laughs had been reduced to small, hasty breaths. There was an awkward pause for a few seconds, the only sound being quiet sighs on either end of the line, creating unnecessary tension between the four.

"You owe me a new phone by the way."

"Oh…"

"Whoops."

"You bloody git, really didn't think that one through, did you?"

So, there we have it guys and gals, we have reached the end of our first story! I hope you liked it! As always, said reviews are always appreciated, but no flames please (if you are that intent on roasting marshmallows, please do so elsewhere)! Thank you so much for reading and I'll see you next time! Ciao!