Disclaimer: I just wanted to give a little warning before you start reading and it's about Google Translate. I have a real issue with Google Translate. As a linguist myself - an unconevntial one but still a linguist - it really annoys me, because it's pants. It pays no attention to grammer, syntax etc. If I could I would avoid it...

However, as I - unfortunately - only speak English and I don't know anyone who speaks Norwegian/German/Japanese to pester, I have to use it. I've tried to use other sources, but Google Translate was the most easy to access. Thus, if there are any ridiculous errors in this story, please do let me know and I will change it to the correct way. I'm of the firm belief that computers can never replace human interpreters and translators... Google Translate has proved it to me.

Anyway, enough of me. Please enjoy the story! ^_^

Chapter I

It was 04:39am in Leuven, Belgium. The night air was warm as the night-goers stumbled through the cobbled streets. Girls in skimpy dresses and high-heels teetered passed in cliques, laughing loudly, drunk with the evening and alcohol. Groups of men eyed them as they went by, faces leering openly and shouting lewd invitations. Bass-heavy music thumped through the district, tempting the people of Belgium to come out and dance their cares away. Inside a club, two nations sat at the bar, shoulders hunched and eyes slightly glazed. The bar was lined with empty glasses of varying shapes and sizes. They still wore their uniforms; they had wandered into the club after the world meeting had finished and had been there ever since. Now thoroughly inebriated, the pair were considering how to get back to their hotel... and where the hotel was.

The world meeting had originally been planned for the city of Brussels, the obvious choice. However, during the preparations, it was discovered that a few nations – namely France, Spain and Prussia, who else? – had been banned from the city, due to some inappropriate escapades in the past. Leuven was chosen as the next closest city to the capital. It also boasted a lively 'bar scene,' another reason for its choice. Not that this appealed to many nations, but Leuven also had a rich history, especially academically. This was the 'official' reason for its choice.

With a last gulp of his drink, England sighed and shifted on his stool. His eyes were heavy and his body felt stiff from sitting at the bar for over six hours. Today's meeting had been one of the most boring he's been to in many years. The host had been very courteous and pleasant towards her fellow nations and the meeting had gone well for the first two hours. That was until Germany had begun to talk. Normally the nation would be blunt, direct and concise with his speeches, but today... something had obviously irritated him and he had to pass that irritation onto the other nations. It was not often that Germany could irritate England, but when he did, he did it well. That man could be so annoying it made England want to slap him! He couldn't just get angry and express it as the other nations did. No he had to bottle it up and release it passively.

Gritting his teeth, England ran a hand through his blond hair. He hadn't planned to end up in a bar, but it a better alternative than brooding in his hotel room. And there was nothing else to do. The other nations had all disappeared as quickly as he had, all were eager to see what Leuven had to offer. England should have felt the same. Instead, he was growing more sullen about tomorrow's meeting. He dreaded having to sit through another moment of boring talks and proposals.

"Today's meeting still getting to you?" his companion asked, snapping England out of his dour thoughts. Norway sat, leaning heavily on the bar, glass in hand and wobbling on his stool. His beret was askew and he blinking slowly, trying to stay awake.

England sighed again, rubbing his temples. "I guess so. I'm not looking forward to more of Germany's pessimism tomorrow. If only he could learn to cheer up a bit, miserable bastard..."

"Maybe this will cheer you up. Look over there," Norway muttered. He pointed to a gaggle of Belgian girls, laughing and cheering as they left the club. Before they opened the door, a gust of wind appeared from nowhere, lifting their skimpy dresses up to their waists and exposing their even skimpier underwear. Utterly embarrassed, they pushed their dresses back down and fled from the club. Hoots of drunken joy followed them out and England found himself joining in. The sight had definitely cheered him up. At his side Norway smirked.

"I thought you might like that," Norway mumbled around his glass. "Forget about the meeting, tomorrow we'll be so hungover we'll sleep through most of it. Just like Greece."

"Heh... you're right," England muttered, his eyes lingering on the exit. A wave of fatigued suddenly swamped him; it was time to head back to his room. "Anyway, Germany wouldn't be the same if he lost all his inhibitions and didn't play by the rules," England added, pushing his glasses away.

Norway laughed as he downed the remains of his drink. He slid off his stool and leaned against the bar, stretching lithely. England let his eyes wander over the Norwegian's frame. Denmark wasn't around to object.

"Could you imagine Germany without his up-tight demeanour?" Norway asked as he leaned against the bar. "Have you ever seen him smile?"

"I'm sure Italy has," England answered. He slowly pushed himself to his feet. "Maybe Prussia too. Other than them... well I've never seen Germany look anything other than stern. Is that a Germanic thing? I've never seen Austria or Switzerland smile either."

"I've always thought the same of Japan," Norway said. He stumbled forwards, nearly landing on the dance floor. Luckily England managed to catch him in time and tuck an arm around his waist, guiding him slowly to the exit. "Did he ever smile when you were together?" he continued, as if nothing had happened.

"Sometimes," England answered, pushing the door of the club open. The warm air felt blissful on his skin. If he could, he would curl up and sleep on the pavement, but he knew that was his beer-jacket talking. The hotel wasn't that far... well... he thought it was close.

Norway began to giggle as England dragged him along the street. "Really? He smiled? I thought his manners and culture prevented any emotions."

Somehow, England found himself laughing. "Not always, only when it was appropriate." Norway laughed, his feet catching on the pavement. He tried to stop but England gave him a harsh tug to spur him on. It was late and the buildings were blurring into one. It couldn't be that far to the hotel...

"Could you imagine him letting loose?" Norway asked, hanging from England's shoulders. "Japan and Germany on a drinking session? That would be worth watching."

"Germany gets drunk, just not in front of many people." At least, that's what he heard from Prussia.

"Can you imagine them being that way at the meeting? Now that would be something to see!"

"I'd pay good money to see that," England agreed, brows furrowed in concentration. The building ahead looked vaguely like their hotel. Judging by the state of Norway, it would have to do.

It took several attempts to drag the thoroughly inebriated Norway up the stone stairs and into the hotel reception. Porters tried to stop the nations until England snarled and flashed his hotel key, ID badge and middle finger at them. They took the hint and backed away, trying to discern how much of England's words were curses. The bellboy in the elevator stayed silent as Norway slowly sank to the floor, babbling quietly yet managing to create red stars that popped on impact. England leaned against the elevator rail, trying not to vomit when the elevator juddered into life. The Norwegian began to mumble in his own language until the elevator stopped suddenly, causing him to tumble forwards into the bellboy. England only caught a few words of Norwegian, his brain too muddled to translate properly. Something about two halves of a whole?

With the bellboy's help, England managed to lift Norway onto his back and carry him along the corridor. It took several attempts to find the correct door number, but eventually England managed to find his hotel room and after fumbling with the lock, stumbled inside with Norway on his back. England had been very lucky with his room; it was more like a small apartment than hotel room. He had a small kitchen/dining area with a sofa-bed and TV with a separate bedroom and shower. It would have been perfect, except there was only a single bed. And England was too tired to pull out the sofa-bed and find an extra duvet and pillows.

As England dumped Norway onto the bed, the nation started to giggle again. England could feel the haze of sleep settle over him as he tugged off the Norwegian's boots, followed by his own. As England settled into bed – without removing his uniform, he was too tired to even attempt it – Norway tugged on his sleeve. When England moved his arm, Norway laid his head on England's chest. Too drunk and too tired to care, England allowed him to use his chest as a pillow.

"Hey Eng, I just made a spell in the elevator," Norway slurred with an inane grin. He roughly tugged the cross hairpin from his hair and threw it onto the floor.

"Oh yeah?" England asked drowsily as he pulled the bed sheets over them both.

"Heh, Germany and Japan will be shocked tomorrow."

Somewhere in the back of England's mind, an alarm bell rang. He should have asked Norway what he meant, and remind him of what happened last time they messed around with magic when drunk. He should have. However, tucked in a comfy and warm bed, fatigued from drink and jet-lag, the nation didn't question what his friend meant. Instead he wrapped an arm around Norway's shoulders and closed his eyes, leaning his cheek against the top of Norway's head.

"Night Nor," was all he said as the stars began to disappear in the pre-dawn.