A/N: I \recently stopped writing to do crafts, but, suddenly, my love for writing came back full force! I asked my sister for a prompt and she said: "Hair. Bows." At first, I had no idea how to do that, but then I realized it could just be hair…And that France WEARS a ribbon sometimes! And so, this. I'm trying my hand at writing in present-tense. Please enjoy my story and R&R whether you liked it or not! The foreign language vocab I use is basic, but translations will be at the bottom, all the same.

Discaimer: Axis Powers Hetalia, Hetalia: Axis Powers and Hetalia World Series and all its characters belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya and team, whom I am in no way affiliated with. I only own this story. :D I also don't own Old Spice. That's Procter&Gamble. Really, I own nothing but the words.

Warning: Yaoi hints and pervy-ness. Nothing explicit, this is a friendship fic. France can't help himself…

"Hey, Tony!" Gilbert greets his best friend, grinning deviously.

Spain gapes at the big hole in his bedroom window and the million wicked sharp shards of glass now scattered across the room. His right eyelid twitches. Deep breaths, Antonio, deep breaths.

"DIOS MIO! YOU COULD HAVE BOTHERED TO KNOCK ON THE FRONT DOOR, LIKE NORMAL PEOPLE?" France slips through the hole after his Prussian-no, German- friend. He goes up to the third, seething member of the trio, pressing his forehead to the other's.

"Alas, mon amour," France whispers softly, "We are not normal people…Through the window is more fun…and…romantique…" With every word he emphasised, he punctuates with a, erm, touch.

"Geez, Francis, you aren't Romeo or something. We're just too awesome to use the door." Prussia snorts.

Spain rolls his eyes, opens his mouth to say something, closes it and smiles.

"Okay then!" he says, suddenly all perky, "Just remember you guys have to pay to replace it!"

"And by 'you guys', that means just you, Francis." Prussia says as he leaves the room, "I'm kinda tight on money. Now, if you will excuse me, I'm off to eat your food without your permission." He points to the kitchen and runs off, laughing his annoying laugh.

Spain just sighs, but follows after him. Who else will make sure he doesn't touch what he's not supposed to, or eat something poisonous? And…He was glad to see the two had dropped by. They're his best friends and it's been a while. He wanted to talk, to catch up. France went with him.

As soon as they reach the kitchen, fruit comes flying their way, a manzana hitting Spain in the face. "Think fast!" Prussia warns totally too late. Then, France is struck with a pamplemousse. Apparently, he threw so hard, that juice squirts out right into both men's eyes. You can bet that stings. At least it wasn't, like, a lime or something.

Prussia takes a bite out of his banane with complete disregard to his friends' pain. "Man, you have nothing to eat in this place. Other than all this health-Eh?" Now, some red, juicy, pulpy stuff was all over his face and hair. After tasting it, Prussia finds out that a tomato had been thrown at him. A tomato? No one, repeat, no one soils Gilbert "Ore-sama" Beilschmidt's beautiful sexy face.

"Alright, who was the punk who threw that?"

France shakes his head quickly and points to Spain and sure enough, another tomato is being readied to throw.

"Two can play at that game!" Prussia taunts. He opens the fridge and automatically, he finds good ammo. One dozen, smooth, brown farm-fresh eggs. He juggles a few and lobs them right at Spain's luscious brown locks. Success! He even got his pants and ear!

"Kesese!"

Spain sticks out his lower lip. "Hey! I just bought these pants!"

Prussia only laughs more in response, but, yet again, gets cut off by food. A raw Italian sausage up the mouth. How suggestive. He spits it out immediately.

"That's disgusting!" he yells into France's face.

It wasn't long until a full fledged food fight broke out.

A whole hour later, the once pristine kitchen now looks like a pig sty. Or worse.

"Come on, guys!" Spain whines, "Why do you always trash the house when you come over?" "Oh stop it, Espagne, it was fun," France says. "I agree!" Prussia says.

France catches a drop of egg white dripping from Prussia silver hair.

"Come, let's see if we can't get this filth out of nos cheveux." Before anyone can protest, they're dragged off into the showers. Yes, at the same time. They should have seen it coming, with France.

Showers are awful crowded with three men in them. Three men with huge-

"Move over, Antonio! I can't reach the soap!" Prussia shoves Spain over, right onto France and reaches out for the Old Spice body wash.

"Can't have myself not smelling like a real Old Spice Man. That's not awesome," he says as he squeezes out a generous amount and rubs it all over his chest, working up a respectable lather.

Spain blinks, flabbergasted.

"Don't you feel the least bit uncomfortable in the shower with the two of us?" he asks. Prussia shrugs. "Not really," he answers truthfully, "I mean, when you've been in be-" France put a finger to his lip. How many times did he get cut off, now?

"Non, non, mon amour" France says, "Don't kiss and tell."

Spain, being Spain, doesn't get it, but shrugs after he realizes that he doesn't really care. He, too, goes to slather the manly stuff all over. He holds the bottle out to France. "Need some?" France shakes his head, but does go for some fruity-smelling shampoo.

"Francis, why are you so girly with your hair?" Prussia dares to ask. France raises an eyebrow and fingers a lock of his silky fair hair. "Am I?"

"Well, I like it!" Spain admits, giggling.

"Merci, mon ami," says France graciously, "Someone here has taste. You're reminding me of Angleterre, Gilbert. And who would want to be like him?"

Who could forget the time the England almost got killed by a bishop by trying to grow out his hair? It was all going to get cut off, anyways! Gooooooddd times…

They wash off the last bits of soap and get out of the shower. Prussia groans.

"What's wrong?" Spain asks because he's a bit dense, can't notice the obvious and has no ability to 'read the air'.

"Nothing," assures Prussia. Then the sarcasm comes back. "You know, we just have no clean clothes. That's all."

Spain beams. "Why didn't you say so? I'll just wash them for you!" Then he runs off to throw them into the washing machine. Looks like the two would have to walk around with only a towel for a bit…Sigh. A loud, blaring windy sound comes out of nowhere, making Prussia jump a bit. Oh never mind, it's just France drying his hair.

"Hey, I'm using that next, mmkay Francis?" he tells the Frenchman. As if to punctuate his words, he shakes his head much like a dog would and gets droplets of cool water all over the mirror and his friend's face.

"Don't do that!" France scolds. He gets in return a 'whatever' look from Prussia. France sighs and returns his attention to his hair. The sound of blowing dies down when France turns off the drier. His delicious tresses seem to fall in slow motion, settling in the perfect places to frame his androgynous face. Since he's a bit of a narcissist, the Frenchman checks himself in the mirror and blows a kiss to his reflection. Clearly, he's satisfied. Wait a minute…A stray lock! Fortunately, France is one step ahead. He whips out a brush and pats in down. There! To keep it all tidy and flawless, he adds one final touch. A navy blue ribbon to restrain it.

"How do I look, Gilbert?"

"Yeah, yeah, you look good enough to date, whatever…" he tells the him, not even bothering to look at him. Rude. Instead he takes the brush for himself and switches the drier to ON.

Just then, Spain returns. "Okay, they're in the wash!" The two nod a thanks to him. "I really like your hair, Francis!" Spain says. France grins and pecks him on the cheek.

"What about mine, Antonio?" Prussia asks, setting down the drier. The way he manoeuvred the appliance forced the air to set each single hair at an exact place. The result is a head of hair that is one of those 'sexy messy things'.

"Yours look great, too!" Grin. "Of course I do." Then, Prussia goes to help Antonio with his hair. A blast of air here, sweep the bangs to over there, add some gel in this spot…He looks amazing!

"I would've added some clips," Prussia says, "but you aren't Poland." Eyetwitch.

In the living room, sipping beer, red wine, and sherry wine. Still in towels. Spain and France on the loveseat and Prussia on the armchair. Catching up with each other's lives.

"So West doesn't really do much else than bake lebkuchen at home and eat it with his former Axis buddies and that damn aristocrat plus ex-wife. Even when it's not Weinachten. He mostly keeps to himself and I can do whatever I want. Did you know that he still never got a girl in his bed?"

France chuckles and, with a flourish of his mane, suggests, "Ludwig should stop slicking back his hair, then. Many have a sexual attraction for long hair. C'est le raison toute les femmes-et hommes!-m'adorent!"

Prussia strokes his chin in mock of a pondering man. Makes sense, doesn't it? "Is that so…? I thought it was only a guy fetish…?" Shrugs all around.

"Speaking of, Francis." This time Spain spoke. "I don't remember buying that shampoo you used in the shower." France pretends to be in shock. Gaassssppp! You've found me out! It was mine! That sort of thing. Then he just drops the act. "It's mine, I brought it," he admits without all the theatrics. Spain doesn't even bother to ask why. Prussia, on the other hand, does.

"You bring feminine shampoo everywhere?"

"Not everywhere. Just today. I wanted to take a shower-which is douche, en Français-here so Tonio pays rather then moi." Devilish smirk. More eye-twitch. Exclamations of "Niicceee…"

"Well," Spain says after a swallow to stop himself from screaming again, "it smells very nice, to be honest." He takes a breathing it in deeply.

"Really?" Prussia says with dubiousness in his voice. The albino leans over to sniff. "Well, what do you know. Effeminate really suits you, Francis. It's such a sweet, flowery, light scent…"

"Like spring!" Spain exclaims.

"I cannot believe you two are going to sit here and sniff my hair all day! Ça, c'est le fois finalement je choisis á laver mes cheveux avec ce shampooing." The last part he mumbled to himself. That's a lie, of course. France likes that shampoo. But sure as sun, going to avoid letting these two weirdos scent it again.

"Is this another fetish of girls? Hair that smells like their own?" Prussia demands, suddenly, with genuine curiosity. France shakes his head. "Non, mon cheri. I just liked it."

"Jedem das seine…"

Blinkblink from the Spaniard. "Oookkkaayyy…?"

"Now, if it pleases you, get out of my hair."

"Oh fine…"

Back the beer, sherry and red.

"Lovi is so cute! He doesn't really come over much, anymore, but I always drop by to say ¡Hola! But sometimes I think he's not happy to see me…"

"Oh, nonsense! Why, he's just like his brother under that tough exterior." France assures the now downcast Spaniard. "Et François va t'adorer pour l'eternité!" he whispers into his ear

"Francis, I'm going to puke if you say one more dumb, romantic thing in French. Or even worse, swear in German."

"Oh, God forbid…" Yes, sarcasm.

"You know, my one of my favourite things about Lovino is his little curl!" Spain continues to babble, "See, he makes the cutest little 'CHIGIII' sound when I play with it. Then he head-butts me, though."

"Umm…" France looks apprehensive. Which is kind of strange, for France, when you think about it.

"Tonio…You do realize that's his erogenous zone, right?" Prussia tells him, holding back a giggle. Spain pales.

"Oh…oops." His white face now darkens into a bright tomato red.

Mein Gott! Before anyone could stop him, France pulls both into his arms and…well, you know.

"HOLY, FRANCIS."

"You were right about long hair…!"

Shoulda never brought up erogenous zones.

"Clothes are done washing and all dry!" Spain announces.

"Woohoo!" That's Prussia.

"Aww…" That's France.

Nevertheless, they no longer have to be naked.

"Hey, it's getting late. I should be leaving. Auf wiedersehen!"

"Ah, myself, as well. Á bientôt!"

"Hold on a second!" Spain says frantically. He produces a few things from his pockets. His cellphone, a showgirl's headdress and a Hello Kitty barrette. Heaven knows how he acquired those things.

SNAP!

A picture of France with the headdress.

FLASH!

A capture of Prussia wearing the barrette.

CLICK!

Both together.

"'Kay, adios, amigos!"

A/N: Here are the translations:

Dios mio-Spanish-My God

Mon amour-French-My (male) love

Romantique-French-Romantic

Manzana-Spanish-Apple

Pamplemousse-French-Grapefruit

Banane-German-Banana

Ore-sama-Japanese-Awesome Me

Espagne-French-Spain

Nos cheveux-French-Our hair

Non, non, mon amour-Nono, my love

Merci, mon ami-French-Thank you, my friend

Angleterre-French-England

Lebkuchen-German-It's basically gingerbread.

Weinachten-German-Christmas

C'est le raison toute les femmes-et hommes!-m'adorent!-French-It's the reason all the women-and men!-love me!

Douche, en Français-French-Douche, in French (it really is!)

Moi-French-I'm pretty sure we all know that means 'me'.

Ça, c'est le fois finalement je choisis á laver mes cheveux avec ce shampooing-French-That's the final time I choose to wash my hair with that shampoo

Non, mon cheri-French-No, my dear

Jedem das seine-German-To each his own. I'm aware that it actually means 'to each what he deserves' but it was an interesting pun…Teehee!

¡Hola!-Spanish-Hello!

Et François va t'adorer pour l'eternité-French-And Francis will (passionately) love you for ever!

Mein Gott-German-My God

Auf wiedersehen-German-Until we meet again. For some reason, word keeps auto-correcting this to widdershins. What are widdershins?

Á bientôt-French-Translates roughly to 'See you soon!'

Adíos, amigos!-Spanish-This is funnier without knowing the translation.

I read this story-English-Rate and review