Welcome to this story. Here's hoping that I didn't mess up anyone too badly. 'Cause that would suck. And then people would hate me. And that would suck, too. And then I'd cry.

Please enjoy this somewhat strange rendition of what happens on a daily basis in my mind. With the exception of…well, everything. Yeah, I'm crazy.

Aren't you people so glad to have a person like me in your fandom now?

:)

:D

XD

:|

England sat in his house one evening, watching the news. Because, you know, that's what every country wants to do on a Saturday night. Pushing aside that rather rude commentary, he took a swig of the beer in his hand. He was happy that Germany had been willing to part with it; it was one of the best he'd had.

The television transitioned into a new news report. On it, Cuba shouted angrily at the camera.

"He's climbin' in your windows, snatchin' your people up!" he raged. The report went on with the reporter questioning several Cubans and Americans who had been victimized by this "bed intruder." Apparently, someone was on the prowl, looking for a "good time" with citizens of the countries, whether the victim was a woman, man, child, or any other species. The intruder was dangerous, and everyone was advised to lock all possible entrances and keep them guarded with their greatest available security.

A little nervous, England went to make sure that all of his doors were locked. It wouldn't bring his mood up any to have some creeper sneak into his house tonight. After checking each door, her felt safe and satisfied and went back to his bedroom. Taking one last sip of the beer, he decided to go to sleep. He climbed in bed, shut his eyes, and fell into a somewhat deep sleep.

England was woken up by a loud bang. Startled, he bolted straight up in bed. He scanned the dark room with wide eyes until another bang sounded. His eyes darted to the window, which was where he heard the sound originate from. He stood up, confused, and walked to said window. As he neared it, the temperature dropped a few degrees. The window was open.

Nervously, he pushed aside the heavy curtain, expecting the worst. And, yes, the worst came. But he did not expect it to come in the form of France himself clinging to the windowsill, trying to force his way in. He pushed his leg from a nearby tree branch and swung it into the room, and he clambered through the small opening. England couldn't speak. He had been stunned into silence.

France adopted his well-known, infamous rape face, and he began to take a step further into the room, toward England's bed—until he saw the country staring at him with a surprised look. Almost instantly, France's grin became a gaping face full of shock, guilt, and stark horror.

"E-England…" France stuttered. "What…what are you…?"

Breaking out of his stupor, England pointed an accusing finger at the intruder and shouted, "What are you doing?"

"I-I was looking for Italy!" France shot back. "But I guess I was too late. It seems that you've already taken him. How did you get here so fast?"

"Giving him a pitying look, England said slowly, "…This is my house. You went the wrong way."

France's face drained of all color. "I did? Oh, no!" And then his face brightened. "But maybe I still have a chance…!" He turned to leave, but England stopped him. "What do you want, you damn Brit?" France snapped.

"Why were you going to see Italy at three o'clock in the morning?" England held a steady, accusing glare, causing the Frenchman to squirm slightly under it.

"Uh…no reason…" was his sheepish retort.

"I don't believe you," England said flatly.

France flushed a deep red, which even England could see in the dark gloom around him. "Uh…"

Though he didn't know exactly what triggered it, England ended up thinking back to that news report with Cuba that he had heard earlier. Cuba had said that the bed intruder climbed into windows. Coming to the rational realization, England's mouth flew open in a gape as he yelled, "You! You're—!"

A confused face replaced France's embarrassed look. "Huh?" he asked.

"The bed intruder!" he bellowed. "What is wrong with you?"

Understanding his friend's accusation, the frog smiled and spun around flamboyantly, producing a red rose from seemingly nowhere. "Ah, you are mistaken, my friend. I am not the one you should worry about, though I do enjoy the comparison."

"…What?" England muttered.

"While I love the compliments, I must be off, for staying here for too long could cause my luscious hair to lose its vibrant beauty." Before Britain had a chance to retort, France flew out of the window. No. He really did.

"Whatever…" he mumbled, trudging back to his bed. He pulled down the covers, climbed in, and closed his eyes.

A soft chuckle, however, caused Britain to open his eyes once more. He found himself facing Russia, who had his usual, happy smile on his face. His trusty pipe peeked out from under the covers beside him.

"WAAAAHHH!" England screamed, scared out of his mind.

"Hello," Russia responded politely.

"R-Ru-Ru…" he stuttered.

"You will become one with me now, da?" the new intruder asked hopefully.

"AHHHH!"

Russia's the new bed intruder.

Yeah. This is the first thing I've ever written for Hetalia. It is good? Funny? Awful? So terrible that you want to throw your computer into a wall and set it on fire? Please leave a review telling me this. Although, I would rather not have the same fate for my computer, so please don't flame. I know it's not very good, but what's a fifteen-year-old to do? I tried, at least, and that's what counts…right?

And so, I thank you for taking to time to read such a crappy story. Once again, please review and tell me how I can better my characterization and writing and whatnot. I appreciate any feedback, naturally.

I love you all! And so does Russia!