ALL FOR ONE, ONE FOR ALL
A/N: I don't own Hetalia and I'm not a big fan, my friend "Italy" as she prefers, does, and now has somehow unknowingly convinced me to write a fanfic of it... -_-*
Also just so you know the original title was FAR AWAY UNDER OTHER SKIES but I chose ALL FOR ONE, ONE FOR ALL instead but forgot to delete it.
CHAPTER ONE: Hello? Or Would You Prefer Bonjour?
"You want me to do WHAT?"
"Just foster a little girl!" Romano rolled his eyes over the phone
"...How old is she?"
"Don't get any ideas! She's just 6!"
"...That's not TOO young is it?..."
"YES IT IS YOU PERVERTED BA****D!"
"You don't have to be so angry!"
"Yes I do!" Romano growled as he slammed the phone down
WHY did he argue with Germany again? Oh yeah, 'cause he was a fu**ing potato ba****d.
He smiled evilly at the memory of how Germany looked when he told the press who was chosen to foster Elisabet.
"Papa Romano!" the little girl ran to him smiling, her arms stretched out
He looked to the side surprised to see the little girl. Then he blinked and she faded away. The young girl had somehow been able to capture most of her "Papa's" hearts, which just made it odd why some felt so free to let her go.
He scowled as he visualized each person's face who had easily let her go to that ba****d France. He blinked as he remembered HE had started the side of allowing her to go there.
Romano had not been the last one to foster Elisabet. In order it was,
YEAR ONE: China
YEAR TWO: Spain
YEAR THREE: England
YEAR FOUR: Japan
YEAR FIVE: Romano
YEAR SIX: Germany
And sadly, YEAR SEVEN was with that son of a b**** France.
He sighed as he slumped into his chair.
Next year might as well be Denmark.
He stuck his tongue out as the visual picture of Denmark came to mind.
He sank further in the chair. Secretly he took a book that the girl had for some reason adored to have read to her from a secret spot underneath his chair. The Prince and the Pauper
(FRANCE'S POV)
I waited impatiently at the public airport. Apparently the little brat had wanted to be with other people, which I personally thought was retarded. Why wouldn't a girl get to France even faster on a high speeded jet?
People stared at me whispering certain things, I smiled flirtingly to the pretty foreign girls and scowled at the boys who followed them close by.
In the corner of my eye I saw a group of people, notsurrounding me in amaze and wonder.
I walked over to correct their mistake that I was HERE.
Or at least I was going to until I heard a small but friendly voice call out.
"Hello! My name is Elisabet! What's yours?"
"I'm Bridget. Where's your mommy little girl?"
I walked over faster.
"She's in heaven madam. I'm waiting for my Papa France to pick me up right now."
"France? Don't you Francis?"
"No madam, it's France." I said annoyed as I walked over to the pint sized midget
She was holding a picture and seemed to compare it with me before hugging my leg and crying out happily, "Papa!"
I blinked with surprise, "And you must be Elisabet."
She looked up at me and nodded, "Everyone calls me Lizzie though Papa."
I noticed her calming green eyes, but my face didn't waver.
"How DARE you act like that when she traveled all the way from Germany to see you!" A boy who looked like a male version of Bridget growled
"Yeah!" people began to scold to me and I was suddenly overwhelmed with the idea this might get on France 24, a popular news channel.
"Come on you bra-I mean Lizzie!" I hurried towards the limo outside
I could see some people having enough nerve to follow us, luckily not throwing things at us. Although it might be for the fear of hurting "Lizzie".
As the long black car drove away I could tell this was going to be a long year.