The Prussian looked around the ball room. It was a glorious hall. The building was built on the exact border between Austria and Italy, and the influences of the two countries were present. This structure wasn't part of either of the countries, but shared between the two, an obvious choice for the dance.
Spotting the nation he was looking for, and quiet eager to leave the lovebird of his brother and his brother's date, the ex-country made his way through the crowd to the girl.
"Kanada," His German accent was thick, making the name more masculine then it needed to be.
"La Prusse," Her French forcing the name feminine.
"Like yo dude!" Her sister, who she had been talking to, was eager to talk.
"Amerika," The words sounded no different than regular from his tongue, save the accent.
Taking the hint, the American left the two, eager to annoy her ex-caretaker, England.
"Care to dance?" German accents were still invading his voice, dancing in and out, but she could understand it.
"Oui," The Canadian nodded and allowed him to take her to the dance floor, most of the ball room.
Her dress was white, splitting in the middle from the breast line, revealing a red-orange fabric, autumn leaves trailing down it in white, then flowing into the white as red-orange leaves. It had white spaghetti straps, and according to the albino, looks absolutely beautiful on the female.
Gilbert smiled as he guided her to an empty dance spot near the window, only inhabited by a certain Russian and a young Egyptian girl, who didn't at all seem affected by his aurora, in fact was smiling at him as they conversed.
The Prussian quickly slipped his arm around her waist and grabbed her hand, eager to bring her close.
She blushed instantly, causing her to hesitate, but rested her head on his chest and relaxed. The two ignored nations danced the night away, no one minding at all.
The Russian noticed the couple entering his corner, and it was unanimous between the two, him and the girl that had approached him, that they should leave.
"So, it must hurt having all these wars going on right inside of you…." His amazing conversation starter made things slightly more awkward.
The Egyptian shrugged, "It's like my immune system only with a slight pinch here and there."
The white haired man was intrigued, not by what she had just said, but that she was talking to him, not shaking, and wasn't forced to.
She petted the black dog at her side, it had attacked anyone that tried to take it out of the hall, and she insisted that it was trained, so it was allowed. "Would you like to go outside?" she asked, motioning towards the balcony.
"Sure," The purple-eyed man answered, not taking his eyes off her as if she would disappear.
He took her hand and led her through the crowd to the balcony door, not at all noticing that she was blushing.
They approached the glass door and went outside, the cold night air setting a nice tone.
"Why do you talk to me? Why don't you run away like everyone else?" He asked shyly her as they leaned against the railing.
"I talk to you because I don't see what everyone else sees. I don't see some scary man threatening to kill me." She answered with a soft smile.
Noticing the goose bumps making their way up her arms, he wrapped his arms around her, placing her in a possessive hug.
Blushing slightly, although she was cold in the golden Egyptian style dress, she melted into the hug, absorbing the heat.
Ivan let out a small sigh of relief and whispered, "Mine."
All she could do was nod. They stayed out there for the rest of the night, talking, laughing, and careless joking around, neither caring to go back inside.
France peered out the glass door and watched the couple, wondering why she couldn't get someone to love her like that.
She looked over at Spain, the Hispanic nation smiling and talking away to Monaco in a corner. Monaco looked annoyed to no end, but the Spaniards inability to read the atmosphere kept him there.
Deciding to cure the old acting nation of her burdens, France grabbed a full glass of wine and headed over to the corner.
"Ahh! Francia!" Spain smiled and waved the feminine nation over, despite the fact she was already going there.
The blonde nodded and made her way over to Spain, her red strapless dress trailing behind her, the tiers of it waving slightly in the motion.
Every time she tried to put on the French charm on her crush, it came out wrong and stuttering, when the Spanish man would ask her what was wrong, she would blush and change the subject.
This time was different, "Monaco, this is my girlfriend, Francia."
France gave him a strange look, "Bonjour, sorry but I have been out of it today, non?" She tilted her head so it faced him; she was beside the brunette, slightly ahead.
"Just a little, mi àngel de Francia, just a little."He placed a hand around her waist; slowly wrapping himself around her, while all the blonde could do was blush. "To the bar, I believe your glass is near-empty" and the Spaniard lead the French away.
Monaco nodded and watched as he walked away, noting that the blonde hadn't taken a sip of her wine.
The brunette's usually bright green eyes were dull and down pointed as he attempted to explain, "Ok, so I told her that I had a girlfriend and a date over the phone, then Lovina dumped me for someone else, then Monaco kept pestering me, I figured you wouldn't mind because, well, you're into the whole romance thing, and I figured you wouldn't mind because you probably would-" Spain was cut off with a kiss from France.
"You really shouldn't blabber, it's a bad habit." She pulled away, lightly at first, almost teasingly, then when she realized what had happened, she yanked away quickly, face as red as one of his tomatoes.
"Mi poco de tomate." He whispered it once, quickly grabbing her wrist, he too still processing what happened and what he was doing.
France's face rivaled one of the brunette's tomatoes, but she still was eager to gain control, which she quickly did, the male almost eager to continue on.
Spain was holding back laughter and smiles, but they slipped out through his green eyes, bright like emeralds.
The seconds turned into minuets, before the French woman leaned back for air, no competition between her and a tomato now.
"Mi poco de tomate, mi poco de tomate…. Mi poco de tomate."A trail of kisses went from her chin down her neck line.
France laughed a bit, "You know I have no idea what you're saying."
The brunette smiled softly, "My little tomato."
"You know were both cheating on someone…." The blonde's ability to find a bedroom proved itself once again as she open up a random door and the two tumbled down onto the bed.
"Lovina dumped me." The Spaniard shrugged.
"He's probably cheating on me too." The French woman sighed and thought of her unofficial-ex-lover.
"The past is the past, mi querido."
"Ah, il est donc, il est donc."
