While the idea of personifying places was obviously thought of by Hidekaz Himaruya first, New York and Pennsylvania are my own original creations. This Massachusetts design belongs to Emm! Fireworkz, and Ohio belongs to theflashfirealchemist. And that trooper New Jersey, though he was only mentioned in one sentence (or two), belongs to Hayley.

Enjoy.

"So," Ohio said, her eyes twinkling dangerously as they often did when it came to matters with Pennsylvania, "do you have any plans this weekend?"

It was just after a meeting of the states held in Washington DC—Pennsylvania had never gotten along with him well. He was much too smug for Penn's liking.—and the states were slowly filing out of the meeting room, headed for home, as were Ohio and Pennsylvania.

However, Penn swallowed, not sure if he wanted to hear what she was suggesting, and pushed his glasses further up his nose. It could have been something friendly and sweet, like him spending the weekend at her house and her making him a giant chocolate cake. Or it could have been something involving what Penn would refer to as horrifying weapons and Ohio would think were fun toys to use in ways Penn had never dreamed. He guessed he'd never know.

"I have to go to some conference in Harrisburg," Penn replied with a regretful shrug. "I'm sorry. You know I'd much rather spend it with you."

"I know." Ohio smiled, but her eyes were still dangerous and clever behind her glasses. Her strawberry-blonde hair was up in a ponytail today. Her eyes were devilish, but Penn thought she looked fantastic. "Can I come to the conference with you?"

To her dismay, Penn shook his head, short curly brown hair moving with it. "I wish. But you'd find it really boring, anyway. My brother's boss got pissy about something stupid that happened on the border between us, so he's holding a meeting and he wants York and I to be there." He shook his head again with a deep sigh. "Someone from Pennsylvania probably messed up one piece of York's hair or something, god forbid. But at least we're doing it in my state."

Ohio nodded knowingly. "New York's coming to Pennsylvania?" When Penn nodded, Ohio grinned once again. "Oh, so you two are having a sleepover!"

"Uh—" Pennsylvania didn't quite know how to answer that one. Yes, New York was staying in Harrisburg on Saturday night, since the conference spanned both days of the weekend. But New York had booked a room in what Penn guessed was the poshest, most expensive hotel in the city—He bet it had a spa. New York would like spas.—and Penn was sleeping in his own bed in his home. It wasn't like New York wanted to stay with Penn but hadn't been invited. It was a mutual, silent agreement between them that they would spend as little time together that weekend as possible, as they always did. The two of them had deemed the attempt to make each other's lives miserable childish years ago, and now settled for politely ignoring each other. It was nothing personal that they hated each other. The two of them just had clashing personalities was all.

"That's going to be so much fun!" Ohio went on, either oblivious to Penn not having agreed or intent on her sleepover whether he liked it or not. "It's like brother bonding time!"

"Ohio," Penn said calmly, knowing exactly how to make her understand, "imagine spending the weekend with Michigan and tell me again that brother bonding time is 'so much fun.'"

Ohio paused for only a moment before laughing and waving his comment away. "But Michigan is creepy. New York doesn't stalk you or anything. And besides, you know he doesn't like you that way because he has Massachusetts!"

Penn crossed him arms and let out a low breath. "I don't mind Massachusetts, but York—"

"You two are going to have fun," Ohio told him, her tone stern although her almost creepy smile was still present. "You two are going to have lots of fun!"

Pennsylvania opened his mouth to protest, that they weren't going to have fun because New York wasn't staying over at his house, when all of a sudden they rounded a corner and walked straight into two people headed in the opposite direction—a short girl in a Red Sox jersey with a brunette ponytail, and a male with shoulder-length blonde hair in skinny jeans and a Wicked T-shirt. Neither of them seemed to notice Ohio and Penn; the man was too absorbed in what he was he saying, the girl so busy not listening to him that she wasn't listening to people walking up to them either.

"I mean, don't get me wrong, Norbert Leo Butz is just fabulous in Catch Me If You Can, but I was really quite fond of Andrew and Josh in Mormon, and I think it's a shame that neither of them won, I mean, Nikki M. James is gorgeous and completely deserved her award, but Andrew is a fantastic tenor, and Josh just melts the entire audience's heart when he sings 'I'll Be There For—'"

"New York!" Ohio cried to Pennsylvania's great dismay, and the blonde man finally jerked up his head, much to the other girl's relief. "We were just talking about you!"

New York's eyes flickered to Penn—whatever his brother had been saying about him couldn't be good—before he flipped back his blonde hair and gave a confident, self-centered smile. "Of course, darling. Everyone's talking about me. I'm fabulous. But then, you already knew that."

Massachusetts rolled her eyes. "Oh, god. Please don't start this again."

"Don't," Pennsylvania agreed, meeting New York's bright blue eyes with a scowl. Unlike Massachusetts, who was half joking, Penn's voice was downright cold.

New York's smile was poisoned sweet. "I can't help it if you're jealous of me, sweetie. That's something you have to deal with on your own."

Ohio spoke again before Pennsylvania could think of another nasty reply. "We were talking about how you're staying over at Penn's house this weekend!"

Both brothers froze mid-word. Massachusetts raised her eyebrows. "New York? I thought you were staying in a hotel."

New York eyed Penn, his expression one of confusion, no doubt trying to figure him out. "I… thought so too," he weakly replied.

Ohio shook her head fervently. "Nope! Penn said you're sleeping over at his house! You two are going to have the best sleepover ever!"

New York's expression grew from confused to incredulous. Pennsylvania's expression was unreadable, but he sighed and then opened his arms as if about to encompass New York in a hug. There was no getting around this one, at least not without seeming horribly rude. And Penn liked to think of himself as a gentleman, at least most of the time. "You're my brother. My home is yours." If anyone noticed the flat, almost sarcastic tone of his voice, no one said a word.

Stunned, New York literally took a step back in surprise. All three states were watching him for his response. He ran a hand through his hair and looked pleadingly up at the sky before turning to his brother. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow…?"

Penn's mouth was drawn in a tight-lipped, ironic smile. "Oh, I can't wait."

Suddenly catching on, New York's face spread into a smile as well. Gripping Massachusetts's hand in one of his, he cocked his head onto his shoulder and gave Penn another self-absorbed grin. "Well then. My fabulousness will grace your presence tomorrow night to give you the rare opportunity to bask in my glory. You may bring a camera, but no flash, please. It's bad for my sensitive eyes."

"Maybe you can tell Penn about the Tony Awards instead, then," Massachusetts added dryly. "If I hear one more word about The Book of Mormon, my ears are literally going to fall off."

"The Book of Mormon?" Pennsylvania asked blankly. "Are you converting? I didn't know you were even religious."

New York gave a deep, heavy sigh and turned to Massachusetts. "Darling, I have a lot of work to do on this boy."

"Are you trying to convert me?" Penn asked, his voice growing slightly hysterical.

New York's eyes flickered to him darkly. "It's a musical, hon. Calm yourself."

"I am perfectly calm!" snapped Pennsylvania loudly.

"Uh-huh," New York replied sardonically, sounding very unimpressed. "And I'm actually a sea horse."

"Again," Ohio interrupted, laughing even as the two shot daggers at each other with their eyes, or maybe she was laughing because of it, "you two are going to have so much fun."

—

Penn opened his front door with the click of the key in the lock and stepped inside, leading the way for his brother. "The guest room is the third one on the left on the second floor. You can put your stuff up there I guess, or just put it by the stairs for now." His eyes flickered behind him to New York, who was laden down with not only a backpack but also a duffel bag and a rolling suitcase.

New York's eyes flashed dangerously. "I need my beauty products, okay? Without them I cannot be my fabulous self."

Pennsylvania rolled his eyes. "I bet you can't, York."

New York let out a deep, dramatic sigh. "You're a simple boy, Pennsylvania. I don't expect you to understand what true beauty entails."

In response, Penn gave his brother a curt, exasperated glance. "Or maybe it's just because, unlike you, I am a boy."

New York's eyes flashed, but he stayed for the most part calm. However, his voice was ice as he crisply remarked, "I'm going to put my things upstairs."

Penn nodded. Their eyes locked onto one another for a moment, and both pairs were filled with a silent, furious dislike. Then, unanimously, they broke away, New York to head upstairs, Penn to the living room—both very separate and both mildly pissed off.

When New York rejoined his brother a few minutes later, the mood between them was hardly better. Pennsylvania sat in the center of the couch, not even bothering to make a pretense of inviting New York to sit beside him. Instead, New York was all too happy to hover behind the couch with arms crossed and a disapproving scowl.

After several moments of very awkward silence, New York cleared his throat daintily, so as not to hurt his delicate throat, and inquired with a slight smirk both in his face and voice, "So, my dearest Pennsylvania… how are things with Ohio?"

Penn turned his head around sharply, eyes flashing in warning. His voice was cut and concise as he replied, slightly strained even. "Fine, thank you. The same as they've been for years. I love her very much." But even the most perceptive of men could have found no warmth at all in Penn's tone.

New York snorted and turned away slightly, rolling his eyes to the ceiling. "Oh, please. No, you don't."

Penn was on his feet within seconds. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

New York shrugged nonchalantly, his face back in that all-too-familiar egocentric smirk so many states found so infuriating. He was clearly enjoying himself. "You heard me, darling. It's so obvious what you two have isn't love—more like some kind of sick, fear-induced obsession, if you ask me, which of course you do."

Penn's mouth hung open in abject shock, his hands clenching into fists and then opening again, unable to even comprehend what he'd just heard. Fear-induced? Sick? Sure, it was an… interesting relationship he and Ohio had, but no one had ever gone that far, to condemn it outright as downright wrong. New York had always possessed an uncanny ability to say exactly the one thing that would cut straight through Penn's heart and make him truly question his own self. It was basically his worst fear and suspicion, voiced aloud… but Penn knew something New York didn't, so he had the upper hand here: that he did love Ohio. Maybe their love was strange, maybe it was sick even, take what you will, but love it was. And that he knew for a fact.

Penn gave New York a hard look. "Well, okay. What about you and Massachusetts?"

To his surprise, New York turned beet red at this accusation and turned away, refusing to meet Penn's eyes. "I have no idea what you're talking about. There is nothing between me and that Red Sox-sympathizing freak other than mutual frustration." But his voice wavered as he spoke, and he was unmistakably blushing.

Penn half smiled. "That's not the impression I got. Why would you spend all your time with someone you hate?"

New York sighed and swiveled his gaze back to his brother, though he was still as red as Ireland's hair. "To make her feel bad about her utter fashion hopelessness, of course. I do quite enjoy being an asshole." There was no joke in his voice, either. An asshole was what New York honestly believed himself to be.

Penn's eyes passed over his brother, his little brother, and for a few seconds it was almost like he was for once really seeing him. But immediately afterwards, his expression became one of dismissal once more. "So much that you'd spend all your time tormenting some girl instead of making time for your own brother? Yeah, an asshole? I think so."

For once, New York had no reply. Made of lead, his heart sunk into the very depths of his toes. Pennsylvania was good at striking where it hurts, too. This was the very thing New York was most afraid of—truly embodying the monster he knew himself to be.

Penn noticed this silence on behalf of his brother and sighed. Shaking his head softly to himself, he picked up the remote from beside him on the couch and switched on the TV.

New York's eyes rested on the screen without much interest as Penn surfed channels. Nothing was of particular interest to either of them… until suddenly New York's eye lit up with a wild passion, and he made a mad grab for the remote. Just to spite him, Penn immediately switched to the next channel, his expression one of complete uncaring. New York let out a sound very much like a shriek.

"That was Funny Girl!" he whined, waving a single finger dramatically in Penn's face. "That was Barbra! You do not turn off Funny Girl inn my presence!"

Penn smiled coldly at his brother's panic. It gave him a perverse satisfaction to make his brother break down. "Just watch me." And if only just to piss New York off even more, he kept the channel right where it currently was—the rerun of an old football game. Eagles vs. Cowboys.

New York's expression was one of pure, hard pain. "You are a sick man, Pennsylvania."

Penn smirked and shook his head, placing the remote down beside him as he turned back to the TV screen.

New York stood behind him, fuming silently, letting his frustration build—until he made a wild grab for the remote, leaning over the front of the couch and flailing his arms, almost tackling Penn like the men on TV.

"Hey!" Penn lunged forward to take it back just as New York straightened up triumphantly, waving the remote high over his head as his prize.

"Ha-ha!" New York's eyes gleamed with pride as he thrust the remote dramatically forward over the top of the couch. As soon as the button was pressed, the football field was replaced by a close-up of Barbra Streisand's singing face. "And no, I absolutely will not switch back to that monstrosity you call a sport, not even once Barbra is done with her show."

Penn turned around to glare at him, but even once standing couldn't reach the remote in his brother's hand. Penn jumped for it, but New York held it straight over his own head, arm up like he was in the middle of a cabaret dance. "Give that back," Penn growled as he jumped. Why was his little brother so much taller than he was? How was that fair? "It's my house!"

New York pretended to yawn. "I'm the guest, hon. You should be bending over yourself to make me feel at home."

Penn groaned loudly and threw up his hands. "I'm a pacifist and even I like football. You're so weird, York. Are you even an American?"

"Of course I am. I also have the biggest city in America and one of the number one tourist spots in the world." His tone was one of someone to whom bragging was an everyday part of conversation.

Penn's eyes narrowed. "Philadelphia used to be the capitol, you know. Back when you sided with England."

A look crossed over New York's face for just a split second then—a look full of deeper things than he ever discussed with his brother. Sometimes it was hard to remember, when talking to a boy physically seventeen, that he had actually been through 300 years of a country's history, had seen terrible events and bloody wars. New York's look was dark and filled with fear, regret. But Pennsylvania would never forget, because he'd been through it all too.

"Forget it," Penn mumbled. He reached back behind him blindly and gently removed the remote from New York's now lowered hand, watching Barbra's face belt out a note and then flash to black as he clicked off the TV. "If we can't agree on what to watch, let's just not watch TV at all."

Slightly shaken, but expression quickly returning to one of quiet self-pride, New York nodded. "Since your tastes are ridiculously uncultured and simple-minded in comparison to my expert opinions, I suppose you're right. We'll never be able to agree."

Too tired to argue, Penn just nodded. "But I still think even you would enjoy Barbra if you stopped acting so childishly stubborn and gave her a chance," New York persisted calmly.

Penn just shrugged, paying more attention now to rummaging around in his pants pockets than to his brother. "Uh-huh. Except for the fact that I hate theater."

New York puffed up to respond furiously in defense of his favorite thing, one finger already up in warning, but after a moment deflated and dropped it back to his side in defeat. "Never mind. There's no use arguing with a lost cause." When Penn didn't answer, New York leaned forward to look at him, unused to being ignored, especially not when insulting someone. Penn was feeling around in his back pocket now. "What on earth are you doing?"

"Mm?" Penn had found what he was looking for—a Hershey's chocolate bar. The wrapper crinkled as he began to pull back one end. New York's eyes grew wide, and he leaned back immediately, expression one of shock and slight horror.

Penn scoffed. "'S just chocolate. Do you want a piece?" He held out the bar to New York, who recoiled as if wounded, nose wrinkled violently.

"That stuff is terrible for you, you know." He crossed his arms and looked steadily away. "It'll completely ruin your figure."

Penn shrugged, pulling the chocolate back in front of him. "I eat like ten of these a day, and my figure is fine. But okay. More for me, then."

New York reddened, still not meeting his eyes. "You dirty pig. Someday you're going to weigh 300 pounds."

Penn merely shrugged again and complacently took a bite of the bar. "I don't think so. My metabolism is really fast. That's one good thing about being descended from America, you know?"

For some reason, this innocent statement just made New York redden further. "Well, your metabolism may be insane, but mine isn't." His tone was very grumpy, almost a low whine. "You inherited two things from America—your metabolism, and the fact that you eat like a pig. I inherited neither."

"Oh, come on. That's taking it a bit far." With more fervor this time, Penn thrust the offending chocolate under New York's nose. New York drew back violently, holding out his arms as if to ward off monsters. "When was the last time you had chocolate?"

New York's tone was somehow full of both pride and a deep regret. "A single piece of that disgusting substance has not passed my lips in as long as I can remember."

Penn made a disapproving face. "That's ridiculous. How can you not like chocolate? Everyone loves chocolate."

New York sighed. "It's not chocolate I have a problem with. Just fattening food as a general rule."

Penn blinked. "So, what? So you don't eat sweets, like, ever?"

New York shook his head. "Nothing unhealthy."

"But what's your definition of unhealthy?"

"I…" New York's face was one of learned endurance of pain. "…I eat a lot of salad."

Penn blinked again. "But that's not healthy, either. Your body needs more than just salad."

"My body also needs to stay beautiful," New York huffily replied. "And anything besides salad has a chance of turning into fat, which I absolutely cannot have happen."

Penn stared. "So you're anorexic."

"I am not." New York's tone had take a turn for the defensive, but he faced his brother for the first time now. "I do eat. I just never eat anything that could destroy this"—he displayed his body with one hand—"hard-earned perfection."

If anything, Penn was persistent. "Don't you have a state cookie? I have a state cookie. Everyone has a state cookie."

New York smirked slightly. "Nope. State muffin. And it's apple."

Penn still looked unconvinced. "But don't you get hungry? I mean, don't you ever crave anything else?" When New York huffily didn't answer, Penn thrust the chocolate at him once more. "Here. Have some. I know you want it, and I promise I won't tell anyone."

New York firmly shook his head. "Unthinkable."

"I just don't understand," Penn persisted, not pulling back his hand. "It's not like one bite is going to make you fat."

"You idiot." New York met Penn's eyes, and a shiver went down Penn's spine, because there was that look again on New York's face—one of deep loss, and pain. "I'm not afraid I'll gain weight from one bite. I'm afraid I won't be able to stop."

Penn's mouth hung open in sudden understanding. There was silence for a moment, when the only sound either of them could hear was the beating of their own hearts. Then Penn got up and wordlessly left the room. New York stood frozen, soundlessly waiting.

When Penn returned a moment later, there were two pints of chocolate ice cream in his arms.

He shoved one at the very surprised New York, who instinctively closed his hands around the tub before he could think what he was actually doing. "Ah—" His yes were so big and confused, like a child. "What's this for?"

"For eating, obviously." Penn rolled his eyes and stuffed the open chocolate bar into his brother's hands as well. "And try this while you're at it too."

"I—I—I—" New York stammered desperately, touched but hopelessly torn. "I can't—"

"Yes, you can." Very calmly, Penn flipped open the tub of ice cream. "And here's a spoon to eat it with. With that, he went around the side of the couch and sat down, opening his own pint.

"Wh—what—" New York looked around wildly, as if searching the room for a way out. "What's that one for?"

Penn gave him a condescending look. "What do you think it's for?" To answer his own question, he took his spoon and began to eat.

Swallowing nervously, as if accepting a cruel punishment to which there was no escape, New York slowly lowered himself down beside Penn with the ice cream in his lap. Closing his eyes as if in prayer, he dug the spoon into the ice cream and put it numbly into his mouth. Penn watched him expectantly.

New York opened his eyes.

"Well?" Penn prompted eagerly. "How was it? You don't appear to be 300 pounds yet, so it must not be as bad as you thought."

New York took a deep breath, eyes still huge and enthralled. Finally, after several encouraging nods from Penn, New York breathed the words, "Sweet Sondheim, what have I been missing?"

Penn nodded seriously. "I think we should order a pizza," he said with the air of a doctor prescribing a cure.

New York nodded, swallowing again. "Y-yes." The words sounded so strange and otherworldly, even coming from his own mouth. "I think so."

Penn nodded again and stood, heading for the kitchen for the phone. "And I think we should get some snacks, too. I have Tastycakes. Have you ever had Tastycakes?"

Mutely, New York shook his head. "O-okay."

Penn turned the corner into the next room, but stopped and leaned back in the doorway, so only his head was visible. "And I think you should finish that bar of chocolate."

New York nodded numbly.

By the time Penn returned from his call, the bar of chocolate was gone.

—

An hour or so later, Penn and New York found themselves back in front of the TV, albeit now surrounded by considerably more snacks. New York was steadily digging through one of his many bags, this one a pink backpack with many Broadway-related decals and one Yankees patch. Penn looked up from his ice cream to watch the growing pile of DVD's New York was throwing onto the floor: The Sound of Music. Chicago. The Producers. Damn Yankees. My Fair Lady. The Music Man. Mamma Mia!. And finally—

New York straightened up and held forth a DVD proudly. "I believe this will be to your liking, Pennsylvania?"

Penn glanced at the cover, then back up at his brother with a huge smile. "Why, yes, yes it is."

New York grinned. "Shall I put it into the TV, or would you like to do the honors yourself?"

Penn grinned back. "Go ahead."

And so New York put in the DVD and pressed play—Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.

This time Penn gestured for New York to sit beside him. New York snuggled up close to his brother, pulling a blanket around both of them. "Look, the main character even has my name," Penn remarked with a smile. "My human name, anyway. Will."

New York nodded. "A Will who's obsessed with chocolate," he replied idly. "I wonder why that sounds so familiar."

Penn laughed and turned his eyes to the screen. "I love this movie, but it always makes me hungry."

"I thought you would appreciate the chocolate," New York told him pleasantly. "Maybe even enough that you could sit through the songs without cringing."

There was silence for a moment in the dark room, the screen lighting up their faces. After a moment, Penn replied, "You know, I actually really do like theater."

New York nodded again. "Of course. I know that. You just can't admit it and make it seem like we have something in common. But just in case you're getting any ideas, I really do hate football with a passion. That one's not an act." He paused to allow time for Penn's laugh, then added quietly, "But you were right. I am in love with Massachusetts."

"I know," Penn said with a gentle smile, leaning his head onto his brother's shoulder. New York squeezed his hand. While they were being honest with each other, Penn mumbled gently, "And I'm actually an arsonist."

New York jerked his head away, his expression very disturbed. "What?"

Oh. Too much honesty. Penn quickly shook his head. "Never mind, never mind. Let's just watch the movie."

New York gave him a very confused expression, but Penn's eyes were now locked firmly on the Candyman. New York shrugged and turned back to the screen. "Okay."

When the movie was over, Penn thought it might be safe now to try channel surfing again. It didn't take long to locate something both of them could enjoy—a baseball game, Phillies vs. Red Sox. Pennsylvania cheered when the Phillies won, and New York laughed and whooped when the Red Sox did not.

And when the game was over, the two of them readied themselves for bed. New York spent about an hour in the bathroom doing god knows what and emerged in silken pink pajamas. Penn was in such good spirits that he didn't make a rude comment, on either those or on the sequined dress he'd seen at the top of New York's open suitcase in his room.

When Penn finally got to use the bathroom to spend a minute brushing his teeth, New York's sequined cell phone buzzed. He opened it with a flourish. "You've reached the fabulous phone of Seth Hudson-Jones, also known as the best state in America, New York. How may I help you?"

He thought he could almost hear Massachusetts rolling her eyes. "Oh, god, Yank. Is that really how you answer the phone?"

"Yes." New York smiled and closed his eyes, leaning against the wall. "Did actually you want something, or did you just call to bother me?"

Massachusetts sounded faintly irritated. "I called to see how things were with Penn. You know, since you're staying at his house and the two of you kind of hate each other?"

New York opened his eyes. "Great! They're great. Really great."

Massachusetts did not sound at all convinced. "Yank…"

"No, really! I mean it!" New York grinned into the phone. "We had so much fun together! We watched Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, and we told secrets and watched the Red Sox get their asses kicked, and now we're getting ready for bed. And I ate pizza! And almost a whole pint of chocolate ice cream!"

Mass sounded even more worried now. "You ate what?"

"Ice cream!" New York replied enthusiastically. "You know! Cold stuff! Very sweet! Delicious!"

There was a pause on the other end. Then: "Who are you and what have you done with New York?"

New York laughed loudly. "I'm a changed man! Ice cream is really good, isn't it? Why did you let me live without it all these years? Honestly! Someone should have told me what I was missing!"

"But…" Mass sounded deeply confused. "But you hate ice cream. And Pennsylvania, for that matter. What is going on in there?"

New York shrugged. "We're brothers. We may fight, but that doesn't mean we don't love each other deep down." He paused. "Except for Jersey. Neither of us really like New Jersey."

Mass's tone was dry. "That used to be the only thing you two could agree on."

New York shrugged again. "Things change." From down the hall, he heard the sink stop running. "Hey, I think Penn's done getting ready. I have to go. But I'll call you tomorrow?"

Mass still sounded unsure, but she had no choice, really. "Make sure he doesn't burn down your bed in the night, okay?"

New York chuckled quietly. "I'm honestly more worried about you doing that to me than Penn. He's been like a gentleman."

Mass had no words. "…goodbye."

New York smiled and shook his head. "Goodbye, Baked Beans." He closed the phone just as Penn opened the door.

With a completely straight face, Penn informed him, "I timed us. I took one twelfth of the amount of time you did in the bathroom. And you weren't even using the toilet."

New York shrugged loftily. "Beauty takes time, my brother."

"Yeah. Whatever." Penn smiled. "I'm going to bed now. If you need anything, I'll be in my room."

New York nodded, but before Penn had disappeared into his bedroom, New York called, "Hey, Penn?"

His brother turned with a mildly curious expression. "Mm?"

New York smiled gently. "Thanks for having me over."

Penn waved it away. "Don't blame me. It was Ohio's fault."

New York was usually a bit of an insomniac, considering he held the city that never sleeps. He could lie awake at night for hours. But that night he fell to sleep almost as soon as his hair touched the pillow.

—

The conference passed the next day without event. The hooligans from Pennsylvania were fined, and New York got his moment of vanity and glory. They exited the courthouse together…

And found Ohio standing directly outside, waiting.

New York jumped about a foot in the air. Penn just smiled. "Hey, Ohio."

"Hi!" She grinned at both of them. "So how was your sleepover? I want to hear everything!"

New York shot Pennsylvania a suspicious glance. "How did she find us?" he mouthed to his brother.

Penn shook his head softly. "You can't question Ohio. There is no scientific reason behind her magical powers. They just exist." He turned back to his girlfriend pleasantly, though his eyes lingered on his brother. "Oh, it was fine. We had fun. Didn't we, York?"

Still a bit unsure when it came to Ohio, New York cautiously nodded. "Yes, I would say that we had a pretty decent time."

"That's great!" Ohio linked her arm through Pennsylvania's, who adjusted to this new position seamlessly. "Penn, I want to have a sleepover with you tonight!"

New York opened his mouth to protest, but Penn met his eyes and he said nothing. "Sure," Penn agreed with a shrug, keeping his eyes on New York even as he turned away with Ohio. "Maybe if you're lonely, York, you can get Massachusetts to sleep over at your place too."

Ohio looked at him and then at New York, her eyes growing wide with understanding. Penn just smiled smugly in his brother's direction. New York sighed. "Pennsylvania, if you were not so fabulous or my brother, I would really strongly dislike you."

Penn winked at him. "You too, New York. You too." He paused, then added just for fun, "And by the way, you know, you failed in your attempts to convert me. I'm still not a Mormon."

New York rolled his eyes dramatically. "I would force you to listen to Andrew and Josh in all their glory to attempt to make you understand, but why bother?"

"And I would force you to watch football," Penn replied with a smile, "but it would be kind of like trying to make a fish understand cross-country."

New York nodded. "Just keep burning things down, Arson Boy."

Penn's eyes gleamed happily. "And I'm sure you'd look lovely in that dress."

New York groaned. Fortunately at that moment, he felt his phone buzzing again. He held up a finger. "I'm getting a call. Why don't you two move along on your way? I'm a very busy man and I really do have to answer."

Penn smirked. "It's Massachusetts?"

New York gave him a look. "Please just go away."

Penn grinned. "With pleasure."

And they both did.