Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia :)))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))


Chapter 1: Chaos, Disaster and Bosses

"Hands off, you frog!"

"Ah, but mon ami, your tomatoes looked très lonely."

"Tomatoes? Where?"

"Not those kind of tomatoes, you damn Spaniard!"

"THE AWESOME ME HAS ENTERED THE BUILDING!"

"Oh brüder …"

"Ve~ I'm hungry!"

"Who wants to become one with Mother Russia?"

"No! Not me! Aruuu!"

"EVERYTHING originated in Korea!"

"ENOUGH!" A stern voice blared through all sixteen, high-definition surround sound speakers, reverberating through the vast room and shaking the very foundations of the building. It was loud enough to cause the bickering nations to flinch at the volume of the voice and sit down obediently.

"You are nations, for God's sake!" Another scolded.

"Charlie? Is that you?" A wide-eyed America whispered.

"Oh bloody hell, if this is a re-enactment of one of your stupid American flicks …"

"That's, like, totally not the occasion I dressed up for."

"Who the fuck is Charlie? He better not be one of those motherfucking male strippers you called in last time."

"Ve~ but they were nice! They said they would give me 'special pasta'!"

"No! You dumb fuck, those weren't-"

"If any of you airheads are wondering, we are your bosses." A deeper voice cut them off sharply, clearly not in the best of moods. "And no, this is most definitely not Charlie."

Great. Their bosses had caught them in the middle of one of their biggest and worst arguments. Furniture had been thrown around in rage (thanks to England), there had been a huge fistfight (initiated by America), dents covered various part of the ornate, ceramic floor (made by Russia and his scary-as-fuck lead pipe) and several rude and inappropriate drawings decorated the walls (courtesy of Prussia's amazing way with black sharpies).

"We have all thoroughly discussed and thought through carefully about the best way to teach you a lesson, and we have concluded that it is …" Everyone was hanging off of each and every word, sitting on the very edge of their seats as the worst possible punishments ran through their minds. "For you all to go on a two week vacation, TOGETHER. Every single one of you."

There was a moment of stunned silence and suddenly, the meeting hall exploded in a cacophony of outraged yells and angry exclamations.

"I ain't gonna put up with a bunch of fucking bastards for two motherfucking weeks."

"As the one and only hero, I cannot share a vacation with all you peasants."

"Hey! I'm the awesome one and-"

CLANG BANG CRASH

Went Hungary's iron-cast frying pan as it made painful contact with the fighting nations' heads, sending most of them into submissive silence.

"As we were saying." One of their bosses continued, voice strained. "Hungary, or Miss Elizabeta Héderváry, will be your event planner for this vacation."

"Tomorrow, you will wake up and find a list of instructions. Follow them." The deeper voice came back to say, this time. It sounded very threatening. Not I-will-tie-you-up-and-throw-you-into-the-ocean kind of threatening. Oh no. This was an I-will-feed-you-England's-cooking-and-send-you-to- a-locked-room-with-both-France-and-Russia kind of threatening.

"You will all be sent back via air travel … in a couple of … seconds."

Before Romano could utter a "The fuck?", before England could call anyone a "bloody git", before Kumajirou could ask "Who?" and before Prussia could voice his obnoxiously loud opinion, all heads in the room thudded down on the circular table as knock-out gas filled the air inside the room.

"Sweet dreams everyone, and have a fantastic vacation!" The voices of their bosses echoed out, a bit too cheerfully before static crackled through the speakers.


Elizabeta Héderváry's eyes glinted fervently as she proudly looked over her handwritten notes and plans for the trip. She stood at the bow of their personal ocean liner, enjoying the cool ocean wind, and waiting for the arrival of her fellow insufferable nations. Their ship shone a brilliant white under the rare sunlight of Portsmouth, England, its gleam rivaling that of the Spinnaker Tower. Farther along the dock, the HMS Warrior and the Mary Rose bobbed silently, outshone in both size and novelty by the nations' ship. The name of their ship, The Flying Frying Pan (named by Hungary herself) was painted in clean, black letters on the two sides of the liner. Their ship lived up to its name. It could go up to 150 knots per hour, thanks to Japan, who invented a super powerful motor and had it installed onto the ship. Elizabeta sighed contently as she thought about the following weeks to come, she had brought along multiple camera sets and twice as many flash drives, already seeing nosebleed-worthy things happening.

This really will bring everyone together. Elizabeta smiled to herself. I just know it.


EARLIER - CANADA [8:00 AM UTC]

Sharp, urgent knocks on Matthew's door interrupted him from his peaceful packing. He sighed and put down his carefully folded shirt alongside his fancy, manila cardstock instruction sheet. More knocks echoed through his quaint, two-storey home, getting louder and more frantic.

If this is Gilbert again … He needs to stop getting wasted this early in the morning.

His friend constantly came to Matthew's house at ungodly hours, whether it was to hassle him into making pancakes or just crashing after a night a shameless drinking. And sometimes it was both. Nonetheless, Matthew always invited him in with a smile, because Gilbert was one of the few people that remembered who he was. Gilbert was one of the few people that cared about him. Gilbert was one of his few friends. Most importantly, Gilbert was the only one who had a special place in his heart.

Matthew opened the door and was greeted with a flying tackle. All he saw was a flash of silvery-white hair and he was suddenly sprawled out on the floor. He felt someone rather heavy and … familiar pressing him down. Matthew blinked a couple of times, getting rid of the spots dancing behind his eyes and looked up to find his German albino friend, Gilbert, staring down at him with his shining crimson eyes.

"W-what the hell, Gilbert!" He sputtered, pink dusted his cheeks as soon as he realized the not-so-innocent position they were in.

"Mattie! Thought you died there for a minute. So aren't you excited? Two whole fucking weeks! Wouldn't it be awesome if we got to be roomies?"

He wants to be roommates? With me? Matthew blushed as he pushed his friend off of his stomach.

Gilbert threw himself onto his bed, sending Matthew's meticulously folded clothes everywhere.

"Don't worry, I'll do your packing." Gilbert grinned. His devious smile said something along the lines of 'I'll just throw everything into your suitcase.'

"I hassled West into packing for me. And hey, make me some pancakes will ya? It's gonna be a while till we board our mega-awesome cruise ship."

Matthew sighed but smiled as he nodded. Some things just never change, do they?


EVEN EARLIER - ITALY [7:30 AM UTC]

"All I'm bringing are my fucking clothes, so stop trying to shove stupid crap into my suitcase!" Lovino shouted.

"Aww b-but nii-chan! What about swimming and the fancy dinner parties?" His twin brother, Feliciano asked, holding onto his arm. "How are you gonna impress Spain nii-chan in those boring clothes? Let me help youuu!"

Lovino grabbed the closest blunt item in his nearest proximity, which happened to be Feli's inflatable tube, and smacked his brother upside the head with it. Must've been a habit he picked up from Hungary. "Like I need to impress that tomato bastard!" Lovino blushed furiously.

"But you liiiiiiike him!" Feli cried, holding his hands over his head, in case Lovino decided to hit him again.

"NO I DON'T!" Lovino shouted and stomped out of their bedroom. Just as he left, they both heard a chime resounding through their villa, announcing the arrival of their chauffeur.

Their home had been built along the sunny coast of the North-Western city of Genoa. A long winding driveway led to the twins' ornate and modern villa, designed by Italy himself. It featured a tall square tower overlooking the courtyard and garden, both rectangular and bowed windows, a side porch and a 5-door garage housing a few of Italy's automotive industries' finest cars. Though it was Feliciano who designed the Fiat, Maserati, Ferrari and both Lamborghinis, he drove only one of them. Lovino had bullied Feli into handing him the other four keys. A stone stairway winded down towards their private dock, where a white, wooden panel yacht was waiting for them.

"Ve~ Doitsu's here!" Feliciano smiled and bounded towards the door.

"What?! You got that wurst-sucking bastard to take us to England?!"

The younger Italy brother opened their front door to greet a blushing Ludwig, who held out a bouquet of blue cornflowers and pink cyclamen, the national flowers of Germany and Italy, respectively.

"Ve~! Grazie doitsu! You're so sweet!"

"Don't fucking touch my brother, you goddamn potato!"


EVEN EVEN EARLIER - AMERICA [7:00AM UTC]

Alfred had woken up oh so very confused and just a little bit scared. Not that he'd ever admit it. He was a hero after all. He yawned and rubbed his knuckles into his eyes, trying to remember what exactly had happened last night.

Though it was still early in the day, with the sun skimming the sparkling waters of Upper Bay, the city was bustling with life. Below, the sounds of impatient drivers mixed with the ever-present energetic atmosphere. Anyone walking through New York City had a destination in mind, each person to their own path. A million paths crossing and a million paths that never will. Alfred liked to just sit and watch them sometimes, the fact that people could be so different and yet so similar fascinated him to no end. It reminded him of … a certain British boy he knew.

The most populous city in America boasted exceptional international importance and recognition. Being a global power city, New York has a significant impact in commerce, finance, media, art, fashion, research, technology, education, and entertainment all throughout the world. How it came to be, Alfred wasn't quite sure himself, but he was completely down with it.

He drew open the heavy curtains that covered his floor-to-ceiling windows, watching as the early morning sunlight reflect off of countless skyscraper windows, sending rays of light every which way. It was a harsh, yet beautiful sight, just like the city itself. Living in the Empire State Building had its perks, you know. The ESB was no residential building, but with his nation status and multiple connections with the "Big Guys", as he liked to call them, Alfred managed get an entire floor all to himself.

Alfred groggily trudged to his kitchen, still in his pajama pants and cotton t-shirt. He blinked and yawned again as he opened his refrigerator door, light spilling out. His hands fumbled around, finally closing around a stale, paper-wrapped hamburger. He tore off the paper and threw it into the microwave. The timer sounded, momentarily breaking Alfred out of his half-awake, half-asleep state.

Biting into the warm bun, Alfred's taste buds were met with something strange and but yet familiar.

Plastic.

He frowned.

Now fully awake and ticked off as to why there was paper inside his favourite food, Alfred removed the top bun to find a small, laminated manila card nestled in between the lettuce and the bacon strips.

Make-shift breakfast now forgotten, Alfred carefully wiped the grease off of its smooth and shiny surface. At the top, the small and neat print read: Vacation Destination - Montego Bay.

Alfred couldn't help grinning as he thought of the days to come. The cruise and vacation was the perfect opportunity to have fun, see his favourite Britain and bother his fellow nations, all at the same time.

This is definitely going to be the best vacation ever.


PORTSMOUTH, ENGLAND [9:00 AM UTC]

Elizabeta became more and more excited as the nations' cars pulled into the port one by one. The very first people to arrive were the Nordics, probably due to Sweden's constant nervous energy. Next came the three Baltics, driving at a breakneck speed, most likely trying to escape Russia's clutches. They were quickly followed by a car full of eight, bickering Asian countries. The Italy brothers arrived in their yacht, driven by Ludwig, while Alfred landed his jet on a nearby heli-pad. The remaining nations trickled in, gathering near the docks.

Everyone chattered animatedly, standing around the moveable stairway that lead to their cruise ship. Gulls squawked and circled above, hoping to steal some food from the large crowd. Namely Alfred's endless supply of burgers, fries and sodas.

"Kesesese LET'S GET THIS PARTY STARTED!" An obnoxiously loud voice cheered from the back. Its owner stepping off of a flashy red Vespa. The one and only Gilbert Beilschmidt … and a half-visible nation behind him that no one could recognize. Some of the nations muttered amongst themselves. He seemed so familiar, like an old friend, but no name came to mind.

"Mattie!" Alfred bounded over and clasped the invisible nation on the back.

"H-hey Alfred." Matthew's voice was shaking and weak. More so than usual.

"Did that annoying jerk drive you here? Are you ok? Did he do anything to you? What if he-" Though he was an oblivious air-head more than half the time, he was very protective of his younger brother. Seeing the little Canadian nation being raised by someone as promiscuous as France was bad enough. So as soon as Canada received his independence, Alfred promised him that "the great hero" will shield him from any perverted sickos that looked his way.

But there was only enough room for so much ego. Because of that, America and Prussia constantly butted heads, more so on the topic of Matthew.

"N-no, I'm f-fine. Just a bit s-shaken up from our ride h-here." Matthew assured him. Though none too convincing.

"Okay people, time for a head count!" Elizabeta yelled into her megaphone from her position at the bow, voice overpowering those of the nations standing below.

One by one, the nations filed onto the ship, after each being given a room key hanging from a personalized lanyard.

"Find the room with the matching symbol as your room key, you'll either be sharing with a fellow nation, or you're France and can have a room all by yourself."

France pouted but several nations sighed in relief, no longer having to worry about possibly being raped in the middle of the night.

Lovino grabbed his key and fled, trying to shake a persistent Spaniard from his trial.

"Lovi ~ Where are you? I wonder if we're roommates! Lovi?"

Lovino raced through the halls of the ship, straight into the lodging area. He tried to catch his breath as he leaned against a door for support.

Damn. I need to exercise more.

He looked up. There was a cartoon tomato stuck on the door. Right beside a maple leaf.

Damn.


A/N:

The "Charlie" America speaks of is from an action-packed, awesome American spy movie called "Charlie's Angels" (2000)

The locations are all real (Genoa, New York City etc.), along with the landmarks (Spinnaker Tower, Empire State Building etc.)

"UTC" stands for Coordinated Universal Time. [As more sophisticated time pieces became available to scientists, the need for a new international time standard became apparent. Atomic clocks did not need to keep time based on average solar time at a particular location because they were very, very accurate. In addition, it became understood that due to the irregularity of the earth and the sun's movements, the exact time needed to be modified occasionally through the use of leap seconds.]

I'm fairly certain that most cruise ships travel at a speed of 20 to 25 knots per hour. T^T So the nations' ship is completely made-up. The name "The Flying Frying Pan" originates from the legendary ghost ship "The Flying Dutchman".

Updates may be sporadic but I would never abandon a story. Because unfinished fics bother me so so so freaking much.

Please bear with me as I try to figure out how this website works ;-;