"PERVERT!," Vietnam screamed at France as she threw a pillow at him. Vietnam's long dark hair brushed against her bare arms. She did not wear her Áo Dài because she was sleeping before being awakened by the Frenchman in her bed. Instead, she wore simple gray sweatpants and a baggy white shirt. What was the big idea! Just because she was his territory didn't mean he could creep up on her like that! The events that led up to this started with something a little like this: Vietnam went to bed. She was falling asleep when France walked in. France kissed her forehead and got under the covers with her. He held her around the waist. Vietnam began freaking out.

"Ma cherie it was only a small kiss, non?," France asked trying to act innocent. He widened his bright blue eyes in hopes of earning sympathy. Vietnam was not buying it.

"Don't you have a husband or something?," Vietnam asked him suspiciously as she reached for her long wooden rice paddle.

"L'Anglettere? Oh, ma cherie, what he doesn't know won't hurt him," France said completely forgetting about his innocent tactics. He uncovered himself from the light green blankets and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He had the nerve to wink at her.

"I happen to know England very well!," Vietnam said angrily. France was such a cheater! If England found out about this he would be so mad! How did he put up with this man in the first place? Well...through wars and arguments and battles probably. England never had to be his territory, though so maybe that helped with being able to deal with him. England was never forced to obey him unless something happened through war.

France smirked and stood up. Vietnam tightened her grip on the rice paddle. "Ma cherie, I got you from L'Anglettere," France said, "But what would it matter if you told him or not? You belong to me, not him. He could not do anything for you."

France annoyed her so much! One day she wouldn't have to listen to him. She wouldn't be the nation that gets passed around from ruler to ruler. She would be stronger. But for now, she was a simple French territory. She was about to wack France in the head with the rice paddle, but sighed. She had a more subtle plan for revenge this time.

"Are you hungry, Francis?," Vietnam asked changing the subject. What time was it? Late night? Whatever...she couldn't wait to see France's expression when she told him what he was eating. She would wait until he had finished it, too. That would be perfect.

"Non, not at the moment," Francis said with a smile. He didn't like Vietnam's cooking. The quality was close to that of...England's. It was a wonder to France how Vietnam could stomach England's food and vice versa.

"Wh-what? Are you sure?," asked Vietnam again. Her plan was failing almost instantly.

"Oui," France responded, "I have eaten not over three hours ago. I am fine, but thank you for caring for me, ma cherie."

Fine...maybe another day. Why didn't France like dog meat? Oh well...it was great for culinary torture. It wasn't like Vietnam to give up so easily, but she was tired and it wasn't like this was a battle or anything nearly as serious as that. She just wanted to get a pervert out of her bed and go to sleep. Then again it's not like France could help it...that was just who he was.

Vietnam sighed, "France. Out."

"I am not a dog...and you listen to me," France said getting closer to Vietnam. She was not in the mood for this. Easy way out? Yes. She took her rice paddle and did what she had wanted to do since she found France in her bed. She took the rice paddle and hit France in the head with it. She smiled and pulled an unconscious France off her bed. She got under the covers and closed her eyes. She began to dream about life without France. That would be all she wanted for years.