A/N: I'd really love to do an entire multi-chapter of these two leaving a trail of chaos in their wake as they go country-hopping, but the only European countries I've really been to are Germany, the Czech Republic and Spain. I don't really trust myself on writing what I don't know, so I decided that just a peek into one of their days would be better. Enjoy!

Axis Powers Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya.

It was exactly 10:30 AM when a shrill electronic tune broke through the peaceful air. Francis sighed, rolled over and quickly turned off his cell phone alarm. He sat up in bed, stretching his back, and finally opened his eyes.

They could not, he thought, have picked a better hotel spot. Situated no more than a hundred feet from the Charles Bridge, the small window provided a good view of the Vltava River glittering in the bright sunlight. People hurried to and fro across the cobblestones, most of them coming from the Old Town side where he could just barely make out the black spires of the Church of Our Lady Before Tyn.

A very unladylike grunt coming from the other side of the room prompted Francis to glance over. Gillian was nearly completely lost in the enormous tangle of blanket, her only recognizable feature being the silvery-white hair that was messily spread out over her pillow. One ankle dangled over the side of the bed.

Silently, Francis walked into the tiny bathroom and soaked a small face towel in ice-cold water. Going back to Gillian's bed, he wrung out the cloth over the one patch of bare skin he could find - namely, her right foot.

"HOOOOLYMARIAMOTHEROFCHRIST!" The air was scalded with Gillian's screams as she jerked awake, struggled with the sheets and promptly fell off her bed. Francis stood up, laughing.

"Come ON, Gilly. It's almost eleven," he said as she groaned and tried curl back up into a ball. But the floor proved to be significantly less comfortable so she groggily stood up, still holding the sheets around her.

"Whyyyyy soooo coooold?" she whined, plopping herself back down onto the mattress.

"November tends to do things like that, getting colder. Come on," he repeated, standing over her like a parent. Gillian looked up at him.

"Gimme three good reasons."

"Here's two: Bohemia Bagel."

She snorted. "Not gonna work. We went there yesterday."

"I thought you said it was awesome."

"It's TOTALLY awesome, but I don't feel like it today."

"Then a Czech hot dog plus a cup of chocolate?"

Thirty-three minutes later, Gillian was washed, clothed, and seated on a bench in Old Town Square, happily munching on her street food.

"So!" She exclaimed cheerfully through a mouthful of food, scattering crumbs everywhere. "Whaddaya we got for today?"

Francis was busy searching on his touchscreen phone. "You said you want to go to the castle, right?"

"Yeah, I'm totally up for it. Is there a throne room? Can I go and sit on it?"

"Wait, wait..." A few more taps, then he handed the phone to her. "I think that's it."

"Awesome!" Gillian grabbed the small device and squinted down at the screen. A gust of wind blew up, making her long, silver hair dance playfully around her head. It made her look like a deranged person. Francis was startled out of his reverie by a familiar whine.

"There isn't a throne!" She handed the phone back to him. "Not awesome."

"I take it you don't want to go, then?"

"I still wanna go to the castle. Castles are awesome. This one is just slightly less awesome because they don't have a throne."

"We should hurry, then. The main exhibits close at four."

"What time is it now?" Gillian tilted her head back to gaze at the greyish-white sky.

"Just past noon."

"Holy Roman Empire, Batman! Let's GO, then! I gotta see everything!"

Everything was quite a lot. But Francis was going to have to agree: this cathedral was pretty awesome.

Of course, Notre Dame was more iconic. And he was biased, having spent quite a few summers in Paris. But St. Vitus had its merits too. Wandering around the main nave, he passed the shadowy chapels, admiring the way their enormous stained glass windows glowed fiercely. Images of saints and kings stared down at him in blood red and deep violet. Francis walked on.

"Whoa! Look at this one!"

He doubled his footsteps to where Gillian was hanging dangerously over a railing. "What is it?"

"The most awesome one. Look at all the gold!" Gillian's eyes grew wide and round as she followed the detailed frescoes up the sparkling, gem-inlaid walls.

He peered around at the enclosed space, and then spied a small sign. "St. Wenceslas Chapel. Hey, Gilly," he called out, growing more interested in the information. "The crown jewels of Bohemia are through that little door over there."

"Really?" She twisted around again, nearly losing her balance to spill onto the polished floor. "AWESOME! But why would they just leave it out there like that?"

"There are seven locks with seven keys. And they're all scattered throughout the city, a key with each important person," Francis announced, still reading from the plaque.

"But couldn't you…y'know, just break it?"

Francis looked over his shoulder to smile at his friend. "If it were that easy, my dear Gilly, we could take them."

Her face brightened at this comment, but thankfully, at that moment a man approached them.

"Excuse me, but if you want to go up to the Great Spire, there is only half an hour left for it to be open…"

Gillian tore her eyes away from the gilded chamber to where the novice was politely pointing. "The Great Spire?"

"Yes, it's public to anyone who wishes to go up. But I have to warn you," he began, "It is called the Great Spire- "

"Fran-fran! We gotta do this!" Gillian's plans for the Bohemia crown jewels were instantly forgotten as she grabbed Francis's sleeve to tug him towards the doorway. "Think of all the awesome pictures you can take on that camera of yours. Come on, I'll race you!"

The man looked clearly worried at the last three words. Francis opened his own mouth to assure him that they were fine when Gillian broke into a run.

"Let's count the steps too! This is gonna be so awesome!"

Francis often wondered why he let Gillian run around with her crazy plans all the time. He certainly had the power to stop her (as Mrs. Beilschmidt had regularly reminded him of, all throughout their grade school lives…), but he just never did. Usually it was because her ideas were more or less harmless.

But if it was going to result with the two of them nearly dying of fatigue at the top of an incredibly high tower due to charging up a very steep, very narrow, 275-step spiral staircase…

Then he really needed to learn to when to exert that authority.

The elder boy sucked in one last breath of the crisp, chilly air before finally getting up and looking around. The little open-air room wasn't that interesting, really. There was a machine of sorts in the glass gallery in the middle, but most of it was obscured by the dirty panels and finicky clockwork. Francis dragged himself to the railings, peeking through the thin, sturdy wrought-iron bars that barred them in.

"Bon dieu, Gillian. Look at this."

The exhausted puddle of person on the floor twitched slightly. Francis picked up his camera and aimed it between the bars.

Seems like back in the old days, every single European noble would grab the chance, if possible, to build their ridiculously proportioned place of residence on some hill or mountain. One reason was probably for bragging rights - nyah, nyah, look at me in my bling'd out royal robes and great big honkin' castle! The other major reason was probably for safety. It was difficult to sneak up on somebody when they could see everything for miles.

Francis finally straightened up. Early as it was, the early winter sun was beginning to set, causing the sky to be streaked with pink, orange and a tinge of dark blue to signal the oncoming night.

"Okay, that's pretty cool." Gillian had finally hauled her sorry carcass upright and plopped herself on the window ledge. "Hey, there's the Charles Bridge!"

She peered down at the courtyard below. "Look at all the tiny people! Hey!"

Francis and Gillian waved their arms furiously, but there was little reaction from the ant-sized figures below.

"Oh! I think that guy looked up - HIIIII!"

Francis was glad for the iron bars that prevented Gillian from leaning over the edge as she desperately vied for the man's attention. "Hey, it's getting late. Don't want to be locked up here, do you?"

"Locked in a cathedral? That would be so awesome!"

"No, it wouldn't." Francis began walking towards the stairs. "And, I'm getting hungry."

The idea of food was too much for Gillian to resist. She ran over and peered at the winding steps.

"Race you down?"

"CERTAINLY NOT."

Night descended very quickly upon Prague. By the time Gillian and Francis had left the castle, streetlights were burning brightly to stave off the darkness. Neither of the friends were much bothered by this, as they enjoyed wandering around the cobblestone streets and admiring the architecture, particularly the signs on all the old houses.

"There's a bird," said Francis. "So it's probably called the house of the eagle or something."

"Look at that one!" Gillian giggled through her scarf as she pointed at the building next to it. "The house of the giant pretzel!"

"It's probably a snake..."

"Oh, you're no fun!"

Soon, their stomachs had become too much to ignore and they quickly found what they wanted: a doner kebab stall. Munching on the meat, vegetables and bread, Francis and Gillian didn't bother to stop walking around as they ate.

"I could eat kebab forever and ever," Gillian declared as she took another bite.

"Yeah, and it's cheap," Francis mused. "Hey, we need to find a present for Antonio before we leave."

"And Maddie!"

"Exactly." Francis tossed his paper wrap into the garbage. "Hurry up, then!"

Finding a store selling tourist-y trinkets was not a difficult task, but neither Francis nor Gillian wished to burden their friends with cheap plastic toys. They wanted something special that would really make somebody think of Prague and only Prague, something unique and with intrinsic, not material, value. So Francis didn't argue when Gillian dragged him into a small marionette store.

Instantly, the smell of wood hit their senses. It was a pleasant smell, especially coupled with the warm air and bright paints of the toys surrounding them. The pretty, dark-haired young lady behind the counter nodded and smiled as Gillian automatically began to examine the shelf along the wall.

"Look at all these puppets! Let's get one for 'Tonio!"

There were wooden dolls, small and large, wearing real clothes that revealed their characters. Gillian reached out and fingered the delicate lace of a princess marionette.

"We promised him we'd only get the most awesome presents," she said. "But that's so hard with all this! Like look at this, Fran-Fran...the king? The knight? They even have Santa Claus, and Christmas isn't for over a month!"

Francis glanced back at the counter; the girl was watching them furtively as Gillian began to play with two marionettes. "Hey, be a bit more quiet, okay?"

"But I can't decide!" Gillian dropped the dolls and wandered over to another shelf. "Oooh, they don't just sell puppets, they have other stuff too!"

"Yeah, I think it's just all about handmade woodwork." Francis tore his gaze from the girl and finally looked at the marionettes. "What about a pirate?"

"Pirates are pretty awesome."

"Gillian, you're not even paying attention to them anymore."

"Yeah, yeah, just get him a pirate!"

Francis rolled his eyes, picked up a medium-sized pirate marionette and walked past Gillian, who was now watching a little wooden man ride a unicycle across a string. He placed the toy on the counter and flashed the girl his most winning smile.

"Could you wrap this please?" He said this in French, as he couldn't really rely on every person living in Prague to understand English. However, he'd noticed a good number of signs around town in his own native language.

"Certainly, sir." Francis noticed that her eyes seemed to dart around nervously as she busied herself with packing paper and a box. "Is that...your little sister?"

That made him laugh. "For all intents and purposes, yes."

"Where do you two come from? It doesn't sound like she speaks French."

"We grew up in America, but she's got relatives in Germany." Francis leaned in just a bit closer. The girl was visibly flustered at this move. Perfect. "What's your name?"

"Milena."

"Dobrý večer, Milena, I'm -"

"FRANCIS!"

Gillian, cockblocker of the century, popped out of nowhere and slammed a notebook with a wooden cover onto the counter.

"I wanna get this too!"

"Be careful! Everything here is handmade," he told her, frowning slightly.

"I'm getting it for Maddie," she told him, waving the cover in front of him. "Look! It's got the image of the Old Town Bridge Tower burned onto it! Isn't that awesome? Think she'll like it?"

"Of course she will." Francis waved the notebook out of his face and turned his full attention back to the girl, smiling at her again. "Thank you, Milena. It was lovely meeting you."

Milena blushed and waved as they exited. Gillian scoffed.

"Do you have to hit on every single girl we so much walk by?"

"Hey, she looked lonely. This isn't exactly tourist season."

Gillian snorted and began to roll her eyes, but stopped still in the middle of the street.

"Aw, CRAP! I forgot to get postcards for Ludwig!"

"Great, we'll just go back." Francis turned around automatically, but Gillian grabbed his collar.

"Oh no, monsieur, you'll have to flirt with some other chick."

"Why?" He tried to arrange his facial features into a look of innocence. "Don't you think he'll appreciate an engraved wooden postcard?"

"Nah, he doesn't need an expensive present. I'm just telling him where we're going to next, or else my parents will freak."

"Well...good to know you're more willing to spend money on another girl than your own brother," he remarked drily. "Hypocrite."

She smirked and they walked into one of the bigger souvenir stores.

Gillian, being Gillian, quickly forgot about her own goals and was puttering around a completely different section. Francis, being Francis, didn't mind flipping through the glossy cards himself. He was selecting a beautiful black and white photograph of the Charles Bridge in the mist when Gillian's familiar cackle broke through the silence.

"Oh my god, this is so awesome! Francis, I have to buy this!"

She held up a grey hooded sweatshirt. There was nothing special about it apart from the ironed-on text on the front: CZECH ME OUT.

"Czech me out!" Gillian snickered. "Get it? Man, that's so funny! I'm getting it!"

He took careful aim, and flicked the postcard at her, hitting the M squarely in the middle. "Great. Don't forget Ludwig's postcard."

She was still giggling gleefully after they'd paid, and as soon as they walked out of the store, pulled it over her head. "I don't care. I think it's totally awesome."

He shrugged. "Whatever you say."

Back in their hotel room, Francis called dibs on the shower, so Gillian flopped onto her bed and grabbed a pen. Pulling off the cap, she began to scribble onto the postcard.

Dear bruder,

We're in Prague! It's really awesome! You should totally CZECH IT OUT...

A/N: I've had the incredible luck to have been to Prague twice, and both were for school: the first was a history trip and the second was for a choir festival. It's a lovely city and I hope to visit again. Completely saturated in history. Classical music capital of the world – second only to Vienna.

Dobrý večer: good evening in Czech (or so Google Translate tells me)

Title chosen because you know that the Bad Friends Trio would totally have the Beastie Boys on their playlists. And I'm a sucker for bad puns.