Well hello there! I am having trouble writing my current story, so, I decided to give it a rest and take a crack at a one off I've been wanting to do for a while now. I've never written in first person, or a romance before, but I decided to try anyways!

This is based off of one of many crack ships I've come to adore lately. Of course I have my normal ships that I'm a fan of, but some of my cracks that you might see on my page as I continue to love them are: China x Britannia, China x Vietnam, Vietnam x Belarus (hello), Japan x Gaul (France's mom), and America x Ghana (who is a woman in my mind. Funny how there are mostly all straight ships. Huh.)

I also have a character for America and Canada's native American mother, as many of us do, and eventually I'd LOVE to write that story out. But until then, here is the first crack ship I ever liked (other than Prussia x Liechtenstein, but that one doesn't seem entirely crack-ey to me)!

Reader, I am not one to be fooled. I'm not going to stand in my closet lying to and telling myself this is a date. No. I won't.

Because it's not.

This is the definition of "not a date". We're not even going out a night, it's a late lunch, and lunch is not a date unless you call it a "lunch date". Had this been dinner, or a movie, or both, or bowling or something, then I could assume it was a date. But I'm no fool. Furthermore, it is just the two of us, but we're friends. Friends go out by themselves all the time. Not a date.

And, reader, just so we're on the same page here, I have not changed outfits seven times because I'm worried about looking good for my date. It's not a date. We've already discussed that. It's just that she always looks so… the way her golden waterfall of hair cascades down her shoulders, the way her icy blue eyes shimmer in the light, and the perfect curvature and shape of her body making any outfit she put on look like a model's ensemble. She's… beautiful.

So, naturally, I want to look my best too. So that I am not outdone, reader. Don't get confused, this is not a date.

I arrived early. It was only proper manners, I was the one who invited her out after all, I can't be late. I sat at a barstool flicking my fingernails over one another and trying not to sweat. The sound they make when the snap apart and together like this is sort of relaxing, but every so often bells would chime that made my heart stop. Each time the door to the little diner was swung open, and those bells sounded, I spun around madly on my barstool to check.

And this time it was her.

She was truly stunning walking in in her capris, black booties, and loose, yellow top. The wind from the AC blew in her hair just so and I could've sworn she moved in slow motion. My body was filled with little flapping butterflies where food should have gone.

Reader, I have a confession to make. This is not a date, and I know that true as day, but I still like her. I've had quite the mountain-sized crush on Belarus for the last while. The attraction came onto me suddenly, so suddenly that I dismissed it as nation-related, assuming that the influx of LGBT activists was causing me to lean that way as well. But readers, time went on and my feelings did not change.

I've had girl-crushes before, but I never thought of them as such. Just women I would see on the street who particularly caught my eye, but with Belarus I feel the same way I used to feel about Thailand, and the way I did about China for that dangerous second.

Sometime in the 1860s I believe, I made the mistake of getting myself a human boyfriend. For a while, I really let myself fall in love with him; I always felt the need to be by his side, and never grew tired of holding his hand, and just the way it's flipping now as Belarus took her seat, my stomach would flip around for him.

The only woman I'd ever felt any sort of significant feelings for before this was Ms. Britannia. But she was older, more beautiful, and more powerful than me. Plus, I couldn't let myself have feelings for China's girlfriend, so I kept quiet. I told myself I just admired her. If that feeling could be related to this moment, as Belarus' hand almost touched mine when she went to grab a menu, this is a strong admiration.

However, anyone who knows anything knows Belarus is maddeningly in love with Russia. That's why this is not a date, and I'm not going to let myself get excited that she agreed to eat with me.

"Hello! Welcome! Have you ever dinned at Liling's before?"

"Yes sir," I chimed in, "I have. She hasn't," I remarked, pointing to Bel. She didn't speak my language, and couldn't follow. The little, confused smile she gave me practically melted my heart away.

"Well it's nice to have a returning customer. What can I get for you ladies today?"

I swapped to the language of the nations and asked Belarus what she wanted. After ordering for us both, and the waiter left, I realized I had no idea what to say. My fingernails were entertaining me but I was sure my guest was bored out of her mind. Think of something, think of something, think of something you idiot!

"So, how have you been?"

"Good."

…SHIT.

Conversation could not go this way all night. I could feel myself heating up, sweat beads begging to break through my skin as I failed to find anything decent to talk about. My stupid brain was so useless when I needed it most.

"Me too," I commented, grasping at straws, "except…" something. Something relatable, "except that my boss has been badgering me lately."

"Oh don't even get me started," She said with a groan and a roll of those striking eyes. "Mine is a complete idiot this time around, and he really thinks he's about to force my hand into stupidity."

I laughed. "What does he want you to do?"

And as she started to tell me, she leaned in closer. I knew she didn't mean anything by it, but that didn't stop my smile from spreading, and my nerves from wringing my stomach out like a wet rag. I could smell her perfume, or maybe her shampoo. It wasn't fruity like mine, but a more elegant scent, something rich.

My heart was beating so hard I could feel it in my fingertips, and my stomach was horribly bubbly with nervousness, but I scooted in closer too. Just a little bit. Our knees were now just centimeters part from touching, and she was speaking so intently, right at me. I couldn't break my gaze away from the flecks of white in her irises.

Just do it I told myself. This wasn't a date so it wouldn't even mean anything. In a moment of fleeting bravery, I shifted my leg slightly so our knees tapped together. The contact sent a jolt of electricity up my spine, and moments had passed with my bare skin pressed against her jeans, and she didn't move. She just continued to tell me her story.

You could've sworn I forgot anyone else was there, or that anything else was going on. All I saw was the way the light bounced off her bone-straight, golden strands and the fierceness in those eyes. She looked away from me, to her left.

"Oh!" I said with a bit of a start to our waiter who had returned, "yes, um, that plate's mine. That one's hers."

She giggled and rubbed my arm mockingly, "you totally zoned out on us," she remarked with a smile. It felt like her hand was on my arm for several years. Every hair stood up on end, and the slight squeeze she gave before she released made goosebumps pop to the surface.

"No, I was just lost in your story." Say it. "I find it" NO! Say it V! "a-and you" oh God, why'd I say it "rather intriguing."

In response, I got a 'thank you' and a light laugh. I had rarely ever seen her smile this much, as she was usually rather straight laced, and only loosened up around her siblings. It was a gorgeous smile, one that brightened up her face and the whole diner alike.

I interlocked my hands, pressing the palms together, praying she wouldn't notice they were shaking. My arm was still hot from where she touched me.

"This is good," she commented, licking a bit of sauce from her lip. Damnit! Everything she did was so cute! I was I not supposed to like her?!

She ate with only one hand, the other rested by her plate. Her hand was not even a meter away from mine, reader, and China had told me I had to flirt. What that crusty old man thought he knew about flirting is still lost to me, but she'd never know I liked her unless I did something to hint at it.

Her knowing wouldn't make her feelings for Russia die. I didn't even know if she was interested in women, but, if I could touch her again, I was going to. I tried to find a place to slide in saying something energetic.

"…and then France showed up. He started tickling everyone, looked at me, and then walked right past me. At least he's a little smart." She remarked.

"I remember when France was really cool with my government and visiting me a lot," I threw in, prepping myself, "he would come by and try to flirt with one of my guards all the time." On the 'all' I lifted my hand and pressed it on top of hers, and leaned in. It probably mostly just looked like I was exaggerating my story, but reader, I was right. Her hands were incredibly soft.

They were a little bigger than mine, but still felt dainty and girly in a way. And she never flinched in all those milliseconds we were touching. She seemed fine.

It excited me reader. We had touched three whole times that night! We'd been giggling the entire time and she seemed to be having fun. I wanted to do something even more daring. This story she was telling now was about Lithuania, who was very public with his affections for Belarus. I formulated a plan, and then waited for her to bring him up again.

"…Lith is always doing stuff like that though. Wanting to hold my bags or pull out my chair or whatever," she remarked with a roll of her eyes. My chance had come. I ignored my stomach, twisting in nervousness again, and decided to go for it. I leaned towards her, so close I had to press a hand on her leg to keep my balance.

"For a beautiful woman like you I'm sure he'd do anything," I said with a smirk. I tried to narrow my eyes ever so slightly, and look down and then up as my grin grew, soaking in her body's image, just as Taiwan had told me would look "super sexy". I didn't exactly feel super sexy, I felt more like a lost fool, but when tried this in the mirror I didn't look half bad, so maybe that had translated over.

A second or two after saying that I pulled away and went back to eating. Belarus looked completely startled at first, but I swear to you reader, as she calmed down, her cheeks got a little red. Not nearly as red as mine, I'm sure I had turned my face into a stop sign, but she was blushing regardless.

It got very quiet after that. My hands were trembling as I tried to eat, which wasn't making the task very easy, and she hadn't said a word more of her tale. I feared I'd gone too far, and in seconds I was ready for the checkered tile beneath my barstool to suck me in and kill me. Anything to take me away from this moment.

But she had blushed at what I said, which meant she thought of it as more than friendly, right? I had gotten my point across? And she looked so adorable being all flustered! I giggled lightly at the thought and then turned to her, not able to wipe away my smile.

"What'd he do next?"

She looked at me, still surprised, but then let herself simmer down. Her face resumed the hard neutral I was used to, the look that made her look so powerful and dignified, and she kept talking.

She had many stories, and I had a couple, and before long our food was finished. We fought for a while about why I should cover the whole tab instead of just my half, and then, it came time for us to go.

It was bittersweet, walking her to her car. I wanted the night to go on forever, but I was also exhausted from being so nervous and having my pulse race the whole time like I was running a marathon. I needed to go home and roll around in bed for a while, maybe call Taiwan too, before I'd feel truly calm again.

"Your nation's food is very good. I'll have to eat here again sometime," she remarked, eyeing the sign for the name of the restaurant above my head.

"When you do," I said, grasping her attention, "let me know. I'd love to take you out again." Why did I insist upon sounding like I had just walked out of a corny movie? Like I was the high school jock talking to a brainless cheerleader? I regretted every word that had come out of my mouth until she let the corners of her lips turn up ever so slightly, and her face blushed a gentle pink.

She. Was. So. Gorgeous.

With the way I was standing, I blocked most of her face from the light, but the little bit of her that I could see showed glowing skin, and her radiant-as-always eyes, looking back at me with some hint of secrecy. She placed a hand over her chest, near where her heart was, and looked around in a way that I would have described as nervously had I not remembered.

This was not a date. She wouldn't be nervous right now because this was just an outing for friends.

"Yea, I did enjoy myself," she said.

But I mean it could have been a date.

"I guess I could come out this way again," Belarus added, looking around.

It wasn't a date, but I did flirt with her.

"Or you could come to my place next time."

This was not a date.

"A new place I want to try actually just opened up near my house."

But I would've liked if it was a date.

"What would you prefer?"

Either is fine.

"Or if the next one could be a date."

She raised an eyebrow at me. "A date?"

"Hm?" I said, with ever-widening eyes. I had mixed myself up. Instead of saying 'Either is fine', I'd thought it. Which meant I said the part about us dating. Where was the checkered floor to swallow me up now? Well, I guess it'd be fine if the asphalt we stood above ate me instead. Or if a tidal wave took me out. Or if literally anything at all got me away from this situation.

I was officially the dumbest person alive. I just stood there like a goofy idiot staring at her, not knowing what to say, begging the heavens to strike me with lightning or something.

"You said the next one could be a date?" She asked, raising her eyebrow further.

"Hm? Did I?" I took in a breath, after having realized I spent the last couple seconds forgetting to do so.

Belarus looked at me, shifting her focus from piercing into my right eye to piercing the left. I wondered if she could see the beads of sweat on my forehead. But then, she grinned.

"A date?" she asked.

"You're asking me out?" Why was I playing dumb? She knew exactly what I said. Why was I playing dumb?

"You mentioned the date." Now she was full on smiling. Probably mocking me, or preparing to sadistically break my face.

"No. I…what? No."

She laughed, then looked at me. She squinted ever so slightly and soaked in my body's image. Her eyes glanced down and then up as her smile grew. It looked super sexy.

"Goodnight, Vietnam," she said climbing into her car. "See you asjonsdjoandoas." And then the door slammed shut. Every breath I took rocked my body.

She turned the car on.

Her reverse lights came on, but my eyes were still wide and my heart was still screaming, so I hadn't thought to move.

She carefully reversed past me.

She waved goodbye while she was smiling. I waived back wearily. What just happened?

I started to walk through the parking lot towards my car, but stopped half way there. I stood in the middle of everything, blocking two cars trying to enter the lot and then it hit me. The cars honked at me, but I didn't even hear them.

"See you on our next date." That's what she had said. I glanced back at her car as it zipped down the road away from me.

I smiled so hard it hurt my face, but I couldn't be bothered to care. My feet basically skipped around the parking lot to my car and I jumped around it for a while before getting in. Once seated, I drummed on the steering wheel and whipped my head wildly in a tumult of excitement.

I screamed, I cheered, not a thing I tried seemed good enough to express myself. Buried under my skin was a joy begging to break out and fly over the whole world; let everyone know how happy I was. I bent over the steering wheel and tried to contain it, but my body trembled and my feet stamped and I couldn't calm myself at all.

Reader, nothing on earth could have made that day better.

I had just had a date with the perfect woman.