Okay, so, this entire thing was something I wrote awhile ago (yet again) but have not posted here for reasons I cannot begin to fathom. Anyway, this fic is based ENTIRELY on a dream my friend Poochyena123 (yup, my lovely muse) had about the audio CD with the name of something like "Fantasia". She was telling me all that she could remember, and I was just about falling out my chair with all the images that hit me. So I stole it and wrote this up.

Somewhere in the vastness of the online video game world, Prussia was zipping quickly along, happily riding a giant chicken and screaming across the zone, "ALL UR CHOCOBO R BELONG TO PRUSSIA!"

..~..

Elsewhere in this very same game, Russia, England, America, and France were wandering the great deserts of its Egyptian area. Everyone wanted to tell America that Egypt was nowhere near Mexico, but they all knew that he wouldn't listen or do anything to fix this. So, keeping their better knowledge of geography to themselves, they moved on.

Their characters were unique, to say the least. America had chosen to be a gunner, which gave him an odd cowboy-ish look to his costuming. Strapped to his back was a huge gun that, from its enormous size, would've been more useful as a blunt weapon than an actual gun. And judging by various dents on its surface, it was probably used in just that way.

England decided on being a summoner. His mostly brown clothing, with an odd green vest under a cloak and over a long sleeved shirt, gave both America and France quite a laugh. He also held a spellbook in one arm. With him was a little creature he had summoned. It was something like a dragon, only more cute and less threatening. MUCH less threatening. It was something like mint green snake that had little pink-ish purple butterfly wings sprouting from its head. He had given it the unofficial name of "Sprite", which only received more laughs from America, as one of his sodas that he loved so much had that same name.

France was a rogue. Why? Because rogues didn't have a set kind of clothing that they wore. He happened to be wearing bright blue and red as he always did. So basically, he was just as flashy as always. No one was really sure what his weapon was, since he was usually beaten before he could draw it, if he even bothered to draw it. (He claimed they were daggers with roses on their hilts, but no one believed him; at least not about the dagger part.)

Russia also more normal, at least, as far as his outfit went. He had somehow managed to find clothing that made him look almost exactly like he normally wore. Even his scarf was in its place. What bothered everyone, however, was his weapon of choice. Somehow he had managed to uproot one of the game's water faucet pipes and carry it around with him. This "weapon" was wielded much like a lance, seeing as that's what his character type would usually use. Oddly enough, it took more of a beating than America's gun, and yet it remained in perfect condition.

Somehow, as they wandered aimlessly through the desert, a hord of mummies sprouted from the group and began to attack. America and France both freak out and begin to yell, although America swings his gun around like crazy while the older man runs. England and his Sprite both start sending flames at the piles of bandages and rotting flesh, although England insisted on shouting "BRITANNIA BEAM" with every spell. Russia had vanished to somewhere, but the occasional burst of his childish laughter let them all know he was at least doing his part in fighting these creatures off.

Just as the mummies' numbers was almost zero, a large, earth shaking roar was heard. All four men turned to see what this was, only to find a huge sphinx had spawned from seemingly nowhere and was beginning to chase them. Checking its level with the game's built-in system, they all quickly found it to be too high for them to fight. The only other option: flee for your life.

And so they did. They fled as quickly as they could, and the sphinx was right on their heels. Somewhere during this point in time, France finally called out a question both Russia and England were thinking.

"WHO MADE THIS ZONE?" he screamed, almost getting stepped on by the beast.

America laughed proudly. "What? This zone? Japan did! Egypt and Greece helped him with this and the two neighboring zones!"

"So you had nothing to do with it?" England asked in disbelief, as he was expecting this kind of strangeness only from the younger nation in question.

"Nope! I only chose its location!"

"Hey, up ahead looks like a good place to hide." Russia stated, being the only one focused on this at the moment. He pointed to a large pyramid that was probably bigger than the real thing. On the side facing them was an opening, and all four quickly ducked inside.

England was the last one through, and to make sure the sphinx wouldn't attack through the opening, he summoned a rock that was just big enough to cover it. No one protested. They sat down, panting and tired from their run. Not even England bothered to point out that their little hiding place was well lit despite the lack of lights. However, as they came out of their frightened and tired states, they noticed that this little opening was actually a large hallway that led deeper into the pyramid. Seeing as their original entrance was blocked off, they had no choice but to delve deeper.

This, however, almost made them wish to be outside again with the sphinx. For everywhere they went, hundreds of traps had been set. Knives fell from the ceiling when France stepped on a loose rock, arrows were shot from the walls when America put his hand on the wall, and Russia triggered a large pit of snakes to open in from of them when he raised his pipe and it bumped the ceiling. Low on health, they decided to take things step by step and be cautious.

"Oi, England, you and Dr. Pepper go check that area for traps!" America stated, gesturing to some vague area as he checked another.

"His name is Sprite!" England snapped, but obeyed nonetheless.

He carefully tapped every stone on the walls, up to as high as he could reach, with his spellbook, prepared to dodge should anything come flying. At one point, he kicked a rock with his boot unintentionally, which caused an axe to fall from the ceiling, just missing France's head. France whipped around, and spotted the culprit.

"Hey! We're teammates! Are you trying to kill me anyway?" he yelled, marching over to him.

"Shut up you bloody git!" England shouted back. "At least I do my job! You just whine like a little child every time a monster shows up!"

"They're at it again." Russia laughed as they two became a cloud of dust as they fought for the seventh time that hour.

America looked up and was almost amused enough to laugh as well. However, in the midst of the fray, France's hand struck a stone on the wall that was too high for England to have reached. A pit opened right beneath them, and they fell through before they could even notice the floor had been missing. America and Russia both stared at the spot their comrades had been just seconds before.

"Well, um…It looks like we've been separated." America stated.

"It appears that way." Russia agreed, smiling once more and turning to his ally. "Shall we continue without them?"

"Er, yeah, I guess so."

So Russia and America continued, seeing as it was the only option they really had. Again, traps were everywhere, and they had a hard time avoiding them. They were doing okay, right up until Russia's head hit a low rock on the ceiling. Stunned for a moment as he put his hand to head in pain, he didn't notice as a single arrow was launched from behind him. It struck him in the shoulder, not doing much damage, but enough to make him snap out of his daze from the wound to his head. America took a step to help him, but Russia just smiled and waved him off.

"I'm fine, I'm fine." He stated, taking a bottle from his character's inventory and drinking it. Luckily the vodka in this game had a healing effect, and Russia had drank enough of it that his tolerance was extremely high.

What he didn't plan for was when he reached behind him to pull the arrow out himself, only to suddenly feel his whole body go numb and his eyes close. The rest he didn't notice, as he had fallen to the ground, sound asleep. America had to blink a few times to register what had just happened. He took a cautious step towards the large man and carefully pulled the arrow from him. The small writing on its shaft told the whole story. "Poison arrow: alone it doesn't do anything, but it you heal within the ten minutes the poison is inside you, you'll fall into a deep sleep that won't wear off by normal means." America's stomach sank.

He couldn't just leave his ally here, as he wouldn't be able to wake up. And the thought of the real Russia taking his real pipe to him was not all too pleasant either. Finally, thinking things over for a change, he decided there was only one course of action that would be taken. Thanking his enormously high strength skill, he took hold of the man's collar and began to drag him along; the pipe he carried himself in his free hand.

Strangely enough, he encountered no more traps during the time he was dragging Russia. Even with that, though, he was beginning to feel tired. He could go on, but having Russia didn't make it easy to move through the narrow passages. Finally unable to go on, he let go of the man and slumped against a wall, out of breath and thinking.

"What would wake this guy up?" he thought, looking over the heavily clothed man. "Vodka, probably. Aw, but I can't get to his inventory! So now what? I can't just leave him. Sure, I have a few awakening potions on me, but the arrow said that normal methods wouldn't work. Man, this is a hard one!"

So he thought on, trying to think of anything that might wake him up. Somewhere along the line, his mind skimmed across Sleeping Beauty, who could only be wakened from her sleep by the kiss of a handsome prince. This thought made America want to hurl, but he declared that he wasn't a prince and therefore such a thing wouldn't work. And yet, his mind kept coming back to Sleeping Beauty. He cursed himself over and over again every time this thought returned, but he started to think that maybe this was the only option worth trying.

So at last, cursing everything he could think of, including England, he knelt down beside the sleeping man. He swallowed hard and took a deep breath. He slowly, slowly leaned over, placing one hand on Russia's chest to steady himself. His lips were a mere inch from Russia's, his forced breath mingling with the calm of Russia's, making his cheeks flush.

…Russia's eyes flickered open, and he blinked, focusing them. He sat up, a little disoriented, and spotted America. He was pacing quickly back and forth, his face contorted with hatred for himself and his cheeks red. Not seeming to understand what had taken place, his smile came to his face as he greeted the man cheerfully.

"Good morning America~" he said, causing America to jump.

"A-Ah, y-you're awake!" America stuttered, turning even more red. "H-How are you feeling?"

"Yes, I am. And I'm quite well, thank you." He replied, standing up.

"Th-that's good." America stuttered, trying to be as normal as possible.

"Hey, America, are you alright? You seem very red. Did you get a fever while I was asleep?" Russia moved to put the back of his hand to the smaller nation's forehead, but America quickly backed off.

"O-Of course I'm alright! I'm the hero!" he cried, striking one of his thumbs-up poses.

Russia chuckled at this, taking it as the truth from America's energy. "Then shall we continue and find out way out of here?"

America nodded and took the lead, wanting to keep his still blushing face out of Russia's sight, and also being the one who knew which way they had come and therefore which way to go. Russia gave America's blush a quick thought as the man passed him, but it didn't last. Instead he picked up his pipe, which had been left on the sandy floor, and followed the other blonde.

At long last they found a pathway that they felt the breeze flow into from the outside. America cheered and quickly ran for the outside, taking in deep breaths of the fresh air as he escaped. Russia, amused once again by the man's spirit, smiled warmly and stepped outside himself. It wasn't more than a few seconds into the celebrating that the two heard the unmistakable bickering of England and France coming up from the hallway where they had just left. And just as quickly, the owners of the voices appeared outside as well.

Neither America nor Russia was sure as to what they had been squabbling about, although several ideas came to mind, seeing as England's clothing had been ripped in a few almost awkward places and France looked like a child who had been denied a piece of candy by his mother. One glare from England told America and Russia both that asking about the situation was an action that would result in their untimely demise. France turned away from them, complaining in whispers in French now to himself. He glanced up a moment to find Egypt standing right in from of him. France let out a yelp and almost fell onto his butt. The others were equally surprised.

Egypt didn't look happy, and he was holding a stick in one hand. In the other was a long rope that eventually tied itself around the neck of the sphinx. Apparently it was his pet. America and France decided together that trying to yell at him about the sphinx attacking them and the dangers of the pyramid were a bit much was a bad idea. A very. Bad. Idea. So they quickly turned and fled. Russia waved at Egypt (which made HIM rather uncomfortable) before running to catch them. Only England remained behind.

"So, did you get what I asked for?" England asked the tan man he was alone with now.

Egypt nodded, setting his stick aside and pulling a few photos from beneath his clothes. He held these up for England to see, and the sight made him blush slightly and grin cruelly. He reached out to take them, but Egypt pulled them away.

"Oh, right, yeah…" England stated, realizing what needed to be done first. He removed all the cash he had on his character, which was enough to purchase a high quality sword in the game, and gave it to Egypt. He took this and handed over both the photos and a pot. His work being done, he took his sphinx and left. England looked through the photos quickly, grinning all the more evilly at each one. "That bloody idiot is going to pay for calling my little Sprite the wrong name." he stated, Sprite making an adorable attempt at a hiss.

Four photos in all: each one of a certain kiss; and the last held a very well-captured look of delight and pleasure from not one, but both members of said kiss.

..~..

And somewhere in the Greco-Roman area of this game world, the Axis were busy fighting off huge statues. Germany with some mighty hammer he picked up along the way, was doing most, if not all of the work. Japan was their priest, but since Germany never got hurt, he wasn't doing much. Italy, apparently a ranger and for some odd reason wearing a hat that closely resembled Robin Hood's, was frantically waving his signature white flag and wondering at the same time if Roma-jii-chan might be in the area.

The only things I really added were Prussia's shout at the beginning, Italy's hat, the Britannia Beam thing, the Dr. Pepper joke, and I went into more detail on America and Russia's "kiss". EVERYTHING ELSE CAME FROM 12 HOURS OF ILLNESS INDUCED SLEEP FROM MY FRIEND! I gotta admit, I wish I could have dreams like hers. Damn it!

Funny thing is, recently I've been playing an online game, and I play a character that I named Ivan Braginsky...and he got rabies from a lizardy-thing which lasted 2 1/2 hours. Well, rabies basically makes it so you don't heal naturally overtime. But I discovered that cramming alcohol down his throat makes him recover health quicker. I told my muse this, and she reminded me of this fic, and then I remembered that I should post it here, and now you have the back story to how this came to this site. YAY!

Anyway, reviews are much loved!