This is purely crack. I know for a fact that I can—and that I have—written better than the writing that you are about to read, but I wrote it like that for a reason. There are a lot of incomplete sentences, paragraphs where they shouldn't be (psh, my 8thEnglish teacher would kill me if she ever read this—she knows how good a writer I am, not to sound boasty), and probably a fair amount of OOC, but it's crack so who gives a fuchsia? Also, as a random side note, this is my first story where I haven't used any dialogue, so be proud of me! It's only taken me about two years and a whole ship-ton of fandoms…

There was a reason that Canada did not speak up much during G8 and world meetings. Most of the time, he was simply tired—with his boyfriend, he did not receive much sleep—but today in particular he was extra sleep deprived. Normally, he would have received at least a few hours' sleep, but for some reason, last night had been…

What happened last night? He couldn't remember.

Oh, wasn't that just the cherry on top of the friggin' sundae.

Canada remembered that he was walking back from his brother's house. He'd spent the day with said brother for his birthday, three days after Canada's own, and was heading home after the sugar high that America had gone through.

Unfortunately for Canada, his brother was extremely prone to sugar highs. He'd even gotten one from chicken noodle soup one day.

Chicken noodle soup.

While he was sick.

A fucking sugar high.

Canada cursed the closeness to his brother's house that day.

America had been sneezing his brains out one moment, the next he'd been practically bouncing off the walls—no, not practically, but literally. He'd had to call Cuba over to help calm him, and even that helped little.

Canada hadn't gotten much sleep that night either, partially mentally scared from the experience. He thanked god that he'd been on good terms with Cuba these many years.

And so Canada walked from his brother's house back to his own, head dipped low in exhaustion.

As he finally stepped into his own home, he settled down on the couch with Kumasomething. Although that sweet moment didn't last long, due to the crash that he heard coming from the direction of his bedroom. He ran up the stairs and through the halls, Kumasomething at his heels, until he came to his bedroom door. He flung said door open carefully and took a double-take at what he saw (not to mention the miniscule drip of blood that had evacuated his nose).

And lying right in the center of the bed was Prussia.

Completely naked.

On a pile of rose petals.

Just asking to be Super Uked.

Oh yes, Canada would not be getting much sleep tonight at all.

Hungary giggled intensely from behind the computer monitor. Wiping a small trickle of blood that had spurted from her nose, she smiled devilishly, a hundred-thousand thoughts racing through her mind. Should she have set up another camera from a different angle? Was the setup sexy enough? Did she have enough time when Prussia went down to the kitchen for a bottle of water and some whiskey and beer to set up another camera, not to mention the ninja abilities necessary? Should she call Japan or South Korea or Taiwan or even Vietnam to use their ninja skills to set up the second camera—she would reward whoever it was, of course, with a copy of the DVD later on—and perhaps even a third, because three angles are better than one or two? Did France deserve to work with her on this project?

France smiled behind the woman, lifting his glass of wine to his lips before placing a hand on her shoulder.

Yes, his younger-brother-slash-son-type-thing would probably hate him and go on some delayed teenage rebellion, but he didn't mind.

Besides, what Canada didn't know, wouldn't necessarily come back to bite France in the ass in a couple hundred years.

Yes, I know Kumajirou's name. How could I not? I plan on cosplaying Canada soon for a convention (or maybe Hungary…). But anyway, I called him Kumasomething 'cuz dear Canadiana can't remember his name for the life of him. :)

The entire thing was only about a page and a half, but I'm possibly using this as a sort of reference to another story I'm writing, Welcome to Facebook!, so go check that out (guiltless advertisement, insert bright, salesperson smile here)! I've only got two chapters so far, but I'm working on adding more. I've got the next three chapters all typed out, but I'm updating this during one of my study halls at school—Long story—and I've got like ten minutes left. Smiles!