Bonjour~! Yes, I know... I'm meant to be on hiatus due to the A levels of Evil... *coughs in embarrassment* Well what can I say? This proved to be far more interesting than endoplasmic reticulum and Newton's laws of motion ^^" Literally about twenty-thirty minutes after I posted the hiatus notice I was hit with an idea for this chapter. Yes, I know, Engano is not an appropriate revision technique but who the hell cares?

I hope you'll enjoy this chapter. It contains some Prucan and implied onesided AmeRus but (obviously haha) also the awesome pairing that is Engano! I have a basic plot outlined for this and I hope I will stay interested enough to continue it to the end. If I don't you know where my PM is. Feel free to poke/persuade/bribe me into writing haha XD

I'm also looking for a beta for this. I've been through this and checked for errors but I'm not perfect and doubtless I've missed something. If you're interested, review or PM me.

Thanks and I hope you like the chapter :) Also thanks to the lovely Geeres for uploading this when my computer is being a pig *hugs* :)


The atmosphere in the car was a toxic mass of awkwardness. Romano drove in complete silence, hands gripping the steering wheel tightly as he glared through the windshield. England stared out of the passenger window, forcing himself to stay dead silent. Romano glanced over at him in annoyance.

"Well say something bastard!" he snapped eventually. England jumped slightly, turning to face the Italian.

"What do you want me to say bastard?" he replied tersely, blushing slightly. Romano went red.

"Well... Che, I don't know bastard! Anything!" Romano spluttered. England was silent for a moment. Then he reached out and flicked the stereo on, choosing music over speech. Unfortunately, he would have been better off with speech.

"I just had sex~" Akon's voice blared out of the speakers. The two Nations stared at the radio in disbelief for a moment.

"And it felt so good~"

"CHIGI!" Romano said in a panic, pulling to the side of the road and slamming the palm of his hand into the stereo. It cut off abruptly, filling the car with a stunned silence. England slowly turned his head to face Romano. Then, as one, they both turned to look in the backseat. Empty. England reached out and ejected the CD. He held it up to his eyes for a moment, scrutinising the surface, before lowering it and handing it to Romano.

"I am going to kill that Prussian git," he said grimly. Romano took the CD off of him to look for himself. Written in the Prussian's handwriting in permanent marker was:

'The awesome me thought this very appropriate kesese~'

Romano read the words. Then stared. Then reread the words again before finally twisting around to check the backseat again.

"I'll show that bastard 'appropriate'," he growled, tossing the CD back at England and pulling out into the road again. England chuckled lightly.

"What I want to know is how the hell he got it in there," he said, stretching his arms above his head.

"Cheh, good question." Romano couldn't help glancing at the Nation as his shirt rode up slightly, revealing a few inches of pale skin and muscle.

"Romano?" England's voice sounded almost languid.

"Hmmm?" Romano replied, still staring at England's faintly defined muscles.

"If you keep staring at my abdomen, you're going to ram into that Ferrari." Romano swore in Italian, swerving around the sportscar.

"Bastardo!" He yelled loudly, sticking his middle finger out of the window. England hid his smirk by staring out of the opposite window. There was silence in the car for a few minutes, punctuated only by the purring of the engine and the noise of the other traffic.

"Err... Romano?" England began, slightly nervous. Romano glanced over at him.

"Yeah bastard?"

"Well... When we get back to the hotel..." England began. Romano flushed slightly.

"Yes," he said shortly. England frowned at him.

"Hey! You didn't even wait to hear what I was going to say!"

"If it had the words 'you', 'me' and 'bedroom' in it, bastard, then the answer's yes," Romano clarified. England grinned, his nervousness evaporating.

"Are you sure you're driving at the speed limit? You're being overta– Fucking hell! Slow down you crazy git!"

.oOo.

The bar was one of the more popular spots in Milan, where the meeting was being held. Therefore it was also one of the most expensive. Spain and France were seated at the bar inside, sipping wine and chatting about menial topics. Well, at least attempting to. France jumped every time an Italian approached him or went past. Considering that this was in Italy, in one of the more popular areas of town? Spain had compared him to a kangaroo while in a fit of amusement. Which had lead to France asking how he knew what kangaroos looked like, which in turn had lead to the current conversation.

"Well of course mon ami, you already know my reputation," France said smugly, draining his fifth glass of wine. Between them, they had almost finished the bottle in less than ten minutes. The waiter was sending them worried looks. Spain chuckled.

"Fusoso~ Of course mi amigo, but it is not impossible that it is exaggerated, huh?" Spain replied mildly. France looked offended."Mon ami! Zat is like saying you exaggerated about Australie!"

"But how else would I know about his kangaroos? You know they also do tricks?" Spain grinned at his friend. France smirked in amusement.

"Ohonhonhon~ I bet zey are nothing like my tricks..." France trailed off, a perverted gleam in his eyes. Spain smiled languidly.

"Hungary knows some pretty good tricks," he admitted. France's eyes snapped to meet Spain's.

"Aha~ You 'ave encountered zat fiery 'ungarian too?" The two Nations were silent for a moment, each reliving their respective memories for a moment. Finally France spoke up.

"You wouldn't 'ave thought zat yaoi-obsessed woman would be so energetic when it came to 'etero pairings in ze bedroom, non?" The waiter, who had approached them without them noticing, gave them a shocked look before backing off rather quickly. Spain watched him go.

"You know," he mused, draining his wine before continuing, "I think we're still speaking Italian..." France frowned.

"...Really?" he asked. Just then Prussia entered the bar.

The ex-Nation looked around, an expression of pain flitting across his face. He spotted his two friends across the room and made his way slowly over to them, avoiding the tables and other patrons. France watched him over Spain's shoulder.

"Mon ami, is it me, or is Prusse walking funny?" He asked thoughtfully. Spain turned his head in order to look properly.

"Hmmm... I think you're right, mi amigo," Spain nodded slowly as Prussia approached their table. "Hola mi amigo! Why you look like you've got a tomato up your arse?" Prussia shot him a death glare.

"Shut up, unawesome scheißkopf," he growled, attempting to lean casually on the bar. However, he was unable to prevent a grimace from flashing across his face. His two best friends regarded the ex-Nation for a moment.

"Prusse," France said eventually, "do you actually have une tomate up your derrière?" Prussia went red.

"Nein!"

"Mi amigo! I didn't know you liked food bondage?" Spain said in surprise. Prussia raised his hand as if to punch him, then winced again and thinking better of it.

"I don't, dummkopf!" he hissed angrily.

"Zen why do you have one up there ohonhon~?" France interrupted, a perverted gleam entering his eyes. Prussia glowered at him.

"I don't have a tomato up there," he stated coldly. "However, if the awesome me was human, I would be seriously doubtful of having awesome little Gilberts." He noticed the intense looks of curiosity on his friend's faces and sighed. "Find me some proper German beer in this verdammt city and I'll tell you," he relented. France immediately grabbed the Prussian by the arm and dragged him out of the bar. It took them over an hour and several... 'bathroom breaks' until they found a small establishment which imported German beer especially from Germany. Prussia was in heaven.

However, it still took six beers to persuade the Prussian to start talking. But, the duo agreed, it was definitely worth it.

.oOo.

Down in the hotel bar, Canada was being very quiet. Very quiet. Not just because he wanted to stay unnoticed, but because his brother was sitting at a table less than three meters away from him and if America noticed him then the entire room was going to notice him. That was something he didn't want. In fact he was concentrating so hard on not being noticed that he didn't notice when someone did notice him and so jumped three feet in to the air when Prussia sat down next to him.

"Hey birdie," the albino grinned as Canada tried to regain his composure.

"Maple! Prussia, don't do that!" Prussia just grinned at him some more.

"Kesese~ do what?" he replied slyly. Canada tried to ignore the gleam in his eye. He failed. Prussia couldn't help his grin growing wider as he saw a pink blush creep up the Canadian's cheeks.

"Creeping up on me like that," Canada mumbled. Prussia just grinned some more. The two sat in silence for a few moments, listening to the chatter of the other nations. Then Canada decided to try and start a conversation.

"H-hey Prussia?" The ex-nation turned to grin at him, red eyes glinting with amusement.

"Yeah birdie?"

"Do you know what happened to England and Romano? They left the meeting early and... Why are you laughing?" Canada finished, bemused. Prussia had slumped down in his chair, sniggering wildly. Canada shook his head slowly. He did not understand that albino. Finally Prussia regained the ability to speak.

"Well," he snorted, "last time I saw them they were... Occupied." He broke into giggles again. Canada just stared at him.

"Occupied?" He asked.

"The awesome me was hiding from West in Romano's car earlier when they got in... They were having an awesome time from what I could tell, if you know what I mean..." Canada knew. Boy did he know.

"Gah," he replied intelligently. His expression sent Prussia into another fit of giggles. It was only once the ex-nation had calmed down that Canada felt able to speak.

"England," he said slowly, "is dating Romano."

"Well I don't know about dating..." Prussia grinned. Canada shook his head. He didn't want to know. He honestly did not want to know. He was so occupied by his thoughts that he didn't notice Prussia sneaking closer and closer to him. What he did notice however was a very damp something entering his ear.

"Maple!" Canada shrieked, falling sideways off his chair. He stared up at the albino, noting the wicked glint in his red eyes.

"Kesesesese~ you alright down there birdie?" Canada couldn't think to answer. The only thought rampaging through his chaotic mind was 'Did Prussia just put his tongue in my ear?' A loud obnoxious voice filled the air.

"Hey Matty! What are you doing on the floor, dude? Much more interesting things up here hahaha!" America yelled, having finally noticed his brother. Canada cringed. Did his brother have to be so loud?

"N-nothing Alfred," Canada said quietly, accepting Prussia's hand and being pulled to his feet. America grinned at him widely.

"Hey dude, what's with the tomato face? Haha~!" Canada looked over at Prussia and grinned suddenly.

"Everything is fine Alfred," he replied. Prussia winked at him. "Oui, everything is... Awesome." The look on Prussia's face was almost scary.

.oOo.

Canada winced slightly as Prussia pushed him against the wall roughly. The ex-nation's red eyes were glazed as he bent his head towards the Canadian's. Their lips met again, tongues probing and exploring each other's mouths. Canada stifled a moan as he ran his fingers through Prussia's hair. Prussia heard him nevertheless and chuckled deep in his throat, responding by pushing even closer against him and sliding a pale hand underneath the waistband of his trousers. They had lost a good half the buttons off their shirts somewhere between the lift and the corridor where they currently were, something Prussia wasn't too happy about. Hey, he liked a bit of rough foreplay as much as the next guy, but Armani shirts were expensive! His left hand occupied, he reached out with his right for the handle of the door next to him. It turned a few centimeters before stopping. Prussia tried a few more times. No luck.

"Scheißen," he swore, pulling away reluctantly from the Canadian.

"What is it?" Canada asked, breathless from their activities. Prussia began searching through his pockets frantically.

"Verdammt keycard," Prussia explained, still searching. Canada started attempting to pull the remnants of his shirt into some sort of order, looking at the missing buttons in dismay. Prussia was still searching by the time he finished, swearing under his breath in German.

"I can't find the verdammt thing," he growled. Canada took a step towards him, stilling his hands with his own.

"My room is just down the hall," he murmured. Prussia grinned and allowed himself to be led down the corridor.

"Who are you sharing with again?" Prussia asked absently, his mind tangled in a web of ideas.

"England," Canada replied quietly. Prussia snorted.

"I bet that's awesome," he said sarcastically as they stopped outside the room. Prussia slid his hand into Canada's trouser pocket, retrieving the keycard and opening the door before Canada could react. Pushing the door open with his toe, he swept the Canadian into his arms, taking the nation completely by surprise.

"Maple!" Canada squeaked, suddenly finding himself horizontal. Prussia only grinned at him and stepped into the room. He took a few steps forward and in one swift movement threw Canada onto the nearest bed.

"WHAT THE BLOODY BUGGERING HELL!"

"CHIGI!"

.oOo.

Spain and France stared at the half-drunk Prussian in silence, their minds torn somewhere between amusement and disbelief. It was only when Prussia slammed his half-empty beer bottle on the table and glared at them that they were released from their mild case of shock.

"Angleterre?" France said slowly, taking a mouthful of wine.

"Roma?" Spain asked, his voice bland. Prussia nodded, draining the last of his beer in one gulp. The two nations looked at each other. Spain's lip twitched. This, as the proverb says, was the straw that broke the camel's back. Laughter erupted from them like a volcano bursting through it's seal, filling the air like ash, settling on the other customers. The customers who were shooting them disapproving looks. Spain drowned his lingering chuckles with another shot of tequila while France smothered his with a few sips of wine.

"You mean to tell me, mon ami," he said in an amused tone, "that in a fit of passion you threw mon cher Canada on top of Angleterre et 'is amour?" This nearly proved too much for Spain who started sniggering into his drink again.

"Eyebrows tried to castrate the awesome me! He tried to deprive me of my awesome five meters!" Prussia growled in response. Spain laughed openly at this, an amused glint in his eyes.

"Fusososo~ Good thing he didn't succeed huh? Otherwise no more fun with... What's his name again?"

"Ca-na-da," Prussia frowned. "Seriously, it's not that hard to remember!" France commandeered his attention again.

"So mon Prusse, you 'ave interrupted them twice now? Ohonhonhon~" You could see the gears working in the perverted Frenchman's mind. Spain and Prussia could also see where they were taking him.

"No no no," Prussia said, eyes wide. "You are not making this into a competition. Not with the awesome me taking part. The awesome me is quite fond of my vital regions." France shrugged in response.

"Well if you do not think you could win, mon ami..." he said mildly, draining the last of his wine. Spain sat back and downed the last of his tequila, amused. Prussia narrowed his eyes at the Frenchman.

"Hey, the awesome me would so totally win!" he retorted, sounding offended.

"Oui?" France's expression was quite disturbing. "Then shall we make une petit wager? Whoever can disturb the two amants most? Ohonhonhon~" Spain leaned forwards and grinned.

"Sí, count me in. What shall we bet?" he asked. Prussia eyed the Spanish nation warily.

"Toni, why are you so excited about this?" he asked cautiously. Spain stood up dramatically.

"That English culero is not good enough for my Roma! He deserves better than that chorro pendejo! Puto, cabron..." The rest of his little rant was in Spanish. France casually took Spain's bottle of tequila and handed it to a passing waitress.

"Merci mademoiselle, I think mon amie 'as 'ad enough..." he said to her, his eyes straying down from her face to where her blouse was straining slightly. The waitress, noticing where his gaze was going, glared at him before turning on her heel and stomping off. Prussia snorted, having seen the minor exchange.

"Kesesese~" he laughed. "Losing your touch, huh?" France frowned.

"Non," he replied firmly. "The 'Bad Touch Trio' does not lose their touch. I will have 'er by the end of the night." Prussia nudged Spain.

"Ten Euros says he fails," he said. Spain grinned.

"Have you even got ten Euros?" he asked, amused.

As a matter of fact, Prussia didn't have ten Euros. But he did by the end of the night. France ended up with a black eye and a lesson in behaviour. It is not clever to grope the waitress in front of her girlfriend. Not clever at all.

.oOo.

England rested his head against the shower wall, the porcelain cool against his forehead. The hot water drummed against the back of his neck, cascading over his shoulderblades and down his back and legs to finally reach the floor and be drained away. He liked to think that it was taking his troubles with it, like one of his rivers. The Severn perhaps. But he knew it not to be true. His troubles were still there, they just weren't as pressing, crowding at the front of his mind, demanding his attention. The economy crisis, the whole tax issue...

And then there was Prussia. That bloody Prussian git. England could feel his temper rising again even as he thought about how the narcissistic ex-nation has merely burst in and thrown America onto the bed. The bed that was occupied. Very occupied. Something struck him as he stood in the flow of the hot water. Why did Prussia throw America? He was almost positive that the loud American was after Russia. He wasn't succeeding, but he was damn certain that was his aim. Wait one bloody moment... A thought struck England like Inspiration herself had slapped him upside the head. Did he... Was that... What's his name...? Canada! That's it. Did he throw Canada onto the bloody bed?

"I'm gonna kill that bloody Prussian bastard," he growled aloud, too caught up in various fantasies involving him, Prussia and some very pointy objects to notice the shower door opening. What he did notice was the blast of cold air that hit his rear.

"Bloody 'ell!" he yelped, spinning round frantically. Romano glared at him.

"Move over bastard, I need a shower too," he stated grumpily. England raised an eyebrow but nevertheless moved over to make room. There was barely enough room for the both of them to fit without touching, leaning against opposite walls. Romano looked at him, noting the murderous expression on the Briton's face.

"Which bastard are you going to kill?" he asked curiously. England's face went even darker.

"That stupid imbecile bastard Prussia," England growled in response. Romano scowled, snatching up the soap and lathering it furiously.

"Fucking go ahead," was his response as he turned his back and began to soap his body. England watched him for a few seconds, feeling his anger being replaced with something much more pleasant. He stepped forward and slipped his arms around the Italian, sliding the soap from his grasp.

"Let me help," he murmured in Romano's ear, gently nibbling on his earlobe. Romano smiled lazily and leant against England, allowing the nation to rub soap onto his abdomen in slow circles, each venturing a little lower than the last. Romano turned his head to the side to meet England's mouth in a slow sweet kiss. Things were just starting to get a little heated when the bathroom door was flung open.

"Dios, this spider could take off your arm!" a decidedly Spanish voice rang out. England and Romano froze.

"What are you doing, bloody git?" England's attempt to hide his shock failed miserably to his ears. Luckily Spain didn't seem to notice.

"Inglaterra? Lo siento, I did not know you were in here."

"Well I am, so if you could leave? Now?" England snapped, sounding just a little too annoyed for someone who had just had their shower interrupted.

"Of course Inglaterra. Let me just flush this spider and I'll leave you to enjoy your shower." There was something in the Spanish nation's voice that didn't entirely ring true. However England didn't have the opportunity to pinpoint what exactly as his brain finally processed the full extent of Spain's words.

"No, don't flush the-!"

Swoosh~!

"SHIIIIIT!"

"Fucking bastard!"

'Cold shower' now had an entirely new meaning.


Hehe I'm so evil to them XD Also I was made aware that some of you might not know what the cold shower thing is about. If you know, please don't take this as an insult to your intelligence! In some old plumbing systems if you flush the toilet while running the shower the water turns ice cold. Don't ask me why, I'm not a plumber haha

So this will basically be the plot of the fic: the BTT cockblocking England and Romano. I'm not sure how I want this to end yet *insert evil laugh here* but if you have an idea for this review or drop me a PM. I'd love to use it and I'll naturally credit you for it.

I'm sorry this chapter is on the short side. But as always any comments, criticisms, corrections etc review or PM me. I don't want to look like an idiot in front of all you lovely people! ^^

Thank you and until next time!

Much love,

Anactolica