Disclaimer: I sadly do not own Hetalia. . . . Well I'm glad I don't own it, I do not wish to be attacked by fangirls for some obvious reasons, especially USXUK fangirls.

Chapter Rating: You tell me, as I said before I suck at ratings. But, I will warn if it's gets hot, not like that's ever gonna happen. *cough*

A/N: Same deal as the last chapter it will be 3rd POV with some interruptions from me, when I see fit. Serious chapters may be in 1st POV, you'll never know.~

Characters:

Just showing some of the spellings/names I'm using for some of the characters in case anyone is confused.

Aengus Kirkland – OC of Scotland

Kaoru Wong – Hong Kong

Yekaterina Braginski - Ukraine

Heracles Karpusi – Greece

Translations: Correct me if I'm wrong.

(French) merci, vingt-trois, trente et un, trente trois, quatrante, d'accord, oui, je sais, deux ans, salut mes amies, Marcher – thank you, 23, 31, 33, 40, agreed, yes, I know, 2 years, hello my friends, to walk

(Hungarian) ígéret, magasság– please, height

(German) nichts - nothing

(Spanish) si - yes


Chapter 1

Arthur Kirkland was having one of those days. You know those kind of days where nothing went right. To start off his wonderful day, he overslept (by his standards anyways), thus he had to skip the most important meal of the day, breakfast. To make matters worst his car's battery decided to die on him . . . Halfway to work.

Well, that was not the worst of this wonderful, bloody morning; it was raining like hell and Arthur had three choices; it was either a forty five minute walk to work, wait an hour for the next trolley* to arrive, or call to his idiot friend, Alfred.

Much to Arthur's annoyance, Alfred was probably his best bet.

So, with a groan, Arthur took out his cell phone from his back pocket, glad to see it was still dry and dialed Alfred's number.

"The Hero has answered your call~ What do ya need Artie!?" As always, Alfred skipped the 'greeting' bullshit and went straight to business. To which Arthur was glad, he was irked from being out in the rain for long, even with an umbrella.

"Alfred, are you at work yet?" asked Arthur, hoping that the bloody American was running late like he always was.

"Nope, leaving my house right now~ Why?"

"I need you to pick me up at the 231 station." stated Arthur, knowing Alfred would pick him up, but like any hero, he would ask the story behind it later, and will never let the story die.

"The Hero will save you~" sang Alfred as Arthur could hear a car engine turning on, "But, you own the hero lunch~!"

"Whatever you bloody fool, pick me up before I am even more late." sighed Arthur as he hung up the phone, and went to look for some shelter.


"Elizabeta! I lost my measuring tape again! I can't find it!" whined a panicked voice with a deep French accent as he was looking under random objects for his measuring tape.

"Francis, the measuring tape is around your neck." stated the woman, who was next to the panicking Frenchman; whom immediately stopped panicking long enough to look down. To find that the measuring tape was indeed like a scarf around his neck.

"Merci, Elizabeta! I don't know what I will do without you!" thanked Francis as he went back to work, measuring the nearest model. "Waist vingt-trois inches, chest trente et un inches, hips trente trois inches, shoulders quatrante inches."

"You would be panicking." Elizabeta stated with a smile while she wrote down the measurements. "Magasság?"

"D'accord." agreed Francis, as he shooed the model away and started measuring the next one. "5'9"."

"The last one? A little short considering the event." Elizabeta commented as she wrote down the height.

"Oui, but she worked hard to get here." Francis stated before he started calling out measures to Elizabeta, whom continued writing them down.

'Much like someone else I know.'


"Dude, you should really stop dissing my words!" whined an American as he and the person he was complaining to, got out of the elevator on the twentieth floor.

"Stop wording my diss then." mocked the Englishman with a smirk as he continued to walk ahead towards the staff's kitchen to get some tea. Being outside in the rain till an idiot picked you up, for a good hour, can chill your bones.

"You son of a bitch.**" huffed the American as he walked towards the doughnuts table.

"Uh huh, keep telling yourself that, Alfred." Arthur commented as put the kettle on the stove. Looking intently at the kitchen's clock. Even after all his fuss this morning; he was still early for work, not as early as he usually was, but early and out of trouble.

"I will." pouted the Alfred as he took an angry bite from his doughnut. No need to abuse the doughnut Alfred . . . .

"Quit acting so child-" Arthur was cut off by someone clearing their throat.

"Arthur, Aengus wants to see you in his office now." and with that the person who rudely interrupted Alfred and Arthur's petty conversation was gone.

"Well, I guess I will see you around later." Arthur said his goodbye to Alfred as he shut off the stove and left to his oldest brother's office. Being called in so early in the day to his brother's office is never a good thing. Heck, being called to his older brother's office is never a good thing.

Arthur did not bother knocking before entering Aengus' office door, for Aengus did the same when they were younger and still living under the same roof. Still does, but then again Aengus was kinda his boss and Arthur's office does not have a door . . . .

"You chimed, Aengus?" asked Arthur as he went and took a seat in front of Aengus' desk, whom had a dead-panned expression with an unlit cigar in his mouth.

Even though, they're brothers; Arthur admits that his oldest brother, Aengus, is the most handsome out of the lot. Aengus has the same piercing emerald eyes as all the five-some of siblings have, but there was something different about them. Aengus, of course, has the signature Kirkland's eyebrow look, but to a less of a degree. And, like two others of his siblings, excluding Arthur, Aengus was born with red hair. The damn Celtic ancestors' genes decided to skip Arthur, probably hoping that his father would mistake him as a bastard child, and then disown him.

Arthur was saved by the blood tests when he was younger. Serves the old man right, denying the Kirkland's signature eyebrows.

Anyways, back to the office scene.

"What is my cheerful assignment this time? If I may ask." Arthur asked after a few awkward moments of silence. There's a reason why Aengus does not do interviews.

"Fashion week in Paris starts tomorrow. Send me a schedule of the days' events along with interviews of famous designers. Particularly Francis Bonnefoy, he's been the talk around here and everywhere lately. And, I want you to be the first to interview him, by any means possible; got that?" explained Aengus as he started taking out an around trip plane ticket, a brochure about the hotel Arthur was staying in, along with a few V.I.P. passes to get Arthur in private parties and events.

"Yes, Aengus." Arthur said as he took the items he needed for his assignment and looked at his plane ticket. Great, he has to catch the plane in five hours, which leaves two hours to finish anything he needs to do before departure. "Anything else?"

Aengus shook his head and he turned his chair around. Seeing as he had everything he needed, Arthur decided to leave back home to pack some necessities.

But, when Arthur was about to shut the door behind him, Aengus decided it was the best time to ask Arthur something. "Artie, you do know French right?"

"To an extent, but I hate the bloody language as much as any romance language. Why?"

"I insist you study up, you are, after all, going to where they speak French." Arthur slammed the door behind him.


"Francis, ígéret me, that you will be your best behavior tonight." warned a sweet Hungarian accented voice.

"Don't worry, I always behave." chuckled Francis as he and his assistant walked out of a cafe where they were had a light lunch at.

"Sure you do, Francis, but please take this seriously, you want to make a good first impression."

"Oui, je sais." Francis agreed with a sigh. "Sometimes, Elizabeta, you treat me like such a child."

"You might as well be one sometimes." Elizabeta said with a laugh, "And, besides I am older than you."

"Just by deux ans." smirked Francis as he and Elizabeta stopped at the traffic lights, waiting for their time to cross.

"Is that Francis and Elizabeta the awesome me sees, Tony?!" exclaimed a loud German accented voice, though by appearance the person wasn't a stereotypical German . . .

Gilbert as his mother named him; is well what many people called albino. Silver (sometimes white) hair, red eyes, and a light tan complexion. And according to him, he's an awesome Prussian (don't ask him for the back story) and he's also five meters (for your safety do not ask what he means if you do not understand).

"Si, I think I see them too, let's go see if it's them~" sang a Spanish accented voice as he and the Prussian walked towards them.

The Spaniard of the group, Antonio was also the oblivious one, as well as the cutie pie. Forest green eyes, light brown hair, olive complexion, and a world renowned tomato lover. Yeah, he's also the most normal and dull one of the trio. Someone has to be you see? And, that someone is Antonio.

"Salut, mes amis~! How have you two been?" Francis asked his two best friends in the world, joined them. . . . Wait, just him. While Francis was waiting for his friends, Elizabeta took that time to walk away into the crowd, in hopes to avoid the Bad Touch reunion.

"Fine." answered both the Spaniard and Prussia in unison.

"But, word on the street, is that your line finally comes out tomorrow." stated Gilbert as he swung an arm over Francis' shoulders. "So, in celebration of that, how about we go clubbing tonight?"

"As much as I would enjoy that mes amis, but I cannot. I have an exclusive par-" Francis cut himself mid-sentence. "Never mind that, I have a plan."

"A plan? The awesome me is intrigued. How 'bout you Tony?" Prussia asked with a smirk, knowing full well Antonio would go with the plan and no tricking needed.

"Si, I am also intrigued as well, Francis. So, what's the plan?"

"Marcher with me mes amis." Francis commanded as he put both of his arms around his two best friends' necks.


During his flight to Paris, Arthur took that time to get up to date with what he likes to call Hell on Earth, a.k.a. Paris. And, to be more exact Fashion week.

Besides that, he narrowed down his list to six must-be-interviewed (a.k.a. to be stalked) during fashion week. Much to Arthur's surprise is that most of the designers were not French, so his studying up French has been in vain.

Feliciano and Lovino Vargas***, brothers apparently from Italy, they only design male clothing and they ranked last on Arthur's list. Kaoru Wong from Hong Kong, who mainly designs female clothing with an Asian twist. Yekaterina Braginski from the Ukraine ranks third on Arthur's list as the only female designer on the list, she mainly designs fall and winter clothing. Being from Eastern Europe, that's not much of a surprise. Next is some person called Mathew Williams from some country near America, he designs mainly sports' clothing. Second from Greece, Heracles Karpusi only designs female clothing. And, first on Arthur's list, is Francis Bonnefoy; whom designs anything from women clothing to even toddlers clothing.

As Arthur walked out of Paris' airport, he couldn't help, but sigh for he could tell from his research that each designer will be bloody difficult in their own special bloody ways.

After hailing a cab and giving the driver his hotel's directions, Arthur took a look at his schedule while taking a quick glance at his watch. 'Only 3 hours to go before the ball starts.'


"The awesome me cannot believe that you managed to talk me into going to this stupid party!" complained the albino as he checked himself out in a mirror. "But, I admit, I am more awesome than usual."

"Oui, you're awesome Gilbert, but please, behave yourself tonight. I'm already nervous enough." sighed the Frenchman of the group as he managed to steal some mirror time from Gilbert, so he could tie his hair into a loose ponytail.

"Chill, dude, you sound like Elizabeta now." tsk-ed Gilbert as he pulled Francis' wrist from his ponytail and turned Francis to face him directly. "Don't worry, I'll behave myself, and so will Tony; everything will be alright." assured Gilbert as he patted Francis' chest making it look like he was smoothing out the non-existent wrinkles; but was really slipping something into Francis' pocket.

"Merci, Gilbert." thanked Francis, before his hands attacked the albino's hair. "What are we going to do with your hair?!" chuckled Francis as he patted it down and slicked it back.

"Nichts!" shouted Gilbert as he jumped back from Francis and ruffled his hair. "The awesome me looks better with ruffled hair, besides no one can see Gilbird like this." as soon as Gilbert's mention of Gilbird, the little bird chirped from inside the Prussian's messy silver hair. It's a wonder how Francis' didn't manage to hurt the little bird on accident.

"Fine, I won't do anything. . . " assured Francis with a smile, not surprised that Gilbird was coming along. "Antonio, mon ami, are you almost ready?"

"Si, I am~." sang Antonio as he walked into the room, with a tuxedo matching Francis and Gilbert's but with a green theme for the tie and handkerchief to match his green eyes.

"Then what are waiting for?! Let's go party!" announced Gilbert as he kicked open the door with his friends in tow.


Wonder who's paying for the door . . . .


"Never in a bloody lifetime would I imagine coming to an important event such as this, dressed as a bloody female!" hissed Arthur as he and fellow journalists, Kiku Honda (not dressed as a female though Arthur thinks he should be, but darn Japanese modesty), and Ludwig. Just Ludwig, no last name, dressed as a male, too masculine not to be otherwise. Besides, it would be creepy if he was.

Kiku, even though the male is a little on the petit side; he follows the typical Japanese stereotype. Kiku has plain brown eyes, plain black hair and light skin, once again, plain and stereotypical. Ludwig also follows the typical German stereotype; light blond hair, blue eyes, light skin, and with a muscular built to tie it in together.

"Just grin, and bear with it, remember this is the only head start we get. Tomorrow will be fair game." reminded Ludwig.

"I agree with Ludwig." agreed Kiku, not like he ever disagrees anyways.

"I know." Arthur hissed, as he so happened trip over his own two feet for the third time since getting out of the car. "Wearing heels is hard, how do women manage to do it is beyond me." complained Arthur as he regained his balance and followed closely behind Ludwig and Kiku.

"They don't complain." stated Ludwig as he came into a halt, making Arthur crash into his back. Ludwig chose to ignore, Arthur's colorful vocabulary. "Before we infatuate, we know our assigned and the questions to be asked, correct?"

Both Arthur and Kiku nodded.

"Very good, but whatever you two, do not blow your covers! And, above all, get your assigned jobs done."

And with that, the three parted as soon as they gained access to the party.


*Let's just say I have a grudge against trolleys . . . But, I must say missing the trolley was one of my most memorable life experiences. Never would have imagined to meet so many culturally diverse group of people and to have made friends with them, even though some were pretty old.

** My friends used more or less the same phrases during an argument, which went on for 5 minutes and yet no one but me noticed they were rhyming, sadly I only remember those three phrases. Oh, before I forget, they were throwing tomatoes at each others . . . Debo was not very happy.

*** I know some people who have Vargas as a last name and well they're not Italian . . . or have Italian blood. Let's stick with that. So, I'm kinda iffy with if Vargas is really Italian. Does anyone know if it is or not?