AN: Pfffffft, I totally suck, I know. I got back to school recently, and had a bit of a struggle getting this next chapter written (I kind of realised I didn't actually have an exact plot for how the BTT is going to awesomify the Awards XD) Hopefully the next few chapters will be longer... I don't know how often I'll get time to write this!

DISCLAIMER: It's not mine...

Chapter Two - Bosses, Bow Ties, and Brainstorming - Lame!

1pm Tuesday
78 Hours Until AA
A Department Store in Berlin

"Wie ist der Anzug, Herr Beilschmidt?" said the young redhead to the tall blonde in the changing room of Berlin's top department stores.

"Sehr gut, danke." Germany glanced at his reflection in the mirror in front of him. He had to say, the stylist provided by his boss had done quite a good job picking a suit for him. Not that he wanted to buy a new suit.

If it wasn't for his brother, Germany wouldn't have needed to be inside trying on clothes on a beautiful day such as this. He'd have much rather walked his dogs, or made some wurst. But no. He had to be fitted for a new suit because of those damn Atlas Awards.

He sighed, absentmindedly inspecting the collar on the shirt he was wearing. The stylist clucked approvingly, said something about a tie, and disappeared back into the main store area. Germany nodded, not really paying attention.

He picked at the cuffs on his right arm as he thought back to how he'd gotten himself into this mess.

"Come on West!" said the Prussian, with a pleading look that he hadn't seen the albino pull in a long time. "You're my little brother, and being the little brother of someone as awesome as me, means that some of my awesome has rubbed off onto you! If we bring the Atlas Awards from lame London to badass Berlin, and you host it instead of England, people might actually enjoy them! Come on West!"

Germany let out a frustrated sigh. For the last 24 hours, it seemed like his brother had been unable to talk about anything but the Atlas Awards, how much England sucked, and how awesome Germany was in comparison. When Italy had brought up the Atlas Awards yesterday, Prussia had clearly stated his less than stellar opinion of the awards, but now... Oh why did his brother always have to come up with the most ridiculous ideas?

"Preußen, I do not want to host the Atlas Awards!"

"Ve~! Germany, why don't you want to host the Atlas Awards? I love the Atlas Awards?"

Germany turned quickly to see that the shorter, Mediterranean nation beaming next to him .

"I-Italy?" he stuttered. "How do you keep getting in here?" He added under his breath.

"Ciao Germany! Ciao Prussia!" Italy exclaimed, plastic container in one hand, bright smile on his face. "I brought pasta!"

"Italy!" Prussia greeted the Italian happily, than smirked at his brother, At that moment, Germany knew he was doomed. He was used to his brother, so Prussia's attempt at puppy-dog eyes didn't work on him, at all. Unfortunately, Italy loved the Atlas Awards, and his brown eyes were much harder to resist.

Oh right. Italy. As soon as Prussia had convinced Italy that the awards in Berlin would be 'the most awesome thing in the world ever' (which honestly hadn't been very hard), Germany had been powerless.

He'd talked to his boss, and convinced him that moving the Atlas Awards to Berlin would be a good idea. Surprisingly, his boss had agreed almost straight away, and said something about how some other countries bosses had called concerning the same thing.

Thinking back now, it seemed rather suspicious. Germany frowned. No, he was just a little paranoid because he was so tired.

After his boss had made the appropriate phone calls, he'd emailed Germany a list of things he needed to do to prepare for the Awards.

The list had been 15 pages long.

For the last week or so, Germany had been incredibly busy. There were invitations to send, caterers to hire, and locations to scout. There as a speech he had to write, seating plans he had to sort out, trophies he had to had made... not to mention this was even harder to do when a certain Italian refused to leave him alone.

To be honest, Germany was starting to wonder how the hell England actually did all this stuff. It was impossible! Well, usually England had a year to plan it. Germany had just under three weeks.

"Damn you Prussia." he muttered with a very loud sigh.

1pm Tuesday
78 Hours Until AA
France's Living Room

"Prussia mon cher, did you manage to acquire the Awards?" said France as he walked into the room, face obscured by a pile of boxes in his arms. Spain followed, also carrying a large pile of boxes.

Prussia rolled his eyes and gestured towards France's kitchen. In his hand was something yellow.

"I dumped them in the kitchen while I was raiding your fridge." Prussia started munching on the thing in his hand. "By the way, you're out of cheese."

France sighed, putting his pile of boxes down next to the cheese-eating Prussian. He flounced rather dramatically into the kitchen, and called out to them.

"Why must you eat me out of house and home mon cher?"

He followed this question up with a loud sigh, and returned to the living room with a bottle of wine and three glasses, balanced on a rather large blue case.

Spain, ever the helpful one, happily put down his own boxes and relieved France of the beverage.

"Merci Spain." purred France as he balanced the box on top of his coffee table (which was already completely overcrowded with a variety of what seemed like art supplies).

"Where should I put this?" asked Spain, bottle in one hand, glasses in the other. "Your table... it's a little, um, full."

Prussia swept his arm over one end of the table, sending a box of paints and a pair of scissors crashing to the floor, causing France to wince.

"Here you go! The awesome me has cleared some room!" Prussia grinned as France rescued the fallen art supplies, sending the Germanic nation a glare as he did.

Spain placed the glasses and wine down on the now free space, careful not to disturb any of the various other things piled on the table.

"Gracias Prussia!"

France sat down on his couch, next to a drink-pouring Spain. He cradled the paints and scissors in his arms, still glaring at Prussia

"This is new carpet! What if you had gotten paint all over it!"

"Chill out Francy-Pants. Your carpet's fine!" Prussia picked up a glass and gestured at the variety of things that also occupied the coffee table. "What's up with all the art crap? Looks like a kindergartner's art supply cupboard threw up in your living room."

"Oh, this?" said France, placing his armful of things back onto the table. "It is all part of my plan, mon cher!"

"And what plan is that, mi amigo?" pondered Spain, taking a hesitant sip from his wineglass. "I mean, you've made us go and collect all this stuff, you still haven't told us what we're actually going to be doing?"

"Pffffft, you don't even have a plan, do you Francy?" snorted Prussia as he did a rather boisterous arm movement. The wine in his glass sloshed dangerously, earning him another glare from the Frenchman, fearing the safety of his carpet.

"Mes ami, I assure you, I do have a most wondrous plan to spice up that that boring prix Atlas." France flipped his hair dramatically, opening up the blue box. "You two have so little faith in me!"

Prussia mumbled something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like 'yeah right'. Spain simply nodded, slightly disbelieving look on his pretty tanned face.

"If you say so France." The Spaniard shrugged, and pointed towards the blue box (which looked as if it was about to go the way of the paints and tumble off the coffee table). "What's in that box?"

Out of the box came a dull gold, strangely shaped trophy, which France proceeded to hand to Spain.

"Wait... you had Prussia steal the awards from under his brother's nose?" Spain chuckled as he inspected the globe like award. "Won't Germany be mad?"

"West will never, ever find out, right France?" said Prussia, suddenly serious. His little brother had a tendency to get rather... well, even more lame than usual when his stuff was stolen. Prussia really didn't enjoy it when his brother was in a mood.

"Of course not! We don't need those tacky things for very long." France extracted another award from the box. "I merely wished to see these things up close and personal. They are much... tackier... then I remember."

"Can you believe West has like 4 of these things? Most organised country... or something lame ass like that. Are all the categories that... stupid?"

"I forgot that you've never actually been to the Atlas Awards Gilbert! The categories aren't thaaat bad... Romano won one for most improved attitude once! He looked so cute, all red as tomato as he went up to get his award!"

"Wait... what?" Prussia spluttered, almost spitting a mouthful of red wine all over France's precious new carpet. "Romano? Improved attitude? God, these things sound like those dumb certificates that teachers give out to six year olds."

"And that, mon cher Prussia, is why we must change the categories." France leered, pulling out a sheet of white paper and three felt-tips from the various random items on the table. "Prussia. Spain. We must combine our three intellects in order to collect ideas and create new, fabulous categories."

"Like a brainstorm?" Prussia raised an eyebrow. "Like, lame France."

"You can choose the colour of your pen?"

It only took a moment for Prussia to consider that, before snatching the a marker out of France's hand.

"Bags the red one!" he exclaimed, before scribbling a quick doodle of a bird onto the paper.

France was left with the blue felt-tip as Spain calmly took the green (after what seemed like a very difficult thought process) and started doodling alongside Prussia.

Now, when one thinks of this particular trio of France, Spain and Prussia, one can associate them when many things. Dashing good looks, terrible parenting skills, a slight tendency for perversion (or, not so slight, in a certain blond's case). One thing that is often overlooked, is exactly how intelligent the so called 'Bad Touch Trio' could be, when they put their minds to it.

So it shouldn't actually be a surprise, when over a few hours of brainstorming, the three good friends managed to completely plan out, well, everything.

"That settles it." France put down his pen. The paper in front was completely filled to the brim with writing, on both sides, in brightly coloured ink. "Prussia, you will contact Hungary and Estonia, and return these awards to your brother."

"I still don't think that I should be the one to talk to Hungary. Through no fault of my own-"

"-Whatever, Prussia!-"

"Shut it France! She doesn't like me very much, ok? You talk to that psycho."

"You simply do not want to be beaten for attempting to irritate the piano player again, don't you?"

"I said shut it France!"

"And I said whatever, Prussia! Fine, Spain, can you speak to Hungary? She will not hurt your cute little face!"

"Of course, mi amigo. And I am also to organise the seating and transport, and to speak to Poland, si?"

"Oui! And of course, I will call the vineyards straight away, and get to work on those-"

France waved delicately towards the boxes he and Spain had brought in earlier.

"- things and send them out as soon as possible!"

France clapped his hands together once in excitement.

"This will be utterly fantastic!"

It is one of my personal headcanons that Prussia is exactly the type of person that gives people nicknames. Also, France enjoys interior design. Egh, I'm strange XD
I update super, super slowly and I apologise for that. I've been feeling angsty lately.
The idea for the Atlas Awards I totally based on the Golden Globes... IT FELT APPROPRIATE XD
I cannot write Spain to save my life... and I keep slipping back into using their human names (like I am in Someone Like You)!
Please correct me if you see any errors 3