A/N: Thank you for all favs, follows, and especially comments!

Situated in the south by the Mediterranean Sea, France's villa was absolutely gorgeous. Simple yet sweeping, with open terraces and marble pillars and a garden with roses in full bloom – well, even Austria, quality snob though he may be, had to admit that it was one of the nicest houses he'd ever been in. Not anything compared to his own, of course, but impressive all the same.

Even though hiding in the rose bushes didn't afford him a proper view. Not to mention, his purple coat didn't exactly blend in. From his vantage point in the bushes, Austria sighed to himself as he watched Prussia, Italy, Germany, and Hungary walk up to the front door. Germany rang the doorbell; Austria watched the group file inside – Prussia and Italy bouncing, Italy babbling to France about something random, Germany scowling like a man led to the gallows – and then the door swung shut.

Well, now what?

Completely sure that all the guests had arrived, Austria extracted himself from the rosebushes and brushed dirt off his coat. I really ought to leave now, he thought to himself, glancing around, just in case someone sees me.

Because stalking your ex-wife usually came across as creepy. Even if you just wanted to make sure her new (jerk!) boyfriend treated her right.

Austria sighed again and turned away from the house. And then he paused.

Well… it wouldn't hurt to check out France's kitchen, would it?

Just out of curiosity, he thought to himself. That's not stalking. I just want to see if France's kitchen is as wonderful as the rest of his house….

No, certainly not stalking. Of course not!

Straitening his coat, he strolled alongside the house, ducking under the open windows. Prussia, Spain, and France laughed loudly about something, Germany growled at Prussia, and Italy yelled about pasta with Romano, but Austria couldn't hear Hungary at all. Admiring the well-kept flowerbeds, Austria crept to the back door of the kitchen and peered through the window. All clear, no one inside. He smiled, tugged at his neck chief, and opened the door.

France's kitchen was gorgeous – all light-colored wood, some brick, and a big island counter in the middle. Copper pots and pans hung from the ceiling, spices and herbs filled jars on wooden racks, and an artfully arranged bowl of fruit sat on one end of the counter. Austria examined a pot of soup simmering on the stove and took a taste – oh, French cooking was to die for. Not that he'd ever tell that crazy egotistical manic, of course.

And then he looked towards the far end of the island and stopped short.

A cake sat on the counter, on a blue plate with a fancy doily. Chocolate icing swirled over the face of the cake; delicate piping around its edges revealed a master hand – one that Austria recognized.

Hungary made that cake.

He edges around it, trying to see it from every angle as if by anonymously admiring her handiwork, he can somehow honor her. The cake is beautiful, a real masterpiece. Well, of course it is, he thinks, smiling faintly.

"Austria?"

He whirled around to find France staring from the doorway, open-mouthed with one eyebrow raised. Eyes flickering from the Frenchman to the door, Austria tried to decide whether to bolt or explain, but it was as if he was frozen in place.

Well, this wasn't supposed to happen.

"Roderich, what are you doing here?" France said, shutting the door behind him slowly and quietly. Keeping an eye on Austria, he walked to the stove to stir the soup.

"I… well, Francis…"

"It's about Hungary, is it not?" France winked a blue eye, sauntering over to Austria. "I know love when I see it, mon ami."

Austria harrumphed, trying to back out of the situation with at least a shred of dignity. If only he could just get to the back door and run… but France threw an arm around his shoulders and pulls him to the center of the kitchen. Releasing Austria, he grabbed a bottle of red wine and uncorked it, pouring two glasses. He pushed one towards Austria, who just stared at it, and then drank a sip from the second one himself.

"I sneak into your house, while you have guests over, and you pour me a glass of wine?" Austria asked, taking the drink suspiciously.

"I am a pillar of hospitality." France grinned, raising his glass. "And I also know lovesickness when I see it."

Austria took a gulp of the wine. "I am not lovesick."

"Admit it." France laughed, and then gestured towards the closed kitchen door, back towards the rest of the house. "And the object of your affections is involved with another man… poor you, Roderich."

"I do not need your sympathy, Francis." Austria sipped the wine, casting a stormy look toward the Frenchman.

"But you haven't given up on her yet, n'est-ce pas?" France said, swirling the wine in his glass as he peered at the brooding purple-eyed nation.

"I know when to give up. I will retreat with dignity." Austria sighed.

France snorted. "Ah, oui, like that time Prussia beat you up in the war."

Austria's cheeks turned red as he glared at France. "I do not want to talk about that, Francis."

"Fine, fine," said the Frenchman, laughing. "But you, Roderich, you need my help."

"Why?"

"I can help you woo Hungary." He smiled slowly, raising his eyebrows and leaning against the kitchen counter. "Trust me, mon cher, I am nearly a love god. Ask anyone."

Austria sputtered for a minute, face growing red as he tried to refuse France's help and come up with a good-enough insult… and then he sighed, smoothing back his ruffled hair as he shook his head.

"What can you possibly do, Francis?" he said. "It's hopeless. I have already lost."

"Non, non, Roderich." France shook his head vigorously. "Non, I promise you."

"But how?"

"Just let me help, mon ami, and I will show you."

The two looked at each other for a long moment, France with an intense blue gaze, Austria out from sad purple eyes. No one spoke. Until…

"Francis, let me help in the kitchen!" Hungary called from right outside the door.

France leapt to the door to hold it shut; Austria sprinted to the back door and hid outside. Hungary burst into the kitchen and Austria cowered underneath the windowsill as he listened to France and her argue. After a few minutes, she stormed out and slammed the door. France sighed loudly, swearing to himself, and then came outside through the back door.

"So," he said, seeing Austria, "you want my help, oui?"

Austria sighed. "Yes."

In response, France picked a rose and smiled, twirling the flower. "Of course you do, Roderich. Of course you do."