A/N- Hi again! Sorry it's been a few days since I last updated- I'm back at school now, so I have less time to write. Part of this was written in the note function of my iPod touch during break! Just a warning- I might update less often in future, because I am back at school, and it's now only a few months until my AS exams (eep!). Anyway, this oneshot was partly inspired by an idea in a Horrible Science book I read as a kid and always wished was real. I had a lot of fun trying to write the last section, although it may seem a little rushed, and I'm sorry about that, as I need to get to bed early and I really want to get this up tonight! (I'm speed typing this author's note!)

I hope you enjoy reading this! And if you like it, feel free to leave a little review. I always like to know what you think and which parts you like/dislike; it helps me tailor my comedy better! Have fun!

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France's Fantasies

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Once again, the world conference had convened. The assembled nations sat bickering, as always, in their designated chairs around a large circular table. England sat with his hands clasped together on the polished oak surface, glaring daggers at France while simultaneously rebuking Sealand (who had whined until England brought him along) for etching 'England is a jerk' into the expensive wood. Italy was trying out his 'hug therapy' on his brother again, while Ukraine distracted several of the surrounding male nations with her boob bounce. In fact, Austria would have considered utilising the unique noise they made in one of his compositions, had the demonic aura emanating from Russia, and the terrifyingly eerie chant of 'kolkolkol' not made him run for the restroom.

"SILENCE!" bellowed Germany, slamming both of his palms down on the table. Every one of the squabbling, infantile countries ceased talking. England released the shirt collars of both France and Sealand.

"Now then, if there are to be no more outbursts…" he glared daggers at some of the more notorious Western European countries. "We can begin the meeting."

The blond nodded over to America, who had been previously occupying himself with a small mountain of hamburgers. At the German's signal, he quickly swallowed the bite had been chewing and stood up, food still in hand.

"Alright everyone! Let's get this meeting rolling! Now then, I want to present to everyone here the super awesome new invention that my crack team of scientists came up with! I give you… The Dream Recorder!"

At this cue, the doors to the room swung open, and Canada wheeled in what looked like an old square TV set on a trolley with a VCR underneath. The set itself was painted yellow, with various strange curly wires in an assortment of colours sticking out from various places within the structure. The Yank's brother left it beside him and sat down in the only untaken seat at the table, not that anyone noticed.

"When he said 'crack team', I hadn't assumed that's what they'd been on," England commented, just loud enough for the whole room to hear.

"Dream Recorder?" Italy murmured, his mind flashing back to his dreams of the world revolving around the Axis, as well as the one where Germany and Japan hated him. "That sounds..."

"It sounds like total bullshit; which is exactly what it is!" Romano interrupted, squeezing the tomato he'd been about to eat. The shiny skin cracked, and watery tomato juice trickled down between his fingers.

"Hey now, give it a try before you condemn it!" America protested. His blue eyes showed a glimmer of hurt, but his zesty personality bounced him right back. "I'll show you it works!"

Without allowing anyone a chance to protest, he grabbed a couple of sensors lying by the TV set, wired up to the machine. Giving no warning, he shoved them onto the nearest nation's head with a soft shlop.

"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing? !" England shrieked, wriggling in the American's now firm grasp around his torso as he tried to rip the offending objects from his scalp. He yelped as he tugged his head to one side and almost ripped out half of his blond mop. "They're caught in my hair! Get them out now, you git!"

"Canada, hit the machine!" America yelled, causing his sibling to leap from his chair and slam down a lever attached to the VCR.

All of a sudden, a fizzling, crackling sound filled the room, followed by a small shower of sparks from the TV set. The screen glowed faintly, and the whole device seemed to throb. In his chair, England cried out, gasping as his vision went white. The VCR whirred, and a strange hum drifted from it. Several countries ducked under the table. Italy whimpered and grabbed Germany in a vice-like hug.

About a minute later, after the violent jerking England's body was undergoing had almost thrown America off, the strange noises died down, and the poor man hooked up to the machine finally settled. The device gave a final spark before it, too, ceased to move.

America glanced across at the screen, checking it was all-clear, before he let go of his 'big brother' and wrenched the sensors from his hair. The green-eyed man seemed too out of it to care anymore.

A few of the braver countries popped their heads back up from below their oaken shield. Germany finally prized Italy from off his front, only to discover the huddled figure of Romano had been clinging to him from behind as well.

"Where am I, mummy?" England whimpered as his head spun. He felt as though he had been put through the wringer. And the oven. And the washing machine. All at once.

America banged on the TV box a few times with his fist. "That's strange…" he muttered. "Normally they don't pass out like that… Or dance around. What could have happened?"

After a few more whacks, the screen flared into life. On it appeared a menu consisting of a long vertical list of dates with the top option highlighted in an orange-yellow box. Grinning, America pulled a large, chunky remote control out of his pocket and proceeded to jab the largest and central button. The remote itself looked more like the sort of thing used to operate the elevator in a mine or similar venue, and once it had been poked, caused the TV to display a large image of a country mansion with play, fast forward, rewind, next scene and previous scene symbols along the bottom.

"Sweet!" America cheered, getting ready to hit the play button on his controller.

"Hang on a second, America!" one of the countries called. It appeared to be Lithuania, although it was hard to tell, as the most anyone could see of any given country besides America, England, Canada and France was the top of their head. "What did you just do?"

"Huh?" America asked, clearly bemused by how someone could not know what he'd just done. It didn't occur to him that he'd never told anyone what the device actually did, only giving them its name. "I just turned it on."

"Yes… but…" Lithuania poked his nose up over the edge of the table, gazing worriedly at the strange machine. "What did it do?"

"Oh, you mean with all the sparking? It copied England's dreams and stored them in its hard drive."

"His… dreams?" Russia asked, sticking up his head with cleverly concealed evil interest.

"Yeah, sure. Now we can watch them on the TV. I kinda asked my guys to invent it 'cause I got sick of forgetting all the totally awesome dreams I keep having."

"Wait a second!" England interjected, sitting bolt upright in his chair. He seemed to have gotten over the worst of his rough treatment already. "You're not showing anyone my dreams! And you're not watching them yourself either! Bugger off!"

"Hahaha! Nope! I wanna see what you dream about!"

As England dived for the controller, America shoved one finger down on the play button, and as the Yank was dragged to the floor by his British 'ally', England's latest dream began to play.

"Tum tee tum… tum tee tum… Ahhhhhhh, bathing in a hot cup of tea… There's nothing quite like it… Ah, Sealand! Pass me the loofah, would you? There's a good chap… Ahhhhh… Bliss."

England turned redder than Romano's tomato. "Get it off!" he screeched, wrestling with America for the remote. As he finally succeeded in dislodging it from the American's hand, he was off-balanced, and his elbow planted itself firmly onto the 'ERASE ALL' button.

The screen showed static for a brief moment, and then went blank.

"Aww man, now look what you've done!" America complained as he hauled himself to his feet. England dragged himself up too, squaring his shoulders and preparing to verbally insult the blue-eyed wanker.

As he opened his mouth to shout, he was cut off by a distinctly amphibious voice.

"Now now, everyone, let's not start fighting, shall we? Mon dieu, we do not need any more wars around here! While it was… highly amusing…" He sniggered. "…to watch England's… uh… fantasies… perhaps we should consider trying it on somebody else?"

England raised a bushy eyebrow. "Oh yes? And who would you suggest we try it on?"

France smirked. "Why, myself, of course."

That seemed to take half the room by surprise. "You? !"

France nodded, gracefully rising up from his chair and striding over to the TV, not forgetting to flick his hair over his shoulder in one fluid movement as he went. It was the little finishing touches like that which separated him from the crowd.

The self-proclaimed master of love picked up the sensors and carefully attached them to himself. Reaching a hand over, he flicked the lever which activated the device.

Everyone in the room ducked.

Nothing happened.

Well, at least, nothing catastrophic. No sparks. No flames. No crackling. And most definitely no France writhing in pain. England was disappointed.

A few moments later, the screen lit up with small ping, and France detached the equipment.

"There now, that is now you do it. It must have been your terrible British dreams, England. It seems even this machine cannot stomach your cooking."

England's eyes narrowed. "Now listen here, frog! Just because in that one dream my roast beef came out blue does not mean-" He was restrained by Canada before he could punch the Frenchman's lights out.

"Maple! Please stop fighting!"

France sighed. "Canada is right. Now then, we shall see some better dreams, non? I have one that I have been simply dying to show everyone…"

"Wish you would die…" England muttered as France picked up the remote and pressed the play button.

The screen went dark.

"I can't see anything," Latvia complained, but France shushed him.

"You will see in a minute, mon chérie."

A red tinge spread across the screen. Finally some figures came into view. They seemed rather… active.

England's face paled. "Is that… me?"

"And me…" Canada added.

"Me too…" America thirded.

"I am there as well…" Greece said softly.

"It seems a lot of the countries are there…" commented Latvia.

England's face turned a pale shade of green. "Did I just…?"

"Did you just…?" America glanced slowly at the blond.

"France did you…?" Canada queried, jaw hanging slack.

The sound of a moan vibrated from the speakers of the TV. Germany's eyes widened. Italy gaped while Romano seemed stunned speechless. Austria shuffled away, trying to move as close to the back of the room as possible. Even Spain looked a little pallid. Hungary smiled slightly.

"Did he just put his… into England's…" Finland tried to say, while pointing a finger half-heartedly at the screen.

Japan covered Sealand's eyes.

When the video came to an end, France surveyed them all, grinning cheekily.

"So, what did you all think?"

"Somebody pass me a shotgun," England demanded.