Update: The Mad Joker was once again kind enough to properly translate for me several Swedish sentences I had mis-translated initially. Thank you so much for the help!

Chapter 4

Turkey glanced at himself briefly in a nearby mirror and unbuttoned his top collar. He had changed into an all-white outfit, with a white trench coat, white button-down tank top, and white tight pants.

Greece had also worn white, but he didn't care. White looked better on him anyways.

"You're going to do great, Sadiq." Despite their earlier run-in with Armenia, Azerbaijan looked a lot more cheerful now. "You placed first in your semi-final round, and your song is the strongest one this year."

"You're very kind, Azer." Turkey checked himself in the mirror once more before he turned to pat her on the head. "And I know I'm going to do well. Just keep in mind we have to be careful, okay?" Azerbaijan flinched, but he continued. "This is a peaceful event, and he has sympathies worldwide. We can't antagonize him."

"He just annoys me!" Azerbaijan fumed, her cheerfulness gone. "Does he think he's the only one who has a dark history? He killed plenty of my people during our border wars, and you don't see me crying foul to anyone who will listen! He needs to let it go!"

"…Perhaps," Turkey relented. "But that's not our place, Azer. Just avoid him, all right? It's not worth getting disqualified over."

"Fine." Azerbaijan pouted slightly, before she smiled. "But you're one to talk, Sadiq. How long have you been fighting Greece?"

"That brat is a nuisance and a menace and deserves any hardships he faces!"

"Turkey." A stagehand approached them. "We're ready whenever you are."

"Thank you." Turkey straightened his collar and smiled at Azerbaijan. "Time to show these younger countries a few tricks, hmm? And…" he chuckled to himself. "Time to show Japan a real performance."

"Turkey's next," America read from the program, noting that the stage was darkening.

"He placed fourth last year, and I guess he placed first in his semi-final round," England said. "So it looks like he has a good chance."

Japan suddenly felt a presence directly behind him. "Japan."

He tensed and turned in his seat. "H-Hello, Greece-san."

Greece smiled sincerely as he took the seat directly behind Japan. "Thank you for cheering for me. Or, how do you say it?" He thought about it for a moment. "Arigato gozaimasu."

"Dōu itashimashite." Japan hesitated before he continued. "Turkey-san is next. Y-You both sent me invitations, so I—"

Surprisingly, Greece just smiled. "I understand. It's prudent for you to cheer for us both."

"Hai. But, I cheered for you, Greece-san, because you did such an amazing job."

Greece stared for a moment before he nodded. "Efxaristo. I truly mean that."

"Bonsoir!"

Everyone jumped at this new voice, and turned towards the aisle. France was standing over Romano, wearing a white, frilly shirt that was partially unbuttoned and black crushed velvet pants with high black boots.

Romano screamed, and jumped a whole row back right into Spain's waiting arms.

France was idly sniffing a rose, not noticing Romano's reaction to his presence. "I go onstage soon. You will all cheer for me, non?"

"Why the bloody hell should we?" England demanded. "If you didn't have immunity in Eurovision, you wouldn't even be in the finals!"

"Neither would you," Ireland muttered loudly.

"But since I still have time," France continued, ignoring England's words. "And I'm rather bored; I decided I'm going to sit with you all until I go onstage!"

"Um, mi amigo?" Spain said courteously, although he did enjoy holding Romano. "W-We're sort of short on seats over here. Although Romano's seat is now vacated—"

"I'm NOT sitting on your lap all night!" Romano snapped.

"But you don't seem to mind when—"

"SHUT UP, SHUT UP!" Romano pulled Spain's cheeks as hard as he could.

"Nonsense, I know the perfect spot!" completely disregarding Romano's now empty seat, France swept into the row and over Italy. He even ignored the seat Lithuania had vacated and he grabbed Canada by his arm and pulled him straight out of the seat!

"M-Maple!" Canada cried out, as France took his seat and pulled back down, straight onto his lap!

"See? I have the best seat in the house right now!" France cuddled Canada in his arms. "This brings back pleasant memories!"

"Maple…" Canada groaned, obviously uncomfortable with this predicament.

Exotic rock music began to emulate from the stage, indicating that Turkey's performance was starting. The country himself took center stage, smiling very slightly and moving very subtly to the music. As he got ready to sing, very briefly, he caught sight of Japan. And he saw Greece sitting right behind.

But, he'd lived far too long for such a thing to get to him…too much. Or force him to lose his concentration. "You could be the one in my dreams. You could be much more than you seem. Anything I wanted in life. Do you understand what I mean?"

"Is he rapping?" America wondered.

"Shhh!" England hissed. "He's just singing very fast!"

"I wasn't quite expecting this," Japan admitted quietly.

Greece said nothing, but he folded his arm over his chest and frowned.

"I can see it in your eyes…It doesn't count as a surprise." Turkey wandered over to the side of the stage facing the large grouping of countries. "I see you dancing like a star…No matter how different we are."

He abruptly dropped down to his knees and clenched his left hand in a fist. "For all this time! I've been loving you." He pointed out into the audience. "Don't even know your name! For just one night! We could be the same! No matter what they say!"

"Was he, like, totally pointing at us?" Poland wondered.

Japan remained rather stiff in his seat. From his perspective, it'd seemed like Turkey had pointed to him!

"I don't think the drama will stop. I don't think they'll give up the rage. But I know the world could be great. I can love you more than they hate." It was hard to tell with his mask on, or maybe Japan was paranoid. But he could've sworn Turkey looked right at him!

"For all this time! I've been loving you!" he pointed back into the audience. "Don't even know your name!"

"…I feel," Japan said uneasily. "Like he's singing to me."

"Hmm?" America looked at him. "How come?"

Greece scoffed, and glared murderously at Turkey.

Turkey continued with the rest of his performance without a hitch, though he sank back down to his knees in the middle of the stage. "For just one night! We could be the same! No matter what they say!"

He repeated the final line a few extra times, but his free hand reached up for his own face, fingering the mask over his eyes.

Greece sat straight up in his seat. "He's—!"

"We could be the same! No matter what they say!"

Turkey pulled his mask off, exposing his whole face to the world.

"Perfect score, Sadiq!" Azerbaijan cheered as Turkey came backstage. "Taking off your mask at the end was fantastic!"

Turkey laughed, though he double-checked to make sure his mask was back in place. "Thank you, Azer."

"My judge gave you five points," Georgia said.

"Oh, that's fine! That's what my judge gave you, too!"

"Six points," Belgium read from her phone.

"Eight points!" Netherlands cheered.

"Six points," Estonia read.

"I didn't score him," Latvia observed.

"I, totally, didn't either," Poland said.

"I didn't either," Greece said. He paused for a moment before he said, "Dóxa to̱ Theó̱."

"Four points," Lithuania said sheepishly.

"Three!" Spain said all too cheerfully, still cuddling Romano to him.

Romano tried to break free. "Fucking hell, just let me go! Bastardo!"

France chuckled loudly. "I gave him a perfect score, Canada!"

"T-That's nice." Canada squirmed in his lap. "Can you let me go now?"

"Mon dieu! Do you not enjoy the feel of my embrace?"

"N-Not really, no…"

"Is Germany up next?" Italy wondered aloud.

"Let me know when that kraut-bastard goes up!" Romano fumed, trying and failing to break free of Spain. "I'll need to excuse myself to BARF!"

"Nii-san, that's a horrible thing to say!"

"Three points," Finland read from his phone. "Turkey seems pretty popular this year, huh?"

"…Five points," Sweden said.

"Six points," Denmark mocked. "I gave him more than you!"

"Who cares?" Norway said blandly. "Two points."

"So Albania is next, and then Iceland?" Finland asked.

"That's correct," Norway clarified. "He sent me a text message to scold me for calling Greenland and Faroe." He shrugged neutrally. "I figured he's still nervous, so I sent a friendly face back there to cheer him up."

"…Friendly face?"

Sealand was playing with Hanatamago when his pocket hummed once more. He growled in exasperation. "Oh, come on! When will Northern Cyprus stop prank calling me!" he yanked out his phone and answered it. "Just stop it already!"

"Bror Sealand, snälla, snälla, snälla sluta lägg på luren!" the tone on the other line was very pleading now. "vill bara prata med mamma! Låt mig prata med mamma!"

"Ugh—"

Sweden suddenly held out his hand to Sealand. "I'll talk to them."

"Good." Sealand handed Sweden the phone. "And tell him to stop prank calling me!"

Sweden set speakerphone on the phone. "Who is this?" he asked calmly.

There was silence for several long moments on the other line. Then, the person spoke. "…Pappa?"

Finland twitched, and suddenly launched out of his seat. "ÅLAND!" He grabbed the phone from Sweden and shut off speakerphone. "Åland, olit—förlåt. Har du försökt nå mig?"

"Oh, so it was Åland that whole time?" Sealand laughed. "So it wasn't a prank caller after all! That's pretty funny!"

"Åland is a small island with a population size of 13,000 people, located in the Baltic Sea between Sweden and Finland. Though she is officially a territory of Finland, the only language spoken in Åland is Swedish.

…Need I say more?"

Sweden gave Sealand a hard look. "You kept hanging up on your sister?"

"I have lots of siblings!" Sealand said defensively. "Besides, she wasn't speaking English! How am I supposed to understand Swedish?"

"I speak Swedish."

Sealand gulped audibly. "T-That you do!"

Sweden leaned closer to Sealand. "Perhaps you need to learn," he began. "My language."

"Awwww!" Sealand groaned. "Must I? Or at least make Ålandlearn English? Why must I have to be the one to adjust?"

"Du har inte röstat än?" Finland continued his conversation with Åland in Swedish. "Det är okej. Vad? Nej, jag kom inte med i finalen. Nej, intepappa—Su-san heller." Finland's whole face turned red with that.

Denmark barked out a laugh. "Did you just call Sweden papa? That's too funny! Sweden's running amuck of children!"

"I could say the same of you," Norway said flatly.

"You are the one. You give me that something I need. It is me, and I'm calling…"

Albania's song played over the intercoms backstage, but Iceland wasn't paying attention. He brushed off his clothes and sighed. He was wearing a simple outfit, a long-sleeved white shirt under a slate gray vest and matching pants. This is fine. It doesn't matter if you don't win. Just go out there, and…do something.

He felt marginally better after scolding Norway via text message for making him more nervous. Sometimes, he really had to question his older brother's methods.

Although, he wouldn't call him 'older brother'. Not to his face, at least.

"Ágætur, Mr. Puffin," Iceland said aloud, glancing at his puffin companion. "It's almost time."

Mr. Puffin flapped his wings.

Iceland sighed again, and spun around. "I just need to—WAUGH!"

He stumbled backwards, and tumbled to the floor in front of the floating green TROLL in front of him. "H- Hver í fjandanum?"

The troll grinned toothily at him. "Jeg har hørt at du er nervøse. ikke være. Alt vil være alle rett."

Iceland groaned, and rubbed a hand over his face. Norway! What are you doing?

"Jeg vil omfavne du nå." The troll happily floated over to him.

"W-WAIT!" Iceland cried out as he was picked up off the floor. "I don't need a hug! I DON'T NEEED A HUG!"

"Su-san, Åland wants to talk to you," Finland said.

"Wait, you guys are using up my minutes!" Sealand complained loudly.

Sweden ignored him and took the phone from Finland. "Hej Åland. Uppför du dig väl?"

"I swear I'll learn Swedish if you please stop raking up my phone bill!" Sealand pleaded.

Albania was finished with his performance, but the stagehands were starting to get frantic. "Where is Iceland?" one demanded. "He's about to go on!"

"Here I am." Iceland quickly hurried over to them. "I-I'm sorry for keeping you waiting."

"Wait, what happened to you?" another cried out. "You're a mess!"

Iceland's silver hair was completely disheveled, and his vest was cockeyed. He shrugged stiffly. "I got molested by a troll."

The stagehands gaped at him in horror as he headed towards the stage, not seeming to care about his appearance. "H-He…"

"Nerves," another interjected. "He's just nervous. Nothing else."

Speaking of this troll, he calmly materialized beside Norway. "Han er god nå. Jeg gjorde ham føler seg bedre."

"Thank you," Norway said sincerely. The troll disappeared as the stage darkened once more and a stiff figure stormed across it. "I'm glad I was able to make him feel better."

"You're his onii-chan, after all," Denmark giggled. "It's your job to look out for him. And it's my job for you—"

Norway calmly reached over to choke him with his own tie. "What was that?"

"Guhhh! Norge, you c-c-choking me!"

"Guys, let's settle down!" Finland pleaded.

Norway abruptly let Denmark go when a piano beat came from the stage. Denmark straightened his tie and glared mournfully at Norway. "How can you act so uptight with me now after confessing your feelings for me?"

Norway stared at him blankly. "What?"

The piano was followed by techno dance music and the stage lights came up, revealing Iceland, who quite frankly looked like hell. But, he didn't look like he cared.

"I…am standing strong. I've overcome the sadness…in my life."

"What happened to him?" Finland asked worriedly. "W-Was he attacked backstage?"

"Maybe by a troll," Denmark remarked.

Norway punched him hard in the arm. "Være stille."

"And it's reflecting in your eyes…Je ne sais quoi," Iceland sang out. He sounded more enthusiastic than he looked. "I know you have a special something! Je ne sais quoi! Ah-oh! Something I just can't explain!"

"Those are French words!" France praised from the audience. "C'est magnifique!"

"Just watch, he won't get a high score," England mused.

"When…the clouds are gone, the stars come out around us…shining." Iceland wasn't looking at his fellow Nordics, keeping his focus on other parts of the arena. "And all that we see is the love…our hearts aligned together. Tell me, do you feel the same?"

"He sounds pretty strongly," Finland observed. "I wonder if he's singing about anyone in particular."

"Awwww, is Ice in love?" Denmark cooed. "We have to find out!"

"I don't think he would tell us," Sweden said.

"…He might tell me," Norway said.

"…And when I see your face, I wanna follow my emotions! Je ne sais quoi—pourquoi!" Iceland ran a hand through his already messy hair awkwardly. "I just love this crazy feeling! It's like I've known you all my life!"

"So it's someone he's known his whole life," Denmark said, following the lyrics. He looked between Norway and Finland. "It's not us, is it? That would be dirty…and wrong!"

"…You're an idiot," Norway sighed.

Iceland finished his cheer to abundant cheers. He bowed stiffly and hurried off the stage. Scores were sent out right away. "Aww, three points?" Denmark whined. "What is my judge thinking?"

"Five points," Finland said.

Sweden checked his phone. "I didn't score him. Vi ses sénare, Åland." He shut off Sealand's phone and handed it back to him.

Sealand looked at his phone and glared at Sweden. "You're paying the bill when it arrives! I can't afford calls like that!"

"I could've gone for longer," Sweden said. "But now you've promised to learn my language…"

Norway checked his phone for the score he gave Iceland. "…Six." He snapped the phone shut and shoved it into his pocket.

"Wow, our judges are not being kind to fellow Nordics, are they?" Denmark observed. He quickly backtracked. "N-Not that I would give you a low score, Norge—"

"I already know you gave me five points," Norway said flatly. He craned his head towards the side of the stage to see if he could see Iceland.

"Wait, WHAT?" Denmark cried out. "How'd you know that? Is that why you're pissed off at me?"

"When is he not pissed off at you?" Sweden muttered to himself.

A body abruptly fell into the empty seat beside Norway. "Jeg har ført lite bror over til deg."

A few people nearby recoiled at the sight of the green troll, who was rumpling Iceland's messy hair rather affectionately. "Thank you," Norway said, managing a minuet smile.

"Bli nice til storebror nå!" the troll disappeared.

Iceland calmly brushed himself off, and tried to fix his hair. "I was coming right over. Why did you sic the troll on me?"

"Oh, I didn't," Norway said. "But he's fond of you, so sometimes he'll do things on his own."

"And you let him?"

Norway shrugged. "He hasn't hurt you, right?"

The troll abruptly reappeared, startling Iceland as he deposited Mr. Puffin in his lap. "Jeg nesten glömde eders kjæledyret. Her han er."

"T-Takk." Iceland hugged Mr. Puffin to his chest self-consciously.

"So, Ice!" Denmark giggled, leaning across Norway to look at the younger country. "Who's the lucky girl? Or fellow?"

"W-What?" Iceland shouted, jumping straight out of his seat. "Where did you get THAT idea?"

"I gave him eight points," Belgium said.

"Four," Estonia said.

"Three," Greece said.

"I gave him five," France read around Canada. He nodded. "That sound appropriate."

Canada's pocket began to hum and he jumped slightly. "What? Did I somehow score him?" He pulled out his cell phone and checked his text messages.

Prussia (Mobile)

"HELP! MEIN GOTT, PLEASE HELP ME! …and get me beer if you can!"

Canada gaped at this text message for a long moment before he began to struggle in France's arms. "Please, let me go!"

"Awwww, does Matthew have a sore tummy?" France cooed, rubbing his stomach.

"No, not that! I have an emergency!"

"But Ukraine is about to go onstage!" America protested. "You're going to miss her performance!"

"Ukraine is next?" France shouted. He jumped to his feet, the action sending Canada tumbling to the floor. "Merde! I go after her! I have to get backstage!"

"Good luck," England said sarcastically. "See how far your frog-language gets! See, Iceland didn't get a high score this year, just like I said!"

France didn't hear him, continuing to run up the aisle towards the backstage area.

"I-I must go too," Canada stammered, picking himself off the floor and hurrying off.

"Dibs!" Poland shouted, hopping over the seat to reclaim Canada's seat.

Lithuania sighed heavily, but also climbed over the row to sit beside Poland.

"Now that the frog-bastard is gone, I'm moving up!" Romano growled. He applied a little more force in pulling himself out of Spain's arms and hopping up into his seat.

Spain calmly brushed himself off and smiled to himself. It's all right. I know how he feels now…

Ukraine looked at herself self-consciously in the mirror. Behind her, her boss was helping to fix the skirt of her dress. "S-Sir?" she said.

"What is it?" he tugged her skirt down to make sure it wasn't riding up over her butt.

"I-Isn't this outfit a little…much?"

"Don't you like the dress? The color suits you, too."

"Sure. But…"

She was wearing a dress that was a pretty violet-blue shade. But…it was tight. Very, very tight and short. The skirt barely covered her butt in the back, and the body of the dress highlighted all of her curves. Strangely though, the top of her dress felt very loose. Her large breasts felt like they had very little support, and almost two inches of cleavage was showing.

"I don't think this dress suits me," she said, patting herself down.

"What? Nonsense! This is the perfect out for you!" her boss stood up and spun her around. "You're going to do just fine out there. You have a powerful song on your side, and you're favored a lot by other countries!" he smiled at her. "Don't even think about the audience. Just go out there and sing."

Ukraine reluctantly nodded and forced a smile. "…All right."

But, despite her boss's words she felt incredibly self-conscious the moment she left her green room. She meekly walked through the wings towards the stage, and it felt like everyone was staring at her. I must look very awful in my dress…

"Big Sister."

Ukraine jumped, and turned around. She double-checked to make sure her boss wasn't watching. "H-Hello, Russia."

Russia was staring at her with open surprise. "…Er, why are you wearing this outfit?"

Ukraine's whole face turned red and she ducked her head. "It doesn't look good on me, does it?"

"N-No, that's not necessarily what I meant."

"Ukraine!" a stagehand ran over to her. "There you are! We…" the boy trailed off as he openly gaped at her cleavage.

"You're ready?" Russia asked dangerously.

"Y-Yes!" the stagehand snapped out of his stupor and motioned to Ukraine. "W-We're ready for you!"

Ukraine nervously nodded. "D-Dakoyu." She forced a smile at Russia. "Please cheer for me."

"I will," Russia promised kindly, though he directed a dark aura at the stagehand. "And, I'm certain my judge will give you a high score."

Russia watched his sister leave and sighed quietly to himself. "The one sister who isn't crazy and she cannot be around me…"

"Big Brother!"

Russia stiffened as Belarus hugged him from behind. "Let's watch Big Sister's performance together!"

Russia's face twisted up in pain. "O-Okay…"

The stage darkened once more as Ukraine took her place center stage. She was so nervous she was shaking. She swallowed thickly and closed her eyes. Just focus on the song, and on the lyrics. Nobody will pay attention to your outfit…

"Miss Ukraine is about to perform," Lithuania observed.

Poland scoffed. "She's like, totally the only normal one of them. But that's not saying much."

"She can't do worse than Belarus!" America laughed.

The guitar started behind Ukraine, and that was her cue. "Oh…sweet people…" her voice was still shaking! She forced it steady before she continued. "What have we done? Tell me, what is happening? For all that we've built, tumbles and is gone."

The stage lights abruptly came up, startling Ukraine slightly but she pressed on. "Oh… sweet people…How you no love for mankind?"

"…Wow," Romano said after a moment. "I like her outfit!"

"I think her panties are visible!" Denmark blurted out.

Norway clamped a hand hard over his mouth. "Shut up, just for once!"

Ukraine didn't hear these comments. She was becoming too involved in the song. She swayed her body slightly. "Must you go on killing…just to (ba-dum!) pass the time."

She jerked her arm abruptly. "The mes—(ba dum!) is so true! The end is rea—(ba dam!) near!"

"Is something wrong with her microphone?" Estonia asked. "I'm hearing a strange echo."

"Me, too," Japan said.

"…It steals the things so dear." Ukraine suddenly flung herself forward, falling to her knees on the stage. "Yes, the (BA-DUM!)—age is so re—(BA DUM!)! Don't turn al—(BA DUM!) to stone!" completely enraptured in the performance, she flung her arm wildly. "Because, bec—(BA-DUM!)—use! This is your—(BA DUM!)!"

"Her boobie-bounce!" Latvia cried out. His whole face turned red when everyone looked at him. "It's her boobie-bounce! It's overshadowing her singing!"

"Oh…sweet people…" Ukraine was standing again, and she struck a hand against her large breasts. "Wha—(BA DUM!) our children?"

"Hey, it is her boobie-bounce!" America exclaimed. "Any time she moves too much, we can't hear the lyrics!"

Romano snorted. "Who's paying attention to the lyrics, anyways?"

Spain chuckled lightly behind him. "Be careful what you say, Romano. I can be a jealous man…"

"Shut up!"

"Oh…sweet pe—(BA DUM!)! What sense—(BA DUM!)!"

Canada found Prussia huddled in a corner in the wings, crying his eyes out. Five bottles surrounded him, and Canada read the table off of one. "Uerige Doppelsticke?" he winced and set the bottle back down. Oh, boy…

"Prussia?" Canada knelt down in front of the hysterical country. "What's the matter?"

Prussia lifted his head. His face was a mess of tears and snot, and his red eyes were completely bloodshot. No doubt from the alcohol and the crying. "Canada! It's so awful!"

"Did something terrible happen?" Canada asked meekly. "You drank so much…and before Germany has to go onstage!"

"I'm going onstage with him! And we're singing THIS song!" Prussia pulled his iPod out of his pocket and handed it to Canada. He then resumed crying loudly.

Canada looked at the song in the playlist. "Satellite?" He put on the headphones and pressed play.

After a minute, he hit 'pause' and removed the headphones. "It's…not too bad."

"Not too bad? We have to sing that song in front of the whole world! West and ME! Me, in all my awesome glory!" Prussia got ready for another round of loud wailing.

"C-Come on, don't cry…" Canada looked down at Mr. Kumajirou in his arms. "Mr. Kumafuji, how do you think we can make him feel better?"

Mr. Kumajirou looked up at him. "Who are you?"

"I'm Canada!" Canada groaned as a headache settled in. "Prussia, please don't cry. I…" He patted himself down until he found a bulk in his coat pocket. "Ah-ha! Here, have this!" He pulled a small bag of cookies out of his pocket and held them out to Prussia. "Have these cookies! They're in the shape of my maple leaf, and they're filled with maple syrup!"

Prussia immediately perked up at this, and abruptly stopped crying. "Maple syrup?" He took the bag and opened it. His face was still a mess, and he swayed slightly where he sat, indicating he was heavily intoxicated. He reached into the bag and pulled out a cookie shaped like a maple leaf, just like Canada said they would be. He took a bite out of it and his face lit up. "Hey, that's good! And I can taste the maple syrup! Can I really have this whole bag?"

"Sure, absolutely," Canada said, smiling slightly.

"ANIKI!"

Both countries jumped at Germany's shout. He stormed over to them, looking positively furious. "We have to rehearse for our song! How dare you run off, and—ARE YOU DRUNK?"

"Not dunk enough, but…getting there," Prussia said, managing a sad giggle.

Germany snatched one of the empty bottles from the floor, and read the label. His face darkened as he put the bottle down and grabbed Prussia by his collar. "How dare you! How could you run off and get drunk…and not SHARE WITH ME? Do you think I want to do this sober?"

"West, don't shake me!" Prussia complained loudly. "You'll make me puke!"

"G-Guys," Canada stammered, rising to his fight. "Please don't fight—"

"Is there anything left, or did you drink it all?" Germany barked, ignoring Canada (but what else was new?). He dropped Prussia and looked at the bottles. "Wait, this one?" One of the bottles was indeed a quarter full. "It's not enough, but maybe a slight buzz will help me…" he proceeded to down the bottle.

"Good luck," Prussia said sourly. "I backwashed into all of my beer."

"PFFFFT!" Germany upchucked the beer, and began coughing and gagging violently. "Guh…Ficken! Sie Sack! Aaaaaugh, Scheiße!"

"Serves you right." Prussia munched on more cookies.

Germany grabbed Prussia by the collar once more. "You'll pay for this, Aniki…" as he turned, then he saw Canada. "Ah. Hi, Canada."

"H-Hi," Canada squeaked.

Germany dragged Prussia off, ignoring his older brother's protests.

Canada stood there alone for a moment with Mr. Kumajirou, the finale of Ukraine's song playing over the intercoms. "Th—(BA DUM! BA DUM!) your home! This…is (BA DUM!)…"

"Mr. Kumakuma!" Canada shouted cheerfully. "Germany saw me! He saw me and he said hi! I was noticed!"

"Who are you?" Mr. Kumajirou asked again.

"I'm Canada!"

Ukraine received many cheers for her song. Laughing, she curtsied as much as possible before she left the stage. They liked my song! I'm so happy!

"I couldn't understand the song," Japan complained quietly. "Her…assets." He winced at the lack of better term. "Were too distracting!"

"Who wasn't distracted?" Romano laughed.

"I gave her seven points," Latvia read from his phone.

"I didn't score her," Estonia said.

"Seven, as well," Lithuania said.

"Three," Poland said.

"Five," England said.

"See, now it's easy for you to hand out scores!" America laughed.

"For the last time, I'm not the one scoring the show!"

"Wow, none of us scored her?" Denmark asked. He laughed. "That's kind of funny!"

Sealand had his nose buried into a book, Swedish for Dummies. "'How is your day?' '…Hur ser din dag ut?' 'Would you like a cup of tea?' '…Vill du ha en kopp te?'"

"Don't overdo it," Finland reassured him. "Learning a second language is hard work!"

"But you speak Swedish just fine, Finland!"

"Well…" Finland winced slightly. "I did use to be part of Sweden's territory, but—"

"You are still my wife," Sweden said abruptly.

"N-Now, Su-san—"

"So, who are you in love with?" Norway asked Iceland bluntly.

Iceland's whole face turned red. "W-What? I'm not in love! Where did you get that idea?"

Norway leaned a little closer to him, his face still very deadpan. "You can tell Onii-chan."

"And me!" Denmark interjected. "As your former king, you can tell me any secret!"

"The hell you can!" Iceland blurted out. He hugged Mr. Puffin tighter to him. "And even if I was in love, I wouldn't tell you!"

Denmark's face fell, and he looked at Norway. "Min Gud…so it IS true…"

"What is?" Norway and Iceland asked him together.

"He IS in love with one of us!" Denmark 'eeped' and leaned back a little. "Oh, Ice! I didn't realize you were so perverted!"

"NEI!" Iceland shrieked, startling a few people nearby. "Nei nei nei NEI! That's so disgusting! How could you even think of such a thing?"

"Wait a minute," Finland interjected suddenly. "Why is it perverted for him to like one of us, and yet it's perfectly normal for Su-san to call me his wife, and for you too—" he motioned to Norway and Denmark. "To have whatever it is that you have?"

"We have nothing," Norway said flatly.

"It's different for us," Denmark said, as if he didn't hear what Norway had said.

"And you are my wife," Sweden insisted.

Finland sighed. "All right, all right…"

Iceland groaned and looked down at his feet. "I'm so happy I have my own house now…"

"'I think I broke my nose'," Sealand recited, giggling uncontrollably. "'Jag tror jag bröt näsan.'"

"Big Sister, I gave you seven points!" Russia revealed, smiling slightly.

Ukraine saw her boss coming and forced a smile. "D-Dakoyu, Russia."

"Sister." Both siblings jumped when Belarus forcibly inserted herself in between the two of them. "I gave you ten points."

Ukraine felt rather shocked by the high score Belarus gave her in comparison to what Russia gave. Usually, the opposite happened. "Dakoyu, Bela—"

"Vy!" All three Slavic siblings jumped when Ukraine's boss ran over to them. "Ukraine, must I remind you we have no association with them?" he hissed into Ukraine's ear.

"Tell me," Russia said suddenly. "Were you the one who put that dress on my sister?" though he was smiling, a terrible aura surrounded him.

"You don't scare me!" Ukraine's boss barked. "And if you cause me problems, I have the European Union on my side! Come, let's go Ukraine!"

"Vybachteh," Ukraine said to her younger siblings, her tone almost mournful as her boss pulled her away.

Russia watched them go, and sighed sadly. He was hardly afraid of a political figurehead, but the last thing he needed was to have the European Union whining at him. "Surely there must be an easier way to be with my sister…"

"Forget her." Belarus quickly reattached herself to Russia's arm. "I'm here, and that's all you'll need."

Russia closed his eyes and forced himself not lose his temper or panic. How much longer until I can perform? I can't take much more of this!

"Francis is about to perform," Spain said, though he winced when Romano visibly stiffened. "Now, now, I don't think he'll act too crazy this year."

"How was his semi-final performance?" Japan asked.

"We, like, totally didn't get to see it," Poland said dryly. "He's one of the Big Four, after all."

"I keep hearing this Big Four be mentioned, but I don't know what it is!" America said.

England sighed, as though he were impatient. "The Big Four are the four countries who have contributed the most to Eurovision financially. Myself, Spain." Spain gave a slight salute to this. "Germany, and…France. A lot of times Eurovision wouldn't have been able to happen without our money, so about ten years ago they decided to treat us."

"We use to give a lot of money, too," Romano fumed. "But we never gained any status!"

"What this means is," Ireland interjected. "Is that before all of the countries had to go through the semi-final round for qualifications. The only country who had immunity was the returning champion. But, with this Big Four status, the git." She motioned to England. "And those other three countries are automatically entered into the finals. So they don't have to go through the semi-finals at all, and the first time we see them perform the songs is in the final."

"…I really don't appreciate your analogies," England seethed. "But that is the basic idea of it."

"I don't think it's really cheating," Spain said. "Because, like, we enter the finals with zero points, no? While the other countries already have points from the semi-finals. Besides, none of us Big Four have won since they introduced the idea. I know I haven't won since 1969, and that was in a tie with three other countries!"

"That was a funny year!" Netherlands laughed loudly. "Our bosses were so pissed off!"

"Wait, did you two just agree on something?" Belgium asked.

"You're talking to me now!" Netherlands cheered.

"Funny that," Romano said, looking at Spain over his shoulder. "You haven't won since 1969? And you had to share the victory? We haven't been able to enter for a few years because of idiota here—" he jabbed a finger at Italy. "And yet we've won more recently than you!"

Spain didn't get upset or cry. He simply smiled and reached over to affectionately pinch Romano's cheek. "Pero, we share the same number of victories, Lovino."

Romano smacked his hand away. "You—"

"Excuse me."

Both of them jumped and turned to see Canada standing there, the other country completely out of breath. "I-I'm sorry I left so suddenly. Did I miss France's performance?"

"No, you're just in time!" Spain said cheerfully. "He's about to go onstage!"

"Good. I…" Canada trailed off when he saw Poland in his seat. "Uh…"

Poland saw Canada over his shoulder and forced a smile. "Sorry, Canada. But I, like, totally called dibs."

"Atsiprašau," Lithuania said a lot more sincerely.

"Here, there's plenty of seats in this row!" Spain offered.

"So, where'd you go?" America asked, though he barely looked at his brother.

"P-Prussia sent me a text message."

"Ah, Gilbert?" Spain asked, as Romano lurched in the seat ahead of him. "How is he?"

"He's…under the weather." Canada sat down in a seat.

"That's too bad. Oh, look they're starting!"

The stage darkened once more, and they saw shadows of people moving across the stage. "Let's see that the idiot has for us this year," England grumbled.

"Yay, France-nii-san!" Italy cheered.

"Don't cheer for that pervert!" Romano snapped.

Loud dance music pulsated from the stage and the lights came up, revealing France dancing with a few dancers. "Oh la belle assemblée, qui a envie de bouger! Pour se laisser allez, au rythme de l'année! Allez Allez Allez Allez!"

France was dancing rather crazily with his backup dancers, punctuated by a couple of pelvic thrusts. One of his backup singers, a woman, sauntered over to him. "Chouchou faut te lever et bouger ton fess—" she was cut-off rather abruptly when he grabbed her and started gyrating against her.

"Well, this is lovely," England said sarcastically.

"Allez Allez Allez! Allez Olla Olé! Allez Allez Allez! O-lla O-lé!" France sang out, though he was starting to sound out of breath from the dancing. But it didn't stop his body-shaking or air thrusts. "Allez Allez Allez! Allez Olla Olé! Allez Allez Allez! C'est le son de l'année!"

"This song is so…France," America said after a moments.

France spun around so that his back was to the audience. The next twenty seconds were filled not with singing, but rolling hips. Rolling hips which caused France's ass to shake to the rhythm, along with his backup dancers.

"This is disgusting!" Romano yelled, gagging slightly.

"Yet something he wouldn't hesitate to do," England added dryly.

Spain was laughing, though. "All right, Francis!"

"Il faut danser, tout le monde, danser, tout le monde, danser collé serré! Tout le monde, danbadam badamdam..." the butt-shaking ceased for the moment, but the dancing was still intense.

"By God, there are other words other than allez in this crappy song?" England blurted out.

"It's, like, totally awesome!" Poland said, moving slightly in his seat. "I could totally dance to this in a night club! Right, Liet?"

"…I guess so," Lithuania said painfully.

France suddenly began egging on the audience, telling them to raise their hands and then clap them. A lot of the audience did this, including Italy. But Romano smacked him upside the head.

All of a sudden, France yelled and the beat of the song changed to a loud, rhythmic pulse. The dancers behind him began to dance very fast and stomp in time with the music.

France, however…he was rolling his hips, but was suddenly running a hand up and down his partially exposed torso. Suddenly, he gripped his shirt and ripped it open, revealing his chest.

"WAS?" Switzerland shouted. He slapped his hand over Liechtenstein's eyes.

The women in the audience shrieked with glee as France twirled his shirt over his head and threw it at a random female in the audience, who promptly fainted. He joined the other dancers beat-for-beat, but was suspiciously fingering the top of his pants.

The color drained from England's face. "Oh no…please no…"

"What is it?" Japan asked.

"It almost seems like he…" Latvia trailed off.

France stopped dancing, and ripped his pants off, stripper-style. The audience shrieked once more as the country of romance himself stood three-quarters naked on the stage, clothed only in high-boots and black underwear.

Spain shrieked in laughter, and nearly fell out of his seat. America was equally stitched up over this. Everyone else was less than enthused as France twirled his pants over his head and threw them.

In their direction!

England screamed, and ducked into his seat. But seeing as it was clothes, and not like a grenade, the pants didn't fly far and barely missed the Nordics.

"This is almost…pornographic," Japan said slowly.

"It's France, what do you expect?" Netherlands asked.

France spun around to do some more ass-shaking at the audience, and the countries recoiled. France wasn't wearing simple underwear. He was wearing a g-string, and his perfectly-shaped butt cheeks were exposed to them all, and jiggled in time with the motions of his swaying hips.

"I don't think this is appropriate," Finland said, looking at Sealand.

Sealand, thankfully, was buried into his book. He did glance up briefly and saw France's naked ass, but that hardly fazed him. "What? You're acting like I haven't seen a butt before!"

"Oh God, I've seen that white ass far too many times!" England wailed, hiding his face in his hands.

"Why have you seen his white ass too many times?" America asked him.

"I'm blind!" Romano cried out, tearing at his eyes. "I've gone blind!"

"Nii-san, don't be blind!" Italy wailed.

"He's, like, totally being a drama queen," Poland pointed out.

Thankfully for the disgusted countries, France finished his performance without actually getting completely naked. The audience was in love; they cheered and screamed, even after the performers left the stage.

"Seven," Denmark read, his tone slightly disgusted. "It was funny until his pants almost hit me in the head…"

"It was still funny to me," Norway said, checking his phone. "Four points."

"Six," Iceland read.

"E-Eight?" Finland read from his phone.

"Nothing," Sweden read flatly.

"I only gave him two points?" Spain cried out.

"Eight," Greece read.

"One," Estonia said.

"I didn't score him," Poland said.

"N-Neither did I," Lithuania squeaked.

"NO!" England shouted, jumping to his feet as he stared in horror at his phone. "There is no justice in this world!"

"What the hell are you whining about?" Ireland asked.

"I gave that frog-face two points! TWO!"

"Wow, so low?" America teased.

"I shouldn't have given him ANYTHING! He gave me nothing, I'm certain!"

"Well, this is turning out to be fun," Australia said. "A girl with giants boobs performed and we got an amusing striptease!"

New Zealand cuddled his sheep to him. "Since it was France, it's hardly amusing…"

"Well, imagine England doing the striptease!"

All the former British colonies gagged violently, including Hong Kong. England jumped up and glared at them. "Get out of here if the thought makes you sick! I don't have to sit here and take this abuse!"

"Way to call the kettle black," South Africa said snidely.

England gaped at him for a moment before sitting back down. "Never mind. I don't care anymore…"

It will very soon be the moment you've all been waiting for! That's right; Germany takes the stage in the next chapter!

I don't know why I tortured Iceland so much in this chapter. I'm so fond of his brotherly relationship with Norway, that I suppose I got a little carried away.

And yes, there were four winners in 1969: Spain, Netherlands, England, and France. Back then a perfect score was eighteen points, and all four countries got eighteen. Of course, eighteen is now an incredibly pitiful score in Eurovision, but I thought it was a fun fact, given that it is the last time Spain won. (poor Antonio)

Here's the English translation for France's song, as can be found at Eurovision's website:

"Everybody!

Ola, beautiful people who want to move
Surrender to the rhythm of the year
Go go go, you should take the advantage
It is a good day and we will celebrate it

Darling, you must get up and move your butt
Dancing, squeezed tight for a salty kiss
Take me by the hand, make me weak
Lala, it will heat up, I feel the stuff up

Come on, come on, come on, come on ole ola
Come on, come on, come on ole ola
Come on, come on, come on, come on ole ola
Come on, come on, come on, it's the sound of the year

Come on, come on, come on, come on
You've got to dance (everybody), dance (everybody)
Dancing, squeezed tight

Everybody dambadam badabadam badambadam badam
It's the sound of the year, dambadam badabadam badambadam badam dam
Everybody dambadam badabadam badambadam Badam
Gotta let go, dambadam badabadam badambadam Badam
(That's it, man) the rhythm of the year

Come on, come on, come on, come on ole ola
Come on, come on, come on ole ola
Come on, come on, come on, come on ole ola
Come on, come on, come on, it's the sound of the year

Hop, hop, hop
Hop, hop, hop

Everybody!

Whoo, whoo, humm
Come on (come on), come on (come on), you gotta dance
Everybody, everybody, oh …

Dambadam badabadam badambadam badam dam
Everybody dambadam badabadam badambadam badam dam
Everybody dambadam badabadam badambadam badam dam
Everybody dambadam badabadam badambadam badam
Everybody dambadam badabadam badambadam badam

Come on, come on, come on, come on ole ola
Come on, come on, come on ole ola
Come on, come on, come on, come on ole ola
Come on, come on, come on, it's the sound of the year"