*I wanted to give a shoutout to Stardust98. She gave me of couple awesome suggestions for last chapter that I actually liked better than my idea, but I'd already written most of it, and I would have gone far too in-depth with them. But I still want to do something with them XD Thanks!*

And there he stood at John F. Kennedy International Airport, waiting.

The party was taking place at a venue in Manhattan. America was planning on going for broke this year: He'd chosen the Ritz Carlton. Every year that they'd chosen a four- or five-star venue, they'd been perma-banned from it. The Ritz had been forewarned by other hotels to deny him their ballroom, but the large sum of money they'd been paid spoke much louder.

Countries had been flying in all day; Prussia himself, along with France, Spain, Italy, Romano, and Germany, had only arrived about an hour earlier, and Hungary's flight was due in any moment. He'd seen quite a few other countries, mostly European; some of the northern European countries (namely Finland, Sweden, Iceland, Norway, and Denmark) had chartered a private jet to fly in together, and he'd also run into Switzerland and Liechtenstein when he arrived. He hadn't seen many other countries; America didn't know many African nations very well (Kenya was the only one on the guest list; they'd been getting to know each other better since 2008,) and any Asian or South American countries would have been flying into LaGuardia.

Prussia let his mind drift back to a few days ago, when the planning began.

He really didn't want to call those two. He so did not want them to know. But this was not a situation he had the know-how to handle alone. Not wanting them to sound an international crisis warning (which he was legitimately afraid might happen,) he called them the day of Hungary's departure, but he didn't tell them why they were being summoned until they arrived several hours later.

Since she'd discovered the truth, and his situational adrenaline had worn off, he'd hardly left his room any time he didn't know she wasn't at the house. This irritated Germany on the day she'd left, who was about to go drag Prussia out of his room as punishment for his rudeness, but Hungary stopped him, knowing that the whole thing would be far too awkward for Prussia. Germany smiled inwardly at this. It was like they had a perfect understanding of one another. For former enemies, Germany could see what his brother saw in her.

Prussia had worked up the nerve to come out and say a very clearly awkward goodbye to her before she'd left for the airport. She returned the farewell with a quick, friendly hug, which made the taller country blush madly and caused his brain to short-circuit, but nonetheless he hugged her back. Fortunately, the contact was not there long enough for him to get too attached, and she was soon off with Germany on a return trip to the airport. Italy rode with them, but he was coming back; Prussia had personally requested that he stay for another couple of days.

When those two arrived that evening, Germany was the one to answer the door. Looking through the peep hole, he immediately sighed, and reluctantly opened the door.

"Oh great. Mein bruder invited over the Apocalypse."

"¡Hola, Alemania!" Spain waved happily, ignoring the begrudging comment. France seemed less excited to see the German, but greeted him with a, " Bonsoir, Allemagne."

That was one thing that bugged him about these two. They both had a habit of tossing in words from their native languages. The typically-devised system of speaking between nations was to speak the native language of whatever country they were in. Unless they were speaking to America, because no one wanted to hear him butcher their native language, and he got a kick out of their accents, anyway. Pretty much only Latin American countries could handle it without wanting to kill him.

Spain had a bad habit of throwing random Spanish words into his speech, and France had one of throwing in entire sentences, then repeating them in whatever language he was supposed to be speaking. It could get quite painful to listen to.

"Guten Abend. Prussia's upstairs. Tell him Italy and I will be up in a second."

"Do you know what all of this is about, Germany?" Spain inquired. "He didn't tell us anything."

"Yes, but I think you'd better hear it straight from the horse's mouth."

Spain looked at France, who simply shrugged back, and the two entered the house, removing their shoes and placing them into the entryway closet, before getting into a short discussion about what it could possibly be, that faded as they treaded up the stairs. Germany called for Italy, who was already on his way with some biscotti, beer, and wine he'd prepared at Prussia's request, and they followed the other two up the stairs.

"Prussia! Nous sommes arrivés; we have arrived~!" France sung as he tossed open the door to Prussia's room.

He was happy they were there, but at the same time, he was dreading their reaction. Italy also came in with treats for their guests, and…

"Germany; you're not allowed!" frowned Prussia.

Germany looked offended. "Why not?" he scoffed.

"No traitors permitted past this point!" He pointed to the doorframe.

"If it weren't for me, you probably wouldn't be sitting here with France, Spain, Italy, and biscotti right now." Germany rose a very good point, gesturing toward the two more western countries on the bed, the southern country in the desk chair, and the tray of treats the latter was holding. "And, you already got your revenge." Germany shuddered, remembering the aftermath of yesterday's episode. He still didn't feel quite clean, but Italy was afraid that if he showered anymore, he'd rub off his skin. "I want to hear what they have to say."

Prussia glared at him. "More like you want to see my reaction to what they say, you bastard," he mumbled into his beer. He didn't strictly say so, but Germany knew by his response that he was okay to stay. Call it "brotherly understanding", if you will.

France and Spain were getting more and more interested by the second. "Well, don't keep us in the dark any longer!" Spain demanded.

"Fine," Prussia sighed, standing up. "My friends, and asshole little brother: I need your help… getting ready for a date."

France and Spain's eyes lit up like fireworks. "Oh; this is wonderful!" France shouted. Prussia was still uneasy; the next question would be coming very-

"Who is the lucky lady!?" The two asked in perfect unison. Creepy.

Prussia dissolved into mumbling, until the area around the bush was very, very well beaten. "Um… you see, she's, ah…" Prussia's eyes made contact with his brother's for a time so short, than blinking would have resulted in him missing it. But Germany did not blink, and he caught that sign. Brotherly understanding to the rescue once more, he explained for his mentally stuck brother:

"It's Hungary."

Two jaws hit the bed, and one could practically see the words "Mon dieu!" and " ¡Dios mío!" radiating toward the ceiling.

"But that…"

"But she…"

"But you…"

France and Spain were stuck in this state of dumbfounded babbling for at least another good ten seconds, before the pair wordlessly rose, their eyes hidden behind shadows, their bodies marching closer and close toward Prussia, France on his left and Spain on his right.

Each slapped a hand down on one of Prussia's shoulders. The former country looked very, very unsure about this, eyes wide and mouth low.

Once again, the two managed to yell in perfect unison:

"THIS IS AN EMERGENCY!"

"We need more details! Where are you going?" France began to interrogate and figure out the current situation at hand, but Spain smacked him on the shoulder.

"¡Idiota! We can't jump into that yet; Prussia has to tell us what happened first!"

"Uhhh… personally, I like France's way of handling things better-"

"No getting around it! You tell us the whole story now!"

Prussia sighed. Sighing seemed like it was going to be a constant theme of the night. He told them the story of what'd happened, right up to where they were going for their "date", answering their questions, and having Germany help to fill in the parts that he'd so deviously played.

"Wow, Germany, you are a salaud, a real jerk, no?" France asked playfully.

"Hey. If I had a brother who was being an idiot for so long, I would so the same thing. Don't you agree Italy?"

Italy nodded. "Yeah; I don't have that problem much with Romano, but sometimes, if a lady is really pretty, he'll freeze up and I'll have to play a little dirty in order to bring them together! It just means Germany is being a good brother. Besides," he gave a cute smile, "aren't younger brothers supposed to be a little annoying sometimes, anyway?"

True that. "Okay, anyway, now that I have been thoroughly humiliated, will you guys help me?"

France frowned. He'd frowned earlier when Prussia told him about the destination of their date, and now that they were back on the subject of the date, he thought again about the location. "Why did you say you wanted to take her there for your first date? You should have brought her to a five-star restaurant in Paris. You know I would have treated you well."

Prussia bared his gritted teeth and looked away, a look that said, "Do you KNOW how awkward a one-on-one date with Hungary would be!?"

"It would have been romantic!"

"I think that would be the problem…" mused Italy. "If Prussia's anything like Germany, 'romantic' isn't his strong suit. He would probably just freeze up and look real silly!" The comment was innocent, but managed to lower the spirits of both of the German citizens. Italy noticed their defeated postures, and tried to take it back. "I don't mean that in a bad way! You're really nice, Germany, and I'm sure you're going to do fine, Prussia! That's why we're here to help you!"

Spain nodded once, eyes determined. "Sí. You've got the representations of the three most romantic countries in the world right here. Experienced in pleasing a woman's mind,"

"Heart," Italy added,

"And body~" France concluded.

"I hate to throw a fork in your speech, but doesn't Italy go around with the virginity-proclaiming all the time?" Prussia pointed out.

Italy grinned smugly and shrugged before saying,

"I mean… who kills a virgin?"

Germany wasn't sure whether he was more shocked that Italy had been smart enough to use his apparently non-existent "virginity" as a defense tactic, that Italy had been stupid enough to think that it would actually work, or that it probably actually had. But hey, it couldn't have hurt; he was still there, wasn't he? He decided that the most surprising part of this was that no one else seemed even remotely surprised.

"Fair enough," Prussia spoke. "I may be no virgin, and I can get in a woman's head for as long as my needs require, but this isn't some one-night stand. And this isn't just some woman… This woman is special… And I have a terrible feeling I'm going to screw this up in the least awesome way possible."

"Relax, mi cúmbila!" Spain patted his friend on the back. "With our help, you can't go wrong! We just have to plan everything, and run through a list of scenarios. Alright, so first things first, when she gets into America, you're going to want to pick her up from the airport in style…"

He looked up at the new batch of arrivals.

And there she was.

She was glamorous.

Something about Hungary allowed her to look stunning in the most simple of dress designs: A black, spaghetti strap dress with a lovely lilac-colored flower attached at the base of the left strap. The dress, as she moved, subtly reflected the surrounding light with a layer of glittery shimmer beneath the top black veil of fabric. She also wore a black, glitter-kissed flower as a hair barrette, framing her face to her right. She'd straightened her naturally wavy hair, but the extended flight had the effect of giving some bounce to the ends, creating an even better effect. Her hair could have been frizzed all over her head and Prussia wouldn't have cared, though. She was stunning, no matter how much or little effort she put into it.

He himself didn't look half bad. White suit, black shirt, and a purple tie that coordinated wonderfully with Hungary's flower. He had a very unlikely ally to thank for that. The last person in the world he'd have expected, actually.

Prussia hadn't been expecting Austria to be the one at the door. Apparently his brother had called in a favor. The visiting country had a cool look on his face, neither bitter nor friendly, and Germany brought both of them to the living room to talk. After bringing a couple of glasses of beer, he left the two "alone" (his definition of alone was 'right around the corner eavesdropping to make sure the whole thing didn't go south.)

But it never did. This may have even been the most civil the two'd ever acted around one another. Austria gave Prussia advice about the things Hungary did and didn't like. What drove her wild, and what drove her insane. The little things he might not notice, but should know were happening, and the little things he did notice, and what they meant. He told stories about their dates, and relationships, and the two laughed about things that only two men talking about the same girl could.

"Why are you doing this?" Prussia asked. There was no suspicion in his voice; it was just an honest question. "I know Germany asked you to, but I would have expected you to say no. We're not exactly the best of friends, and she is your ex-wife.

Austria looked down into his mug of beer. "Prussia… I don't know if you've come to realize this yet, but if not, I am sure you soon will. Hungary… there's something about her. No matter what, no matter your relationship with her, no matter how you feel about her… you want her to be happy. Of course, if you can make her happy, that's wonderful, but even if you're not the one who can…" he sighed heavily. "You will have to see for yourself. You will know what I mean."

Prussia's gaze was soft. He'd never seen this side of the Austrian before-not that he'd ever been this close to him without the two duking it out. "Mm," he acknowledged. He'd know that feeling. Whenever she was upset, he could hardly keep himself from doing something about it. The only reason he usually wasn't able to was because nine times out of ten, he was the one who made her upset in the first place.

"And you'd better not screw things up like you normally do! Germany managed to talk me into this by saying you're actually trying this time, but I see something so small as the corners of her mouth turned slightly downward-"

"I won't mess this up. I know that there are no second chances here. I can't just give up and try again later. Besides," he placed a boastful hand on his chest, "I am far too awesome to screw this up."

'What if I screw this up?' Prussia caught himself thinking. Hungary had seen him, acknowledged him, and was now only about three strides away from him. 'What do I do now!?' he panicked. 'Words, right. Make words! A… a compliment! And don't make it crude!"

"Wow…" he started. His first reaction was to say something like, "I'm surprised you clean up so nice," but he bit his tongue. "You look… amazing. Awesome, even."

Saying something like that had been Germany's idea. He'd posed the theory that if Prussia suddenly turned into a super suave romantic, Hungary would be freaked out. Throwing in little things that made Prussia himself would prevent that.

Hungary smirked. "You don't clean up bad yourself, sir. I hope we'll be able to make it on time. I hear the traffic in New York is atrocious."

"Not a problem. We will get there in plenty of time. Did you bring anything else with you?"

Hungary had a small shoulder bag, large enough to hold a few changes of clothing and some essentials. "Nope, this is it. How are we getting to the party?"

"That's a secret," Prussia winked. "Would you like me to carry your bag?"

Hungary was quite the independent woman, and if she could do something herself, she would. "Thanks, but I can carry it myself. It's not that heavy. As for our transportation… should I be afraid…?"

Hungary's reaction was pretty much the opposite of fear, when she realized that the navy blue Rolls Royce Phantom they'd walked up to was their ride to the party. The chauffer bowed and greeted the lady, taking her bag from her to place in the trunk. Prussia went to open the door for her.

"Prussia, you… you didn't have to go through all of this trouble!" She'd expected to be taking a taxi, at best.

"This is my one chance," Prussia explained. "I'd go through all the trouble in the world for…" he trailed off, still finding it difficult to speak what he felt for her out loud. "But I mean, that's not the only reason; it's not like if this happened again, I wouldn't do it. I just want to show you the best, is all. Plus, a lovely lady deserves a lovely car… and all… so…"

Hungary smiled at Prussia's rambling. "Thank you very much." She entered the car through the open door. Prussia closed it once she was situated, and ran around the back of the car to get in on the other side. "I have to admit, it is nice seeing you be a gentleman for once."

"Yeah, well… I didn't exactly plan to be a jerk to you all of those years, it just sort of happened. If I'd had it my way, this would have happened a long time ago."

They talked about various things during the ride as they sipped on champagne from the car's minibar, but Prussia found it difficult to focus. His mind was repeatedly, deafeningly, screaming, "I'M ON A DATE WITH HUNGARY! I'M ON A DATE WITH HUNGARY!"

"Prussia?" Hungary questioned.

"Hm?" he snapped back to attention.

"I was saying that I think it's time to get out," she repeated.

"Oh, yeah, sorry. They'd been starting and stopping so much in the hour they'd been in traffic that he hadn't even noticed they'd reached their final destination.

The outside of the hotel appeared simple enough: A stone façade lined the face of the first floor, and a not very particular-looking awning stretched over the entry. But the Ritz Carlton name spoke for itself, and the area they were met once they entered certainly lived up to that name.

"Wow; I've never been in a hotel this nice!" Hungary was shocked by the extravagance of the lobby. She'd stayed in her share of four- and five-star hotels around the world, but this one in particular struck some sort of cord with her.

"I can't believe you're making the lady carry her own bag!" said a distinctly French voice from behind the two.

They turned around, surely enough to see France behind them. He was wearing a white button-down shirt with the first couple of buttons undone, and black dress pants with black shoes. The party was not a black-tie event, but they'd been informed to dress nicely.

Prussia had told Hungary on the ride over that Spain, France, and Italy had helped him make sure he wasn't going to do anything idiotic. "I'm quite fine carrying my own bag," she explained politely. "If Prussia suddenly started to treat me like a delicate flower, I don't know what I'd do!"

"Probably sock me in the face…" Prussia mumbled. France frowned, thinking of his response as slightly crude, but Hungary didn't seem to mind. In fact, she grinned and agreed.

"You're probably right! Just because I'm in a fancy dress doesn't mean you should take me lightly. It's a good thing you realize that!"

"I've seen what happens to people who don't realize that. I don't wish to make the same mistake," he chuckled lightly.

France smiled. 'So. That's how it is.' "You two should get into the party and say hi to the birthday boys!"

Prussia caught something knowing in France's expression, but he couldn't pick out exactly what he was. He let it flutter out of mind, and he and Hungary nodded in agreement with France, then went inside of the ball room. What the night had in store, Prussia didn't know, but he hoped it was something perfect.

*I probably won't cover the actual party. If anyone REALLY wants me to, I'll do it later on. Next chapter will probably be the last one, but I might do a couple of alternate endings.*