A/N: Three . . . two . . . one . . . I'm-sorry-but-here's-your-chapter-and-I-hope-it-isn't-too-late-and-that-you'll-please-forgive-me-I-beg-of-you! *gasps for breath* OKAY. There are several things that contributed to this chapter being so late, but I didn't expect it to take over a month, and it caught me way off-guard when I realized that so much time had passed . . . *sweatdrop*

Man . . . well, this chapter fulfills the request of reviewer Tail Tie, and some of reviewer MehLikey's request with the featuring of a certain trio *hint*hint* but since this aforementioned certain trio will play a larger role in a later chapter that will also hopefully fulfill the request of reviewer Rebecca Frost, I'm not counting MehLikey's request fulfilled just yet. ^J^

Oh yeah, and *cough*SPOILERS*cough* the translation of the hint for this chapter is, as reviewer InsideMyBrain pointed out, "The Magic Trio and the Impressive Trio can get a little annoying after a while . . . VERY annoying." Here, "the Impressive Trio" was what I received putting "the Awesome Trio" through Google Translate . . . there didn't seem to be a direct translation of the word, since "awesome" and "awe-inspiring" both translated through to "impresionante". *sweatdrop*

But hey, the wait's been long enough already without an absurdly long A/N at the beginning, so on with the chapter!

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia: Axis Powers.

Spain's Dirty, Dirty Mouth: Requested by reviewer Tail Tie

"Tea. It's always during tea!" Britain fumed as he stood with Monaco and Macau, the Awesome Trio, and the rest of the Magic Trio. Monaco and Macau had first gathered the Awesome Trio before forcefully breaking into the Magic Trio's lair of board games and—AHEM, it was a coven that they totally performed magic in. Totally. Except they'd been in the middle of a tea break when the Awesome Trio decided to launch their grappling hooks through the wall—who shoots grappling hooks through the bloody wall?—at Monaco and Macau's demand and therefore Britain—who was already starting to be affected by tea withdrawal—was infuriated. Well, more than usual. "What kind of bloody wankers are you?"

"The awesome kind, kesesese!" Prussia had the audacity to actually beam.

"All we said was to help us fetch the Magic Trio," Monaco huffed. "It was utterly unnecessary to decimate the wall in the process."

"Dude, that's why we're awesome," America replied, high-fiving his fellow members of the Awesome Trio as the other nations facepalmed in response. "So, bros, why'd you call us here?"

"You know, since we've been standing here for a while and it's starting to get kind of boring," Denmark pouted. Seeing Monaco's apparently-unamused expression, he hastily added, "Not that it wasn't fun to begin with—we really did thoroughly enjoy breaking into the Magic Trio's lair, since that was awesome! Right, Nor—ACK! Kay, got it, bro! Won't break in again!"

Norway smiled slightly from where he was choking the other nation with his own tie as his fellow members of the Magic Trio made a mental note to never get on his bad side. "That was for not calling it a 'coven'. As for the act of breaking in . . . we'll be sending you the bill for the wall."

Denmark immediately sweatdropped, seeming to momentarily forget the fact that Norway was still trying to strangle him. "No! Anything besides that—we'll call it a 'coven', I swear! I'll even call you 'Big Brother'!"

"Fine, we'll only charge you for half the bill—but only if I never hear you even offer to call me 'Big Brother' ever again," Norway huffed, finally releasing the tie. There was Norway he was letting Denmark, of all nations, address him as "Big Brother"—kind of like how there was Norway he'd let the narrator use his name as a pun if he had his way. But then again, he has Norway.

"Thanks!" Denmark rasped as he readjusted his tie.

"Anyway, we have gathered you two trios here today in order to host a . . . competition of sorts to see which of you is better capable of . . . well . . ." Monaco fumbled uncharacteristically for her next words, finally seeming to give up and try again, "to see which of you is more skillful at the task we have chosen."

"Great, now could you just tell us what the bloody hell it is?" Britain snorted.

Right on cue, Macau entered the room . . . dragging what appeared to be a hooded figure tied to a chair behind him. Not suspicious in the slightest!

"Oh, bloody hell," Britain blanched. "That's a bloody person. What kind of wanker goes and abducts someone?"

"Maybe it's not as bad as it looks," Romania suggested.

"Are you kidding?" Britain whirled on his fellow member of the Magic Trio. "The bloke's been tied and gagged! Think of the bloody lawsuits that could be filed if he makes it out of this mess. What would that kind of debt call for? Higher taxes?"

Meanwhile, on the other side of the room, the Awesome Trio had been launched into a fangirling spree.

No, seriously. They were really fangirling all over the aforementioned what-appeared-to-be-a-hooded-figure-tied-to-a-chair. Like, really fangirling.

"He looks like something out of one of those spy-movie interrogations!" Prussia squealed—in a totally awesome manner, of course.

"Dude, are you joking?" America asked, "This totally is one of those spy-movie interrogations, bro! So . . . awesome!"

"It's so cool that I barely even remember why my neck still hur—ACK!" Denmark cut himself off as Norway yanked down on his tie once again. "Never mind!"

Deciding to move on, Monaco ripped the hood off the aforementioned what-appeared-to-be-a—Screw it, that name's way to long. Totally catchy, of course, but long. "Anyway, I am sure that you are all quite familiar with Spain?"

Apparently, the figure previous addressed with the totally-catchy-but-long name was none other than said nation himself, smiling happily at the eight other nations in the room as if he didn't mind anything about the situation at all. Not even that the ropes were starting to chafe at his wrists or that he was starting to get hungry after the long journey there . . . ha! Nope, not at all!

"You know, suddenly I don't really mind the bloody wanker being tied up in a chair against his will," Britain noted, considerably calmer.

Prussia blinked. "Wow, what sort of kinky are you?"

"Actually, Spain came up with the idea of being tied to the chair," Macau hopped in before Britain could protest. "He thought it would be fun to guess where we were taking him . . . though I'm not quite sure why."

"Are we in El Dorado?" he asked eagerly.

"No," Macau deadpanned.

"A tomato farm?"

"Do you see any growing here?" Macau asked pointedly.

"They could be tomatoes with an invisibility charm," Spain replied cheerily. Then he paused to consider his next guess. "Hmm . . . are we in a city full of casinos?"

"No."

As the questioning continued in the background—"Are we in a ketchup factory?" "I said no tomatoes!" "Lo siento, I didn't mean to get you all angry, senor! Maybe you'd like a cheer-up charm?"—Monaco pulled the Magic Trio and the Awesome Trio to the other side of the room, whispering hurriedly, "I don't have much time to say this, but Macau and I made another bet that involves all of you."

"We figured that much," Romania nodded, "but you still haven't told us what it is."

"Oui. Well . . ." Monaco hesitated. Then, steeling herself, blurted, "We-made-a-bet-on-which-of-you-could-get-Spain-to-say-a-dirty-word-first."

"You did WHAT?"

"Keep it down, he might hear!" Monaco hastily shushed them—"Are we backstage of Become One, Da?" "Nope." "Ay, ay, ay . . . can you give me a hint?" "Well, you already know there are no tomatoes." "Si, sadly . . ."—before adding, "Macau thinks it'll be the Magic Trio, but my bet is on the Awesome Trio."

"Hold up, why are you betting on those three wankers?"

Monaco grinned deviously. "Remind me what my official language is, eh?"

Britain facepalmed. ". . . That blasted frog. Still, why would we agree to this?"

"Whichever side succeeds will win this," she replied, taking out a piece of paper and scribbling down a number on it. The nations' eyes widened at the amount, mouths dropping open in shock.

America, meanwhile, frowned, "Dude, why's that 'C' have two lines through it?"

"It's the bloody euro symbol, you twat!" Britain snapped. America started to speak again, but was cut off, "Yes, it's money, and yes, it's a lot."

"Fine, then, if you're going to take the fun out of guessing," America pouted.

"Alright then," Romania said, turning to Monaco. "Well, I see no harm in trying, Money—I mean, Monaco! So, what do you say?"

In the background, Spain obliviously continued to guess, "Oh! Maybe it's not a tomato farm, but a different type of farm!"

"There are four walls and a ceiling, so I'm pretty sure we're indoors."

"But a farm has many parts!"

Several minutes later, both the Awesome Trio and the Magic Trio were lying on the ground groaning out of sheer frustration.

"How has the dude not said something dirty yet?" America complained, "Even 'Sofa King' didn't work on him . . . the guy must totally be a tank or something, bro!"

"If all else fails, maybe we could ask about his vital regions," Norway suggested.

"All else has failed," Britain reminded him, "So you might as well go for it now."

"Nein!" Prussia immediately protested, leaping to his feet. "There's no way the awesome me is going to find out that another one of my awesome friends has been a girl this whole time!"

"I'm sorry, but it has to be done for the greater good," Romania sighed.

"You mean winning part of a money mountain?" Denmark asked.

". . . Yeah," the Magic Trio admitted in unison, with Norway popping up behind him and yanking his tie once more.

"Just go for it, dudes," America urged. "I think I'm totally starting to go through burger withdrawal . . . this sucks, man . . ."

"Trust me, if anyone's going through a bloody withdrawal, it's me," said Britain—at this point, he was considering leaving in the next five minutes with or without the money mountain just so he could have another cup of tea because the idea of doing so sounded increasingly like, well, his cup of tea. "Now, let's just get this over with."

In the background, Prussia plugged his ears and began loudly singing a somewhat off-key "Everything is Awesome, But Not Quite as Awesome as the Awesome Me"—precautionary measures, of course. As awesome as Spain was, Prussia didn't want yet another traumatic experience finding out that one of his dude friends was actually a chick the whole time, and not even the soft yellow kind that sometimes flew around his head and sat in his hair and on his shoulder—kind of like a parrot, but way awesomer, of course.

"Spain," Romania began, walking up to said nation. "You're a guy, right?"

"Si," Spain beamed.

"What a relief," Prussia sighed, unplugging his ears. When the others cast him several pointed looks, he shrugged, "Hey, I'm too awesome not to know what you're saying no matter how hard you try."

". . . Okay then," said Romania, deciding to move things along. Turning back to Spain, he continued, "So, since you're a guy, you have a . . . you know . . . that thing . . . right?"

Spain stared at him in puzzlement. After a moment, though, his eyes dawned with realization.

"Oh, you mean that thing," he nodded solemnly. "Si, I have it indeed. It's huge, too."

"See?" asked Macau, nudging his companion. "It appears that the Magic Trio might win after all. I really hope that you aren't too—"

"How big is it, exactly?" Monaco interrupted, sounding a little too eager than what would have been considered appropriate.

"It appears that the bloody frog has influenced you in more than one way," Britain muttered.

"Hmm . . . I don't know," Spain admitted thoughtfully. "I guess I've never really measured it. I could take you there now, but, well . . . I can only let guys in."

"How many guys would that be, then?" Monaco immediately asked in return, not deterred in the slightest. If anything, she seemed even more excited. Scary.

Deciding to ignore Monaco's questions, Norway turned to Spain and sighed, "Just say the word already so we can go."

"What word?" he blinked.

"The word for that totally huge place that you have where there are no girls allowed, bro," America answered, nodding his head reverently.

"Ah, so you mean the man cave!" Spain grinned.

The Magic Trio and Macau facepalmed in admirable unison.

"Ja," Prussia agreed as Spain and the Awesome Trio high-fived. "That place is awesome, kesesese!"

"So, is it your turn to try?" Macau asked, turning to the Awesome Trio.

"Nah, we've all given up at this point," Denmark informed him chirpily.

"What? You can't do that!" Monaco and Macau exclaimed. "One of us has to win!"

"That's between the two of you," Romania said pointedly, already walking out the door with the others. "As for us, we're starting to get hungry, so we'll be going about now."

After the two trios left the room—the Magic Trio via door and the Awesome Trio via grappling hook, leaving a gaping hole in the ceiling—Monaco and Macau simply stared at each other. "So . . . who gets the money?"

Right on cue, there was a loud honk, causing the duo to leap back in surprise. And suddenly, a goose fell from the sky and landed on top of Spain's head . . . . No, not really.

But a car did break through the wall, and that definitely hadn't been there before.

"Spain, you jerk bastard!" Romano shouted as he stomped out of the car, slamming the door behind him.

He'd woken up to find his damn brother sleeping naked—he always slept like that; what kind of damn grudge did he have with clothes, anyway, eh?—in bed next to him; upon waking up, his brother had immediately sprung out of the bed and went running for the potato bastard with a shout of "Ve, fratello looks angry! Terrifying!"—Romano needed his beauty sleep, dammit!—but had left so quickly that the blanket was still over his shoulders, leaving Romano to be awake and feeling damn cold. So he did the most logical thing he could think of.

He stole a car and went looking for the tomato bastard. But the thing was, the car he stole didn't belong to Spain . . .

Somewhere far, far away, France had set down his newspaper and was staring at Britain in surprise. "Angleterre, how'd you get here so fast? I thought Monaco said she planned on kidna—Er, keeping you occupied for a while."

"She did," Britain deadpanned, picking up the cup of tea he had left behind, "but thankfully, I was able to return fairly quickly with the help of some of my magical friends."

"Fine, if you're not in the mood for telling me the truth," France pouted. Before Britain could protest that his friends were indeed real, he casually resumed reading and asked offhandedly, "By the way, did you see my car on the way in? I could have sworn that I parked it right outside . . ."

Sounding forebodingly tranquil, Britain confirmed, "Well, I happen to have a rather good idea of where it is."

France looked at him suspiciously. "You didn't steal it, did you?"

"No," Britain scoffed, taking another long sip of tea. Finding this answer an adequate one, France reached over to take sip at a drink of his own. ". . . But Romano did."

And so France wound up spending the rest of the afternoon wiping the remnants of his spit take off of the furniture of an especially-furious Britain. ("Coffee! If it was tea, I would understand. If it was water, I would be more tolerable. If it was alcohol, I would . . . well, I would probably kick you out in every sense of the word, frog. But bloody coffee?")

". . . Isn't that France's car?" Monaco raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, but let's not get damn technical with it, okay?" Romano glared. Proceeding to gesture wildly at Spain—"Hey look, guys, it's Romano! Oh, and there's a car through the wall. Huh. You remembered to buckle your seatbelt this time, didn't you? You did? You did! Ah, that's so wonderful!"—Romano ignored his oblivious smiling and demanded, "Now what crapola are you trying to pull here with the damn tomato bastard?"

Monaco and Macau glanced at each other nervously. "Well . . ."

"Well, what?" Romano asked impatiently.

Looking over her shoulder first to make sure that Spain wouldn't hear them—"Actually, that car's starting to look strangely familiar . . ."—Monaco quickly informed Romano about the bet, ending with ". . . and they left right before you . . . uh . . . drove through the wall."

". . . That's it?" Romano blinked. Monaco and Macau stared at him in surprise as he continued, "And the first person to succeed gets part of your damn hoard?"

"Yes, but the task seems to be more difficult than expected," Macau confirmed.

Romano simply scoffed and called out, "Spain, you bastard, what are some of my favorite words to use?"

"That's easy!" Spain beamed. "There's—"

The following list has been omitted for predictable reasons, but suffice to say that it left Monaco and Macau effectively gobsmacked and possibly traumatized. Romano, on the other hand, smugly strode out of the room with both the tomato bastard and a money mountain of his own in tow.

". . . Let's agree to never speak of this again."

The Fangirl Code, #10: A Fangirl will never say "never speak of this again" and simply forget about the matter at hand when said matter is in any way related to their fandom(s), regardless of how strong or how vague such relations may be.

Notes on this Chapter:

Reviewer Tail Tie requested two things, the first being the Magic Trio versus the Awesome Trio, but since I found out that I don't seem to be able to write rap battle scenes very well . . . I used the next-best nerve-wracking sort of competition I could think of—trying to make Spain say dirty words. As in swear words, not the . . . er . . . yeah. *sweatdrop* As for the other request, it turns out that that hasn't been fulfilled in this chapter, so that'll probably be in the next chapter.

As for what exactly will be inside the next several chapters, I haven't figured that out entirely yet, but as I already said, Chapter 11 will hopefully fulfill the other part of reviewer Tail Tie's request, and Chapter 12 will hopefully fulfill the requests of reviewer Rebecca Frost and reviewer MehLikey. ^J^

Let's see, I have to go somewhere soon, so I better finish this quickly. On with the not-quite-definitions!

"El Dorado": Referred to a Native American chief who covered himself with gold dust and ritualistically leapt into a lake, then a city, then a kingdom, then the supposed empire of this aforementioned king, according to Wikipedia. The Spanish phrase "El Dorado" translates to "The Golden One" in English. "El Dorado" is also in the notes of Chapter 27, "America's Vegas 2.0: Part 1", of America's WHAT?, and has a more detailed sort-of-definition-thing-y there, though you can also search it up online if you want to look further into it. ^J^

"Sofa King": Verbally, it may be pronounced to sound like a certain cuss with the word "so" tacked to the beginning.

"There's no way the awesome me is going to find out that another one of my awesome friends has been a girl this whole time!": Prussia and Hungary, canon reference (Hetalia: World Series). Not quite sure which season, but if you've seen it, then you probably know what I'm talking about. If not, there's still the Wiki page for Prussia and Hungary that can be referred to, I think. ^J^ As for what you should probably expect for the next chapter . . .

Hint: It involves two very observant groups and someone whose amazing-ness has graced this very chapter.

Prussia: *snorts* "Yeah, yeah. 'Amazing' is okay and all that, but what about 'awesome'?"

Me: "It's not referring t—"

Germany: "NEIN! No spoilers!"

Prussia: *cackles* "Stay awesome!"