"Merry Christmas!" Sealand winced as Ladonia's voice cut through his pillow and into his ear. Ladonia's pillow soon followed suit.

"M'rry Christm's," he mumbled back, before sitting up and rubbing at his bleary eyes, "D'you get me anything?"

Ladonia shrugged, "Nope. Wasn't bothered."

Sealand pouted, "Really? Well, I didn't bother to get you anything either!"

"It's not that I wasn't bothered," Ladonia took it upon himself to clarify, "I just didn't have time."

"Me neither. And they still think I had something to do with the pasta and I'm not allowed down to the village."

"They still do? I mean, I know you put it in and everything, but it was really France's fault, right?"

"Yeah, it was totally his fault! And I've told the teachers a load of times that it was him and that jerk England, but they both say it wasn't them, so the principal's blaming me and France. And not even England!"

Ladonia shrugged, "Oh well. No use worrying about it on Christmas day, huh? You are going to the party later, right?"

"Yeah! It sounds like it'll be really good!"

"They're probably over-exaggerating. But it does sound good, and most of the other students will be gone so we won't have to pretend so much."

In fact it was only the nations who were staying in school for Christmas. Which was to be expected, because it was Christmas, but Sealand and Ladonia weren't to know that. Being enthusiastic about their students feeling at home, the teachers planned a party every Christmas, which they usually ended up just going to themselves. It was a rare spectacle, the sight of about twenty grown men and women getting to a state that most people would assume to be drunkenness were it not for the fact that there was no alcohol present. As nobody would be seen dead at such an affair, this year marked the first time any students had turned up at all. Apparently a team comprised of Hungary, Denmark, Prussia and America had been tasked with making the 'party' into something slightly more acceptable, for which everybody was very grateful, even the teachers. Whatever their opinions on the general attitude of what they believed to be just a group of new students, every member of staff still in the building was glad that they were going to be having slightly more impressive festivities this year. It helped them to feel less sad about their lack of meaningful lives.

"D'you think anybody else will have got us presents?" Sealand asked.

"Nah," Ladonia replied, shrugging, "They've probably been kept locked up here too. It's like we're in prison or something."

"Yeah," Sealand agreed. He was used to running around on his fort with the wind, not being cooped up inside, "Now hurry up, I want breakfast!"

Sealand made sure to grab his hat before leaving. He didn't wear his sailor costume all the time, even if it was exceptionally cool, but the hat was something he liked to hang on to. It reminded him of home, of the rusty old fort in the middle of the sea that nobody else knew existed. Sometimes it made Sealand sad, that no one paid any attention to him, but he would always console himself with the fact that one day, one day, they'd all be sorry. He'd become the great and mighty Sealand, and they'd all bow to him then. Besides, it was Christmas, so there was no point in being sad.

As he trundled downstairs with Ladonia, Sealand spotted England. He didn't like England. He didn't! But you were supposed to be nice to people on Christmas day, and wish them a merry Christmas and give them your best wishes for the New Year. And even if it was England...

"Merry Christmas, jerk England!" Sealand said cheerfully. England stopped, blinking. He looked different. Smaller, somehow – the change was particularly striking when he was stood beside France or America. His hair was even messier than before, sticking up every which way and his face was softer. He was frowning less, too. Sealand liked it, and not just because it annoyed England. It made the older country look nicer. More like a big brother.

"Oh, Merry Christmas, Sealand," England smiled, "Don't eat too many sweets."

Sealand was flustered for a second, before reverting back to his default annoyance when around England.

"I can eat as many sweets as I want!" he said stubbornly, before running over to Ladonia, who was talking with Kugelmugel. England's chuckle followed him downstairs.

Inside the dining room the nations were slightly more careful with using their human names, at least when the teachers were patrolling particularly close to them. Awkward questions were not what they wanted on Christmas day. Sealand saw Sweden and Finland sitting with the rest of the Nordics and hurried over.

"Ma – Tino! Berwald! Merry Christmas!"

"M'rry Chr'stmas, Pet'r, Osk'r," Sweden replied. It took Sealand a couple of seconds to remember that Oskar was Ladonia. The other micro-nation was glaring fiercely at Sweden, but everyone ignored that.

"Merry Christmas!" Finland echoed.

"Yeah, Merry Christmas, runt," Denmark said. Norway rapped him smartly on the head with a spoon.

"Hey! I'm not a runt!"

"Yeah," Denmark replied, "You both are!"

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

"You're both as childish as the other," Norway muttered, "Which should be the real point here."

"Am not!" Denmark protested with the innately juvenile ability to change what it was he was arguing about, and what side of the argument he was on, at top speed. This skill also manifests itself in politicians, further proving Denmark's point that he would have made a great Student Council president.

The day passed without much incident, slight disagreements between Hungary and Prussia at whether the accent colour in the hall should be mint or forest green aside. Whoever had decided to allow them both on the Committee for Making This Party Awesome had been unanimously declared by everybody in the school to be even more of an idiot than Italy, but the school hadn't been blown up by the start of the celebration so it wasn't that big of a deal. As the day drew to a close, the students filed into the hall in dribs and drabs, chattering and laughing and generally acting as though they were not a group of centuries-old anthropomorphic personifications of countries who had fought with nearly everyone else in the room at least once.

The music started up and drinks were passed around. Hungary had taken it upon herself to provide clear labels for the alcohol and non-alcoholic beverages. Prussia had taken it upon himself to swap around every label he could. The ensuing game of chasing and label-swapping meant that really nobody knew which was which.

The two stood in a corner of the room, neither one of them bothering to dance just yet. There weren't enough people inside the hall for that; and besides, they weren't drunk. Hungary watched fondly as Austria began to play the piano, so absorbed in the music that he didn't notice that everybody else was watching. Prussia scoffed.

"Can't Mr Priss go play in some abandoned classroom or something? He'd probably have more fun in there on his own than here."

Hungary decided that she didn't want to hit Prussia with a frying pan just yet. It was too nice just sitting back and watching before complete and utter chaos descended. Because it was obvious that that was going to happen.

"You know that we're letting him play until the party's in full swing to make it seem respectable," she told him. He shrugged.

"Yeah, but still. Nobody's going to listen to him and he doesn't even realise."

"He doesn't need to."

Prussia scoffed again, "Too absorbed in himself, huh?"

"You do realise that you insult him far too much for it to be normal, don't you?"

"I still can't believe you...what's that thing called?"

"Shipping?"

"Yeah, that. I still can't believe you ship us."

Hungary laughed, "Who says I do?"

"But you wrote about it! In your magazine thingy, we were like the third one! It was awful, I couldn't even look at Austria for days. Not that I would anyway, of course!"

"Of course," Hungary said playfully, "Why would anyone even think that?"

"Yeah, exactly! That's my entire point! It's just...I am way too awesome for him, okay?"

"Of course, Prussia," she said absent-mindedly, twirling the straw that somebody had shoved into her punch. By this point Hungary had no idea which type it was.

"Hey Hungary?"

"Yes?"

Hungary looked up at Prussia curiously. The expression on his face was different. Almost...uncomfortable.

"Which...which one of them do you actually like? The boat thingies. With you and me and...him."

She stopped her random train of thought about which kitchen appliances made better weapons so abruptly it crashed into the one about Austria's glasses. That sounded like a simple question; who did she prefer with whom? She knew who she liked Sweden with – sorry, didn't everybody? – but not herself. Not Prussia, or Austria. There was so much weight behind the issue; centuries upon centuries. Of marriage and separation and childhood friendship and fantasy and awkward questions and it boiled down to who she liked and who she didn't.

"I don't...I don't know. I think."

Hungary stood up, about to walk away. She stopped. She leaned in and kissed her friend – because that was who he really was, despite all the fights and the possible concussions. She did not kiss him for very long. She also did not kiss him on the cheek.

"Merry Christmas, Prussia."

And Hungary walked away.

Because though I ship Austria/Hungary and will do until I die, I will always be a little bit of a PruHunner. If you're reading this, RoseOfTheHills, you should be worshipping me. I really don't know what this chapter is about; it went from micro-nations to Nordics to Prussia and Hungary. And there was too much fluff. I'm choking. I'm sorry I didn't get this up until now, I had it half written by Christmas Eve and was planning to finish it that night but then I had the flu over Christmas and have been too sick to write. I'm also sorry that this is such a bad chapter, but I wanted to get it up for you guys. Merry belated Christmas to everybody who celebrates, and good health to all of you who don't.