BFTL: HOORAY FOR MASS UPLOADS!

Chapter 12: Fairy Talk

The weeks past, September ending and October starting. The days were getting cooler, though for Ella, Natale, and Melinda, things were just heating up. Every time Ella wanted to be with Russia, China would politely point her in the opposite direction; Barce and Germany were getting the silent treatment from their little Italian; but Prussia was seemingly keeping himself by Ottawa's side. The girl's noticed that he was always outside of her dorm, waiting for her every morning and was always walking her back. Her friends didn't comment, much to the Canadian's relief.

Natale

It was raining one day, with heavy storm clouds and a seemingly dark sky. Rome liked days like this for some reason; but don't take that the wrong way, Rome liked the sun. It was probably for the sole reason that it was always sunny and bright in Italy, though, that she liked days like this. They were rarer, much rarer.

She stood outside under the awning of the big double doors leading into the school, facing the wet and muddy soccer field. If only fratello were here, she thought. He loved to play around in the mud, kicking the soccer ball around and sliding on the slick grass.

Natale walked out onto the field, standing here and looking up into the sky, breathing in the watery air. She was drenched within seconds, her clothes and wet hair sticking to her skin. after this, Rome decided she'd go back to the dorm and take a shower. Just a little bit longer . . .

She opened her eyes and furrowed her brow. Rome turned around to see Germany standing right behind her. "What do you want?" she snapped.

"I want to apologize." he said, the rain messing up his perfectly combed hair. His icy blue eyes looked full of sadness.

"Humph." Rome turned around and looked away defiantly. No way she was going to accept his apology, not this soon after he'd messed everything up. Why did boys always seem to screw things up, just when they were going along so smoothly?

Germany knew this might happen. He pulled the silent Italian into his arms and hugged her tightly. She struggled, harshly elbowing him in the stomach, but the German pinned her arms to her sides and turned her around. "Roma," he began, "please, just listen to me."

She glared at him and looked away, starting to squirm again. Germany pulled her up to his chest and wrapped his arms around her, nuzzling into the crook of her neck. "Roma, please?" he said over the clattering on the rain.

Natale stopped her squirming and relaxed her tense muscles a bit, allowing herself to be pulled even closer to him. Germany took that as a 'go ahead' and looked her in the eye. "I'm sorry I said all the things I did, Rome. I have to stop assuming so many things all the time."

"Oh," Natale was at a loss for words.

And apparently, so was Germany. He just looked at her for another moment then gently put his forehead on hers, closed his eyes and whispered to himself, "Warum zum Teufel ist das so schwer zu sagen?"

"Germany?"

Germany opened his eyes and looked at her.

"You DO know I have absolutely no idea what you just said, right?"

"Oh, d-did I say that in German?"

"Mmhmm."

"Oh, seriously."

"Yes."

"Oh, well," Germany looked off into the distance for a second then suddenly burst, "I love you Roma!"

"Wa. . . ?"

Germany gently cupped the little Italian's face and leaned down a little bit closer.

"Gri-gri-gringo!"

Germany stopped, centimeters away from Rome's lips. Verdammt! he swore to himself. He was so close to kissing her, too. He looked up and sighed, letting go of Rome's face and wrapping his arms around her waist protectively. There was only one person that would call him 'gringo': "What do you want, Barce?"

The Spaniard seemed to be up in flames, even unprotected from the rain as he was. "Keep . . . your . . . damn . . . hands . . . off . . . MY . . . PRINCESSA!"

"Barce, she never was yours to begin with." Germany said, holding the scared little Italian capital closer. She had gone limp, probably from fear of Barcelona.

"And she wasn't YOURS either!"

"She liked me from the start, it was clearly obvious." Germany snapped back.

"No she didn't." Barce said, storming up to the German.

"Fine then. Let's let Rome decide."

The country and the city both looked down at the capital-just to realize that she'd fainted during their fight.

Rome woke up in Grandpa's office. "What happened?" she asked, sitting up. "And why am I all muddy?"

"You fainted when Germany and Barce were fighting over you, nipote." Grandpa said, walking up to her. He was soaked to the bone with a contented smile on his face. "They'd gotten into a fight over who's fault it was."

"Who's fault for what?"

"Why you'd fainted. Ludwig was telling Barce that he'd scared you so much that you fainted, and Barce was accusing Ludwig of poisoning you. I heard them out there and had to throw them both into the Principal's office while I took you back here."

"They were what?"

"Don't you remember?"

Roma shook her head, incredibly confused. "No."

"None of this rings a bell to you, nipote?" he asked.

"Noooooo." Natale said, distressed.

Grandpa sighed. "Well, don't worry about it. Go back to you're dorm and wash up."

Natale nodded, still incredibly confused, and walked out, hearing Grandpa mumble something about why people never remember an dramatic plot point.

Ella

Ella was stalking the halls, in a foul mood. Poland had taken some of her clothes and was now cross-dressing with them. She was going to hunt him down, incapacitate him and take her clothes back, even if it took her all day.

As she walked down the hallway she looked out one of the many big windows that lined the halls. She saw the grounds, vast and green, colors appearing darker because of the downpour. She was wearing long pants and jackets and shawls, but it didn't help, It was too cold in this country in the winter. It was times like this when she envied countries that were tempered to extreme weather. In her country, even in the winter, it was mild outside. She sat down at the bench-like sofa under the window and pulled her legs in, curling into a ball trying to conserve warmth, with her head on the window sill, watching the rain fall.

She thought about the rain that fell back home. During the rainy seasons, the rain would fall so fast it would be highly reminiscent of a hurricane; falling in an almost horizontal pattern, snapping trees with its fierce winds. Not all of the storms were like this, but they were the only ones she remembered so... She could find Poland later, its not like he was hard to find, his obnoxious voice carried well~

The girl awoke in the same sofa she had been sitting on just a moment ago. Did I fall asleep? she thought in a semi-conscious manner without moving. She didn't even open her eyes, she felt much more comfortable than she had when she had sat down, most notably, much warmer. She must have moved in her sleep because now she was laying against the arm of the sofa with her legs out in front of her.

Ella didn't care if she was in the middle of the hallway, she felt very tired now, and all she desired was to back to sleep on this sofa that seemed to magically get comfier. So with that she turned herself towards the back of the sofa and snuggled deeper into the material, coming to rest; falling asleep again.

Russia was walking down the hall after lunch. He hadn't been feeling very hungry so he had just filled a thermos with black tea and was heading back to his dorms when he saw something strange. A person was curled in a rather uncomfortable-looking position on a seat with their head on their knees, a familiar mane of curly brown hair being the only thing exposed. Russia approached closer, wondering about the identity of the person. But as he grew closer the person mumbled in a different tongue before their head lolled to the side, revealing it to be none other than Mexico City.

"P-Por favor, no pones mis palabras en un computadora . . . Es usted siquiera se traduce esto . . . ?" She mumbled. Russia had no idea what she had just said, but she sounded distressed, even in her sleep. Russia realized she must be uncomfortable sitting like that. Without thinking much of what he was doing he sat close to her on the other side of the sofa and shook her a little, trying to wake her up. She didn't awaken but only mumbled again, "Polonia ve mejor en mi ropa que yo." quickly before falling limp.

She ended up laying on his lap; Ivan blushed. How could she still be asleep? Before he knew what he was doing, Russia pulled the girl completely on his lap and rested her head in the crook in between his arm and his chest, putting his arm around the heavy sleeper. Ella moved, turning toward him and snuggling closer. Ivan smiled. Just like at the camp out . . .

And with that the two stayed there together, Ivan eventually falling asleep out of the sheer comfortableness of the warmth the girl was emitting.

Ella woke up, feeling as if that might have been one of the best naps she had had in a while. She realized that she was no longer close to the sill, but laying on something. She looked up and saw a broad chest covered in a tan coat leading to . . . the pale face of Ivan Braginski . . . who was sleeping? Then everything clicked: she and Ivan had both been sleeping there.

Ivan's eyes opened and she realized she had been staring. He smiled and pulled the girl a bit closer. "привет . . ." he said sleepily, his strong arms squeezing the air out her, before letting her go and sitting up. They shared a fond moment in silence, both trying to figure out what had happened, before Belarus walked around the corner, seeing them caused a big frown to crease her face as she strode up and sat in between them glaring at the capital.

"Brother, I was worried when you missed dinner. What were you doing?" she asked glaring at the largest occupant of the sofa. But all Ella and Ivan were thinking was: they'd missed dinner? How long had they been there?

"And you," she said, glaring at Ella. "I recommend you go check on your Canadian. She's gotten herself in a spot of trouble."

That was all it took to get the Mexican to her feet. Before running away, Ella threw a look of sadness at the tallest country as she raced off to go save her friend.

Melinda

The girl yawned as she pulled herself together. She had been up all night, trying to memorize her part and now she was stuck in a two hour rehearsal, dancing in killer high heels, having to deal with England's coldness to her. And to top it all off, it was raining.

"England, would you please look Ottawa in the eye," Austria ordered before returning back to another group. In their little corner, Prussia, England, Melinda, and Paris (he was the girl's understudy) had set up a circle of benches to practice the dance sequence for "Sixteen Going on Seventeen".

In the end, Seychelles had gotten the role of the Baroness and France was the Captain George von Trapp. Loud America was Max Detweiler, a seemingly perfect fit. The rest Melinda didn't care for; she didn't know many other people. "Let's try it again," Prussia said, preparing himself for another go.

The three others groaned, not seeing where he was getting all this energy from. He is working hard though, the capital noted. She knew that it was because he was trying to prove Roderich wrong, but it was getting him nowhere. England was working hard, though he still acted like he didn't like it there. Since he was an English gentleman, he already knew how to dance pretty well and his singing voice was decent. Melinda was sad to note that his voice wasn't as creepy as the day he tried to summon Russia. She thought it sounded tres sexy.

He took her hand as the music started and began leading her in the dance. They weren't actually singing yet, but all of them were mouthing the words under their breaths. Ottawa jumped onto a bench. She was suppose to jump gracefully from one bench to another, but it didn't end well. Her heel broke, causing her to land on her ankle and fall off.

The force of impact left her dazed for a moment, but when the girl's brain started to refocus, she realized that she was on top of someone-England. She blushed and rolled off the man's hard chest. He was a bit dazed himself. He probably didn't realize that she had even landed on him.

"Are you alright?" Austria asked, lifting her to her feet. Her reply was a gasp of pain from standing on her ankle.

"W-what happened?" Arthur mumbled, sitting up himself. Everyone ignored him.

Roderich looked at Melinda's foot, saying, "It seems as though you sprained your ankle. England can you-" He paused, seeing the sad state the Brit was in. "-Prussia, can you take Ottawa to the nurse?"

Prussia nodded and lifted the girl bridal style. "It's more awesome than limping," he stated,when she complained. He walked in silence for a few seconds as he made his way out of the music room and down the hall. "Are you alright Mel?" he asked.

"I'm not dying," she muttered, noting that he was taking the long way to the clinic. Curious.

"Yeah, I know. I was just being awesome by asking," he stated. He let that hang for a few seconds, before asking, "What do you see in him?"

"Who?"

"What do you see in that self-centered, idiotic, drunken, unawesome, careless-" With every word his grip on her tightened, as if angered by the very thought of his rival.

The Canadian didn't like the way he talked about Eyebrows. "Why do you care?" she interrupted harshly.

The German paused. Why DID he care? He just wanted her for the sex, yet the very thought of her got his heart beating. "I . . ." He didn't have an answer. How could he have one? He instead did what any French person would: Prussia smashed his lips against hers, biting slightly on her lower lip.

Melinda was shocked. She didn't kiss him back; she just lay there in his arms, her mind racing to unscramble what was going on. Was he seriously kissing her? And if he was kissing her, didn't that mean that he liked her?

When she didn't return the favor, Prussia stopped and kicked open the clinic door-when had they arrived? "Old man!" he called. "I got another awesome patient for you!"

The empire took the girl and started to work on her ankle, telling the German to scram. He obliged, giving the girl a small smirk before leaving. Had a boy just kissed her? She had kissed her brothers and sisters many times before, but then again, Prussia wasn't her brother or sister. Roman Empire placed an ice pack on her joint, saying how she'll have to stay off it for a few days.

He left to write up an excuse pass for gym, leaving her alone for a few minutes. Should she have kissed him back? Did she like Prussia enough? Did she even love England anymore? Melinda was released and told to go back to her dorm. She had a crutch to help her, but the walk was going to take awhile.

She paused and decided to rest quickly in a classroom. Melinda opened the door and saw a familiar blond staring out the window and to the pouring rain. Britain? She quietly limped over to him, realizing that he was muttering something under his breath. "I know Tinker Bell, but it just doesn't make sense," he was saying. She stood next to him and gave a sigh, alerting him of her presence. He jumped back and forgetting that he was still mad at her, mustered, "W-what are you doing here Melinda?"

She gave a small smile, noting the use of her real name. He just about as quickly realized that too, and return to his indifferent self. The man crossed his arms and looked away from her, as she asked, "Who are you talking to?"

"No one," he spat.

She shrugged. "That's too bad Arthur, I could've sworn that you said Tinker Bell." The man scowled and opened his mouth, prepared to say something, only just to have the girl continue, "I love fairies you know. When I was little, Matthew convinced me that America was actually a fairy. So I the next time I saw him, I cut his shirt off without him noticing to check to see if he had wings. He was so mad. He yelled that people shouldn't harass heroes and swore that I was going to be a cougar when I grew up. I was only five then, so I thought he meant the animal, so I pretended to be a cat for a few months." The Brit couldn't help but to laugh at the story. "I wish I could see fairies though," she gave with a sigh.

He couldn't help but to ask, "You believe that fairies exist?"

"We're people meant to represent geographical locations. If we exist, then why not fairies?" They were silent for a second. "I best be going." Ottawa picked up her crutches, ready to leave, when a hand was placed on her shoulder.

"Wait." The Brit looked down nervously. "Tinker Bell says that she wants to here more of your stories."

She raised an eyebrow, smiling softly, but none the less returned to her spot. "Um well let's see," She searched her mind for another story. "When I was eight, Matthew taught me to drive his car. I ended up going on a cross country trip to Alaska."

He laughed. "Why?"

"Alaska back then was kind of stalking my brother. So she had told us that she had maple-syrup-flavored ice cream at her house. So of course I had to go there. On the way, though, I caused 50 car crashes."

He smiled. "What else?"

She placed a hand on her chin. "Mattie, Alfred, and I crashed a wedding when I was 13 . . ."

"What?"

"Nevermind. But there was this one time D.C. and I went to Hollywood to stalk Tom Cruise . . ." She paused, seeing someone's reflection in the window. She turned and saw Ella standing at the door.

In an instant, the Mexican capital had run up to the Brit and banged her pipe into his skull. He fell over unconscious. "Are you alright?" she asked Melinda, looking legitimately worried.

"Yes!" her Canadian replied. "Why did you do that?"

"I thought you were in danger!"

"W-what? No, I was making progress with him!" She groaned. "Help me take him to the nurse." By help, she actually meant "carry the idiot for me", she was just too polite to say so out loud. Mexico City took her hint and lifted the man onto her shoulders and taking him away from Tinker Bell.