Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.

Another preview to tide you over. Probably going to be a shorter story, although I know better than to make any promises on that score. It started out as a Valentine's story, and then it wasn't.

Today's the day. I'm going to do this. As soon as I see America, I'm going to tell him how I feel. Romano's stomach twisted in apprehension as he strode down the halls to the meeting room, his hands shaking and sweaty as they clutched his paperwork. Today was the day he was going to confess his love to America. No, definitely. As soon as he saw him, he'd pull him aside, and ... No, I can't tell him right away, he'll be busy getting ready. During the break. During the first break, I'll tell him. No, wait, that's only fifteen minutes. That's not long enough to confess. Lunch is an hour, I'll tell him during lunch. No, no, after the meeting would be better, right? After the meeting. Right after the meeting I'm going to tell the bastard how I feel.

"And then you'll chicken out and end up not telling him at all, as always." France's voice said close to his ear.

"Auugh!" Romano screamed, leaping sideways and plastering himself against the wall, glaring at the nation who stood smirking at him. Since when had France learned to read minds?

"You were talking to yourself." France answered his unasked question, and lifted a hand to pretend to examine his manicure, shaking his head. "That is what will happen, you know. It always does. You hesitate, and lose your chance."

"Che." Romano pushed himself off the wall and continuing down the hall. "Who asked you, bastard."

"I'm simply saying that he won't stay single forever." France fell into step behind him, unnerving Romano no end. "If you wait too long to tell him, you'll miss your chance altogether."

"I, I know that!" Romano scowled, flushing unhappily.

"Do you?" France asked airily, sliding his arm around Romano's shoulders (ignoring all attempts to shrug him off). In all honesty he was fairly confident Romano had stayed up nights worrying about that very possibility, but he was hoping the reminder would give the hesitant lover-in-potentia the push he needed to act on his feelings before it really was too late.

"Yes, dammit, I do."

"Then tell him." France said seriously. "Not after the meeting, not tomorrow, or some far-off day in the future which may never come; but today, at the first opportunity. The moment you next see him, tell him."

Romano pursed his lips, staring hard at nothing in particular on the wall. "...Why do you care so much, anyway." He said finally, knocking France's arm off his shoulders. "I don't see what business it is of yours."

"Ah, little Italy, don't you know?" France spread his arms theatrically. "L'amour is my business!"

"Whose love is your business, bastard!"

"Come now, Romano~!" France chided, poking the Italian's cheek as they walked along. "Don't be such a—"

"...don't know, America." They heard a woman's voice say, and rounded the corner to see Ukraine and America standing together a few yards away. Ukraine held a small bouquet of purple flowers close to her expansive chest, glancing between them and the man who appeared to be waiting anxiously for whatever she was about to say. Both were blushing a little. "It's very flattering, but... I don't know if...if it's such a good idea."

"You don't have to answer right away." America said earnestly, expression hopeful and determined despite the blush colouring his cheeks. "Take some time to think about it. I know that things between your brother and me have been ..tense sometimes, but I don't think that should interfere with something like this! Just give it a chance, please?"

Ukraine hesitated, biting her lip in indecision, and America rubbed the back of his neck, looking thoughtful. He smiled when he came up with an idea, and raised a finger as he proposed, "How about this: one date, and if you don't like it, then you can forget all about it; and if you do, then we can maybe try another date, and so on, until you decide one way or the other. Okay?"

Ukraine looked at the flowers she held, and caressed a petal with her fingertips. "Since the early twentieth century, you said?"

"Honestly, I think it might have been longer." America grinned a little sheepishly.

She lowered her eyes, touched, her cheeks flushing as she buried her nose in the flowers. "That's so sweet." After a moment she sighed, and lay her hand on America's arm. "Alright, America. I'll go on one date. And then we'll see."

"Great!" America pumped his fist in victory, smiling ear-to-ear, causing Ukraine to giggle at his antics. "Thank you! You won't regret it, Ukraine! You'll see!"

Romano stood frozen, his heart slowly tearing in two at the scene before him. He was too late. He'd waited too long. His stomach churned, and he felt sick. France glanced sidelong at him, and back to the scene ahead, frowning.

"Just let me know when and where, mister America~." Ukraine laughed, waving as she moved past him and continued down the hall to the meeting room. "I'll be waiting~!"

"You bet! Thanks again!" America waved after her, turning to do a little victory dance in the hall. "Oh yeah. Fuck yeah! Who did it? I did it! Who's awesome? I'm awesome~! Oh yea— Fuck!" He stopped, slapping himself in the forehead, eyes widening in realization. "Now I have to plan an actual date! Damn." He pressed his knuckles to his lips, frowning in consternation. "Shiiiit, I didn't think about that part! What am I going to do?"

It was then he finally noticed France and Romano. "Oh! Hey guys!" He grinned and waved, perking up at the sight of them, and began walking towards them. "France, you're good at romantic stuff, right? I could really use your help."

"My dear boy you are speaking to the master of romance~." France announced proudly, pressing one hand to his heart and gesturing grandly with the other. "There is no-one in the entire world who knows more about love than I."

"Really? Great!" America smiled, relieved. His problems were over! "I need some help planning a date. For a woman. A really good date. Something spectacular, that'll sweep her off her feet and make it impossible for her to turn down another one. Can you help me do that?"

"Ahhh~, I'd love to, America." France smiled regretfully, shaking his head. "But alas, I'm far too busy. But!" He interjected, as America's face fell, and threw his arm around Romano's shoulders. "South Italy is almost as good at romance as I am." He smiled proprietorially, patting the Italian's back. "I've taught him almost everything I know. I think of him as my little 'love apprentice', n'est–ce pas?" He laughed softly, winking. "And he's totally, completely and utterly available, in every sense of the word. If it's love you're after, you should look to him, hm? I'm sure he'd be delighted to attend to any of your needs." He assured, his confident words in stark contrast to the stricken, anything-but-delighted expression on Romano's face.

"Really?" America looked at him for a moment, a little doubtful, because South Italy didn't look particularly happy about the idea, but shrugged, grabbing one of Romano's hands. "Will you help me, South Italy? I really need this date to be perfect. I could really use your help!"

Romano opened his mouth to say no I will not help you date Ukraine, I love you, you stupid bastard. I've loved you for a long fucking time, and I'm not going to help you fall in love with someone else, dammit; but America's wide, hopeful blue eyes and pleading expression made his throat sieze up, and he couldn't get the words out.

"Please?" America pleaded softly, earnestly. "This is really important to me, South Italy. I'll do anything."

Romano's face heated up, and he dropped his gaze, hating himself. "...Fine."

America smiled, lighting up with gratitude and relief. "Great. Thank you!" He dropped Romano's hand and straightened. "I'll meet up with you after the meeting's over, and we can discuss the details, okay? Thank you so much! I really owe you one!" He ran a hand through his hair and grinned, waving as he turned to leave for the conference room. "You're the best, South Italy! Catch you later!" Romano nodded dumbly, staring at the floor.

"Well, I think that went well, don't you?" France smiled in smug satisfaction, which turned to a frown of concern when the only response from the Italian beside him was a thick, choked sobbing sound. "...Romano?" He looked over to see Romano scrubbing at his eyes with both hands.

"D-don't t-talk to m-me, idiot." Romano gasped, swallowing his sobs. "I hate you. I fucking h-hate you."

"Ungrateful child." France chided, frowning in exasperation, and firmly grasped Romano's arm, steering into a nearby breakroom. He shut the door behind them and locked it, pushing Romano into a chair, and going to the cupboard he pulled out a cup, which he filled with water, scolding all the while, "After all I have done for you. I've just saved you! Don't you see that this is your chance?" He finished, handing the cup to Romano.

"W-what the fuck are you talking about, bastard? It's too late!" Romano swallowed a little water, grateful for the cool liquid that eased some of the tightness in his throat. He lowered the cup, sniffling. "I waited too long, and I lost him. It's hopeless, dammit."

"It only seems hopeless because you're not looking at it the right way. It's not an ending, it's an opportunity!" France pulled his handkerchief from his inside pocket and crouched down next to Romano's chair, wiping his tear-stained cheeks. "By agreeing to help him plan this date, you've made an opening for yourself!"

"What?" Romano sniffled again, and looked up, brows furrowed in confusion. "How is helping him date Ukraine supposed to help me?"

"Honestly, you have no vision." France shook his head, despairing. "Don't you see?" He pulled up a chair next to Romano, and sat down. "You're going to be helping him plan a romantic date wth Ukraine. You'll be meeting with him to talk about romantic things. He knows nothing about romance, and as his instructor in these things you will have the power, and set the rules. Tell him you need to meet with him often. To plan. Take him out to 'test' date ideas. Mock-dates. For every date he has with Ukraine, you'll have had five!" He gestured emphatically. "Use that time to win him! Make him see that you're far better for him than Ukraine will ever be!" He pounded the table, reiterating, "This is your chance!"

Romano wiped at his eye, frowning. "But...what if the first date doesn't go well? He'll hate me. And we won't have any reason to see each other anymore."

"Why should he hate you? You will have worked so hard to help him plan the 'perfect date'." France dismissed with a wave of his hand. "If Ukraine doesn't appreciate it, then alas, such is love! It wasn't meant to be. And you shall be there to comfort him in his sorrow."

Romano pursed his lips, staring into his cup. It sounded like a good idea when France said it, but...he felt a little uncomfortable with the idea. He wanted to be with America, sure, but... "Why do you care so much, anyway, France?" He questioned, frowning. "What difference does it make to you who America's with?"

France frowned, too. "I've known you both a very long time." He sighed, resting his arm on the table. "And I care for you both. I think of you as my little brothers. And it's a big brother's job to look after his little brother's happiness." He ran his hand through his long hair in a gesture very similar to the one Romano had seen America use often. "Ukraine is a lovely young woman, with many good qualities; but I do not think she is the best match for my little America. There are...too many differences, in their values and personalities and ways of thinking." He waved a hand vaguely. "Sometimes such differences can strengthen a relationship, but in this case, I think it would cause conflict. Too much conflict. I want him to be happy." He turned his gaze to Romano, expression serious. "And I want you to be happy, my little Romano." He said frankly, and Romano stared at him, clutching his cup tightly as the tightness returned to his throat, and tears stung his nose. "For too long you have not been so. Far too long. I know you feel overlooked, in the shadow of your brother, and perhaps this is often so; but it does not mean you are not loved, Romano. You deserve to be cared for. And," he added, a little more lightly, pretending not to see Romano's tears, "it is a good match. You will be good for him. He needs you, not Ukraine or anyone else, as sweet as they may be."

Romano sniffed, wiping his cheeks, and sat quietly for a minute. "...You really think so?"

"I do." France smiled softly. "You will be good for each other. So," he straightened, clapping his hands. "Do not let this opportunity pass you by, Romano Italy, or big brother shall be very upset. Win him over!""

"Che," Romano scoffed, swallowing the last of the water. "I won't lose. Just you watch me, bastard."

"Of course!" France laughed, rising and gesturing to the door. "Now come, we are late for the meeting. You wouldn't want to miss it. You must take advantage of every opportunity to gain America's attention, even if others are around at the time." Romano nodded, putting the cup down and rising as well. "And to that end," France beamed, throwing the door open and lunging for the Italian, "you must take off your clothes and attend the meeting naked! Come, I'll help!"

"Hell no, asshole!" Romano dodged out of his reach with reflexes borne of long practice, and darted for the door, kicking him in the shins on the way out. "You really are just a pervert after all!"

AN: Totally not what it looked like, guys.