Monday morning opened cold, dark, and rainy. It wasn't much different from the previous day, except for the part where tens of nations were confined in a large conference room instead of their beds like they preferred. The atmosphere was the same as any other meeting; anger, boredom, and the desire to be out of such a bloody claustrophobic room made the air thick and near unbreathable.

As usual, murmurs of disapproval were exchanged as the United States spoke through his turn at the podium, his smile unbearably huge and eyes twinkling as he finished up his latest "absolutely amazing!" scheme to solve global warming. Everyone knew that the moment the obnoxious blond stood to give his speech, any form of reasoning was a lost cause, and given that all nations were granted the right to speak for at least a half hour, they couldn't boo him off the podium. So, of course, the next best thing was to criticize him into oblivion.

(It wasn't like it did anything to America's blissfully oblivious ego anyway.)

"...So then, when all the whales in the oceans start swimming around in a counterclockwise motion, it'll change the currents and stuff, and in turn it'll end up changing the air currents and stuff. Cold air will blow back up north and make the ice caps come back and stuff and Mattie's polar bears will be saved!" The blond clapped his hands together, his face portraying his excitement all to well. "Isn't it ingenious! Thank you, you're to kind."

The room was silent, the only sound coming from the hollow thwump of Canada's forehead introducing itself to the oak tabletop. America's smile faltered slightly at the lack of support.

"What, are you guys, like, asleep or something?" Not surprisingly, that statement was true for a handful of nations.

England cleared his throat and shuffled his papers. When he looked up at the podium, he wanted to puke from the rainbow arching over America's expectant and sickening joy. Apparently within the last couple centuries or so, the young nation hadn't learned anything. At all.

"I don't know how best to, er, describe this, America, but..."

America interrupted with nodding and hums of approval. "I know, it's so great isn't it. Definitely one of the best things I've thought up of so far."

The edge of England's mouth twitched. "Yes, sure, we can say that. It is absolutely brilliant, along with your giant robots shielding the sun and you sending your "Tony" back to his "mothership" so he can bring back help for when the zombie apocalypse happens."

America let out a snort and leaned leisurely against the podium. "Tch, yea, I am brilliant. Couldn't say so better myself."

"Ugh, America, why are you so thick?! Your ideas are so ridiculous! Do you actually believe that they would work?"

"Pff." He looked away and waved a hand snobbishly. "You're just jealous 'cuz you don't have amazing ideas like me."

"A-Amazing? You call sending radio waves into the oceans and telling marine mammals to swim around in circles amazing?! It's stupid, it's ludicrous...it's retarded!"

Murmurs of agreement erupted from the nations who cared enough to pay attention. America, being America, either ignored the continuously growing agitation in the air or didn't notice at all. The latter seemed much more plausible, given the developed country's inability to notice changes in the atmosphere outside of his own personal bubble.

"Oh, come on, old man, no need to be so rash. You know, I have more awesome ideas than that, like sending tons and tons of frozen burgers to the starving people in Africa and giving them grills too so they can have cookouts--"

This caused a rather unpleasant uproar from the African section of the lecture room.

"Were you dropped on your head when you were a baby?!" England let out a frustrated yell and buried his face into his hands. Next to him, France clicked his tongue and gave the northern island a sympathetic rub on the shoulder.

"Ah, now, mon cher," he said, pulling England into a one armed hug. To his amusement, the smaller nation allowed himself to slump into his shoulder. "It cannot be l'Amerique's fault that his brain is made of hamburgers." His chin perched on top of the Briton's head. "After all, you were the one who raised him, so if it were anyone's fault, it's yours."

Before he could blink, France found himself on the floor, his eyesight exploding into painful stars from his head getting knocked into his neighbor's chair. His cheek stung heavily as well, a nice fist-shaped red mark flowering on the otherwise smooth pink flesh.

"YOU FUCKING TWAT!" England grabbed France's paisley tie and hauled him onto his feet before the Frenchman's blurred vision was given a chance to straighten. Even at his disheveled state, with his head pounding and his balance partially lost, France still let out a humored laugh as if his country wasn't about to get pummeled into the ocean.

"Haha! Oh, look mon cher, your eyebrows look like they're going to eat the rest of your face."

"Listen to me, you fucking frog." England pretended he didn't hear France's response of Oh, thank you for the compliment, Angleterre.~ "I raised that boy in the most disciplined manner, guiding him to become the ideal young gentleman. Don't you question my child rearing skills for they have nothing to do with...with his faulty upbringing! For all I know, he most likely fell out of a tree and knocked his head a-and scrambled his brains!"

"Or perhaps your food had an adverse effect on his brain development."

Now, as everyone knew, England was a very rational thinker. He was very calculating and always planned the right responses to difficult questions or answers to an otherwise difficult situation. He wasn't one to spurt out an offensive statement without a second thought (except when having to deal with a certain irritating Frenchman, but he didn't count). Unfortunately, the heavy, tense atmosphere was enough to drive even the most amiable and patient nation to the edge of their sanity, therefore, when England opened his mouth to blurt out his next statement, he wasn't in his right mind, the words being pulled out by a leash by his pent up aggravation.

"I had nothing to do with his lack of brain cells! For all I care, fucking Sweden could have kicked him upside the head without realizing it when he was marching around all over the boy's fucking land before I got there!"

A collection of "oooh~"s chorused from the nations, any and all side conversations and arguments dissipating all together. A second too late, England realized what he just said and gasped, letting France fall to the ground as his grip loosened on his tie. Slowly and with much hesitation, he turned to look at the Nordics, where his green eyes locked instantly with teal ones. Sweden's normally stony face looked darker, and a very violent shiver took a lap around England's spine when the (much) larger man's eyes narrowed.

"A-Ahaha! Hello, Sweden! Lovely weather we have today!" England let out a nervous laugh, his legs twitching with the need to run when Sweden looked about ready to tear his organs out from his mouth.

Another nation beat the Scandinavian to the punch, though. Next to bespectacled man, another smaller, more affable nation flew to his feet and slammed his hands against the table, his violet eyes sparking with rage.

"You will not talk about Su-san like that!" Finland screeched. "He has nothing to do with your problems with raising children!" And before anyone could blink, he leapt clear across the table and tackled England down with a yell of fury.

At this point, almost no one cared anymore about the direction the meeting was going. Over at the Asian section, South Korea hopped on top of his seat and began chanting "Fight, fight, fight, fight!", his fists punching the air with glee. America swiftly jumped from his position behind the podium and pushed through the growing crowd to act as the referee as the fight quickly grew more vicious.

Of one of the few who were still in their seats, Sweden was struck speechless at the spectacle on display in front of his eyes, his mouth gaping open in awe without shame. Next to him, Denmark had climbed onto his chair to try to get a better view of the fight, his eye wincing when he caught a fist slamming into England's temple.

"Dude, Sverige," Denmark said, leaning down to prod Sweden on the shoulder. "You should, you know, go get your wife before he causes some serious damage. I doubt that'd really look good to the rest of the European Union. Even if it's amusing as hell to watch."

Sweden just nodded and grunted out a "...Mmhm..." Yet, he didn't make any move to do such thing, and instead opted to stand and strain his neck to try to see past the bouncing crowd of onlookers. It was so interesting to see the otherwise mild and mature Finland lash out with such (faux)Viking rage. He'd never admit it out loud, but he wasn't going to deny it either; his "wife" was turning him on right now.

Amidst all the yelling and cheering, one very notable figure was absent from all the uncontrollable chaos.

Sunken low on his cushioned seat with crossed arms and furrowed eyebrows, Prussia showed not one iota of interest in the wild and exciting shenanigans taking place some yards away. His red eyes were directed instead at the sheets of printed notes sitting atop his folder, glaring at them as if he could set them on fire. The seats neighboring his own were empty, save for Liechtenstein, who was commanded by her beloved brother to not leave her seat (she was instead standing on the table to try to see what was happening), and both Austria and Hungary farther down the table. Germany and Switzerland, perhaps the only ones who actually cared about the outcome of the meeting, were currently occupied with trying to settle the chaos before it truly got out of hand and started another potential war.

Austria, being the fine and sophisticated man he was, wanted absolutely nothing to do with the bedlam and was currently reviewing his notes. Hungary, meanwhile, was on top of the table giving her lovely boyfriend a commentary of the fight, blatantly ignoring the fact that he didn't care at all.

"Oh, wow, did you see that swing that Finland has? Jézus Krisztus, that boy is wicked!"

"Eliza dear, please be a proper woman and get down."

"Oh, oh, looks like England is starting to man up...oh wait, I lied. Finland just got him into a headlock."

"Eliza dear." With a sigh, Austria placed down his papers and rubbed his face. "Please, the whole world can see up your skirt."

Hungary's cheeks puffed out in a pout. Austria would've found it cute if he weren't already so annoyed. "Oh, Roderich darling, you're such a killjoy." Almost as an act of defiance, she gave her flowery skirt a small flip to give her Roderich darling a peek at her pink-and-green striped panties. A smug smile spread on her face as her heels clicked from table to chair and finally the floor, her legs crossing in exaggerated daintiness when she sat down. "There, I'm down, sweetie."

Face flushed from a mixture of anger and embarrassment (as well as another emotion he would never think about in a public area), Austria cleared his throat and straightened his papers. "Thank you, love."

A comfortable silence settled between the two, with Austria browsing his notes again and Hungary trying to catch a glimpse of the fight from her seat. After a moment, Hungary pulled at his blazer and leaned in close, her voice dropping to a faint whisper.

"You know what, Roderich?" she asked, causing her boyfriend to turn and face her. "There's something missing here."

"Other than everyone's sanity, love?"

Hungary let out an amused chuckle. "But that is what makes the world so much fun! I meant him, though." A finger pointed over Austria's shoulder, and he twisted around to see a sulking Prussia.

"Him?" His head shook and he faced his love again. "Why are you worried about him? I find his silence to be a blessing. That's one less idiot trying to knock this building down."

"Roderich! You're not one bit worried about him?"

"Why? Should I be?"

With a huff, Hungary pushed herself to her feet and perched her hands onto her hips. She had to raise her voice a notch to be heard above all the noise. "Now, Austria, I know how much you loathe Prussia, and I do too, but you and I know that he should not be brooding over there. He should be out there," a digit pointed to the crowd, "taking bets or something like that. It's just not right, and it's unhealthy for him."

Austria gave her an incredulous look. "You're actually fretting over his health? Elizabeta, are you crazy? You should be thankful that he's not in the mood to make situations worse! Don't worry about him, his bird will show up eventually and things will be fine again. Now please, sit down and put this matter out of your head. His mood should be nothing of your concern."

As Austria turned his attention back to his notes, Hungary didn't make any move to take her seat once more. Instead she shook her head, her eyes rolling at how much her significant other was being a douche. She walked around his chair and approached Prussia, Austria's protests deaf in her ears.

Prussia made no movements to recognize Hungary's presence behind him, even when she placed a hand gingerly on his shoulder.

"Prussia?"

His eyes narrowed slightly in response.

"...Are you still upset?" Hungary was proud to say that she was good at starting up conversations and liked to act as the big sister everyone can go to if they needed a shoulder to cry on, but when dealing with a sour and very out of character Prussia, she just could not find the right thing to say.

Prussia barked out a single sarcastic laugh. "Gee, I don't know, Hungary, am I?"

She flinched and pulled her hand back, but she stayed where she was. Determination to try to at least lighten his mood left her by his side, even though she would've been better off with leaving him with his sulking.

"I was thinking that perhaps maybe we can help you out..."

Prussia stared at her, his eyes freely showing his suspicion. They quickly changed to anger, and slowly he rose to his feet. Hungary took a step back (did she say something wrong?), and behind her, Austria stood as well, his body tense and gaze wary as he watched Prussia closely.

"We? Who's we? You and your sorry excuse for a lover? Even if I needed help, you two would be the last people who'd I'd ask for! I'd rather go to Russia than you two!"

Again, Hungary flinched. Those words stung, but unlike most any girl who would be caught under that nasty glare, exasperation boiled at the pit of her stomach. Couldn't he see that she was trying to offer him help? Even if she constantly brushed the albino aside and favored whacking him upside the head with kitchen utensils, deep down she did still care for him. Even if they rarely got along throughout their history of knowing each other, she still considered him a friend, as twisted as the thought sounded.

Her mouth opened so she could retort, but Prussia butt in before a sound left her lips.

"You're teasing me, aren't you?"

"Wh-What?"

"That's it! You're trying to make fun of me because I'm miserable!" He took a step closer so their noses were centimeters from touching. Hungary could smell the stale stench of liquor in his breath. "You're planning on coming to me and act as an oh-so-caring friend that you never were, then you'll run me into the ground!"

"I wasn't going to do anything like that!" Slowly, the anger crawled through her body, a familiar feeling when dealing with Prussia's antics. "I truly want to help you, Gilbert."

Prussia started. Hungary had only referred to him by his human name barely a handful of times, and those times were when she was talking to him with full sincerity, an event that occurred once in every other blue moon. Usually he would be touched and he'd crack some sort of joke. Instead, the opposite happened.

"You want to help me? Well, how about this, sweetheart." His words leaked from his teeth like venom. "You can kindly fuck off and leave me alone. Just because I am no longer my own nation does not mean you can give me hell." At that, Prussia none-too-gently shoved Hungary aside, not at all reacting to her hiss of pain when her back collided with the table.

When Austria made a move to intercept Prussia, he froze when he was given a death glare, one that made him back up several steps. For a moment Prussia stood in place, his eyes showing his debate on whether or not he should beat the living shit out of his favorite aristocratic friend. Finally, the albino turned away and left the room.

"Eliza dear, are you okay?" Austria quickly strode to his beloved's side and helped her into a seat.

"I'm fine, Roderich darling." Her back arched in an attempt to ease the pounding in her spine. Austria, being the dear he was, helped to rub and massage the sore spot. "I haven't seen him so upset in several hundred years."

"All this over a missing bird? He is merely acting like a brat and blowing the whole situation out of proportion."

"...No, no he's not dear." She shifted lightly to give Austria better access to her back. A quick gaze over the room told her that no one saw their little scene. The crowd had tightened around the fighting pair, with Germany and Switzerland lost in all the constant movement. Feeling strangely relieved that everyone was too distracted with Finland and England, she allowed herself to relax into Austria's loving arms, nodding when he suggested that they left and grabbed a coffee together.

As they left, they didn't notice a pair of worried green eyes watch their departure. Unbeknownst to Hungary, Spain had, in fact, witnessed Prussia's outburst, catching it from the beginning when he crawled out from the crowd. With a sigh, he rubbed callused hands over his tanned face and prepared himself to dive back into the crowd to find France.

---

Shortly after Austria and Hungary took their leave, the crowd had finally been successfully dispersed. All it took was several gunshots aimed towards the ceiling, causing more than a few nations to scream as they ducked to shield themselves from shards of broken light bulbs and ceiling tile bits. Germany called for a one hour recess, while Switzerland patrolled around with his favored SIG P210, playing the policeman to prevent any more trouble from happening. The conference room during that next hour was going to be off limits, due to the need for maintenance to come in and tidy the mess left behind. England and Finland were pulled aside and led to a separate, smaller room, most likely to be given a fine lecture about proper behavior during a conference (which was just irony in the making).

It was outside that small room where Spain finally located France. Sweden was there too, waiting for his "wife" like the obedient man he was, and Spain gave him a polite nod as he dragged his friend away.

"Ah, Espagne~" France pouted and tried to stop, but the action nearly resulted in him getting pulled into a faceplant. "Where are we going? I wanted to tease Angleterre about that fight of his. Did you not see how hard his pretty little derriere was being kicked? Finland is a shrimp compared to him! It was hilarious!"

"Yes, Francia, I saw." After rounding a corner into a satisfyingly empty corridor, Spain stopped in his tracks and turned to face France. "Frankie, we have to tell Gil the truth."

France merely blinked. Spain's voice was a low whisper, his serious tone a drastic contrast to his usual carefree and sunny nature. He unconsciously leaned in closer to his friend, his own voice dropping to the same volume.

"Are you crazy, Toni? We can't do that, he'll strangle us!"

"Better than letting him sulk and snap at every person he has contact with." Spain let out a groan and ran his fingers through his dark curls. "Besides, he's going to find out sometime that it was you. That would be even--"

"Wait, wait, stop right there, Antonio." France's hands were raised defensively. "Me? You mean us, mon ami. You were in this too."

"No I wasn't!"

"Well, it was your idea anyway."

"Yes, just an idea. It was a random little thought I figured I'd share with you for a bit of humor, not an actual dare to pull off!"

Their quiet bickering continued. They did not notice the subject of their interests, his shaky hands wiping the last trails of tears from his eyes, exit from a door farther down the abandoned hall. Prussia paused when he spotted his two best friends huddled so close to each other, their whispering harsh but incomprehensible. Only when his croaky voice called out did they finally realize that he was there.

"Hey guys, whuddya's doin' here?"

"P-Prussia!" Both men stood bolt upright in attention, their eyes wide with surprise.

"Well?" The albino stood by their sides, as if they were speaking under normal circumstances. He sniffled, one hand rubbing an eye and the other shoved into the pocket of his slacks. He didn't seem at all concerned with the fact that his closest friends were witnessing him in the most unawesome condition. "Did you guys decide to run off or something?"

"Er, actually, Gilbert." France let out an awkward cough. "Recess was called, on account of broken lights and several holes in the ceiling."

"Mm." Prussia nodded in understanding and tucked his other hand into his pockets. An uncomfortable silence settled between the three of them, until Spain decided to clear his throat.

"Erm, Gilbert, we, uh, have to...tell you something." He forced himself to keep eye contact with the ex-nation. "We...know where your little, uh, pájaro is."

The effect of his words was immediate. Prussia's eyes grew wide and bright, and a hopeful smile spread on his lips. He grabbed the Spaniard's forearms and shook his slightly.

"Y-You know where my little Junior is?! Where? Where is he?"

Spain put on a nervous lopsided smile and chuckled lightly. "Eheh, actually, Francis knows where it is. Right, Frankie?"

Red eyes swiveled onto France, who gulped.

"M-Me? Now, Espagne, stop your joking. I know that you have it with you..."

"Ahaha, no I don't." Spain felt trapped within Prussia's grip, even though it hadn't tightened or loosened in any way. "You were the one with it the last I remembered."

"But, mon ami, I don't. I told you to keep an eye on it. I told you where to find it."

"No you didn't, mi amigo. You didn't say a peep until early yesterday morning."

Prussia was a slow person, his brain tending to process information at a slower pace than most others, but it was a mistake to call him stupid. As the false-smiled argument continued between the two, the last piece of the puzzle assembled in the albino's head, realization dawning on him like a brutal slap on the face. His hands dropped to his side and he took a step back, which caused his two companions to stop fighting.

"You...You two took him."

Blue and green eyes stared at him, mouths dropping and eyelids widening when they realized that they were finally caught. France and Spain started to blubber out excuses in a sorry attempt to pull them out of the hole they dug themselves into.

"Well, you see, Prusia, I didn't actually take it, France was the one who did it--"

"It was all Espagne's idea. He thought that it would be funny to see how you would react to have your petit oiseau taken away from you. I disagreed, of course--"

The two stopped in mid-explanation when they felt cold fingers grasp painfully tight on their hair. They gave Prussia confused looks, but all of a sudden the world around them burst into stars and pain as their heads were mercilessly slammed against each other. Loud yells of agony echoed in the empty hallway as the two Romance countries collapsed into writhing mounds of pain, hands gripping at their pounding heads.

Given that this was the second time France's skull was assaulted, Spain recovered faster than his French friend and managed to force his eyes open and look upwards at Prussia. He instantly regretted it, for he was met with perhaps the most vicious, burning, and depressed glare he'd witnessed in a long time. Tears were flowing freely from his red eyes, and his breathing was shaky as if he were resisting the need to sob.

"I can't believe you two." Prussia's voice was weak with disbelief. "I can't believe you'd do something so...cruel. You know how special Junior is to me." His boots barely made a noise on the carpeting as he took a step back. "And to think I actually believed you guys were my friends."

At that, Prussia spun around and left, leaving Spain and France with guilt clawing at the pit of their stomachs.


Reviews, opinions, and criticisms are appreciated. :3b

(Today on Spike I caught this show where they collected data and did a Mafia vs Yakuza thing. It was sexy. ;u;)