Hooray, I did write an Aftermath chapter after all. I'd originally planned to write it a few days after Valentine's Day, but somehow never got around to it. And then March 14 came around, and I thought, why not write a White Day Aftermath chapter? And so, by the powers vested in me, it was done. Now I have to catch up on homework D:

Since it is a White Day special, the following events happen a month after the Valentine's Day fiasco.

Germany adjusted his tie in the mirror. After straightening it out, he took a step back and inspected his reflection. He was clad in his best suit, even more well-groomed than he usually was, and blushing furiously. Today would be his first proper date with Italy… 'proper' because he'd flubbed it the first time with that Buon San Valentino incident. He heard the door open as Italy stepped out of the shower, humming to himself. In the mirror, their eyes met. Germany gulped. The Italian had nothing on except for a towel around his waist. Gott, his body was so hot! And Germany just rhymed, omg! He forcibly tore his eyes away. Now was not the time to think about that. Though, with any luck, Feliciano would be wearing even less than that when they returned in the evening…

He gasped as Italy trotted up to him. "Ve, Doitsu!" he said. "You look so handsome today!" He grinned as Germany turned even redder. "Ve, your suit…" He began picking pieces of lint off the lapels.

"Oh. Th-thanks," said Germany as Italy looked up at him.

"Yo, West!" Prussia burst into the room. "I'm heading over to Mattie's for a bit—oh. Whoops. Sorry. Didn't mean to intrude on your, er, moment there." He closed the door quietly behind him.

Germany facepalmed. Why did his bruder have to be so obstructive?

"All done!" Italy chirped, running his hands over the cloth. Then again. And again. "Ve, Doitsu's chest feels nice~~~" And he pressed his face to it.

Germany sucked in his breath. "F-Feli, that's enough," he said, trying to sound calm despite the sudden jump in his heart rate. "You should get dressed too. Hurry up, or we'll be late." He wheeled the Italian around and walked him to the closet.

Yes, he thought as he opened a drawer and took out his comb, deliberately avoiding looking at the condoms that were also in there, today would be an interesting day…

England walked into the pub. "The usual, please," he told Tim, the bartender. Tim nodded with a smile and went off as the Brit seated himself. A few minutes later, he returned with a glass of ale. England thanked him and took a giant swig. Gosh, politics these days…

"…Hey, Angleterre."

England nearly choked on his ale. "Wh-wh—" He turned. Beside him was a familiar-looking man with blond hair and ugly stubble… "France?" He made a face. Oh gods, of all the places to meet him…

France took a sip of his own drink. "So? Do you have an answer yet?" he said. "Who do you choose, me or Amérique?"

England froze. Crap, he'd forgotten about that.

"Arthur!" cried a voice on his other side. England whirled around. Bloody hell! America beamed and flashed him a thumbs-up. Oh no, he was surrounded! Beads of sweat started forming on England's forehead. He tugged at his shirt collar nervously. "Arthur, you said you would tell us who you like better in a month! So, who is it? Is it me? It must be me! I'm the hero!" America smirked.

"Um, well, actually—" England stuttered.

"No way! Look how he's hesitating! He must have chosen me!" cried France. "Right, Angleterre?"

England gulped. "W-well…" Then he got an idea. Fishing a mint out of his pocket, he said, "Look, both of you, close your eyes and count to a hundred. After that, open your eyes again and look in your glasses. The one I choose will have the mint in his drink, okay?" They nodded. "Good, then. Start counting."

America and France, gullible idiots that they were, had just reached 52 when England started his car and drove off.

"Oh, Su-san! You even prepared dessert!" Finland gushed, his eyes shining at the sight of the cheesecake Sweden brought to the table. "You're so wonderful!"

Sweden blushed. "Th'nks."

As they ate, he slowly reached into his pocket. His hand closed around a small satin-covered box. Today was the big day. He'd prepared a nice romantic candlelit dinner and even managed to convince Iceland to let Sealand sleep over at his house. It was just him and Finland and the whole house to themselves today. And he planned on making the best of the situation.

"You're such a nice person, Su-san," said Finland. "Even if you're a bit scary at times. I love you. I love you, I really do." He grinned.

Sweden tried to smile back, but ended up making a scary face instead. Finland's fork clattered to the floor. "A-ah, um, I-I mean, uh, yeah… y-y-you're not scary… haha, wh-why would you be s-scary…" He started shaking.

Sweden sighed. How did this always end up happening?

He stood up suddenly, provoking a startled yelp from the smaller man, and strode to the other side of the table. Finland watched him nervously as he got down on one knee. "Fin, I kn'w y' always used t' get annoy'd wh'never I called you m' wife," he began, fishing the box out of his pocket. "B-because you weren't r'lly. But," he opened the box, and Finland's eyes went as wide as saucers, "I, ah, well…

"Will y' be m' wife f'r real?"

Finland gasped. Tears sprang to his eyes. "Oh, Su-san," he breathed, "I—I—yes! Yes, I will!" He dabbed at his face with a tissue as Sweden slid the thin silver band onto his finger. "Su-san, I love you!"

"I love y' too," Sweden murmured as he grasped his lover's hands and swept him into a passionate kiss.

When Prussia entered the Canadian's home, it was to the sound of retching and dazed moaning. "Mattie? Where are you?" he called out, glancing around worriedly. "Are you okay?"

There was a startled squeal and a thump. A moment later, Canada poked his head out from the bathroom, rubbing the spot he'd accidentally bumped on the cabinet. "H-hi Gilbert," he stammered, staring at the Prussian like a deer caught in headlights. "I'm absolutely fine, I—" Suddenly a weird look came over his face. "E-excuse me!" he cried as he ducked back inside to throw up some more. Prussia went in after him and rubbed his back soothingly while he hurled the last of his lunch into the porcelain bowl. "Mattie, are you sure you're okay?" he said as Canada rinsed his mouth. "That's some awful sickness you've got there. Have you seen a doctor yet?"

At this, the Canadian suddenly started. "U-um, well…" He looked at Prussia nervously, like a child who didn't know whether to tell his parent the truth or not. "I d-did, and h-he s-said, well…" He took something out from the drawer and thrust it into Prussia's hand. Prussia scrutinized it. It was a small plastic stick. On the side was a thin pink line. He blinked.

"I don't get it. What's this?"

Canada fidgeted uneasily. "Um, I, uh… I…" His eyes darted around fearfully. How would Gilbert react to the news?

Prussia suddenly noticed the way the Canadian was holding his arms protectively over his stomach. Realization hit him like a freight train. "Holy shit!" he exclaimed, staggering backwards and falling into the bathtub. "Mattie, are you…?" Canada squeaked and turned away, bracing himself for the Prussian's wrath. But Prussia was grinning and giggling giddily as he got up and tackled the Canadian in a bone-crushing hug. "You are! Oh my god, this is so awesome! I'm so awesome! I'm going to be a Vater!" He kissed Canada on both cheeks. "This is terrific, Mattie!"

Canada smiled, still flustered from Prussia's sudden happy outburst. "Really? I-I'm glad…" He blushed.

"Pah! Being glad is for the weak! Mattie, you should be overjoyed! No one is just glad they're having a baby! Come on, smile! Not like that! Bigger! Bigger!" He seized the corners of the Canadian's lips and tugged them upwards. "Like this! This is how awesome people should react! Okay?" He laughed and ruffled Canada's hair. "Kesesesesese! This is the most awesome thing that's ever happened to me!"

Canada hugged him back. "I love you, Gilbert."

"Hehe, of course, Mattie! Ich liebe dich~!"

Spain opened the door a crack and peeked inside. Romano was still sleeping. Chortling to himself, he tiptoed into the room and eased himself onto the bed, beside him. The Italian didn't even stir. Spain smirked. How lucky he was! Normally, Romano would retreat to his own room, which meant Spain couldn't touch him in his sleep (it was an unspoken rule that Romano's room was a Spain-Free Zone). Today, however, the Italian had fallen asleep in Spain's room.

Which meant he was fair game.

Romano was awakened by an awful constricted feeling in his chest. When he opened his eyes, he found a pair of bright green orbs staring into his own. Suddenly jolted into full consciousness, he screamed and tried to wrench himself out of the Spaniard's grip. But Spain merely grinned and squeezed him even tighter. "Good evening, Lovi~~~" he sang when Romano finally stopped thrashing about. "How are you today?"

"Let me go, you jerk!" Romano spat, pushing his face away. "How dare you sneak up on me! I'll kill you!"

Spain giggled and nuzzled him. "But I was only saying hello! And besides," a dark look crept into his eyes, "don't you know what day it is today?"

Romano raised an eyebrow.

"Tsk tsk, Lovi! I'm surprised you don't know! After all, you and Ita-chan hang out with Kiku more than I do, don't you? Today's the day people who received Valentine's Day presents give gifts to the ones they return their affections to! Apparently it's quite popular in Japan. So, since you gave me—uh, tried to give me—that box of chocolates on Valentine's Day, well…"

Romano grimaced at the memory of that embarrassing incident a month ago. Luckily, Belgium had quickly caught on and alerted Spain before too much harm was done. The alarm clock and the chocolates traded places and everyone lived happily ever after… until now.

"So? Why are you holding on to me so tightly?" he snapped. "Let me go, damn bastard." He tried again to get away, but to no avail. Spain rolled over top of him and pinned his arms down. Smiling suggestively, he trailed a hand down the Italian's chest, past his stomach, and rested it on his—

Romano tensed. "Wh-what are you doing?" he cried, as his hips gave an involuntary jerk. "St-stop that!"

Spain laughed. "Oh, Lovi, I love it when you play hard to get," he said huskily. "You know, in Japan they call it White Day. Goodness knows why. Maybe they're referring to white chocolate, but…" He rubbed Romano's groin more forcibly, evoking a shuddery gasp from the younger man. "Lovino, do you know what else is white…?"

I feel kinda sick after writing that last one. But we all know it's a nice summary for all the other pairings as well... As for the Fr/UK/US triangle, heck, that may stay that way forever inside my indecisive little mind. Maybe they should just settle for a threesome... with a very reluctant England trapped in the middle. Yes, that sounds perfect :D

Thanks for reading! R&R~