Hello. I thought I would take advantage of the temporary lull in school work to post this. As always, I'll update when I can.

I sort of explain in this chapter why Germany hates France so much, so pay attention, yeah?

Also, if your name is too-much-romance and you are just now reading this story: What took you so darn long!

Enjoy!

Spain stepped out of his sleek red SEAT Ibiza and removed his sunglasses. With a bottle of Spanish wine in his hands, he walked down a pathway of stones to knock on the door of a French house.

A strange, unfamiliar man opened the door. "Hello? How can I help you?"

"Huh?" Spain raised an eyebrow. Why was there an American here?

"You must have an engagement with Mr. Bonnefoy." The man continued. "Unfortunately, he has been called to America for urgent business. I will tell him that you came, Mister..?"

"Antonio Fernández Carriedo. A ver, Francis is gone..." Spain sulked a little, but then he cheerfully offered his bottle to the man. "I brought this as a gift for my friend. Could you send it his way for me?"

The American looked scornfully at it. "How insulting." He pushed it away. "Mister, uh, Antonio, are you trying to disrespect Mr. Bonnefoy?"

Spain smiled, trying to hide his bewilderment. "Oh, I am sorry…?"

"It is discourteous to give a Frenchman foreign wine. In any event, I will tell him you came, despite your rude behavior." The man shut the door.

Winter came early that year as all color drained from Germany's face.

On the inside, he found that the strange tent was decorated to be nice and homey, and was filled with several round tables. A kitchen must have been in the back, which connected to a bar on the right. The hardwood floor reflected the colored lights splashed around by the small fixtures hanging down from the silky ceiling.

On top of that, the tent was littered with home furniture, rugs, and the occasional landscape painting made of warm colors hung on the silky wall.

And then, there were the two male maids, waiting to attend him. France even winked at him.

Germany was speechless. His face contorted in embarrassment, rage, surprise, and mostly fright, and his eyes flickered between the other two nations.

And if Japan had not been too busy dying a little inside from this ignominy, he would have taken a picture of it.

"You seem a little disoriented, Master." France casually took Germany's hand. "Here, I will show you to your -"

"N-N-Nein, un-nmöglich!" Germany snapped his hand away. "Was zur Hölle! I j-just came h-here f-for Italy and J-Japan!"

"And they are here! Your problem is solved." France's too-contented smile was growing by the second. He swayed the skirt of his painfully-short dress as he talked. "Now, if you would follow me, Master."

"Do n-not call me th-that, France!" Germany looked away, and then to Japan, seeking help. But behind his dark, emotionless gaze, the poor otaku was nearly as panicked as the large German, and was in no mood to be of assistance. "You immature countries-!"

"Ah, but that is not how a maid café works." France flipped back his blonde hair. "It is, eh, a bit like a strip club, but much more tasteful."

"This is disgusting!" Germany paled even further. "I am leaving right this-"

"D-Doitsu-s-sama!" Japan said quickly, having worked up the nerve to talk. "P-Please, eto, eto, stay, hai! You, you want to leave Italy-kun here with France-kun?"

Germany stopped, and glared at the Frenchman.

"Oh, how is that so terrible?" France retorted, sarcastically. He wanted Japan to convince Germany, so he did not try very hard. "You make such cruel assumptions."

"Where is he!"

"You mean Italy, mon cher?" France chuckled. "He is in the kitchen, and he has been working on a wonderful treat for you, Master."

"Stop that!" Germany shouted and glanced away again, but then he considered France's words. "... What would that be, exactly?"

"We will serve it for you, if you wish." France smirked. "You'll have to stay to see it."

Japan nervously looked down.

With the greatest calmness that he could muster, Germany mulled over his options. What was Italy up to? Germany thought about the sweet little nation dancing around the kitchen, throwing all sorts of exotic ingredients into a pan in hopes of making a delectable present for his so-called 'best friend forever,' while singing a lovely song he wrote about pasta, or, God forbid, another friendship one about Ger-

France pulled out a nearby chair for him. "Please, sit down, Master."

Abruptly aware and ashamed of his modest fantasy, Germany grunted awkwardly. "Fine, fine, ja. I will get this over with. But make this quick, or I will go back there and get him myself." He sat rigidly upright, keeping a tense vigil on France.

"Oh, you won't have to wait long, Master."

"H-Here, Doitsu-sama." Japan wordlessly offered his master a frosty beer in a clear plastic mug, holding it out for Germany as if he had asked for it. "I th-think it w-would be best, eto, if you had this."

Germany anxiously took it and quickly emptied the drink.

"Order up!" China came from the kitchen with a very large platter on a cart. The platter was covered by a silvery dome that hid its contents. China was wearing a long red dress and had applied feminine makeup to his face.

Germany frowned, depressed by his own continued embarrassment. "You are also conspiring with France, China?"

China only smiled like a welcoming employee. But when China drew the platter closer, Japan started backing away. "Eto, I, I, eto, I, eto…" Japan failed to mutter a good excuse, yet he managed to make the point of standing very far away from his former leader.

"Hm." That made Germany suspicious of the covered platter. Was Japan a vegetarian? Or did France have something particularly sinister planned?

China left the cart by Germany. "All for you, Master, aru!"

Germany groaned at the word Master. But then he eyed the gleaming platter curiously again. Why was it so big? There could be a whole pig under that thing.

China stepped back and whispered, "France, this is absolutely inhumane, aru."

"Of course." France also removed himself from Germany's presence to chat with China. "And since when are you known for a high value in human rights?" France whispered sharply in reply. "Now chut, China, let us watch. I am about to win."

Germany stared at the platter for a while. With the stern voice and expression of a German police officer, he asked loudly, "This is just food, yes, France?"

"Absolutely!" France outright lied. He was too close to victory now to risk it with an answer resembling honesty. "You had best eat it before it gets cold."

Germany continued to resist the urge to beat the lecherous Ally into one of the colored lamps, but his patience was reaching its end. He reached for the platter.

France stifled a chortle. China rolled his eyes, and Japan melted even further into the shadows.

Germany's gaze twitched to them. "There is nothing but food here, France?"

"Truly, mon cher, there is nothing but pasta. And tomatoes! It's all tomatoes, I swear!"

Even though France was clearly lying, there was nothing the German could do about it without proof.

Germany boldly removed the lid from the platter, and immediately all of the color that he had lost when he first entered the pub returned to him tenfold.

His heart skipped a beat.

Italy winked back at him. He was lying down with his stomach on the platter, his legs curled back, and his chin raised. His hands were bent backwards, hiding in his shirt for some reason.

At least he was still wearing the green suit that Germany gave him. No, never mind, that didn't help at all.

"Hi, Master Germany~!" Italy let down his legs. "Welcome home, ve~!"

Germany was at a loss for words as his heart began to pound rapidly against his chest.

France was so happy with the German's humiliation that he grinned from ear to ear and wrapped an arm around his Ally. But China only shook his head sourly. Japan was brave enough to watch surreptitiously from his dark corner.

"I-Italia!" Germany finally shouted and fell back in his seat, crashing against the floor. "Italy, what are you-!"

"I've been a bad servant, ve…" Italy crawled to the edge of the table, pretending to sulk, and crept down right onto poor Germany's lap. "I was too busy dreaming about pasta to do my work, so the other servants caught me and…"

"Italy, why are-! What are you-!" Germany was glowing red and his hands were slick with sweat. "And w-what are you hiding in your hands! I d-demand that you r-reveal-"

The innocent little nation grinned. "I've been a bad boy." He pulled his hands out of his shirt and over his head.

Germany recoiled like a shotgun.

Italy's hands were handcuffed together. Italy drew even closer and murmured with a playful smile, "I need to be punished, Master Germany."

France bit his lip to suppress his mirth, waiting for the happy ending that he had worked so hard to achieve. China wondered why he had helped France in the first place.

Germany's head was swimming, let loose by strange, ambivalent feelings of excitement. This had gone too far, he had to get control over himself! But how could he? The Italian was all over him!

France was so close to victory this time. But there was one nation he had not counted on to show up.

"Hey, you guys!" At that moment, America burst threw the tent. "The Big Three have arrived and- huh?"

America saw Italy on top of Germany. The large nation's voice bitterly reminded the proud German soldier of the presence of the other nations around him. Rattled with shame now and in a desperate haste, he shoved Italy off, stood up, and tried to look dignified.

America blinked a couple of times, and then glowed with delight. "Ha ha ha! You guys are so gay!" America pointed at them with a mocking grin and looked back outside. "Hey England! I was totally right! Italy tops!"

Feeling lonely after his indirect rejection by France, Spain decided to pay a visit to another close friend. Now he stood in front of a German house, holding a German bottle of wine, waiting for someone to answer the door while he whistled idly. He was careful not to pick a foreign brand of liquor this time.

The door flung open, and an agitated Prussia appeared. His white hair was disheveled and his bloodshot eyes were redder than normal.

Spain greeted, "Hola Prusia, ¿cómo estás?"

"Awesome as ever! Ha ha." Prussia grinned like crazy, but then he looked at the bottle and sneered. "What the hell is that thing?"

"Oh, this?" Wondering why Prussia had chosen to speak English, Spain nonetheless was happy to give him the bottle. "German wine, my gift to you."

Prussia narrowed his eyes. "You got me domestic wine? I didn't know you were such an asshole."

Spain's cheerful smile faltered. "E-Excuse me?"

"Don't you get it? You can't just give Germans wine from a German vineyard!" Prussia stared at the heinous gift. "You give foreign wine, idiot. Otherwise, you're just saying that my wine isn't good enough."

"…Oh …" Spain laughed, as a way to vent his frustration. "I apologize…"

Prussia turned away and left inside, back to the laptop that he had left on his couch.

Spain sighed, left the wine at the door, and followed his friend. He quickly forgot about the wine and put on his happy face again. "So, Prussia, how are-"

"West has disappeared!" Prussia replied. "It's so awesome!"

"Oh?" Spain stopped.

"Yeah! He just up and walked out of here a couple of days ago or something, and he hasn't come back!" Prussia laughed manically. "I have no idea where he is! My little brother might be in trouble, but I can't do anything about it! It's so awesome!"

"I see. That is…"

"In fact, it's so fucking awesome, I haven't even gone to sleep since he left!" Prussia spun sharply back to Spain, who stepped back a little. "It feels so great, being all alone in this big house! How can I waste time sleeping when life is so fantastic and the awesome me doesn't even know what happened to West!" Prussia's eyes grew large and threw his hands up in the air.

"Ah…" Spain chuckled nervously again. "A ver, have you tried looking for him?"

"I looked everywhere, and all I could find out is that he isn't at home! West left me after he got some email from that lazy America so I've been calling and emailing a bunch of Americans!" Prussia made a point of this by shoving Germany's computer in Spain's face and showing him the collection of hundreds of electronic letters. "But no matter what I do, I can't get a hold of that douchebag, and no one knows where West is! I even tried Japan and Italy, but they're gone, too!" Prussia was beside himself with laughter. "Ha ha! I love this awful feeling in my gut, the pressure in my chest! I'm so damn lonely and it's so fucking awesome!"

Spain blinked. "Did you say that Italy is missing?"

"Yeah, I checked a hundred times. I mean the Italy that West likes, not that Italy that you like, Schwule!" Prussia presented to his friend a cell phone that had made several calls to one Feliciano Vargas, but none were answered.

"Did you ask Romano?" Spain asked, but he knew this question was irrelevant, anyway. He was with Romano much of yesterday, and there had been no mention of any of this. Then the Spaniard remembered, "He said that Veneziano went to see England."

"England's disappeared, too, you know!"

"What? How can that be?" Spain began to worry for Italy, and felt the urge to call Romano and see whether or not the petulant little nation had gone missing in the last ten hours. "Come to think of it, France was not at home, either."

"Do you know where West could be?" Every time that Prussia blinked, his drowsy eyes closed for more than two seconds. He did not blink very often. "It's hilarious, isn't it? The awesome me can't even take care of his own!"

"Calm down, Prussia." The Spaniard comforted his fellow country with a pat on the shoulder. "We will figure everything out. You said Germany left to see America?"

"I don't know, maybe!"

"Then we will go to America." Spain beamed, and his jovial demeanor was beginning to have an impact on Prussia. "I had better call Romano and tell him that I will be gone for the next few days. I hope that he has not noticed that Veneziano has gone missing?"

"Blast all, America, running off like that!" England muttered to Russia, though mostly to himself, as they approached the suspicious tent structure. "What makes him so impatient? He might have us trapped here for years, yet he runs around." England stopped in front of the tent. "What is all this, anyway? It seems like something China would have made. It definitely looks like his quality…"

Russia gently put a hand on England's shoulder. "You insult comrade China?"

England jolted and slinked away from Russia. "N-N-No, of course not! I was just thinking how, how nice this piece of crap looks..."

Just then, America peeped out of the tent and shouted, "Hey England! I was totally right! Italy tops!"

Not given the context, the British gentleman did not understand what that meant.

An unseen force drew the American back in, and there was an uncanny silence.

"Hmm? Maybe Germany is not as dominant as I thought?" Russia wondered aloud, though the meaning of the sentiment was lost on England.

The opening to the tent flew open, and an angry German stormed out of the establishment, dragging China and Japan along the ground.

"Oh, Germany? What a surprise." England began sarcastically. "What are you-"

Germany glared at him.

England grew quiet.

Germany's face was contorted into the most frustrated expression that England could ever remember seeing. His sharp and narrow eyes were weighed down by a deeply furrowed brow, and his hands were clenched bitterly around the scruffs of the two dresses.

Germany dropped the two Orientals and reentered the tent. Next he pushed America back outside, though the young nation did not go easily. Finally, Germany quickly escorted Italy out, though he kept his gaze away from the boyish nation's wrists.

"Hey, hey, wait!" America stopped him. "We're invading Rome now, so that means we have to play for Italy!"

Germany was at his wit's end. He shoved Italy into America and shouted impulsively, "Just take him!"

"What?" England, America, China, and Japan uttered in amazement.

Russia smiled in nostalgia. "Just like old times~"

"No one come inside!" Germany growled in absolute irritation. "I must speak to France alone! Miserable bastards!" He went back inside and sealed the tent shut.

After a brief silence, Russia noted happily, "China is a girl, da?"

"Uh, I didn't think so." America scratched his head. "I guess it might explain things, though."

"Why...?" China did not understand what they were talking about until he chanced to roll his eyes down, when he realized he was still in the red dress. His eyes grew wide. "No, aru! France told me to wear this! Oh no, why did I put on this dress!"

Russia came closer and ran his fingers through China's hair. "I think you are a girl, you take such good care of your hair~"

China quickly pulled away and held up a frying pan in front of himself. "S-stay back, a-aru!"

England waved them off. "Of course he isn't a girl, don't be daft. Anyway, it would not be the first time that China wore ridiculously feminine clothing." England snidely remarked, though he was still unnerved. What had France done to make the former Axis leader so angry?

Italy bounced up and down. "Ve? Where did Master Germany go? Germany! Wah, he left me all alone!" Italy shook his head furiously. "Germany and big brother France left me!"

"Oh, how interesting." Russia came closer to Italy. "Little Italy is tied up like men in Gulag, da?" He poked the handcuffs.

Italy tilted his head. "Ve~?"

"Oh, yeah, we have Italy now! Okay!" America grabbed Italy and shook him a little. "We got Rome now! Ha ha! Yeah, those Fascist Nazis couldn't handle the might of the Allies, specifically me!"

"America," England interrupted him. "What is going on in there? Why is Italy bound? What has Germany so upset? And why is there a huge tent here out of nowhere!"

"Who cares! It's hilarious. And we got Italy! The Allies win, fuck yeah! I kick so much ass." America grinned victoriously. It took only a couple of seconds for him to get bored and let go of Italy. "All right, what comes next?"

Italy moved to walk back into the tent, but Japan, worried that Germany might resent the two even further, kept him away from it. "N-Not now, Italy-kun."

England pressed America. "But what about Germany and France? Shouldn't we stop them from annexing each other?"

"I invade Romania now." Russia advised merrily. "So Romania switches sides and invades Hungary."

"Na." America shrugged. "Anything good?"

"Wars are not good, you idiot! Are you ignoring me? Bloody sod..." England crossed his arms. "Fine, if you must know, Operation Overlord happened after that."

"Huh?" America scrunched up his face. "What was that?"

"Operation Overlord."

"What?"

"The invasion of Normandy."

America blinked.

England scowled. "D-Day!"

"Oh! Yeah! That! So, I guess that means Normandy is in France, right? Awesome!" America thrust his fist up. "The Allies are invading France! We, the good guys, are taking our surrender monkey back from the evil Nazis!"

"You must be joking." England humphed. "Germany looked like he was ready to blow! And who knows what he is doing to France as we speak? You can do it yourself." England took Italy to the side to try and take off the cuffs.

America laughed. "Oh well, it's hero time!"

"W-Wait, America-kun!" Japan stood in front of America. "I-I believe, eto, Ger-Germany-kun said not to enter."

"You don't have to defend him, Japan! I'll go in and kick his ass!"

"America-kun, do not…" Japan thought quickly for some excuse. "I, I have something to give you!"

"Huh?"

"H-Hai!" Japan anxiously produced the wooden box that France had given him as unwanted payment. "Et, eto, this is for you. Nowpleasedonotgoinside."

America looked at him quizzically. "What was that? Some kind of a Japanese greeting?"

Japan held back a sigh. "H-H-Hai." He held out the box.

America grabbed it rather ruthlessly and grinned widely. "This is awesome! Thanks, Japan! You're the best!" Without so much as opening the box, he stashed it into his bomber jacket and gave Japan a friendly hug around the shoulders. Japan blushed all over at the close contact, especially while wearing Italy's dress.

Why did Japan's sacrifices for his leader always involve America?

Germany could not talk to France yet. First, the furious German had to vent his rage and violently bash his chair against the table, break one of the standing lamps against the bar counter, and flip over nearly every piece of furniture in the tent.

France was scared out of his mind. What was Germany going to do now? Had France's scheme worked too well? Could it be that Germany was reenacting the war a little too accurately? Poor persecuted France! All he wanted to do was to get his geographical neighbor to have some fun. Why is it that Germans and fun never mix?

The angry Germany finally grabbed France by the collar of his maid dress. "France..."

"I'm sorry! Forgive me! I'm just a weak, defenseless, impecable well-dressed Frenchman!" France pleaded with fingers folded. "I really thought you would like it! Please don't hurt me!"

Germany's blue eyes twitched in irritation.

"Please have mercy! I promise I will never do it again!" France did not mean it at all, but he would say anything to avoid the German's wrath. "I, I will stop rioting from work, I will give you control over the next United Nations conference, I will forgive you for winning Eurovision-!"

"You are perverted and sick, France! Desist this immaturity at once and stop interfering in my," Germany chose his words carefully, "Politics."

France dared, "You mean, your love life, mon cher?"

It was as if Germany had touched something hot, because he jumped a little and looked furious.

Startled, France paled, and pretended to laugh. "Eh, ha ha, admit it, Germany, you are hopeless without me!" He freed himself from the German's hands and risked throwing a playful arm around the neck of his adversary. "I have already given you a hundred years to make up your mind. It is only fair, non?"

Germany stared hard at France, suppressing the impulse to remind the boastful Frenchman that France had been going after England for over a thousand years now. Instead, Germany pushed him back. "Absolutely not."

"Why must you be so difficult, mon cher?"

"Do not play dumb with me! You of all countries should know why!"

France hesitated. "Hm?"

"... Nothing. I, I expect you to be more well behaved in the future!"

"Oh, are you hiding something, love? You can tell me!" France drew closer, making Germany wince in disgust. "I am good at keeping secrets. Tell me, what is bothering you?"

"I am a grown nation! Do not treat me like some child!"

"Oh, I would not dream of doing that!" France held a hand to his chest, as though he were offended. "I know you are not a child, even though you are only two hundred years old, ha ha..."

Germany's voice was piercing. "You are lying to me."

"Huh?" France scratched his hair and grinned weakly. "W-What do you mean?"

"I know the truth, France. I am not two hundred years old."

France was crushed by a torrent of surprise, and he stepped back. "Q-Quoi?"

Impetuously, Germany grabbed France by the collar again. "You listen to me, Franzose!"

"B-But I-!"

"Let us go over the facts, du hurensohn!" He caught France's dancing eyes with his own. "In 1806, a crumbling empire officially dissolved and became part of the French Empire," he spoke those words with hateful emphasis, "under a new name, the Rheinbund."

"W-Wait, Germany-!"

"It is my turn to talk!" Germany shook France until the boozehound was dizzy. "In 1813, after the French Empire was defeated, the Rheinbund took a new form, which was raised by Prussia." He pushed France back.

"H-How did you remember all of this!" France cried out. "You were supposed to forget!"

"I went to a library, arschloch!"

France froze. Obviously! They were countries! Germany must have researched this a long time ago! But why? Was the German soldier just studying military history and he stumbled upon these rather arbitrary facts? That seemed unlikely.

Oh. It was something about Italy, wasn't it?

France understood now. He had ruined Italy's childhood sweetheart. So Italy was still waiting for him, wasn't he? Then Germany could never win the Italian's heart, and that was why France could never win. For a second he thought about it as spot on the floor of Germany's kitchen that neither France nor Germany could wipe away.

It was ironic that way. France was trying so hard to get Germany and Italy together, and yet it was all France's fault that their happiness could never be, because he had made Germany forget about the Italian in the first place. Was this why Germany hated him all of the time?

"N-non!" France sputtered. "I did not do anything wrong! And I did not hurt anyone! J-just the sight of blood makes me squeemish! I promise, it was not my fault! I loved that little Empire…" He sighed and smiled sadly. "Oh, you were so cute back then~"

Love? Cute? In a horrible dread, Germany's face turned blue. "Did you-?"

"Eh? Oh, non! Non! Non!" France frantically waved his hands. "Not like that! You were not that cute! Non, you see, when I annexed you into my house-"

"Let me make myself clear!" Germany pulled France closer again, and his voice sharpened into a menacing whisper. "You will cease using me like a toy, you are not to breathe a word of this to anyone, and if you so much as lay a hand on Italy again I will see to it that you go the way of your Napoleon and never get off of this rock, do you understand!"

France could only nod sheepishly.

"Why are they taking so long in there!" America whimpered. "We have to do Operation Overlord! What would France and Doucheland be doing in there, anyway? If France dies, I'm down one player!"

"Idiot! I would like to reaffirm now that your intelligence does not come from me." England remarked. "Also, Operation Overlord was indeed the invasion of France from the north, but aren't you forgetting Operation Dragoon?"

"What? Operation Dragoon? Was that really a thing?"

"It was the invasion of France from the south."

"Ha ha, no way! You're making that up, just like those troll things or that flying bunny that doesn't exist!"

"Wanker!" England scowled and slapped the back of America's head.

"Ow, what was that for!"

"You are an idiot. Full stop."

"I don't- wait, what?"America was completely baffled. He looked down at his feet, checking to make sure that he was not walking. "Uh, stop doing what?"

"Hm?" Then England was confused, too. "What are you talking about?"

"You told me to fully stop, right?"

"Are you daft? I said, full stop. As in, the punctuation mark that goes at the end of a sentence."

"You mean the period?"

"The thing that women get every month?"

"No, the thing that ends a sentence!"

"Yes, the full stop."

"No, it's the period!"

"It is not called the period, America! It is the full stop! Period makes no sense."

"We can only have one, so period it is!" America grinned, and England made a wry face. "Oh, come on, Iggy, you're on my team!"

"On your team? That would be, in your team."

"Huh? How would you be in my team? Like, in a line or something?"

"How the bloody hell can you be in a line!"

"You know, like, in a store, in front of the register?"

"It's not a bloody store, America, it's a shop! A shop!"

"Not really. It's a store."

"Wanker! Why is it a store? I go shopping, so do you go storing?" England wagged his finger. "And it is not a line that you stand in! It is a queue! You queue in front of the till!"

America shrugged. "I think I know how to speak my own language, dude. Learn how to speak English."

"Miserable yank! English is mine! My name is England!"

Russia, China, Japan, and Italy watched the two bicker on and on curiously until France finally opened up the tent.

Still in a tizzy, England turned away from America to greet France, and then slapped his own bushy-eyebrow face. "France, what the bloody hell are you wearing a maid's dress for!"

France smiled weakly back in reply. "Oh… No reason."

England lowered his hand and narrowed his eyes. France was slouching his shoulders and the leery smirk he normally wore seemed defeated and fatalistic. The man looked fearful and shaken. England found it disconcerting, and he did not like it.

Not that he cared about France, not at all!

"Okay, guys, we're reenacting the invasion of Normandy!" America hollered. He pushed past France without so much as a glance and made a dramatic show of leading everyone inside. "It's a drinking game, as decided by a democracy! Me, that is! The winner gets France, so, try to lose, ha. I'm going to win, though, because I'm the hero!"

When all of the others nations came inside, the first thing they saw was Germany, standing rigidly right behind France. Germany had a heavy hand on France's shoulder, and then everyone understood why France looked so miserable.

Italy entered last. He waved merrily to Germany and France, which he was able to do now that England had released his hands.

Germany pushed France a little. "France! Is there not something you want to say!"

"Oui, oui!" France shook violently, and pleaded to Italy. "Please forgive me, sweet, forgiving Italy! You will forgive me, won't you?" Germany's hand on his shoulder grew more heavy, and France shook his head furiously. "I am sorry! I am sorry! I, uh, uh, I, uh-"

Germany supplied sternly, "Used you for my own sick games!"

"Oui, that is right, used you for my own sick games!" France nearly cried. "It was wrong of me and you should never listen to what this poor Frenchman says! I promise I will be a better older brother in the future!"

"Ve?"

"Good enough!" Germany let go of France.

France laughed feebly. "Ah, yes, we are friends again, now?"

Germany frowned fiercely, his eyes sharpened to focus on the Frenchman.

"A-Ah!" France ran away and hid behind America, who did not even notice. "Please, do not hurt me?"

Germany held his index finger out and shouted, "Italy! Japan! File rank!"

Italy jumped. "Ciao~!" Italy saluted with the wrong hand, which was funny, because he was the one who began the practice of saluting with the right hand outstretched among the Axis powers.

Japan quickly and nervously took his place beside Italy. "Hai."

Germany glanced down at Japan's dress but made himself ignore it. "Italy, I will forgive your idiocy this time, but do not repeat this mistake! How many times must I tell you to never trust France!"

Italy blinked. "Ve?"

"Your behavior was absolutely unacceptable! Do you remember what I told you before Operation Barbarossa! Anyone who wants to put you in chains is, erm, anyone who wants to…" Germany hesitated. "Anyone who locks you in a cage is an enemy!"

"Yessir!" The joyful tone with which Italy answered implied that he understood nothing.

Despite his sour spirits and fear for his national security, France smirked a little at Germany from behind America. The poor German was dancing around words to avoid listing himself as an enemy.

What! Operation Barbarossa! France stopped.

Earlier, Germany had said that Barbarossa was one of his old leaders. But now that France was paying more attention, he remembered clearly that Barbarossa was, in fact, a Holy Roman Emperor.

Did Italy notice that?

"And you, Japan!" Germany barked at his other partner. "I expect this lack of judgement from Italy, but not from you."

Japan bowed his head. "H-Hai. I will invest more time into contemplating Bushido."

"… Very well." Germany nodded and said nothing else. He watched Italy for a few seconds but then looked to America with crossed arms. He did not bother chastising China, who was having a hard enough time staying away from Russia.

"Time to start! Everyone sit at the bar!" America demonstrated by sitting down first, going out of his way to pull Japan to sit by him. "You can be with me, Japan. I'll show you how this game works!"

Japan, baffled by the ridiculous excuse, grew pink and mumbled incoherently. It certainly was strange that America would want to sit near an Axis power.

England also sat by America, and beckoned to France. "Come on, France, it is not like we have a choice here."

"Ah, n-no thank you, mon cher." France took shelter behind the bar. "I will s-serve the drink. After alI, I cannot win myself, non?" He ducked under the counter.

"Uh, right." England muttered without certainty.

Russia decided to sit by England.

China sat by Japan.

Russia got back up and moved to sit by China, smiling all the while. "You sit with me, comrade."

"N-No." China held himself down to keep himself from shaking. "Please go back."

"How cute, you act like woman playing the act of hard to get." Russia happily pat China on the back.

More cold shivers went up China's spine. He pushed Russia's hand off and moved to stand up. "No, aru! Don't you un-understand that I hate you, aru!"

Russia rolled his head. "Oh, I see. Comrade China does not like the touching, da?" He pulled back his hand voluntarily and politely folded both hands on his lap. "Then I will be good boy for China."

"R-Really?" China was shocked. "Aru?"

"Da."

"But..." China pouted in disbelief. Was Russia really going to leave him alone, then? China slowly fell back to the bar stool, not dropping his suspicion for an instant.

"Yay! Let's play, Germany~!" Italy pulled Germany by the hand to sit by England.

Germany muttered, "You really are an idiot, Italy..."

"Yeah, let's do this!" America shouted blazenly. "England, truth or dare!"

"Wanker! We are playing a drinking game, not truth or dare!" England sneered. "You forgot to give us the rules."

"Drinking game? Uh, yeah, okay. How about, you have to take a drink every time England says his food isn't disgusting."

"That is unacceptable! And my food is not disgusting! It must be your own poor tastes. I am sure that you cannot stomach anything that is not greased enough to run a car." England laughed a little at his own joke. "Hurry up with that beer, France."

"Y-Yes, yes, of c-course." France poured out drinks for the other seven countries. All were beers, because no other refreshment was available, and it made France feel a little uncomfortable since beer was more expensive. He set a glass before each nation, starting with Germany. "H-Here you go, my f-friend! I am sure that we can move past this-"

"You a treading a very thin line, France."

France's face melted in fear and he quickly moved on.

"Oh, I got a great idea. Ha, what am I saying, all of my ideas are great." America looked down the row of people, counting up numbers in his head. "Yeah, this will work. The rule is that every time an Ally drinks, an Axis power has to drink."

"What are we drinking?" Italy asked. "Wine~!"

"Idiot! Have you been paying any attention at all!" Germany broke out violently. "There is beer right in front of you! You are absolutely useless!"

Italy pouted. "I'm sorry, scary Master Germany~"

"I-Italy-kun, we are not doing that, eto, anymore!" Japan whispered anxiously. "Please do not call him Master-"

"Come on, Japan! Drink with me!" America raised his glass to Japan.

Japan looked down at the beer. "Et, eto, eto..."

"Here, I'll show you how it goes!" America drank a few gulps. "Ah! Your turn!"

"I, eto, I do not-"

"What? You don't know how? Don't worry about that!" The strong country thrust his own mug at Japan and poured the booze down the other's throat. "All good, right?"

Caught by surprise and completely disoriented, Japan nearly sputtered and spit out the drink. But he had to polite, so he also gulped it down. "Et, eto, America-kun..."

"See? It's easy. All right! You go now, England!"

"We're just drinking alcohol? That's not much of a game. I've already done that twice on this island." England raised his mug. "Who else wants to go at it?"

"Ve~!" Italy picked up his beer. "Wine is better, but this is okay."

England and Italy both took a drink. It only made England feel even worse, but it made Italy a little hyperactive. "Ve, ve, ve! Your turn now, Germany!"

"Ja." Germany grabbed his beer.

"We drink, da?" Russia didn't even bother with the ale. He took out some vodka instead, and proceeded to consume the entire bottle without a pause.

Germany reciprocated and downed his entire beer.

There was a dark glint in Russia's smile. He prepared another bottle. "Again, da?"

"Ja, more!" Germany shoved his drink at France, who eagerly complied and refilled the drink. Germany and Russia stared each other down while they drank their alcohol all the way to the bottom.

Russia happily conjured yet another vodka. "Are you full yet, comrade?"

"Nein!" Germany snatched another glass and right away began drinking it. France hastily prepared several beers for him on the counter.

England muttered, "This certainly resembles the Battle of Stalingrad more than the invasion of France."

"Go, Allies!" America cheered. "Go Russia, drink that vodka! Wait, that doesn't sound right. Let me try again." He inhaled deeply and shouted, "Go Germany, kick that commie's ass! Eh, that's, weird too. I'll just watch. Ha ha, you guys suck!"

China shook his head. "But they could go at this forever, aru..."

Germany and Russia finished their third, and then their fourth drinks. And still they reached for more, determined by some unseen eternal grudge.

Japan watched with concern. "Germany-kun, I think it is my turn now."

"Yes, Russia, give the rest of us a chance to drink." England was growing impatient for more beer.

But neither of the stubborn countries slowed down. They plowed through the fifth, sixth, seventh, and eventually America lost count. After an obscene number of drinks, finally, Germany was slowing down.

France hesitantly offered him the final glass of beer. "E-Excuse me, mon cher, but there is not much beer left in the keg, you know? Maybe it would be b-best if you stopped now-"

Germany wiped some foam off of his lips and scowled. He raised his empty mug and threw it at France, but he must have been too inebriated to see straight because it flew past France's ear and shattered harshly against a shelf.

France flinched back and froze.

Germany took only a small swig from the new glass of beer before he had to put it down. He shifted in his seat. "Verdammt..."

Russia quickly noted, "You pass out now, da?"

"Nein, no, not that..." Germany moved forward in his seat, and hitched up his leg a little.

"Oh~! Germany has to pee!" Italy beamed and held his hands up as if riding a rollar coaster, much to Germany's chagrin. "Let's all go pee and sleep a siesta~!"

"Ha ha! That means the Soviets win, which means I win! Go Allies, ha ha! Oh, wait..." America looked up, as if deeply in thought. "Yeah, I got to piss, too."

"Please, don't be so vulgar!" England scoffed. "Go spend a penny, then, but have the decency to do it outside."

America stood up and looked around. "Why? We can go in this stupid tent, right?"

"How disrespectful, aru!" China pouted. "I did very well, considering the lack of materials, aru!"

"Ha, come on!" America laughed and threw an arm around the upset China. "Everyone can see this place sucks ass!"

Russia stood up ominously, and drew closer behind America. "Izvinite."

America looked back at him. "Huh?"

"China does not like the touching, comrade." Russia drew out a faucet pipe. "You step away, da?"

The strong country merely glanced quizzically at the pipe, but England always turned sour at Russia's presence. At the sight of the weapon England grew exceptionally paranoid. "Put that thing away, R-Russia! L-L-Leave China alone, America!" England swatted at him.

"Hm? Hey, what's the deal?" America backed off in confusion. "Do I smell funny?" He sniffed his jacket. "Can't possibly be that, I smell like cheeseburgers! Hah, you people are weird." America laughed and left the tent. "Be right back, Japan!"

"Ve~!" Italy rose, and started taking off his shirt.

"This is not a siesta, Italy! Why must you be such an idiot?" Germany made him keep it on, and tersely led the oblivious nation outside.

"Eto, America-kun is very, eto..." Japan rubbed his neck anxiously. "I hope there is not some detail about Western culture that I have missed..."

"All better now, comrade?" Russia smiled to China.

"W-Well..." China stuttered. "I... I, I have to go as well!" He quickly pushed himself off his seat, side-stepped around Russia and darted out the tent.

Japan shyly averted his own eyes from Russia's strangely cheery gaze. The Asian country held his cup of beer to his face, but only to hide himself, not to drink.

Bored after waiting for only a few seconds, England coughed uncomfortably in the room of socially incompetent conversationalists. "So, um, France..."

"Oh, I have failed, mon cher!" France cried out and slumped against the bar table. "I give up! This is too hard!"

"What the bloody hell are you talking about?"

"I cannot even get Germany and sweet little Italy together!" France sulked lugubriously. "In fact, I think it is all my fault..."

Japan lowered his mug in attention.

"Humph." England replied self-righteously. "Blimey, you never have any follow-through on anything! Of course, this is a ridiculous matter, anyway."

"Surely you would want to see the world filled with love! But I must be cursed..." France buried his head pitifully in his arms. He muttered, "Oh, I cannot even win over my own love, how am I supposed to help those poor two? I need help..."

Japan looked down, fiddled with his fingers, and asked quietly, "Et-to, France-kun?"

"Eh, quoi?" France glanced up hopefully.

"M-May I please remove this dress now?"

"Oh..." The Frenchman collapsed back into the bar table. "... Yes... There is no point to it now, is there?"

"Ugh! Man alive, chin up, man!" England slammed a fist next to France's head, making the man jolt back up. "You look absolutely pathetic. What is with all this nonsense, anyway? What happened?"

"I, I cannot tell you..." France smiled sadly. Japan took this opportunity to leave to the kitchen and change back into his uniform.

England scratched his head. "You know, you are so fickle, you will probably forget about this in an hour, and you'll be back to grabbing my arse, like normal."

"That is a lie! I will be haunted by this forever!" France was very determined to remain miserable. "I am a tragic country..."

Russia sat down and took out a fresh bottle of vodka, but unlike the others, he took his time drinking this one. "What is the problem, comrades?"

England shot him a dirty look. "Wanker."

"I, I am not so sure that you would be able to help me, Russia." France put a hand to his forehead. "I cannot even help my fellow countries! I should just surrender to fate..."

England rolled his eyes. "Like you always do?"

"Niet, comrade, there is no surrender." Russia darkened cryptically. "Death before surrender, da?"

"N-Non, mon cher..."

Japan returned in his white costume. now that he could breathe easier, he decided that he still needed to help his fellow Axis powers, too. Well, he had already tried to help them by wearing a dress, but clearly a more sophisticated and less humiliating plan was required. "Ano, F-France-kun. I, eto, I have a suggestion."

France flipped back his hair idly, and replied with a depressed tone. "What is that?"

Repairing his calm and collected facade, Japan stood up straight and spoke tersely. "After careful observation I have found that, eto, that Germany-kun will never in any state of consciousness concede to your demands."

"Eh, thanks for the advice..."

"D-Demo, Italy-kun m-might!"

"Italy?" France propped up his head on his elbow.

"Hai." Japan nodded. He still did not know why France was still wearing the maid costume, but it was very troubling. Wouldn't that make Germany even angrier?

"Italy is such a nice person, you agree?" Russia thought about the music box that he had received and then given away. "It is sad to see him with Germany. He should become one with Russia, da~?"

"W-What?" England moved one seat away. "But, I thought you liked Ch-China?"

"... Hm?" For once, Russia seemed a little disgusted. "Da... I talk about geography, comrade... Westerners have strange minds, da?"

England was startled. "Oh. M-My apologies, I guess I spend too much time around France."

"Eto, eto, h-hai..." Japan made the effort to continue. "It would be best if, if, eto, if you convinced Italy-kun instead of Germany-kun, France-kun. Convince Italy-kun that he, eto, that he, that he has, eto, eto, f-feelings for Germany-kun. I w-would be willing to help-"

"Don't waste your time." England shook his head. "Really, stop acting like children. I don't know what happened here while I was gone, but obviously it was a bad idea. Let those two take care of their own problems. And if not, they'll be no worse off than the rest of us, anyway."

"Yes! That is it!" France vigorously woke up from his depressing stupor. "I know exactly what to do! Oh, mon Dieu, mon Dieu, I have the answer! Dear England, you have solved my problem!"

"Oh! Well! Solving your problems is nothing new for me." England remarked sarcastically, thought it hardly hid his super-inflated ego. "... How exactly did I help?"

Japan sighed. At least Germany wouldn't be obsessed with the reenactment of the war anymore...

France laughed, thoroughly delighted by his new absolutely perfect plan. Out of relief and excitement, he bent over the bar table and gave England a quick kiss on the lips. "Merci, mon cher!"

England blushed and gawked at the Frenchman. "What the b-bloody hell was-!"

"Not now, England! I have a wonderful scheme to plan!" France turned to Russia. "Eh, excuse me, but could you d-do me a favor?"

"A favor?" Russia blinked. "I don't think anyone has asked me for anything like that before~"

"Oh, heh, then, it's not a favor!" Fearful of associating Russia to anything new, France waved his hands to dispel the request. "Uh, then, you see, I need you to-"

China burst into the tent. "Why are you all still inside, aru? Come outside, quickly! A large boat just docked on the island, aru!"

Gasps~!

Thanks for reading. Reviews make me write faster! XD