Acknowledgements: Thank you to Blackdevil Nightheart, Mely-Val, IrishMaid, B-The-Geek, Pedro-IS-Madi12, Percabeth is Awsome, cullinane, Go LilixIcy, Missmanda, Einsam-Schatten,, Becky 999, Kate Marley, Typewriting Fangirl, fishstick1999, Envie Rouge, Laughinthefaceofdanger, Missflutterpie, abbydobbie, saraholly, Draskar, julyza, Deefangirl, Pandoala, Hintori-time, Senor Tree, Wandering Authoress for the reviews, PMs, faves and alerts and of course all my other readers. (If I've missed anyone please tell me.)

Chapter 8

Prussia had woken in some strange places before - once in a crate of oranges on a cargo boat to Peru, another time in the trunk of Russia's rubbish Soviet-built car, and another time with Hungary looming over him chanting something about "Give it back, give it back" - but this was a new one.

It was completely dark and it smelled. Badly. He was also holding hands with someone. It was Denmark. He wasn't sure if this was good or bad. He hurriedly unlocked hands with him and then remembered where he was. He shoved his way up through the mounds of rubbish bags as if he were swimming and opened the lid, blinking into the daylight.

Denmark emerged next to him, "Morning, dude," he said. It was probably the only correct fact he would say that day.

"Hmm, at least it's not raining…" Prussia began to say but then paused as he was about to jump down from the top of the refuse bin. "Why are those kids looking at us?"

Denmark shook his head, "Dunno, mate," he said, shrugging and jumped down from the bin with a silly grin on his face.

There were at least two dozen children - all staring at them.

Prussia wasn't used to children. But Den was - he'd fathered quite a few in his time (most of them growing up to be huge Vikings called Sven or kick-ass female Vikings who frankly, scared even him).

"Where are we?" Prussia whispered to Denmark.

"Dunno," Denmark whispered back.

"Are you the new teachers?" one child asked.

Denmark shrugged, "Sure, why not?" he said. After all, hadn't Sweden and Finland kept telling him to get a job?

One of the kids looked them up and down, while eating some kind of chocolate bar, "You don't look like teachers!"

Prussia snatched the chocolate bar off him and ate it, "Well, kid, neither do you!" he answered in a petulant way.

"And you shouldn't be eating here!" Denmark said and high-fived Prussia.

"We can eat in the yard!" one of the kids said.

"Where are we? Is this a zoo?" Denmark asked.

"We're teachers so it's a school, dude," Prussia said and punched his friend on the arm.

"Why do you smell?" another child asked.

"Why do you smell?" Prussia answered.

"Ha! Yeah!" Denmark yelled, pointing.

The children all looked at one another - they were all aged 12 and upwards. The older ones seemed more suspicious of the two Nations than the others.

One of the bigger boys said, "We were told not to talk to strange men."

"Well, that's just tough, cos you can't get any stranger than us!" Prussia said, seeming proud.

An adult voice interrupted them, "Ah… Mr Watson and Miss…oh…"

Prussia and Denmark turned round to face a tall man with thinning hair who was high on caffeine.

"I ain't no 'miss'! I may have married that dude but that was back in 1387 and…" Denmark began but was nudged in the ribs by Prussia.

"Beilschmidt and Kohler," Prussia introduced them.

"Ah… right… you're not… are you from the agency?"

"Who wants to know?" Prussia asked, suspiciously.

"Well… me…"

"Does this mean we're teachers?" Denmark interrupted.

"Well I suppose you are… you're the supply teachers?" the man asked.

"Teaching what?"

The man flicked through a binder quickly, "German and…"

"Do we get paid?"

"Yes of course!" the man seemed confused.

"Hell yeah!" Denmark punched the air.

A bell rang somewhere.

"I've never had a job before," Denmark confessed to the nearest person - a confused-looking 13 year old boy with a ragged haircut and glasses.

Prussia nudged Denmark again and then turned to the man, "You got yourself a deal!" he said, shaking hands. "Are you the bossman around here?"

"I'm Mr Wilson, the head teacher," the man said as they walked towards the school.

"Yeah okay, whatever. I'm Herr Beilschmidt. You wanted a German teacher and you got one, buddy."

Mr Wilson winced. He wasn't used to being called 'buddy', least of all by a man who looked as if he slept rough. He was also disconcerted to see the tall one with the spiky blond hair arguing with a year 10 pupil.

"Your colleague Mr erm…" Mr Wilson began to say.

"Beilschmidt, I told you."

"I thought you were Beilschmidt?"

"I am! Keep up, buddy," Gilbert said.

Mr Wilson winced, "No, I mean your friend…"

"Dude Den?"

"Dudeden?"

"Ja?"

"Er Mr Dudeden… what is his specialism in?" Mr Wilson began again, thinking that perhaps there was something very wrong about all this. Especially as they both smelled dreadfully of rubbish.

"Eating. And drinking," Prussia said.

"Oh hahaha," Mr Wilson laughed - in a forced way. "Very funny… your first lessons are in rooms 2B and 2C. Teaching classes 10B and 10C respectively. You need to sign in at the reception first though."

"Leave it to us. This is the first job I've had in …"

But Mr Wilson had disappeared to shout at some children - ineffectually.

"… 42 years," Prussia finished.

"Dude kid was saying that daleks are cooler than cybermen! What a complete moron! And then he said they hadn't learnt anything about the Kalmar Union! What do they teach these kids these days?" Denmark all but yelled as he skidded up the corridor - leaving long muddy skidmarks on the once-gleaming parquet floor. "Man! I love wooden floors!"

"You're in room 42C," Prussia told him, completely ignoring what the head teacher had told him.

"Can I come with you?"

"Nein! You've got to teach your own class."

"What?"

"You've got to teach your own class!" Prussia yelled at him.

"I know, but what? What do I teach them?" Denmark's eyes were wide.

They stood in the middle of the corridor, yelling at each other while children streamed passed them.

One child stopped and 'ahemmed' at them.

"What?" Prussia yelled at her.

The girl jumped back from his glowering red eyes. "I don't know where to go, Sir."

"Well welcome to the world, kid. It's a tough world out there. You can't rely on people all your life, you have to make your own way. Do I look like I know where I'm going? No? No, I don't. And neither does he. He never has… and he's a lot older than you or me. So suck it up and… oh she's gone." Prussia looked around wildly.

"Man, you're shit. It's good you never had kids," Denmark said, shaking his head.

"I have a kid!"

"Oh yeah, that little Kaliningrad who works as a builder…"

"He'll rule the world one day with me," Prussia said.

"Yeah right… You mean like you were gonna rule the world in the last three hundred years… didn't work out did it, man?"

Prussia leapt on him and the school children were treated to the sight of the two new supply teachers rolling around in the corridor fighting.

Some miles away, Russia eased the campervan off the ramp and waved cheerily at the lorry driver behind him who was snarling impatiently at the wreck of an abandoned police van holding up the traffic.

"Fancy leaving that there, some people are very inconsiderate," Russia said, tutting and slurped from his takeaway coffee - spiced up with vodka. "We will get to Paris in no time, because that is where France will have taken England. I know where he lives…" Russia said that last sentence with a hint of steely danger in his voice. He poured some coffee out for Russi-cat who slurped it up out of the lid and purred.

The large Siberian was the only 'person' listening to Russia. Scotland snored in the back of the campervan, his tweed suit askew, the skirt riding up over black stocking-ed legs.

The Scotsman had turned up at dawn, so drunk he'd tried to climb into a horrified lorry driver's cab (the man had woken up and started screaming). He'd eventually weaved his way through the parked vehicles until he'd found the right one and clambered in. He'd lost one shoe and, to his later regret, the pink beret.

Russia, however, was glad of the quiet. He waved at the customs officers and showed them his passport.

"Bonjour!" he said.

He was met with quizzical looks.

"What?"

"Bonjour!" he repeated, a little louder. His French was quite good so he continued, "Il ya une belle journée aujourd'hui. Je vais sauver mon ami." (Translated - It's a lovely day today. I'm going to save my friend.)

"What?" the customs officer said.

Russia shook his head. He always thought his French was good. Perhaps he was just rusty. He drove off, still shaking his head and drinking from his coffee. He'd get croissants later and try out his French again. He was so busy thinking he didn't notice the sign that said 'Welcome to England - Dover'.

Over at the hotel…

"This is going to be the best day of my life!" Belarus said, sitting up in bed and drinking tea. "Won't it, Katya?"

"Yes, yes, I'm sure it will be…" Katya said hurriedly.

Katya would have had a big drink of vodka if she weren't 6 months pregnant. She'd just found out that Arthur and most of the male Nations were still not back from their stag 'do'. She swore she would do something very dreadful that would include extensive surgery to whoever was responsible for Arthur being missing. The others she was less bothered about. Although she was counting on Russia being there to give his sister away. But perhaps it might be better if she herself as the eldest did that role.

She was also concerned about her sister in other ways.

Belarus had woken and claimed that someone called 'Tinks' (Katya had no idea who this person was, but they sounded like a criminal) had told her that Arthur loved her and not to worry.

There was also the issue of the wedding dress.

Katya had opened the bathroom door that morning and found a dozy Italian fast asleep in a half-filled bath, wearing the wedding dress. But that wasn't the worst of it. The stains were still there. And even that wasn't the worst of it. The bathwater had been so hot the dress was now half the size and fit the Italian to perfection. But would not, under the present pregnancy circumstances, fit Belarus.

Ukraine reckoned that once Belarus found out there would be Armageddon. She shuddered and whilst her sister was happily eating a large bacon butty in bed with a cup of tea, she smuggled Feliciano out of the bathroom - still dressed in a wedding dress.

"Get out, try to get those stains out and I'll see if I can get hold of the dressmaker again to put some material back in," she'd hissed at him.

Feliciano ran down the corridor in a panic and knocked on his brother's door, "Romano! Romano! Help me!" he'd whimpered. "I'm stuck in a dress!"

Downstairs in the hotel dining room, news of the groom's disappearance had spread.

"I tell you, he's done a runner," Poland said, in between eating bacon and eggs.

Lithuania sat with him, but could not eat. He was too wound up. Surely, if England wasn't there to marry Belarus, he could step in?

"No, Toris," Estonia said to him.

"Wut? I mean, what?"

"I know what you're thinking," Estonia said, looking at his fellow Baltic over the top of his glasses.

Poland was unaware and carried on eating, "I mean who can blame him? He'd be dead within a week anyway…"

Latvia plonked herself down with them, easing her huge belly under the table, "So who's missing?" she asked.

"England, America…" Poland began, his eyes shining.

Latvia shrugged, "Poor guy. Done a runner… ah well…"

"France is also missing!" someone piped up from a nearby table. It was Finland.

"Grumgump…" Sweden muttered.

"… and Prussia and Denmark," Finland translated.

"Uncle Den and Gilbert jumped out of our car last night. They are in deep trouble, aren't they, Dad?" Sealand said gleefully.

"The boss is gone as well…" Estonia said.

"Vanya?" Latvia frowned at this.

"Yes, but he'll turn up. He's probably just at a zoo somewhere," Estonia said reassuringly.

Latvia nodded and let out a breath of relief. He was big enough to take care of himself, surely.

"You lot are in charge of Ivan," Finland pointed his jam-smeared knife at them.

"We're not his babysitters!" Latvia retorted.

"Actually, we kind of are," Toris said sadly.

"Well if Arthur has done a runner, then there's no wedding and that means we don't have to wear those dreadful dresses," Hungary declared. She and Belgium were at another table. Both Nations had been listening with interest to the conversation. Neither seemed that interested in the disappearance of the groom and his best man.

"I bet Alfie's forgotten what he's supposed to be doing and is in Disneyland," Belgium said.

Hungary nodded. "Idiots. Who on earth can go missing in this Godforsaken country? Everything shuts at 5.00 pm! You'd have to be a proper idiot to go missing around here."

"Austria's also missing," Finland pointed out (he seemed to be the only person who knew who was gone and who wasn't).

"Well, that means nothing. He could get lost in a barrel," Hungary said.

"Those two morons managed to make it back though," Belgium pointed to Spain and Greece who were sat at the far end of the room looking morosely at the English teapot on their table.

"Is that tea, Herakles?"

"Yes, it is."

"Not coffee?"

"No."

"Oh."

Hungary wondered if they were actually asleep and threw a breadroll at them - which bounced off Spain's head. He turned slowly around and looked at her.

"Hey! Dopey! You were with them last night, where were they and what were they doing?" she yelled.

Spain considered this and shrugged, "I was ordered to bring Sealand back here. They were going to a pub," he said slowly.

"They're probably all drunk somewhere," Belgium said.

"It's weird because Germany's not here," Poland said.

"I think that's a relief," Latvia said, buttering her toast.

There were some nods to this. Germany was not the most popular Nation - he was regarded as too 'shouty' and a 'killjoy'.

"No, I mean he's very punctual. He never gets lost and he never just not turns up," Poland explained and then said, "Oh well, perhaps he's dead somewhere," and nonchalantly began reapplying his lipstick.

"Something is not right…" Finland said. "We should organise a search party."

"For Germany?" someone said, incredulously.

"No! For England and America…" Finland said.

"… and Russia," Latvia said.

There was no answer to that.

Estonia patted her hand and smiled, "I think the boss is okay wherever he is, Raivis," he said reassuringly. But he looked at Toris worriedly. The Lithuanian had a look in his eyes as if he were planning something.

Russia was okay. But he had no idea where he was. He thought he was in France and accordingly spoke French in the cafe he went in. But had been amazed when the proprietors had spoken perfect English and seemed to not understand his French.

"Their English is really good!" he told Russi-cat as he climbed back in the campervan. "Or perhaps my French is not as good as it used to be…" he glowered at this and then said, "They couldn't direct me to Paris and they said they didn't have any croissants! It's very odd."

Russi-cat meowed at him. Perhaps the cat knew where they were.

Scotland didn't comment and didn't correct Russia. His only comment was a very unladylike snore and then a "Ha! Yer wee jessie!" before falling back into a deep slumber.

Russia drove on.

'PRUSSIA' Gilbert wrote in huge letters on the blackboard, dusted chalk off his hands and looked at his class.

"Is that like Russia?" a child asked.

"Nein! Do your teachers teach you nothing?" Gilbert yelled.

"What is it then?" another child asked, bored.

Someone put their hand up.

"You! You there! With your hand up. Tell the others what this is," Gilbert said.

"I need the bathroom." It was Denmark.

"You're supposed to be teaching next door," Gilbert said.

"Aw man…" Denmark got up and shuffled out. He pulled faces through the glass in the door, until Gilbert pinned a copy of Maths for Beginners over the window.

"Who can tell me what Prussia is?" he asked and then he began scrawling on the blackboard without waiting for an answer, talking in angry German as he did so.

Someone put their hand up.

"What?"

What does ASSUM mean?"

"Awesome," Gilbert answered.

Someone else put their hand up.

"If you want to ask a question you have to stand up, salute and sing one verse of Preußenlied," Gilbert told them.

"Are you a real teacher?" a surly girl asked him.

"Of course I bloody am! Bloody cheek! I bet you're not!"

"Well… I'm just a kid and…"

"That's not an excuse!" Prussia told her.

Before Prussia could point out that the girl hadn't stood up and saluted, much less sung a verse of his precious anthem, the door burst open.

"Quick kids! Pretend you're learning something!" Prussia told them, thinking it was the head teacher (or 'bossman'). "I need the money."

It wasn't. It was Denmark. His eyes were shining in a way Prussia hadn't seen since the Great Northern War.

"I've got a lanyard!" Denmark was jubilant.

"You're interrupting my class!" Gilbert told him and shoved him out and then hesitated. "Wait! Why don't I have a lanyard?"

But his friend was gone.

"You girl!" Gilbert pointed at the surly girl, who was being dared by her classmates to ask another question about the teacher's credentials.

"Yes, Sir?" she asked.

"What's a lanyard?"

In a jail in Calais, the question of lanyards were not on anyone's minds.

France, Pierre, America, Austria, England and the postman were all shoved in a cell together.

"I'm not with these people! I am a victim!" the postman had yelled.

"So am I!" Austria had also yelled.

They had been locked up simply because France, being of the opinion that if he was 'going down' he was going to take everyone down with him and had thus pointed at them as being his accomplices.

America had tried to fight his way out. By backflipping around the police, karate-kicking etc he'd managed to knock out six officers before being subdued and put in cuffs.

France had, of course, surrendered straight away, but not before he'd tried to flirt his way out.

They were now all sat either very annoyed (Austria - even though he was exhausted, and the postman - who was still protesting his innocence - no-one cared), very forlorn (France and Pierre) or asleep (America).

England woke up. "Where are we?" he said, blearily. Without waiting for an answer, he continued, "I had some strange dreams. Omens really I suppose. There was a teapot that wouldn't stop pouring tea. The sky rained scones and Arnold told me to run." England said, shaking his head.

"Who's Arnold?" Austria said. Although he didn't really care.

"I don't know," England admitted and then added, "And there's something I'm supposed to be doing today, but I can't remember what…"

Next Chapter

A PE lesson

Germany and his 'homework'

The hunt for an alternative wedding dress.