A/N: As always, thanks for the lovely reviews, faves, alerts 'n stuff! They make me feel awesome ^^

Aaaaand here's chapter 5! ...I really have nothing else to say other than that I want an Italy -shot-

Don't own Hetalia {O RLY? U DIDN'T KNO THAT OMG -lapses into Poland mode- .}

Reviews are awesomer than Prussia {and he is very, very awesome}.

Okay, okay. I shuts up nao.

Today was already looking up.

Feliciano had stopped ignoring her, although Elizaveta had to admit she deserved it for nearly bashing his face in with her frying pan when he insinuated that she was in love with Roderich. Her master, however, would probably forgive much less quickly.

She sighed. Until he stopped the silent treatment, there would be no late-night philosophical discussions by the fireplace in the "parlor", as Roddykins insisted on calling it. Elizaveta, in turn, insisted on calling him Roddykins.

"Ugh…it's so damn quiet!" she half-spoke, half-yelled, flinging the rag she was cleaning with onto the floor. From somewhere in the house, she could hear Roderich's piano experimentation. He's writing more of my song, she thought, although this segment would likely be entitled something derogatory, not that he was really one for insults.

"Lizzy!" Feliciano tackle/hugged her from behind, causing the startled girl to nearly lose her balance. "Guess what?"

"You know I suck at guessing, Feli. What is it?"

"Guess~!"

"Fine. Um…Gilbert finally died?"

"Noooo! Guess again!"

"Shit, Feli! I have no idea."

"Guess~!" he repeated, giggling.

"Francis took an oath of celibacy?"

"No!"

"Holy Roman Empire came back?"

This silenced him. "No…"

"Look, Feli, I don't know. Sorry 'bout mentioning him."

"It's okay, Lizzy. I just miss him very much."

"'Cause you love him, right?"

"Uh-huh. When you love someone, you never want to be without them, so it hurts even when they're ignoring you. It's always worse when you know they're never coming back."

Ignoring. Elizaveta could relate to that. "Damn, Feli. How do you know so much about love?"

"It's okay, Lizzy. You just haven't fallen in love yet~!"

"I'm not planning on it."

"No one ever does. It just…happens."

"Feli, please. Just tell me what you were going to tell me."

He looked confused for a moment, then broke out into his classic grin. "Oh yeah! Francis is having a dance at his house tonight and all the countries are invited~!"

"TONIGHT? What the hell? Why are you telling me now?"

"S-sorry, Lizzy! Mr. Austria just told me and he's been trying not to speak to you–"

"Trying?"

"Yeah. He really wants to, but he knows he's supposed to discipline you."

"Screw that. When's he leaving for that party?"

"Now. That's why I-"

She didn't give him time to finish as she dashed off to the front of the house. Sure enough, Roderich was just getting into the carriage when she burst out of the door. As he turned to look at her, she saw something akin to fear, regret, distaste, fondness…Elizaveta saw something, but she wasn't precisely sure of its name.

"I'm coming with you," she said, climbing in behind him. He didn't acknowledge her, but sat down and stared out the window as they left the property.

"You were to stay and look after Feli," he said at length. "I did not tell you because you are so obstinate that you surely would have refused."

"I thought you were ignoring me because you were angry."

"That also."

"If you'd told me, then yeah, I may have fought, but I wouldn't have been wracking my brain every night wondering how long you were gonna stay locked in with that piano."

"You lost sleep over this?" He sounded concerned.

"Yeah."

"I-I am very sorry, Elizaveta. I did not mean to-"

"I'm fine, Roddykins," she sighed, rolling her eyes.

"Excellent. If you would like, I can promise not to lie to you in the future."

She laughed at his stiffness, which made him flinch and blush slightly. "Okay. You got any paper? I'm gonna write it down so you don't forget."

He said nothing, but drew a blank piece of sheet music out of his pocket, as well as a writing utensil. In handwriting made shaky by the unpaved road, Elizaveta wrote:

Roderich Edelstein promises never to lie to Elizaveta Hédeváry. He will always be completely honest with her. Breaking this promise will cause demonic butterflies to invade Earth and eat his brains.

She handed the paper back to him, as well as the writing instrument. He read it with no real expression. "What should I do?" he asked.

"You should promise never to break your promises."

"Fine," he smiled. "But what about you?"

She merely grinned and snatched the items back. In smaller writing, she squeezed more words above the first promise:

The Promises of Elizaveta Hédeváry and Roderich Edelstein:

Elizaveta Hédeváry promises never to break any of these promises.

Roderich Edelstein promises never to break any of these promises.

"There." She gave him his things back. "Keep my paper safe for me, and give it back after the party."

He solemnly folded the paper and put it in his pocket, along with the writing utensil. "So there are going to be more?"

"Why not?"

"Just…do not make too many, or it will be too hard to remember."

"Sure. But you'll catch on soon enough, Roddykins."

"I never thought that I would miss hearing that absurd name."

Well, that was unexpected.

"And I am sincerely glad that I brought you along, Elizaveta."

"Glad I could be of assistance."

"You generally are."

"That's my job," she said lightly. "Can't let Roddykins down."
"Perhaps you should-"

"Oh my God, Roddykins! Look!" Elizaveta squealed and pointed out the window at the inordinately ornate mansion they were pulling up to. "Francis' house is so damn fancy!"

"Language." His soft voice startled her, so close to her ear since he was staring out the same window. She had been able to feel him speak. If that was awkward…then she was screwed. This was a party. At Francis'. Oh, God…

Roderich, gentleman that he was, helped her out of the carriage. "Didn't need your help, idiot," she muttered, hoping no one had seen. Well, they had arrived rather early, and it didn't look like anyone was around.

"I know. I risked my life being chivalrous to you."

"Don't worry, Roddykins. I left my frying pan at home."

"Ah. I feel much better now," he said dryly.

"Lizzy?" A girl with short blonde hair in a pink dress dashed over to the two and hugged Elizaveta tightly.

"Hi, Lilli," Elizaveta said, feigning happiness at being asphyxiated.

"Is Vash here?" Roderich asked Lilli, suddenly all business.

"Yeah! He's guarding the girls from Francis." Finally, the girl let go and started dragging Elizaveta inside. "I've been visiting with Katyusha and Natalia, Ivan's sisters. They're very nice, but their brother scares me."

"Ivan's a psycho, but you should be fine if you stay away."

"That's what Vash told me, but he said I can use my gun if I need to," the younger girl said brightly.

Why, oh why, was that Swiss freak teaching poor, innocent Lilli his trigger-happy ways?

Lilli led Elizaveta to the second floor, then to a door guarded by Vash, Lilli's self-appointed brother. He said nothing, but merely moved aside so the girls could enter. Inside the room were two girls with light blonde hair, and…Feliks. Of course. He practically was a girl anyway.

"Hello, Elizaveta," the older girl, Katyusha, said.

"Um…hi, guys," Elizaveta said.

"Lizzy, are you, like, seriously wearing that?" Feliks asked suddenly.

"Yeah…"

"Girl, like, you can't go to a party wearin', like, that. Not cool!"

"Well, what else can I wear?" Elizaveta cared more about shutting Feliks up than wearing her maid clothes to the party.

"Don't worry, girl. I've, like, totally got this." He walked over the giant, sparkly, pink box in the corner. "I've got, like, tons of cute clothes!"

"Does he carry that everywhere?" Elizaveta whispered to the others.

No one answered.

"OMG! I, like, totally think this'll fit. This is gonna look, like, so totally fabulous on you!" He shoved a bundle of fabric into her hands. "Like, go change! I totally wanna see how this, like, looks on you!"

She sighed and went into a closet, managing to put on the other outfit without being able to see. Reluctantly, she came back out, not really wanting to put up with Feliks' squealing and…well, Feliks was the only annoying one.

And, sure enough, the Pole in question starting squealing while saying something in chatspeak, even though it had not been invented yet. The other girls were just staring.

"What, is something wrong with me?"

"N-nothing," Lilli said. "You look pretty nice, actually."
She saw herself in a mirror and wasn't sure whether to be ecstatic or frightened. The dress was a pale mint green, not the most gorgeous color on her, but not the worst either. Cream-colored lace edged the ends of the sleeves, the bottom of the dress, and the scandalously low scoop of the neckline. I'm dead, she thought. Francis isn't gonna leave me alone in this dress.

"Um…thanks, Feliks…"
"Like, no prob! I, like, totally love helping people look fabulous!"

"Stay away from Brother," Natalia hissed in her ear before slinking off somewhere. Great. Now she would have a perv and a psycho to avoid during the party. Maybe she should've stayed home with Feli…

No. It had been too long since she'd been out, and Elizaveta Hédeváry wanted to taste freedom again. She wanted, oh damn, she wanted…anything. She wanted to live, to experience the world while it was young and crazy in the young and crazy hours of the day. It couldn't be too much to ask, could it? Suddenly, her risqué dress was more comfortable, despite its tightness and the cold air against her chest. It wasn't that bad…no, it would do, it would do quite well.

"Lizzy?" Katyusha said quietly, placing her hands on Elizaveta's shoulders. "What are you thinking of?"

"Life."

"You are so philosophical, and yet you are such a fighter."

"What would you do without me to keep Gilbert in check?"

The other girl merely laughed. "You are very beautiful, Lizzy. I know you do not care, but just remember a friend's words: you deserve someone who will set your heart free, though you be in a prison."

"Why does everyone keep giving me this crap about love?"

"Because you are so independent that if you did fall in love, you would never admit it."

"You're pretty damn philosophical too, Kat," Elizaveta laughed.

*

"Raivis! If you so much as look at any alcoholic beverage again, I am going to murder you."

Yes, Toris, that's very smart. Threaten to murder your already-traumatized brother, Elizaveta thought, taking a long sip of her own drink.

"Please, Elizaveta, help me here," Toris said, looking at her in desperation.

"Yeah, Raivis, you're too young to get totally wasted," she said.

"Am not," the youngest Baltic said without emotion, reaching for an abandoned shot of whiskey.

"Raivis…" Eduard put in, grabbing his brother's arm. Raivis merely flailed his hand in attempt to get the drink. "It's not even yours."
"…So?"

"So don't touch it!" Toris finished.

"Let the kid have a drink," an obnoxious voice said, approaching the four.

"Gilbert, you creeper!" Elizaveta turned to glare at her albino nemesis.

"What? I didn't do anything!" His sly smirk, however, implied the "yet".

"I doubt it."

"Aw, Lizzy, why don't you trust me?"

"I wonder why."

"Me too." He grinned cockily.

"God, go be annoying with Francis or your other stupid friends."

"There's only three of us, Lizzy. No need for the plural."

"Oh, right. I forgot how much of a loser you are."

"Hey, Francis and Antonio are the only ones I allow to associate with my awesome. I could have tons of friends, if there was anyone awesome enough. You and that Austrian pansy obviously aren't."
"Fuck off."

"Jealous?"

"Roderich isn't a pansy. You're the one who's always scared of getting his ass kicked by me."

"Am not!"
"Prove it," she said, smirking as she aimed a kick at his vital regions. Gilbert yelped in a girlish way {although he always claimed it was Elizaveta who yelped} as he dodged the attack.

"Like hell I will!" he replied, grinning in that wolfish, demonic way, like he always did during battles.

Elizaveta found it more comical than anything else.

He was still wearing that stupid expression as he reached for a decorative candlestick. Sadly for him, Elizaveta grabbed it first. Now it was her turn for that feral smile. Opinions are varied on whether or not the personification of Prussia really was absolutely terrified at the sight of a weapon in Elizaveta's hands, but the Baltic nations, the closest witnesses, claimed that he very well was {they didn't blame him}.

Upon noticing that he was paralyzed in fear {or merely striking an "awesome" pose}, Elizaveta laughed and kneed him in the vital regions, walking away amused as he clutched said regions and groaned. The fact that Francis was laughing while he helped Gilbert up didn't make the albino feel any better.

"What's so damn funny?" Gilbert snapped.

"You, mon ami." Francis grinned. "You and Elizaveta."

"What the hell, Francis?"

"You know she turns you on."

"Hell no!" The quickness of the reply was a sure sign that the conversation was an oft-repeated one.

"If you say so." He cast a glance at Elizaveta, who had made her way to the drink table. "Now, if you don't mind, I'll take that 'psycho bitch' off your hands."

Gilbert watched, shocked and disturbed, as his friend approached his frienemy.

"Bonjour," Francis whispered in Elizaveta's ear, causing her flail in shock and spill her drink.

"Shit…" she muttered, hoping to deter him with her diligent cleansing of the tablecloth.

"You do not need to do that," he interrupted. "This is a party, non? So enjoy yourself." He gave her a suggestive wink as he slipped an arm around her shoulders.

"As a matter of fact, I quite enjoy cleaning this table. So fuck off."

"Why, I would be delighted to!"

Curse Gilbert. Curse Gilbert and his perverted friends.

"Fine. Go die in a hole, then."

He looked mock-hurt. "Elizaveta, you do injure me so."

"Good."
His grip tightened and his face drew closer, to the point where his breath was warm and gross against her cheek. "Difficult, aren't we, Miss Hédeváry."

"Like hell," she hissed.

"You know," he mused, "I do like them feisty." Before Elizaveta even had time to think of a reply, Francis had literally dragged her onto the dance floor. Although her {lengthy} string of expletives, accompanied by violent struggling, was a noble effort, Francis was frighteningly leech-like when he had his eye on something, or, more accurately, someone.

She intended to do something drastic {up to and including murder}, but the music started and she felt Francis' death grip tighten on her waist {too close to her butt} and his other hand seize hers. He gave her a pointed glare and she reluctantly put her hand on his shoulder. His expression relaxed into a smug, gloating, lustful one. Without further ado, the dancing began. Francis had pulled her in so tightly that she didn't think they could get any closer unless he were to invade her vital regions then and there. Besides this, she was now sure that he was groping her with that annoying hand that was supposed to be on her waist. Lovely. She was wearing an absurdly low-cut dress and being molested by the king of perverts in public. Battle tactics were quickly being formed in her war-conditioned brain, until all thoughts were replaced with panic. The bastard's cock was grinding against her thigh. How in hell could she even feel that?

"Holy shit!" Elizaveta yelled, yanking away more forcefully than she'd ever yanked before.

"Um…Francis?"
Elizaveta could've sworn she was imagining the voice as Francis approached her again.

"Oui?" Francis turned to face a coolly irate Roderich.

"May I…cut in?" He extended a hand to Elizaveta, who took it with what was probably too much enthusiasm.

"Hell yeah!"

"Language, Elizaveta," he said, more solemnly than usual.

And then his arm was around her {nowhere close to her ass} and he was gracefully moving the two of them away from nobody's favorite pervert.

"Roderich…" she said, trying to find the words to express both her gratitude and disappointment at not getting to castrate Francis.

"Sshh…just dance, Elizaveta."
"I was gonna thank you."
"I know."

It felt like they were a million miles away from each other and that was almost as awkward as her dance with Francis. Maybe it would help if she just moved a little closer, put her head against his shoulder…

She felt him flinch momentarily before his grip on her waist adjusted to hold her in this new position. She didn't mind how close they were. Roderich wouldn't do anything to her. Gilbert was wrong, as usual. This was no pansy that was holding her. This warm body, the thin, firm shoulder under her grip, the liquid chocolate eyes that were almost constantly stern, the tousled-yet-inexplicably-elegant hair, this beautiful non-warlike man was no pansy. This man who gently moved with her in small circle on the dance floor was so much braver than that albino bastard.

He never spoke of their dance, though. He said it was "improper" for a master to be so forward with a servant. Elizaveta would give him a death glare and storm away. She had seen the smile on his lips during that dance. He had enjoyed it even more than her.

And he refused to admit it, even though they both knew.

Damn, he could be such a pansy sometimes.