"Get in the car," America just drove up to you while you were walking back to your apartment after making a grocery run.

"No," you continue walking on the sidewalk as he drives at your pace.

"C'mon, _! Where's that sense of adventure?"

You wanted at least a normal day to pass after yesterday, but you knew it was ruined right when you saw America's car turn the corner. You make an annoyed sigh, "Where?"

"Oh, France rented this awesome restaurant nearby and is gonna prepare dinner for us before he leaves tomorr- HEY!" you already start walking ahead. Hearing "France" is enough for a no. "Oh, c'mon, he won't do any more weird stuff, I promise! It's French food! It's yummy and free! Better than whatever you purchased!"

You look down at celery sticks you aren't likely to touch, a loaf of bread, ground coffee and pack of gum. "Ugh, fine, but let me drop this off at my place first."

"Get in the car then."

"We're already here," you trot up the stairs, "Oh, do I have to dress fancy?"

"Yup!" he happily poses in his light brown suit. "Don't take too long!"

"You know you could've called me!"

"...Nah."

...

"Hey, hey France should I start preparing the garlic bread already?" asks Italy as he waved a baguette around.

France spun around with his spatula in the air, "Huh? Oh, sure, go ahead."

"Come Romano, we haven't cooked together in a while!" Romano grabs the knife Italy was about to use to slice the baguette.

"Oi! Lemme handle the sharp things and you prepare other stuff!" he demands.

Spain pats his head, "Oh, you're so caring Lovino!"

"Shut up..."

"Oi! Did someone order wine?" Prussia bursts through the kitchen door with two wine bottles in his hand as Germany carried the rest in a paper bag. "Why do you demand wine instead of beer, France? It's no fun."

France waves his finger, "No no. We are having a sophisticated French dinner tonight."

"Buono tomato, buono tomato," sang Italy.

"Oi, that's my song..." comments Romano.

"Since when were you ever really sophisticated?" joked Prussia as he searched for a bucket to place ice in.

"I can ask the same to you," responds France as he exchanges a low five with Spain. "Now, go change! I don't want the mood to be ruined by jeans and plaid!" he jabs a finger especially to Prussia.

"Picky picky," he shoves the drinks in ice, "I'll see you back at the hotel West!"

...

"Why are we at the hotel?" you ask America as he parks in the front.

"Just to pick up some of the guys," he starts dialing a number while looking out the window. "OI ENGLAND!"

You hear yelling from his phone, "DAMMIT I GET IT!" Dial tone.

"America?" you stare at his side and see a grey haired man leaning on America's car door. "Yo, picking up the slackers?"

"YUP!"

His glance switches over to you, "Uhm, hi?" you give him a little wave. "I don't think we've me-" he slides over America's car hood over to your side and takes your hand.

"You may have heard from West, about me, the great Prussia!" he pauses for effect. "But if you haven't, I'm the great Prussia."

"Nice to-" you see him get picked up by the neck of his coat to reveal Russia. "...meet."

"Oi, oi!" Prussia lifted his hands up.

"Please don't hurt him," you asked gently.

"The very first time we met he choked me," said Prussia as he was set down.

England begins entering the back seat along with Japan, "Evening _-chan."

"Hi Japan!" you gleefully respond.

Russia sat behind you, "Well, I guess we'll see you at the restaurant?" asked America. You all hear a click from the back and see Prussia squish himself in the way back of the car and held on to England's seat. "If we're late it's because you all are fat."

"You're fat," said England.

"No I'm not! I just gotta get naked first and then weigh myself!" he presses on the acceleration foot pad and you hold your seat belt. "Thirty minute ride, get comfy everyone!"

...

Russia opens the car door for you and stretches out a black gloved hand. As you take it you stare up at him and his dangerous smile. You suddenly remember the kiss and pull your hand away and pretend to straighten out your black dress. You hear Prussia knocking on the van door, seeing how no one else wanted to release him you did so. He flashes a grin, and straightens his coat out, "Hi." He leans on the car, "_, is it?"

"Yeah, uhm, can you move please so I can close the door?"

"Oh, yeah," he quickly moves. "Are you and Russia, together?"

You look over and see Russia listening on the passenger side of the car. "I...I..." Russia held a blank expression, turns, and strides to the restaurant. "I don't know," you whisper in a hopeless voice.

"D-Don't get upset!" you two stand in silence for a few seconds. "Ah, shit, did I do something wrong?"

"No, it's just me. I'm sorry. Why don't we go inside?"

"Y-Yeah! I'll crack us open the best wine me and West got!" he puts a hand on your back to gently push you forward. "I don't think he told you, but I'm Germany's older brother!"

"What?" you're shocked. He had a much more carefree personality than Germany, and looked nothing like him, although they share the same accent. "Wow, he's the little brother?"

He snorts, "I know."

The first thing that caught your eye inside the restaurant is a stone fireplace smack dab in the middle. The flames flicked behind the glass and kissed your cheeks with warmth. Next is an exotic smell coming from the kitchen through an arched window revealing France and Spain strutting around with pots and pans. France sees you and blows a kiss, "Bienvenue! Almost ready, loves!" He disappears from view and then comes out in a waiter's outfit and shoos Prussia away. "Come," he takes your hand and pulls you to where Russia sat. It was in front of the fireplace. Italy sat in a table nearby and gave you a wave as well as Germany who's hair was being ruffled by Prussia. "I'll come with a menu soon."

As he trotted away you summon the courage to look directly at Russia's face. His head leaned on one hand and his focus is on the fire. "Russia." His gaze hit you with irritation, but then turned lonesome as he rests his head on his crossed arms.

"I'm sorry, _, I don't know what I'm doing," he apologizes.

You reach out for his head with your left hand, your thumb touching the top of his earlobe and your right hand stroking his hair in a loving manner. "I'm sorry, I don't know what I'm doing either." You feel him shift his cheek onto your left hand, but continue petting his soft hair.

Oh my god he's so cute why can't I shrink him into my pocket and take him home?! Your mind flashes back to the time he stole kisses. Ah, and then there's that part that pisses me off...but I kinda like it. Am I a masochist? Fuck. You feel him nuzzle in your left hand. Oh god it's as if I'm petting a fucking puppy! A puppy who likes to bite sometimes...

He takes both your hands, presses them together, straightens up and brings them up to his lips. "I'd like to melt in this warmth," he rests his chin on your hands with a foolish smile.

You squeeze his hands back, "What about when the warmth dies down? It will get cold again. I wouldn't want you to freeze."

He returns to looking at the fire, but continues holding your hands. "The memories of that warmth will keep me going, that's my conclusion."

"Throughout the centuries, how could you have not found anyone else that interested you?"

His gaze wanders off, "There was not enough time. Never a good time. Always something to focus on, but when I was alone I would realize I really am alone. When Russia came out of isolation I was really happy. And then, I realize how intimidating I am, how hard it is to make friends, to meet someone who would like to return my warmth. To think it would take this long to find someone."

To think this part time job would turn into a full time one, and result in taking interest someone. "Russia, all I ask for is more time to...get to know each other, we've only been together for a week. So much has happened, everything is really overwhelming. I don't want to jump into this relationship just yet, and I know you feel set, but think about it."

"So...we aren't together?"

"Uhm, let's say not officially, so no making out yet! We'll go on more dates?"

"Dates?" he seems to ponder about it, but answers, "Okay."

...

Russia watches _ share a toast of champagne with America, Italy, Romano and Japan. He watches her giggle with the Italy brothers and exchange in Japanese with Japan. France makes his way over with a glass of wine, "Sorry, had to spruce up the kitchen a little. What is it you wanted to ask?"

He swished the wine around as France impatiently takes a sip of his, "She wants to have more...dates? What does that mean?"

"She wants to get to know you more!" France playfully clinks their glasses. "Don't worry she's probably as hooked on you as you are to her. She probably wants to go with the four stages."

"Four stages?"

"You know! Eh, hmm."

America grabs a seat between them, "Yo! Whatcha talking about?"

"What do you call the four stages of a relationship again, America?" asks France.

"Four stages? Ha! It's bases like in baseball! Why you ask?" France points to Russia, "OH, you wanna hit a home run?!"

"What's a home run?" Russia asks innocently.

In a low voice France responds, "Sex."

"Oh! First base is kissing, second is touching, third is-" America's chair is dragged back by _.

"What are you telling him?! Isn't it first base is holding hands, second base is like a simple kiss-"

"The hell were you raised?"

"America, dammit!"

Russia smiles, "I think I like America's version better." He watches her face redden, something he enjoyed to do, "I'm joking."

Italy calls her back.

...

"Romano and Italy were very cute when they were little," Spain was gladly sharing the story of the brothers when you returned. "Romano never was good at cleaning though."

"Shut up, you bastard," muttered Romano pouring himself some wine.

He nearly spills his wine as Spain wraps an arm around his neck, "Oh, but he was so loving at times!"

"I never was, let go!"

"Did you have anyone caring for you Japan?" you asked.

"Oh, China, but I grew independent quite quickly."

"You were pretty isolated too."

"They were quiet years..." he seems to go off reminiscing.

"Ah, since you're going to England you're always welcome to travel around Europe," says Spain, bearing Romano's punches. "I'm sure America has a bunch of traveling to do around there, so I hope you enjoy your time the-" Romano headbutted him.

You place your hands on your cheeks, "That's right I'm going to Europe...I'm going to Europe!"

"You'll still be working though," reminded England as he attempted to look classy sipping his drink. "You will be traveling around with America most of the time, so I hope his attitude doesn't catch on you."

"Don't worry, I'll find a way to get around that thick skull of his," you both look at America who scooted back to talk with Russia and France.

"He was such a small boy when I first found him," he finishes his wine and pours another. He gestures the bottle to you and carefully pours you a glass too. "I'm quite proud of his development since then."

"You're not supposed to chug down wine like beer brother!" you see Germany fail to stop Prussia from gulping down a glass of wine.

Prussia already looked buzzed with a goofy grin, "Then it would take forever to finish the whole bottle West!"

"You're supposed to savor it..."

You stop yourself from unconsciously drinking your newly poured wine as if it were water. You feel your cheeks flush. Whenever you drank it never resulted in anything regretful. You had no one to drunk dial or text, and were always at the apartment feeling classy by yourself. You never went over one glass before, but still held yourself up better than Prussia.

You hear Spain singing, playing a guitar he probably stored somewhere along with Romano ringing a tambourine. His face had an annoyed look, but it seemed he was enjoying it. France leaves America and Russia to join his song even if it were in Spanish. You sway to the acoustic. The strings are plastic, but pluck and strum them right they ring a melodic sound that makes people want to dance. Spain was turning the setting into a fiesta.

"I don't know what this song is, but this is my jam!" cheered America as he tries to move his body with the music.

Italy jumps excitedly up and down while holding Germany's arm and doesn't wait for a reply as he drags his arm to the middle. Italy dances with the rhythm having his arms up and down, his feet tapping on the wooden floor, and clapping to Romano's tambourine. Germany sighs, defeated, and joins Italy's dance. Prussia drunkenly sang along with France holding a bottle of Champagne. You, England, Japan and Russia stood around like the awkward wall flowers you are.

England just clapped along with the music along with Russia. "Why don't you join, _?" asks Japan.

"I...don't dance, much. I swear the only thing I know is that Bon Odori dance you do at festivals."

"Ah, yes, I hope you come during the summer to Japan. Those are when the festivals happen."

"That sounds awesome, I'd love to be a part of-" Italy steps between you and Japan, sets your drink down and draws you to Romano.

"Hey, big brother! Can you show _ how to dance?"

"Wh-Why me?" he appeared reluctant to give up his tambourine gig.

"You're much better in teaching than I am! Plus I learned it from you," begged Italy. "I'll dance with you!"

Before you could politely decline Romano shoves the tambourine to Prussia and offers his hand. As he takes you to the dance floor Spain and France hoot at him, "Be gentle with him, _!"

"Oh, shut it!" hissed Romano as he cleared his throat. "Okay," he waits for Italy and Germany to stand in front of you two. Germany seemed just as confused as you are. Italy starts to clap one second apart, edging everyone else to clap as well. The chords have changed, but the tempo is still upbeat. Romano has you wrap your hand around his elbow and directs you to follow his lead. You try your best to copy his foot movement as you proceed to step towards Germany and Italy and backwards. The second time you notice the two brothers tip an imaginary hat to each other and then Romano sets his hand on your back. Germany and Italy hold hands and lift their arms in the air as you two slip underneath. You then let the other two pass under your arms, which was a struggle for poor Germany as he had a hard time crouching. Romano also purposely smacked him wit his arm, "Sorry," he chuckles to himself.

...

"Me next!" yelled America as he dragged England to be his partner.

You wearily travel back to where Japan was sitting and happily sit right back down, "Enjoy yourself?" he asks.

"It actually was fun," you pant. "Oh my legs. Russia, why don't you dance?"

He sat across from you holding a glass of water, "Ah, well, I wanted to be the one dancing with you."

Oh.

"Oh..." you slump back in your seat. "Do you...do the cossack dance?"

"Oh yes, I love when the others attempt to do it, because they fail." He pats his thigh, "This is where the strength comes from."

You devilishly grin.

...

The tables were cleared aside as those who volunteered to do the cossack dance stood in a line in front of the fire place. France sat on the side with you, England and Romano. You convinced Japan to join the rest of the boys as you and Russia browse through traditional Russian music on the web. You also whip out a camera you packed and position it on a table where Russia was cut out of the frame. He stood proudly as if he is about to lead his troop into battle with his back straight and arms crossed. To your surprise, Germany seemed to be the most excited. Italy bounced along with Spain and Prussia. America held a confidence stance, and Japan held the worried face.

"Okay, basically, it's like doing a squat, but you stick one leg out right when you go down on your heel," explains Russia. "It seems easy, but try doing it with your arms crossed," he shows the example and the responses were cheering and enthusiastic clapping.

You play the music. America is the first to drop down, but as soon as he stuck his leg out he fell on his side and rolled off. Japan slowly edged himself to the ground and leveraged himself with his hands. Spain landed it, but as he tried to switch to his other leg he loses balance and falls on his side. You and the other audience cracked with laughter. Italy tried the same strategy as Japan, but lost all self-confidence as he saw Germany and Prussia perform without any difficulty.

"How?!" cries an angry America.

"Never skip leg day! Kesesese!" laughs a drunk Prussia.

"It's cause all those McDonald burgers got to your thighs!" jeers England.

"I want to go home," you hear Japan mutter.

"Bite me fluffy brows!" whined America as he continues to attempt the dance. You try hard not to laugh, but it was too much to hold in. You catch yourself beaming at Russia who is trying his best to keep himself from smirking.