The weights intimidated you, but Germany did not lead you to the equipment, only America. He took you to the side and immediately began the combat training. You found it hard to take serious at first when he held your head or motioned to grab at your arms, shoulders or any part of your body. Using Italy as a dummy, he demonstrated ways to twist an arm, knee at the head or stomach, different variations of using your fists or palms, and how to flip someone over if they had you pinned down. The scary part was that he had you face him with the moves. The first week he pushed you slowly, showing numerous strategies on how to subdue someone based on how they approach you. The second week he had you practice on America who took you by surprise when he successfully tackled you down and had your arms pinned. All you could do was squirm and embarrassingly look at Germany's disappointment. Each time America had you on the ground Germany made you redo it over and over, yelling the answers. Fourth day of the second week you began performing without his instructions.
As the third week came to a close Germany and Italy take you and America out for groceries. You stuck close to Germany even though you wanted to go sightseeing, because you were certain to get lost. The sun shone against the wet stone pavement as Italy skips through the vendors selling vegetables. America grimaces at the veggies for it was a main part of his diet for the last two weeks. They also stop by a grocery store to pick up ingredients for tiramisu and whatever sweets they planned to make. You had to hold onto America's jacket to keep him from running off to pick up chips or any other unhealthy snacks.
Back in the house you browse through his online blog as you sat at the dining table, "Really, America?" They were mainly selfies of you and him tagged "beginning to exercise" or "totally dead tired." You hardly posed for the photos and made ugly faces instead, but now cringed at how they actually came out.
He bit into an apple and shrugged. Italy instructs you what ingredients to place in the bowl for his tiramisu as America helps Germany slice vegetables. America begins talking about a fancy social gathering to take part on Valentine's, "Man, you just can't get away from anyone for a month," he jokingly said.
"Ah, I wish I didn't have to attend such frivolous events, but my boss urges me to go," Germany reaches for the vegetables and put them aside, "You mind helping me form the meat balls?"
America does so and continues to talk as Italy selects a pan for the dessert. "Oh c'mon Germany don't be a stiff! Are you going to get a companion?"
"I'm going with Italy."
You see Italy's lips squirm into a smile, "I'll be going with _."
"What?!"
"As companions! Don't worry totally business relationship, and totally not sexual!" he continues forming balls. "I'm not going alone this time!"
"Where's it gonna be?"
...
Your face felt heavy with makeup as your curled hair bounces through as America listens intently to his GPS. "Damn, I can never get used to the roads being switched," he slows down to turn. You smooth your red gown and fiddle with a cheap necklace you bought from England so your neck doesn't feel bare. You and America went late clothes shopping and decided on red, white and blue. He chose a dark blue suit with a black vest and white buttoned shirt and a red tie. You chose a red high-low dress as it held on your waist and flowed smoothly. You chose chunky brown heels with laces on them to feel somewhat casual. America had you sit with him having his hair and face done. You had to tear yourself from the mirror, because you couldn't believe how much your features have changed.
Someone held the door open for you as America exits and gives the keys to a valet. You gaze at the lavish hotel and stare at the entrance where France approaches with open arms. His hair glittered more than usual and he radiated in his white suit. "Bienvenue! Ah, you look more beautiful each time I see you," he kisses your cheeks and cheerily greets America. "You two are the last ones, what took you?" he glances at America who whistles nonchalantly while putting his phone on silent and closing his GPS app. "Ah, I see, well, we can all come in together, yes?" He proudly leads you through the hotel. Everywhere is bright and dressed with gold and white. The elevator is glass, but you grew queasy watching as it lifted you three to the fifth floor.
America holds his arm out for you to take and you give him a "Really?" face. He rolls his eyes and offers his hand flat out in a sassy way, "Buonne san Valentin!" France skips ahead as you and America awkwardly walk inside.
Many faces look your way and hold up their drinks, "Hey! Look who made it!"
"What took you blokes so long?"
"You still owe me money America!"
"Finally, we can eat!"
Overlapping voices and faces made you shy away behind America as he waves back and shouts back at them. Although you saw familiar faces from the conference meetings there are many other people either standing or sitting at the circular tables clothed in white. A bouquet of red and pink roses posed as the centerpiece with petals scattered on the table. France gestures an arm to your table where a man with dark brown hair, a thick curl, and glasses sat along with a woman who had a pink flower pinned on her hair. You take your seat next to her as America continues to stand, "Sorry, I'm going to chat with a couple people, unless you wanna come?"
"N-No, I'm good," The woman places a hand softly on yours and you blush staring into her bright green eyes.
"You must be _, I don't believe we met. I'm Hungary, and this is Austria," you smile awkwardly at the brunette as he adjusted his glasses. She calls over a waiter serving champagne and hands you a glass, "I didn't know America had a girlfriend."
"Oh, no! I'm just his, like secretary or assistant, nothing like that!" you take a sip of your drink.
She puts a hand to her lips, "Oh! I'm sorry." She giggles, "It looked like it."
A seat away from you sat a lady with short beige hair with breasts nearly spilling out of her spaghetti strap dress. She softly sobbed glancing behind her, and you see that she had her eyes on Russia. "Don't mind her," harshly said Austria. He isn't wearing his distinguished scarf and wore a white long sleeved shirt and a striped vest. Something about the vest sent your mind dirty thoughts. Russia sat next to a lady with long hair and a white bow. He nervously waves at you and then flinches when the woman jerks her head and dares daggers right at you. Quickly, you turn back and stare at the roses.
"Oh, do you know Russia?" she had a heavy Russian accent. She gasps, "You can't be, the one he talks about? Oh, but you are as he described, beautiful." Her breasts jiggled every time she spoke or made a small movement. She moves on America's chair and grabs your hand, "Oh, I hope you take care of my little brother. My boss doesn't want us to be around each other, even at a social event. I feel so guilty, but I must obey. Even though I'm the big sister, Belarus has always stuck around her big brother and continues to." She peers at the woman who still threw a dark aura at you. "Oh, don't worry, she always proposes to Russia, but he always rejects her."
Someone started clinking a glass and everyone turns their attention to France who stood in front of the buffet. He spoke in French for a while as a greeting and said a few cheesy words, hoping everyone gets along and enjoys their time together. "Let's eat!" Russia and Belarus join the line as well.
You and Ukraine continue sitting to wait for the line to die down, "So, you have been with Russia since he was small?" Looking around you see how the tables are moved close to the walls forming space in the middle, a dance floor?
"Oh, yes," you turn back to Ukraine. "What makes me happy is that scarf he usually wears. I gave that to him. Ha, I wish you both happiness." Russia and Belarus return to their seats, "Come, let's eat."
Coming back with a full plate of food you ask America to switch seats with you so you can continue talking to Ukraine. You place a large piece of meat you did not enjoy on America's plate and he happily accepts it. "Ciao!" Italy gives you a sneak attack from behind hug.
"Evening," greets Japan and Germany.
"Wow, bella, you look beautiful," Italy continues to hug you until Germany pries him off. "France is about to invite people on the dance floor, can I be your first dance?"
"Hey, man!" America had a mouth stuffed with food as he talked, "I'm gonna-" he chokes as you slap his back.
"I-I maybe," Japan struggles to find his words.
"Oh my, what attention you have," giggles Hungary.
You see Russia rise from his chair and start trekking to his table, but Belarus clutches his arm and France cuts through to you with a microphone. "Dansons!" he speaks in the mic and slow music played from a band near the entrance. The soft thumps on the drum, taps of the cymbal and trumpet indicated a slow song. He places the mic on the table, takes you out of your chair and into the center of the dance floor as the lights dimmed. "Are you enjoying yourself, mademoiselle? I worked so hard on this arrangement." He holds your waist with his left and your hand in his right and gracefully spins you as others join.
"It's breathtaking France, Europe, this hotel, it's beautiful," the band stops playing and everyone turns to see Austria pause them to fill the seat of the empty grand piano.
"Ah, he just can't help himself," he sways and lets go of your hand, switching partners. While switching you see Russia uncomfortably dancing with Belarus.
At first, you feared standing alone and awkward, but Japan conveniently accompanied you. At first he scrambled his hands on your shoulders or on your waist, or just holding them. You lead him to the right dance pose as you two clumsily sway, "I'm sorry this is so, different."
"It's fine Japan, I'm surprised you wanted to dance," you felt his hand hovering on your waist, but slowly settles.
However, as soon as it did the tune is overturned by Spain's guitar once more, but instead of a hyper upbeat tone it continued being slow and romantic. America cuts in, "Hey!" He immediately grabs you and starts moving you across the room. Before you can ask him to slow down he let's you go into the arms of your original prince who had a rose in his mouth.
"Ivan," you look at America who directed a disgruntled Belarus to the opposite end of the dance floor. You reach for the rose, "What are you doing?"
"Being romantic? I'm sorry, Belarus still doesn't want to accept us yet," you place the rose in his vest pocket. "Don't worry I'm sure she will, Ukraine has."
His shoulders are still hard to reach, so you grip his arm and hold his extended hand, "I mean, I guess it's fine as long as she doesn't hurt me."
"No, she loves me too much to hurt you." He pulls you closer, "Although I fear her most of the time, I won't let her lay a hand on you," he kisses your forehead. "You look ravishing, kotyonok."
"You too."
"I am jealous how others got to dance with you first," his gaze shifts to your last dancers as he had a terrifying smile. You envelop your arms and hold his back as he holds your shoulders, "I've missed you." He unwraps himself, "Come."
You didn't realize that behind the buffet there are doors leading to a balcony. After grabbing his coat from his chair and placing it on you, he takes you outside to stare at the stars. Miles ahead you can see the lights of the Eiffel tower. You almost nuzzled your makeup on his shirt, but restrain yourself and intertwine your fingers with his.
"Are you staying in France after this?"
"No, I'm going to go back to America," you sadly say.
"Ah, I won't be visiting for a while," he takes your hands. "...You and America, have not-"
"No way," you sternly respond. "I know it looks, ugh, suspicious, especially if you follow his blog."
"I do."
"I promise we are just-" it's past the boss and assistant relationship. "Friends." He still displayed disbelief on his face and you pout, "I don't hug him like this." You envelop your arms and stared straight at him with your chin leaning on his chest. "Nor, do I kiss him, like this," you tilt you give light smacks on the cheek and feel the warmth on your lips. "Or this," you pulls his collar gently so you can peck his forehead and nose. His face is crimson as you leaned in to make your last mark, "Especially, not here." You're surprised he didn't try anything sneaky and just held your waist, as you two parted you hid your giggle. You left a trail of red kiss marks on his face. "Let's go inside!"
...
Gradually, the girls overtook a table and Hungary pulls you in to sit with them. Most of the boys went over to tease Russia over the trail you left on his face, "Oh! I see what you did on the balcony you naughty guy!" jeered America.
"Ah! How lovely she kissed your precious spots!" squealed France. "Did she also kiss down-"
England butted him out as Russia looked at them with confusion until he took a look through his phone. Everyone around him burst into laughter as Germany hands him one of the cloth napkins. "Oh, you two are adorable," says one girl. You cannot tell whether they were a country or not, and realized the table was not entirely composed of girls. One blonde girl with short hair and a ribbon sat close to a man with the same hairstyle. A trio sat in the corner probably enjoying the presence of girls.
"Oh, Russia looks so happy," Ukraine smiles to herself. "Doesn't he, Belarus?"
...
She took you apart from the crowd, sitting at at the table nearest to the corner with Ukraine. "Big brother, is a wonderful man," she starts. "I've always stuck by him, even when you wouldn't," she makes a quick glance at Ukraine. "The Russia you see, he is more than kind. He has blood on his hands, everyone does," she points starting at America, Japan, Germany, each of them. "But he had the most. An intimidating country, and the biggest threat towards most. I will always stick to him, no matter what others think of him, no matter which side he shows, can you do it too?"
"We'll see," you confidently respond, but can't picture Russia covered in blood. Nor can you see your friends with blank expressions, with dried blood on their uniforms, although you can accept that they have taken lives.
Ukraine jumps over her seat to hug you, you feel yourself suffocating in her cleavage, "W-Wait! My makeup!"
"Oh," she lets you go, "I'm sorry, I just am happy for both of you."
"This does not mean I like you," growled Belarus. "Ch, you'll wither anyways."
Ukraine began scolding her in Russian, seeing how the remark made you quiver. Belarus snaps back at her harshly as you sat between them, their voices growing louder and attracting attention. You didn't understand the conversation, but knew it is leading to no where good as Belarus pushes her chair back and stands up, looking as if she is about to lunge at Ukraine. You quickly rise as well, shielding Ukraine and putting your hands up, "W-Wait, let's calm down."
Belarus swung her arm, probably intending to push you away, but you instinctively grab her wrist. She yanks it out of your grip and cries out, "Don't touch me!" Her other arm wavered to strike you, but is taken by Russia from behind. "Big brother."
He restrained both her wrists and had a clear look of distress and rage. The entire room went silent as Russia takes Belarus out to the balcony, and all you can hear is Ukraine weeping softly. France began encouraging the band members to keep playing as soon as they stepped through the doors and tried lightening the mood the best he could. "Ukraine," you look back at the grown woman who bawled like a child.
"I know, I'm a bad big sister," she cried harder to the point where you knew you had to take her out as well.
"Come, let's go to a bathroom or something."
...
The second floor contained a lounge area next to a restaurant with glass windows revealing the night beauty of France. You sit on a couch facing the view, waiting for Ukraine to refresh herself in the bathroom. The seat is near the restaurant entrance and so you watch as couples make their exit giggling and latching on each other. Surprisingly, you see Prussia groggily step outside, "...Shit, I got lost." He sees you and his face brightens, "Ah, _! I'm saved!" He places his drunk bum next to you and side hugs you, "What are you doing down here?"
"Uhm, it's complicated," you look over his shoulder to see if Ukraine is coming. "Why don't you go back to everyone?"
He lifts a sleeve to check his watch, "Peh, the party is almost over, why bother?"
"What?" luckily Ukraine appeared from the restroom corner. "Are you okay now Ukraine?"
Prussia's face grew redder seeing her chest since she doesn't attempt to hide them, "Yes, I think I can go up now. Thank you."
You pull Prussia by the ear, "Let's go."
...
Belarus sat at her original seat and Russia stood at your table chatting with America. Ukraine avoids eye contact and sits next to Austria this time as you touch Russia's back, "Ah, kotyonok."
He seems normal.
"Hey, are you and Bela-"
"It's fine, the matter settled itself," he glances at Ukraine. You cock an eyebrow at America and he responds with a shrug, and a "go with it" look. "I'm sorry, you had to experience that."
...
The evening ended smoothly with one last toast from France and a shout of mixed languages saluting Valentine's Day. To your surprise, you receive gifts of chocolate from Italy, Germany and Japan. France also, but he gave after party gifts to everyone of his guests and as he greeted everyone hello, he departed them with a goodbye. Russia stood ahead of you and see him help Belarus and his boss into a slick black car with tinted windows. However, he did not step inside, but approach you and America while you two waited for your valet to fetch the car.
You give America a questioning look, "What?" He hands Russia the keys, "I have late business with a couple of guys," he begins motioning towards France, and those who did not leave. "And if yo going to do the hanky panky close the door!" he teases.
"What?" the valet opens the passenger side door for you. "What?" you ask again and see Russia in the driver's seat.
"Fucking go with it!" yells America.