"Well... now that we're done with THAT..." said Hungary, staring nervously at Switzerland. "...Let's move on to the next round. Russia, you said you wanted to go, correct?"

Russia smiled, his new scarf wrapped around his neck. "Yes! I do very much!"

England glared. "You can't go with America!"

"Why not?" Russia asked with a friendly, terrible smile.

"Because... Because..." England's heated up as he got more and more flustered. How was he to tell Russia not to play with America without saying... something strange?

"Perhaps," Hungary said with a dastardly smile. "We should... consult the scarf of sexual preference."

Russia's eyes lit up as England grew deathly pale. "That's a great idea!" Russia said.

"N-n-nevermind, I s-suddenly remembered that Russia can go with America!" England backed away a couple steps, then turned and ran from the room. Hungary and Russia shared a triumphant smile.

"Ameeeeeeeericaaaaaaaaa," Russia said cheerily. America shot him a friendly smile.

"Russiaaaa, buddy!" He ran over and slung an arm around the Russian's shoulders even though the other was taller than him. "We gonna do the pocky game, then?"

"Da," Russia said cheerily. "Which flavor would you like to play with?"

America shrugged. "Do they have bacon flavor?"

He and Russia then searched through all the pocky, but they found no bacon flavor.

"Oh well. Let's just play with chocolate!"

"Da!"

Russia grabbed the box of pocky from America, who looked displeased with this.

"I wanted to open it!" he whined.

Russia stared at him for a moment. Though he wanted to open the box of pocky, he supposed he would get another chance sometime in his abnormally long life. He sighed.

"Here you go, America," he said, holding out the box. America took the pocky from him, and then they shared a moment where they stared into each other's eyes and understood that they were in a slight bromance.

"Thanks, bro," said America, beginning to open the box. He felt bad suddenly, though, and so he handed the box back to Russia. "You do it."

"I couldn't," said Russia, not taking the box. "You do it."

"No, you!" America said cutely, holding the box closer to Russia face.

Russia grinned sweetly. "No, you!"

"You!"

"You!"

"Yo-"

"I'LL OPEN THE DAMN BOX YOU DUMBFUCKS." shouted Romano, jumping up from his seat. He pulled out his gun, took careful aim, and then shot the top of the box off. The whole room was silent for a moment, and Ukraine- who had nearly been shot -passed out.

"Whoa," Spain said finally. "That was awesome."

"I could have done it better," said Mexico, causing something inside Romano to break. He leapt toward her, grabbing another gun out of nowhere and shooting at her. She dodged the bullets easily, pulling out her machete and going in for the kill-

"Stop," Spain said softly. That wouldn't have stopped anything, though, if he hadn't just slammed his giant ax down in between them. "I don't want you fighting," he said as they shook with terror (they both had memories of seeing him on the battlefield when they were little).

"Give me your weapons." Spain said, holding out his hand.

"O-okay," Romano stammered, handing his guns to Spain.

Mexico wordlessly handed over her machete after a little friendly nudge with the giant ax.

"Whelp, now that that's done, let's watch Russia and America in the pocky game!" Spain cheerily jerked his ax out from where it had cut through the marble floor and, swinging it over his shoulder, skipped back to his seat. He propped the ax on the wall behind him before sitting down. Romano gave Mexico a regretful look, then went to his own seat, while Mexico sat down and mourned the loss of her machete. Of course, she had brought three more, but still.

By now, America had opened a bag filled with pocky and pulled out one of the strangely addictive sticks. It was beautiful, with it's pale, pretzel-y bottom and the top part, which was covered in smooth, delicious chocolate. The chocolate seemed to glow in the lights above them, and America felt tears spring to his eyes. It was just... just so beautiful.

America swallowed a sob. "Russia, I don't think I want to eat it," he said softly. "It's just too beautiful."

Russia nodded. "Da, I know what you mean, America. I feel the same, but... we have to do this. For the rest of the world."

America nodded bravely. "Okay then. Let's do this." America took a deep breath before sticking the pocky into his mouth, pursing his lips around it. Russia leaned forward and bit into the other end of the pocky, and slowly they inched their way toward each other.

As America's lips moved slowly closer to his one, Russia couldn't help but stare fixedly at them. As they slowly grew closer to his own, he felt sweat bead on his upper lips. He couldn't do this. They were getting too close together! What if they k-k-kissed?

Suddenly Russia jerked away, stumbling back a couple steps. "S-sorry," he said. "That's all I could take."

"No worries, bro!" America said, reaching forward and clasping the other's hand. "But, that means that you have to do something for me!"

"What...?"

America leaned closer and whispered in Russia's ear. Russia focused less on what he was saying and more on the warm breath on his ear, which was an intoxicating feeling that he wanted more of.

When he finally started listening to what America was saying, he felt his face grow warm. He wondered what that meant. Sometimes, when it was cold, his face grew warm kind of like this.

"Okay," Russia agreed instantly, smiling sweetly.

Hungary's eyes nearly bulged out of her head and she jumped onto the table. "What did you say, America? Russia, what did he say?"

Russia and America just grinned at her and didn't answer.

"GOD DAMMIT!" Hungary said, stomping her foot. "I just want to knooooow..." she moaned miserably, falling off the table as her will to live left her body in one fell swoop.

Japan turned toward the camera. "Tune in next time," he said.

A/N Epic here!

First off, the next chapter will be a prize chapter that will be vaguely written between Viva and I because why the hell not.

Second, do we even HAVE a 4th wall anymore? Idek.

Third, I just feel like I should apologize because I always add Spamano but I literally can't help it like when I don't know what to write next I just write Spamano and then the problem's solved.

Viva: Also, if you've noticed that Romano and Mexico fight a lot it's because it's based on actual events. As in... there may or may not be a Hispanic and a South Italian who argue all the time... (Mexican food is better than Italian btw, just sayin'.)