Watching the orange sun set over the expansive horizon and laying beneath those pleasant, golden beams that electrified his skin, Antonio knew that the day had been an eventful one. He had received a phone call from Gilbert early in the morning, informing him that he had successfully talked Canada into going on a date with him. But not just any sort of date, as the Prussian had mysteriously stated over the other end of the phone. The Spaniard was confused, but nonetheless wished his friend the best of luck, as they both knew that Gilbert had had his eye on the Canadian for some time.

After his siesta, Francis came over to his place unexpectedly, along with three bottles of wine.

"Ah, well, you have heard of Gilbert's date, oui?" the Frenchman asked, playing with the churros that Antonio had prepared for the two of them. The other man nodded, noticing the mischievous—and what should be added, creepy—look on his best friend's face. And the Spaniard wasn't known for being a perceptive one, only when the person was far too disturbing for their own good. Francis took a few sips of his wine before speaking again, leaning his arms on Antonio's outdoor coffee table and resting his chin in his hands.

"That brat Amerique and his punk of a lover, England, have organized an event that will take place in le United States of America. It is for countries only to attend; pairs, to be specific. They will participate in a scavenger hunt all across the country, and the grand prize is to remain a mystery until the end of the games." He sighed deeply, drinking down all the remaining contents from his wine glass.

"What does this have to do with Gil's date?" Antonio asked, true curiosity written plain as day on his face. Francis mentally face palmed and wondered why he had such a daft friend.

"Well, I believe notre ami is going to enter with the Canadian. You know, the pairs will have to share hotel rooms and in some cases, camp out together. That is le perfect opportunity for our Prussian friend to make a move," he stated matter-of-factly, wiggling his eyebrows in a suggestive manner. Of course, Antonio didn't understand the gesture, and his mind was occupied with other thoughts.

"Say, Francis, did every nation get invited?" he asked. The Frenchman gave him a puzzled look, and then smiled knowingly.

"Ah yes, apart from the micro nations, everyone was invited. I mean, mon dieu, they even invited Gilbert! An ex-nation! So I'm sure that half of nations are also invited as well, if you understand who I'm talking about." The Spaniard violently blushed, for he did know whom his best friend was referring to. But the past was the past, and Antonio knew this.

"Francis, I'm over with that already. It's done. Romano is living his life as a nation now, unified with his brother. He has responsibilities and is probably… all grown up." Antonio added the last part sadly, and if he had dog ears they would have drooped downwards. It's not that he didn't mind the Italian's development; no, he was happy that he and his brother finally became an independent nation. Rather, it was the fact that he wasn't around when Romano had his good and bad moments. It was the experiences Antonio missed that made him feel miserable.

"AH, well, I am entering as well," Francis stated, swerving the conversation into a different direction.

"Really? With who?" Antonio wondered what nation would be sane enough to spend weeks stuck with his best friend in hotel rooms and tents. Although they were very good friends and such, the Spaniard knew that Francis had his overbearing moments where the man whore in him would release. Francis quieted down after the question was asked, and shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"Monaco." The man seated from the other side of the table stared at him with wide eyes and a horror-struck face. He couldn't believe his ears. Monaco? The young lady that Francis had raised like a first daughter? The only nation that Francis was sure to never pull a move on? She was an intelligent, attractive and well-bred girl with a sly and observant nature, but nonetheless was well known for her skills in managing money and casinos. And she was the one Francis wanted to spend weeks in confined spaces with?

"What… What were you thinking? Monaco is like your child, and you are like a father to her. I thought that you would have liked to spend long periods of time with someone that you could jump in bed with, but… Monaco? No, I know you wouldn't. So what is your reasoning?" After a lengthy amount of silence, Francis spoke.

"Mon ami, I didn't even want to enter the pointless thing. But then Monaco came to my front door and, well, she never does those kinds of things. So I was quite surprised when she asked me if I would be her partner for the scavenger hunt. But I can assure you that… well; of course I didn't hesitate when I said yes. It's just that, she never comes to me for anything, and I feel so useless. So even if I have to give up l'amour for awhile, Monaco is worth it." Antonio was quite shocked by his friend's words, yet also proud of him. France, the country of love, would throw away his most needed hobby for a long time just for someone he cared about? In the Spaniard's eyes, that was like giving up tomatoes for awhile to be with the one he loved… Who is… He snapped himself out of the daze and turned his attention to his friend.

"Francis, that is a very honorable and noble thing to do. Your people would be proud, as I am right now. And I'm sure that Monaco will appreciate your efforts, too!" he assured, giving the other man a friendly pat on the back. Francis beamed and felt fortunate for having such a kind and caring friend, and then remembered that Antonio had love troubles of his own. Knowing just what to do, he devised a plan in his mind while his host went to wash the dishes.

After Antonio returned from his duties, he noticed that Francis was missing, and placed on the table was a small note that read:

I'm off to tell Gilbert about Monaco, since I haven't told him yet.

I'll also be stopping by an old friend's for a visit. I think you know him well.

Thanks for the good food, mon ami.

XOXO Francis

The man read the note once more, wondering who Francis was going to meet, and then threw it in the rubbish bin, not really caring anymore. He was happy for his best friends; Gilbert had a date and Francis had his daughter-like sort of person… or something. In any case, the two of them were content with their current lives, which made Antonio feel happy; because good friends were affected by their close friends' moods.

With that thought, he walked over to the kitchen to prepare tortillas and fried calamari for dinner, never noticing that the piece of paper Francis wrote on had an address imprinted on the bottom from the company. In Sicily, Italy.

"I wonder if he understood my hint," the Frenchman thought out loud to himself, relishing the smell of the cinnamon croissants he had picked up on the drive to his destination. Then again, this was Antonio he was thinking of, so of course not. Sighing as he drove his Venturi Fetish up a steep hill, and muttering about how the roads in Southern Italy were too narrow or too rocky, Francis drew nearer to a white Maggiore styled house. He heard that the man living here had a thing for architecture, but to think that he had such taste was mind boggling. The house was a mixture of an Italian and Mediterranean style, consisting of a single floor and—what amused Francis most of all—an abundant tomato garden that seemed to stretch from the front yard, all the way to the back.

He walked over to the front door, taking note of the well hidden security cameras following his every move. He's so paranoid, Francis thought as he pressed on the doorbell. He must have waited for several minutes before an elderly man around the age of seventy answered the door. His face seemed surprised, but not unpleased, which was why Francis liked the servant so much.

"Hello, Signor Accorsi. I take it your master is still in his study?" he questioned, his voice smooth as honey and rich as silk. The butler regarded this kindly, and chuckled lightly at the Frenchman's obvious familiarity with his master.

"Si, Signor Vargas has always been the busy type, Monsieur Bonnefoy," the gentleman stated, before inviting the guest into the living room and offering him refreshments. After he checked up on his master in the study, he returned to the man seated on the couch with his wine.

"I will apologize in advance if Signor Vargas comes off as… well, rude, I would say. It is just that he has had a rather tasking day, and this economic crisis isn't making it any better; I can see his stamina fading by the hours," the old man explained briefly, a pure show of concern evident on his ancient face. Francis smiled at his worry and display of indirect affection towards his master. I wish men like him lived longer, he deserves so much more than some people in this world do.

"Not to worry, Signor. I have known your master long enough and have grown accustomed to his behaviour. Besides, I informed him earlier that I would be coming, so he might as well be polite and get it over with." The two men chuckled in each other's company for awhile; awaiting the grouchy Italian that they both knew would enter the room any minute. And that he did.

"What do you want, wine bastard?" came the annoyed voice from the other end of the room. The Frenchman smirked, knowing immediately who it was, and turned around to lock eyes with the master of the household.

"Why, I'm just here to talk, mon petit Romano~!"

Was that a cliffhanger? hmm... maybe... oh well xD so the butler guy Signor Acccorsi is a character I made up just 'cuz, and he calls France by his human name because... well, he thinks he's a human. Even though I threw Francis and Monaco together doesn't mean I ship the pairing, rather, I just find that they have an interesting relationship. But I ship PruCan so yeahhhh~~