It had been a few hours since everyone had picked their rooms, so the atmosphere of the house had toned down a bit. There had only been a few outbursts of shouting, but after Germany had charged into England and America's room and nearly shot them both in the face, everyone had decided to calm down. By now, it was late evening, and people were about to start getting themselves ready to go to bed for the night. However, many countries had a horrible problem as this came about.

None of them had night clothes.

This little issue had caused yet another fight to break out amongst the countries. England was yelling about how it was already pushing it sleeping in the same bed as the damn git, but there was no way in hell he was going to sleep with him when he wasn't wearing anything besides boxers. America fired back saying he'd go blind looking at England naked because of how ghastly pale and pasty he was. England then began to once again lecture America on how he needed a diet, to which America retorted that he needed to stop trying to cook.

Japan and China weren't exactly fighting with each other, but they definitely weren't happy. Japan was going on about "taking responsibility" or something odd like that. No one could be sure of what he was saying because he was talking too fast for even Italy to comprehend. It appeared that the idea of having to sleep with a less-than-clothed China made his brain malfunction. China just complained that he'd get cold because he was used to the heat of his homeland.

Germany and Italy didn't seem to be too distressed about the whole thing. Apparently, Italy slept with Germany a lot because the small country felt safer with him. Germany added that he was lucky if Italy was wearing a pair of boxers when he jumped into bed with him. So the two of them stayed in their room while the rest of the countries were out complaining.

Russia didn't seem to mind either. He had plenty of layers, so he could manage with this problem. Basically, the only reason he was hanging around the other countries was to once again try to convince them that they wanted to become one with him. Which they didn't. At all.

Canada stood in his doorway, trying to figure out what to do. He supposed that he could lend some of his clothing to them, but he didn't really know if he trusted these people enough to do that. For all he knew, he'd give out his clothing and then never see it again! It wasn't like his clothing held a lot of value or special memories, but… they were still his. He really didn't want to lose them—clothing was starting to become expensive! But as he thought over the very few options he had, that seemed like the best one.

So, with a sigh, Canada tried to get their attention so that he could tell him the plan. However, by now England and America were in the middle of trying to strangle each other, which had taken the other countries' attention. Canada sighed, gripping the door frame hard in his hand. Really? They came here for him to try to solve a problem for them, and then ignore him? What was mentally wrong with these people?!

"Guys!" Canada called, but his smaller voice couldn't be heard over England's colorful plethora of cuss words—half of which Canada had never heard before. Frustrated, Canada hit his head against the door frame as if the pain would make him feel better. Surprisingly enough, it didn't at all. Now he had people ignoring him and a slight head ache. Wonderful.

"You need help?"

Canada turned around to face France, an amused smile on his face. With another sigh, Canada nodded. No one was going to listen to him, so he would need France's help. Again.

"'ey! Love birds!" France called, making Canada jump, a panicked expression on his face. Why was he making fun of them? He didn't want to make them angry! Most of these people didn't like Canada in the first place, so he didn't need to give them an actually reason to dislike him. "Pay attention! You can release sexual tension later on tonight! Ohonhon!"

The comment made England and America even more pissed, and China had to hold Japan up as the smaller country suffered from a severe nosebleed. However, at least all of this brought attention to Canada at last. Before the countries could do anything else, Canada yelled, "Listen! Please!"

"Hey, Canadia!" America shot back, still refusing to stop trying to take down the Brit. "Can't you see me and Artie are in a fight? Can it wait?"

"Can't you see you're in the middle of my house?" Canada whimpered, trying to reason with him. "If you just listen, we can get this all figured out. Please?"

It took a few moments, but the Brit and the Yank calmed down enough to listen. Seeing as people were finally refocusing their attention on him, Canada spoke. "Okay, I have extra clothes… I guess I could lend some out as long as you promise to return them. But you do have to return them! Please!"

There was some arguing amongst the countries for a while, but they finally agreed to this. So, hoping that he would see them again, Canada handed out clothes for the night. Each time he handed out an article of clothing, he made sure to say that he wanted them back. But part of him just knew that he would only maybe get half of them back if he was lucky.

That problem solved, the countries retreated back into their rooms, Russia disappearing somewhere into the shadows, a few "kol kol"s audible as he slipped away. Canada also returned to his room and shut the door behind him. As it clicked, he yelled, "Hosers!" as he stomped his foot. Why did they all have to be so mean, so rude, so stupid?

Suddenly, Canada remembered France was in his room. And he was looking at him, smirking at his little temper tantrum. A huge blush crossed his face as he quickly looked away, running a hand through his hair. Why did France have to be here? He didn't want to act like an idiot in front of him!

"Maybe a good night's sleep will help everyone feel better," France soothed, flashing a smile at Canada. Canada gave a little nod, France's smile making him feel slightly light headed.

It suddenly hit Canada that he and France were going to use the same bed. They were going to sleep together. Next to each other. All night long. He couldn't decide whether he was more happy or nervous about it.

He just hoped that France would try to be… well, France.

x-x-x-x-x

England wasn't exactly a fan of the clothes that Canada had supplied him with, but he decided to wear them anyway. It wasn't ideal that he had to wear a Toronto Maple Leafs T-shirt or sweat pants that were far too big for him, but it was sure better than sleeping naked. Slowly, England crawled into bed, making sure to stay as close to the edge as possible. He wanted to keep as much space between himself and the stupid git as possible.

The door of the closet clicked as the door slightly opened. "Can I come out already?" America whined. "Why do I have to stay in here while you change? You know this isn't a walk-in closet, right? It's seriously crowded in here, dude!"

"We have to sleep together," England growled, crossing his arms in irritation. "We don't have to watch each other change."

"Who said I was going to be watching, perv?" America retorted. To which England just yelled at him even more.

After more cussing and yelling and insults, England said, "Yeah, just come out already if it will make you shut up."

"'Kay!" America chirped as he threw the door open. England had been expecting him to be wearing the clothes that Canada had lent him. But apparently the simple task had been too much for his idiotic brain to handle as he stepped out of the closet, the only thing on him now being a pair of boxers.

For a moment, England just stared at him, a little surprised that he was severely lacking clothing. Then, once it clicked that America was practically naked, blood rushed up to his face as he quickly turned around with a shriek. He had also forgotten that he was on the edge of the bed, only remembering this as he fell off said bed to the floor with an embarrassing 'thud!'

"Bloody hell!" England cried, jumping back up, both his arse and his ego bruised. "Why aren't you wearing clothes?!"

"Canada's don't fit me," America answered through a fit of laughter at England's behavior. "I'm more buff than he is!"

"More like fatter," England mumbled back, embarrassedly crawling back on the bed. However, as he quickly looked him over, he saw that his insult didn't hold much water anymore. America was by no means fat. He was actually surprisingly slim for all of the rubbish he ate. He had just the smallest bit of padding on his stomach and hips, but it was barely even noticeable. Hell, he even had a six-pack. He was in better shape that England was—not that the island nation would ever admit it though.

England meant to just glare at the American for his stupidity and inconsiderate actions, but he was suddenly finding that he couldn't stop looking at him. His finely tanned skin, the way his muscles were toned just enough to see them, but not so toned that he looked like a bodybuilder—somewhere in the middle; a perfect balance. His arms looked strong, but were long and limber at the same time. Then there were his legs that were strong and had certain curves to them that made England's eyes stick. His eyes shot up to America's face, and he nearly died—America was looking at him with a curious look.

"Are you… checking me out?"

With a huff, England quickly turned around—this time without falling off the bed. "Why the hell would I be checking you out, bloody git!"

America just laughed it off, making England more pissed. Why did he always have to laugh about everything? It was so bloody annoying! He was about to make a nasty comment when America jumped in the bed next to him, making England bounce on his side. "Why can't you get in bed like a normal person?!" England chastised, turning his head to glare at the American.

He just smirked. "Because normal is boring!"

England just glared at him for a moment, trying to put as much malice as he could into the look. He then turned back around and pulled the blanket up to his chin. "Go to sleep, git."

America just chuckled at him as he turned out the bedside lamp, sending the room into darkness. England tried to fall asleep so he could at least mentally escape this hell hole, but America prevented that from happening by talking. "Just so ya know," he said, "apparently I kick, snore, talk, twitch, and toss and turn in my sleep. So I might wake you up."

England groaned as he buried his face in his pillow. "Lovely," he murmured. "So you haven't grown out of any of that. Why am I not surprised?"

After a few more rude exchanges, the two finally silenced as they headed towards sleep. England was sure that America would have no trouble sleeping the whole night through. However, he was sure that he would be lucky if he got an hour of sleep tonight. From what he remembered of America when he was still just a small country, he had an amazing talent to kick him either in the spine or the balls— both of which he did plenty of during nights he'd been too afraid to sleep by himself. He just hoped that maybe, just maybe, America wouldn't do that tonight. But with America, he'd learned not to have too much hope—that was just asking for trouble.

"Goodnight, England," America said drearily, shuffling in the bed next to him. England looked over to him, a little surprised by the simple phrase. For some reason, the two words brought back memories of when America was a small child, of when they used to be so close, almost inseparable. Memories that were hundreds of years old.

England let his eyes flutter close again, taking in a deep breath as he let himself slowly fade. "Goodnight, America." Within a few minutes, the two nations were fast asleep.

x-x-x-x-x

By now, the two Asian nations had been in bed for a while. Unlike Western nations, China and Japan were fairly calm and mild tempered, making it quite easy for them to deal with each other. The two didn't move around much in the bed, Japan being almost as still a stone. Japan hated skin contact and being touched in general, so he stayed still as to not risk this. But even though he had stayed so still and stiff, it had taken him no time at all for him to fall asleep. China, on the other hand, was having much more trouble with this.

Much like Japan, China wasn't a person who really appreciated being touched. He remembered one time after England and France had taken him over after the Opium Wars, England had grabbed on to his arm. England never touched him again after China had smacked him in the face with his wok. He wasn't as bad as Japan who would faint at the mere thought of being touched, but he still avoided contact. However, at night when he was trying to sleep, it was a different story.

For as long as he could remember, China had always slept with his panda next to his side, occasionally petting it to comfort him. When other countries forced him to work for him, or were rude to him, or just didn't understand him, his panda would always be there for him, always willing to listen to his complaints. But, seeing as his panda was now across the Pacific Ocean thousands of miles away, his panda couldn't comfort him now. He didn't know how he was going to get to sleep without his cuddly panda!

Trying to replace his panda, China took the pillow from under his head and wrapped his arms around it. However, this didn't help all that much. The pillow was soft, but his panda was warm and had a heartbeat. The pillow just sat there and did nothing. This just would not do.

A sudden idea occurred to him. Carefully, China poked Japan to make sure that he was completely asleep. The slight pokes didn't make the Japanese man stir at all, making China smile. He had been like that when he was just a small country too. He was a heavy sleeper, the only way to wake him up at night being to have to violently shake him back to consciousness. Plus then he would begin to freak out because someone was touching him. China smiled at how easily his little brother got flustered at simple little human contact.

Hoping Japan would stay fast asleep, China slowly pulled his arm away from his body and brought it closer to him. It was nothing at all like his beloved panda, but it was at least warm and comforting. Wrapping his arms around Japan's arm, he immediately felt better and at home.

It wasn't perfect, but it was close enough. Within a few minutes, China finally fell asleep peacefully.

x-x-x-x-x

Germany was having a wonderful dream. He had finally conquered the world and people had stopped calling him a Nazi and had stopped blaming him for everything. However, he felt something poking his arm as all of this was going on. He tried to ignore whatever was poking him because he was watching someone punching Prussia in the face, and he really enjoying it. Prussia deserved every punch he got, the annoying bastard. However, apparently whatever was poking him really had something important to say as he finally gave up and woke up. Trying not to automatically maul whoever had just woke him up, Germany turned his head toward whatever was poking him. He gave a little sigh; Italy.

"What is it, Italy?" he mumbled, tempted to just hit Italy hard over the head to make him go to back to sleep. It had worked before, and it would work again.

"G-Germany." Italy complained, visibly shivering. "It's cold! I don't like this place, it's really cold and dark and cold and weird and cold and different and cold and everything smells like maple syrup, and it's cold, and…"

"Then find another blanket," Germany said, closing his eyes again. He hoped that his dream would start back up where it had stopped. However, Italy began poking him again.

"But Germany!" Italy whimpered, poking him even more. "I don't like this place, Germany! Please, I can't sleep! It's cold and I'm scared something's going to attack me! Please, can…" Italy paused, Germany hopeful that maybe he had finally given up. However, Italy continued, "Germany, can… can we… cuddle?"

Germany nearly exploded. "Was?!" he yelled, making the small Italian jump. "Nein! Nein, I don't want to cuddle, dummkopf!" He would have continued arguing but as his eyes adjusted to the dark, he could see Italy's saddened face.

Why did that face of his have to have such a huge influence on him?

With a sigh, Germany pushed back his fine blonde hair. "Fine," he said. "But it's only for toni—oof!" He wasn't able to finish his sentence as Italy nearly tackled him, wrapping his arms around him as he pressed his face against Germany's chest. Germany slightly cringed as he felt Italy's skin against his—he was cold.

"Grazie, Germany," Italy murmured happily as he snuggled in closer. Germany felt his face heat up slightly, not exactly a fan of the contact and touching. But as Italy finally settled in, he very lightly laid a hand on the Italian's small waist. He was so close, Germany really had no other place to lay his hand. He most certainly didn't want to do this, mind you. Italy had left him no choice from snuggling in so close. Italy's breathing slowed down, and within a few minutes, he was fast asleep.

Germany, however, was wide awake.

Italy and Germany had slept together more than he would like to admit. Italy always crept into his bed in the dead of night, and Germany had given up on trying to keep him out of his bed a long time ago. The small Italian had no skills in spying or trying to stay hidden, but somehow he was able to get into Germany's bed undetected. How did he do that? So with them sleeping together so often, Germany wasn't bugged by sharing his bed. But never before had they… cuddled. Just the thought of it made Germany uncomfortable—touching another person? He wasn't as concerned about his personal space as Japan was, but he was still rather fond of it. He liked to sit alone and be without people for long periods of time. But ever since he had met Italy, those few moments had been far and between. Italy was always there, always talking, always making odd noises and hand gestures…

Always trying to make Germany smile, always trying to help even if it ended up making things worse, always there to support him even if the cause was hopeless, always there with his laugh and smile that always made Germany feel like he truly belonged somewhere.

Germany paused to think for a moment, willing his mind to slow down so he could also go to sleep. If nothing else, he could try to better sort out his thoughts in the morning. He closed his eyes as he allowed his mind to think. Finally, his breathing also slowed as he faded off, his mind still trying and failing to decipher just what he felt for his small Italian. It was too much of a mystery for even him to solve in one night.

x-x-x-x-x

Canada stared up at the ceiling, unable to even try to go to sleep. His mind kept wandering frantically, unable to stop reminding him of that fact that France was in bed right next to him. He tried to seem natural, like his heart wasn't about to explode from the stress. However, he knew better than anyone else that he was an extremely terrible liar. He just had to hope that maybe France wouldn't catch on to his nervousness.

There was a slight tap on his shoulder, and Canada cursed himself as he nearly fell out of the bed as he jumped. He turned his head to see France looking at him, a bemused look on his face. "Are you okay, Canada?" he said, his small smirk barely visible in the dark.

"Yeah I'm okay why wouldn't you think I'm okay I'm perfectly okay I mean it's not like I'm freaking out that you're in my bed but I'm not freaking out because it's a bad thing I actually think I like you in my bed not to sound creepy okay actually that does sound a little creepy please don't be freaked out I mean if you freak out I'll freak out and I don't want to freak out and—"

He finally shut his stupid mouth as France laid a finger against his lips. "You are getting as bad as your brother," France mused, Canada hoping that he didn't feel his face warming under his touch. "I am guessing from the mass amount of words you just spewed out that you are uncomfortable."

"N-no!" Canada said, trying to relax. "I mean… m-maybe I'm a little… erm… nervous or… but… I mean…"

"If you want me to, I can leave," France offered. "I don't want to make you so panicked."

But of course this only served to make Canada more panicked. "N-no, I don't want you to leave!" The words left his mouth, and he began blushing even more. Too straightforward, too straightforward! "I, I mean… I don't know where you'd sleep, and I don't know where Russia's sleeping." Oh God, he'd almost forgotten about the psycho country. "Plus he kind of scares me and I don't want you to get hit in the face with his pipe!"

In the darkness, Canada could see France raise an eyebrow. "Which 'pipe' are we talking about?" he asked with an "Oh hon hon!"

Canada stared at him for a moment, not getting what he meant. Then it hit him like a bulldozer as he felt his face furiously blush. "F-France!" he squeaked, giving the man a horrified look. "I… I mean… I don't want either to happen! I-I mean…" He blushed even more, and finally gave up as he buried his face in his pillows. He seriously didn't know how to deal with this guy.

He felt France's hand rub his back, making him give another surprised squeak. "Mon dieu, Canada," he chuckled, "you really do need to relax. I told you, I won't do anything to you. Unless you ask of course!"

Canada mumbled something unintelligible even to himself into his pillow. He heard France make a questioning hum, obviously curious about what he had said. Giving a sigh, Canada turned his head to look at France. And blushed.

Why was France looking at him like that? Why was he looking at him like he was the most amazing thing he'd ever seen? He was beginning to freak out, but as France continued to rub his back, his nerves finally began to relax. Canada gave out a slight hum, his mind suddenly beginning to calm down enough for him to begin to get drowsy. "That feels nice," he murmured, his eyes slipping closed.

France smiled knowingly. "You were easily frightened back when you were un enfant, but this always calmed you." He continued running his fingers along his back, Canada feeling himself edging unconsciousness.

"I remember, a little," he hummed, his breathing slowing down. He could remember France taking care of him when he was very little, France being loving and kind. But most of his memories of growing up were much different from those times. He frowned suddenly as those memories blotted out those of France. "England never… never did anything like that."

France's fingers hesitated for a moment, seeming to be taken aback by Canada's statement. For a second, Canada was worried that he had said something wrong. He was about to apologize—for what, he didn't know—when France laughed. "That is because Angelterre is a dick!"

Canada chuckled a little, then hummed in agreement. "Yeah. He was always mean to me… well, when he noticed me of course."

France continued to rub his back, Canada finally giving up and closing his eyes. Finally, he was truly glad that France was there. He had missed him so much—he was only beginning to realize how much it was that he had missed him. Missed his laugh, missed his hugs, missed carefree attitude and boisterous personality. Never had a moment with him been dull. He did truly miss that. He wished that he could have those days back.

Not sure if it was real or if he was finally asleep and dreaming, Canada felt something soft and gentle press against his forehead. He figured out they were lips as they spoke, saying, "Bonsoir, mon Canada."

Canada had never slept better than that night.