Japan woke up slowly, letting his consciousness resurface gradually as he took large, relaxed breaths. He had slept quite well for not being used to his surroundings, and especially for sharing a bed with someone else. It had worried him as he had been falling asleep the previous night, but it seemed like it had all worked out fine. China hadn't seemed to move that much during the night, so he had been able to sleep soundly without the fear of being touched or bumped while he was asleep. Now feeling awake enough, he went to move his arms to stretch out their stiff muscles.

One arm complied with this action. The arm closest to China, however, didn't. Curiously, Japan turned his head to see why his arm refused to move.

And saw a very content China cuddled up next to him, his face pressed against his elbow and holding his forearm and hand close to his chest.

For a moment, Japan just took in the sight, expecting him to wake up from this disturbing dream. This had to be a nightmare. China would never do such a thing as… as cuddle up to him. But as he didn't wake up and slowly realized that this was reality and not a dream, he threw his usual tranquility out the window.

"China!" Japan yelped, trying to shake the sleeping man off of his limb. "China, prease get off!"

The sleeping Asian murmured in his sleep, slightly tightening his grip on Japan's arm, only making him more distressed. "Stop moving, aru," China mumbled, his eyes refusing to open.

Japan didn't listen to this though as he pulled on his arm harder. "No, get off, China!" he whined, feeling like he was about to pass out from a mental breakdown. "Why are you cuddring with my arm? I rearry don't rike this, China! Ret go!"

China seemed to finally understand that Japan wasn't going to stop trying to get him off from his arm, so he drearily let him go as he opened his golden eyes and started pouting. "Why can't you just be quiet, aru?" China asked, beginning to roll over to his other side. "I was sleeping, aru."

"And you were touching me!" Japan argued back, sitting up. He calmed himself down, trying to become his normal calm self once again. After a few deep breaths and straightening out his clothes, he looked back down at China. "Why?" he finally asked. "Why were you cuddring rike that?"

China continued to mumble grumpily from being woken up so rudely, but he finally began speaking understandable words. "You were warm," he answered. "And soft, aru. I needed something to cuddle with, and you were just what I needed, aru."

Japan wasn't sure what he had been expecting as an answer, but that had definitely not been what he had been thinking of. China had needed to cuddle to sleep? And cuddling with him was what had made him able to sleep?

"Werr, maybe if you had asked," Japan murmured to himself, feeling his face slightly heat up.

"Shénme?"

Japan didn't answer as he got up. He needed to walk around now—he had had far too much excitement this morning. He hoped that the rest of today would be calm as to keep his nerves from becoming frayed. But knowing that the house was full of rambunctious countries, he didn't get his hopes up too high.

China continued to lay in bed, his eyes closed as he decided to continue sleeping for a while longer. As he faded off, a smile was placed on his lips. He had heard exactly what Japan had said—he just felt like messing with the younger nation a little bit. He had to admit, even with all that he had done to him in the past, Japan was nearly as cute as his Hello Kitty doll when he was flustered.

Not that he'd ever let him know that of course.

x-x-x-x-x

Germany's internal clock was trying to convince him that it was time to wake up, but his body seemed to refuse to obey it as he continued to attempt sleep. His neck was somewhat stiff, so to try to become more comfortable, he turned his head to relieve the pressure. Something brushed against his face, but he didn't mind at first. It was warm and soft and almost even welcoming. He even found himself nuzzling against the warmth, continuing this until he felt his lips run up against something. Whatever it was, it was also soft and warm, but… something felt a little off.

Finally, the German opened his eyes to investigate just what it was that was this close to his face.

Right in front of his blue eyes were auburn ones, and a quick glance down showed that his lips were against another pair of them.

His lips were against Italy's.

They were kissing.

And Italy was awake.

Far too awake.

"Buongiorno, Germany!" Italy chirped, making the situation even more real as his lips moved against Germany's. "How are—?"

"Mein Kampf!"Germany cried, jumping back as his eyes widened. Why the hell were they so close like that? Why were Italy's lips so close to his? Why was Italy not at all disturbed from what had just happened? "Why?" he blathered, pushing his blond hair out of his face. "Why are you so close?"

Italy looked at him curiously, tilting his head to the side. "Remember, Germany?" he asked innocently. "It was cold last night and you said that we could cuddle!"

The events from last night came back to Germany's mind, though that didn't make the present situation much better. "Why were you right next to my face?" he asked, feeling his face still heated up from what had just happened.

Italy paused, continuing to look at him. "Because you're warm!" he said as if it was simplest answer in the world. But really, to normal people, it wasn't. Germany continued to stare at Italy as if he stared for long enough, all of the questions he'd ever had about the unreadable Italian would somehow reveal themselves. But after a few moments of this, all it did was seem to make Italy worried. "Germany?" he asked, edging closer to him, his movements making his curl bounce. "What's wrong?"

On instinct, Germany backed away, trying to keep an equal amount of distance between them. "Do you even realize what just happened?" he asked, amazed by the Italian's naivety sometimes.

Italy looked at him now with an equally confused look. "You kissed me," he stated. "So?"

Germany's heart, which had already been going at a rapid pace, started beating even faster. Italy knew just what had happened; so why did he talk about it so nonchalantly as if such things were normal?

"So?" Germany repeated, inwardly cringing as he heard his voice ever so slightly crack. "So? Italy, kissing isn't something people just do! It's something… something that only… only two people who… erm…" The more he tried to explain just who should kiss, the more awkward he felt. How were you to explain this to someone? He had never met a person who had not understood these kinds of boundaries, and had therefore never thought of a proper way to explain it. He thought he would never have to.

"Kissing happens between two people who are very close," Italy finished, a smile still on his face.

Germany stared at him for a moment, and then nodded. "Um… well, yes, but—"

"Like people who are always around each other."

"J-ja, but…"

"And people who sleep in the same bed together on a regular basis."

"Er… j-ja… But, Italy—"

"Or people who just make each other feel happy no matter what!"

Germany really did not like where this was going. "Italy, kissing happens between two people who love each other. Not friends."

Italy stared at him for a few moments, finally not having an immediate comeback. His expression showed that he was trying to come up with something else to say, but it took a few more seconds of silence until Italy finally replied, "But Germany! I love you!"

For another moment, Germany just stared at him, thoughts not quite making their way through his head. But finally, he hit his forehead with his palm. "Italy," he mumbled, still with face in palm, "you don't know what you're saying. And even if you did, I don't like you that way. Just don't do that again. It's not appropriate."

Germany didn't look up to see Italy's reaction, but after knowing the Italian for a long time, he knew that total silences were never a good thing. Once the silence lasted a few seconds too long, he looked up to see what the matter was with Italy.

He had seen many expressions on his face before: had seen tears running down his face, had seen him crying and begging for mercy; had seen him constantly happy for the silliest of reasons. But this had to be the very first time that he had ever seen Italy frown. "Not appropriate?" he repeated, the words actually sounding cold. Before Germany could reply, the Italian jumped out of bed. "Oh, mi scuso! I had no idea it was so inappropriate. I really don't know what I'm talking about, do I?"

Germany actually felt his jaw drop. Was… was Italy angry? "Italy?" he said cautiously.

Italy turned around and flashed a smile at Germany—a painfully obviously forced smile. "I'm going to go get dressed!" Italy chirped as he grabbed up his clothes from the previous day. "Because I certainly don't want to be inappropriate!"

Without another word, the small Italian skipped out of the room happily, slamming the door behind him very unhappily. Germany was just left to stare at the door to wonder just what he had created—an angry Italy. He had never thought he'd live to see the day. And now that it was here, he was fairly sure that he didn't like it nearly as much as he thought he would.

x-x-x-x-x

England had been rudely woken up at least ten times by the idiotic American he was sharing his bed with. One time the covers had been completely pulled away from him, leaving him feeling cold and vulnerable. Another time, America had in fact succeeded in once again finding the middle of England's spine with his knee, sending the Brit nearly to tears from the pain. It had taken him almost fifteen minutes to be able to actually move without being in excruciating pain. And one time, England had even found himself completely pushed off of the bed, landing on the hard floor face first. And somehow during all of these instances, America had not woken up once.

There was now daylight visible, and England had gotten at most a whole two hours of sleep—if he was lucky. He was on edge and getting ready to face the consequences of murder. However, he decided to try to still have hope about getting some sleep. He took in deep breaths as he closed his eyes, his mind being so tired that he could already feel himself quickly drifting away.

However, this didn't last long as all of the air rushed out of his lungs upon America's arm throwing itself over his stomach.

"Goddammit!" he yelled, his last nerve finally snapping. He grabbed America's wrist and threw his arm back to where it came from, not caring where he sent it as long as it was away. Though he definitely did not have any objections as he watched America unintentionally hit himself in the face.

"What the hell?!" America yelped, jumping awake and looking very confused. "Did you just make me hit myself? Da fuq?"

England glared at him, barely able to keep himself from shaking with frustration. "Do you have any bloody idea what you've been putting me through all night?!"

America looked at the Brit with a confused look which only proved to make him even more pissed off. "All bloody night long, you've been hitting me and shoving me and tearing the sheets from me! And you've been sleeping all nicely while putting me through a bloody nightmare! I honestly haven't a clue as to how you sleep at night! You're constantly moving and talking and all this other bloody nonsense! You're just lucky I haven't snapped your neck by now, because believe me, I have been tempted to just murder you! If you weren't a past colony and I disliked you just a bit more, I would have grabbed a knife, ripped you open, taken out your entrails and—!"

"Jesus Louisus, dude!" America interjected, holding his hands up defensively. "Seriously, man, you don't need to go all Jack the Ripper on me. I move a lot in my sleep! I warned you!" Somehow in the American's brain, he seemed to think that reaching over to give the Brit a hug was going to make everything better. This was a really bad choice on his part. Before the American knew what was going on, England took ahold of his wrists and shoved him down against the bed, the younger man giving a yelp in surprise.

"You shoved me out of bed!" England screeched at him, feeling some slight joy at seeing America frightened of him. "You did all this horrible rubbish in your sleep, and you're an adult! When you were a child, it was annoying, but acceptable! But now; now it's just damn annoying! You're even more annoying than the Frog! You need to grow up and act your age! Or else I swear—"

"I get nervous when I sleep in places I'm not used to!" America squeaked, squirming beneath him uncomfortably. "I don't usually toss and turn that much! I'm just not used to sleeping here! I'm real sorry, England!"

England glared down at him, still not feeling forgiving enough to release him. "Apologizing isn't going to help me get more than two hours of sleep last night," he growled.

"Well, you could have woken me up and told me!" America whimpered, still trying to wriggle out of England's grasp. "I didn't know I was moving around that much!"

"I did try to wake you up!" England hissed, holding onto America's wrists tighter and edging in closer to the American's face. "I even shoved you across the bed because you shoved me off! And you didn't even wake up a little!"

For some reason, America was blushing furiously as he continued to squirm. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, averting his eyes as if not sure where to look. "Can… can you please get off of me?"

For a moment, England just stared down at him, completely confused as to why he was acting so flustered. However, two things happened at once: one, he looked down to see that, somehow in his blind rage, he had straddled America's hips with his legs, holding the younger country in place below him. To add to this, America was still only in boxers—his boxers that weren't doing a very good job at hiding America's early morning problem.

And two, before he could move from their suggestive position, the door to their room opened.

England swung his head to see who had just walked in, and felt his whole body clench when he saw Italy staring right back at him. For a fraction of a second, Italy looked irritated (which was something that England had never even seen before), but his expression quickly changed to beet red and embarrassed. "V-ve!" he choked as he immediately began to back out of the room. "Oh, I, I'm sorry! I, uh, h-heard yelling, but… I d-didn't mean to interrupt!"

Oh bloody hell. "Ah, n-no! It's not what you think!" England blurted. He desperately wanted to move, but it seemed that the shock of the situation made him completely paralyzed. Before he could do anything else to convince Italy of this, the small Italian quickly retreated from the room and shut the door behind him, his footsteps audible as England could hear him running away down the hall.

Horrible fears and shame overcame England, feeling like he was about to throw up. Italy had run away! Knowing the blabbermouth Italian, he was sure that word of this was going to get out to everyone. He remembered when he had interrogated him once, and he had revealed everything he knew about Germany—most of which England wished that he could forget. He had never been able to look at Germany the same way again afterwards. So what if Italy did that to him this time? What if everyone thought that something vulgar had happened between him and America? God, he'd never hear the end of it! What was he supposed to do? What was he supposed—?

"Get off!" Before England knew just what was happening, he found the room was blurring around him as he flew into the air, hit the ceiling, bounced off from it, then fell down and ran into the floor. When everything stopped spinning and he could begin to feel something other than pain, he was amazed that he was still both alive and conscious. Though he very much did not want to be as he now had a huge body ache. He heard something hit the floor and his head seemed to vibrate as someone—America—ran towards him. "Aw crap! E-England, I'm sorry! I forgot to control my strength! I'm so, so sor—!"

"Please stop talking," England murmured as he slowly pushed himself up. He felt like his arms could barely support him, and he was finding himself being very dizzy from the two impacts had had just been through. He was going to further scold America, but he was too busy focusing on trying to make his arms stop their quivering from his own weight.

"Shiiiiit," America whined. England didn't look up to see what he was doing, but he could mentally see him fiddling with his hands nervously as he frantically looked around for something to do. England was about to just give up and maybe even take a nice nap on the floor when he felt America's arms as they scooped him up from the floor.

Needless to say, England wasn't in the mood for America trying to be a hero. "Put me down!" he hissed, pounding a fist against his chest. "Put me bloody down now, you damn git!" However, as he hit his chest, he was once again reminded how America was nearly naked. Blood rushed to his face was he realized that he was pressed against his bare chest as the American held him up as if he weighed nothing. "J-just…" he murmured, his thoughts straying before he could stop them. "Put me down. Please."

He felt America's eyes on him as if him saying please was as rare as seeing a five-legged unicorn. But after a moment, he complied as he set England down on the bed in so he was sitting upright. England was still dizzy, but now it was due to other reasons besides being hit a few too many times. "You okay?" America asked, squatting down to be on eye level with him.

However, squatting in boxers only made England blush even more. "Can you please do us both a favor and put on some bleeding pants?" he grumbled, looking away so his eyes wouldn't accidentally wander.

America cocked his head curiously, seeming to not understand why it was such a huge problem for England. To be honest, England didn't understand why it was such a huge issue for him either. For some inexplicable reason, the idea of looking at America in so little clothing was too much for his mind to handle. Finally, America said, "No."

England tensed then looked at the American. Why was he refusing to put on pants? Was it such a huge feat for him to put on bloody clothes? Or was it that…

Oh God, England cursed at himself, feeling his face only heat up more. No, don't go there. No, he doesn't want to molest you or… or seduce you. No. And you definitely don't want him to either! Of course you don't. But his inner argument with himself didn't seem to be going in his favor. "Why the hell not?" he asked. He tried to sound rough and angry, but it just came out raspy and nervous sounding.

"I'm not gonna leave until I know you're okay."

England just sat still for a moment, the words taking their time to translate in his head. America wanted to make sure he was okay before anything else. He may not have agreed with the American on many things, but after all was said and done, the idiot still cared about people way too much.

Though his idiocy was quite endearing.

"Yes, I'm fine," England answered, shifting his eyes carefully just to look America in the eyes. "You don't have to worry about me. I've been through much worse… though that was the first time I've been thrown into the ceiling, I'll give you that."

America slapped his hand against his forehead, giving a groan. "God, I'm so sorry. You were just kinda really freaking me out, and I forgot to control my strength. I'm just glad I didn't throw you through the ceiling… I'd feel even worse, and then I'd have to explain it to Canadia, and that just would suck."

England allowed himself to chuckle slightly, joining America in lightly smacking his head. "I told you it's fine," he said. "Now, you know I'm okay. So please go get dressed."

America smiled, then quickly ruffled England's already wild hair. "Sure, whatever, dude!" Before England got another chance to hit him, America stood up straight and darted toward the closet to fetch his clothes. England just glared at him as he closed the closet behind him to change like he had the previous night.

The man was utterly annoying. But, once all was said and done, he was also just as charming.

Only when he wanted to be of course.

x-x-x-x-x

The first thing that Canada was aware of when he woke up was the arm thrown over his back.

Memories from last night slowly came back to his mind; he had been extremely nervous about sharing his bed. France had laughed lightly at him and rubbed his back to calm him. Rubbing his back had succeeded in calming him, and he had fallen asleep. But it seemed that, after he had fallen asleep, France had neglected to remove his hand. His hand that had somehow managed to creep over his back so his arm was slung over his back.

Slowly, Canada opened his eyes to further inspect what his entire predicament was.

France's face was facing his own just a few inches away. Somehow, even though Canada jumped and half-screamed, France continued to sleep soundly. Canada, though, was very much wide awake now.

What do I do what do I do what do I do?! Canada, with his shy nature, didn't want to wake up the Frenchman—he seemed to be sleeping quite peacefully. But also because of his shy nature, he was horrified that someone was touching him and that he was trapped from escaping. What if France was upset that he woke him up? What if he got offended that he was freaking out about this? A small whimper escaped him, his stomach churning with fear and anxiety—what was he supposed to do?

Screaming had not bugged France one bit. But somehow, his tiny whimper had woken him up. His blue eyes fluttered open, a small smile crossing his lips. "Bonjour, mon Canada," he hummed, his voice still soft and low from sleep. "Ça va?"

How are you? Couldn't France tell by how flustered and panicked he looked? Was he just an idiot? Or… More blood crept up to his cheeks—was he just toying with him? "Je vais bien," he answered quickly, still unable to move. "Ah… Je veux dire... non, je suis ... Je..."

How had he suddenly forgotten the entirety of both the English and French language? Another small whimper escaped him as he was rendered unable to speak. Not able to think of a better solution, Canada resorted to just burying his face in his pillow. Maybe the whole idea of "If I can't see what's happening, it's not really happening" had some truth to it.

France gave out a small chuckle, and Canada flinched slightly as his hand found the small of his back as he rubbed soothing circles into his tensed muscles. "Ne sois pas si énervé, mon petit Matthieu," France cooed, continuing to rub the Canadian's back kindly. Canada was still nervous about everything, but France knew his weakness when his back was massaged like this. Against his will, he began to relax.

That is, until, France's hand just so happened to slip beneath his shirt. He gave out a sudden squeak, quickly coming back to his senses. Before he knew it, he found himself out of the bed, feeling dizzy from how fast he had jumped up. He felt his shoulders slightly quivering, his hands clutching his upper arms to try to stop himself from his shaking. "I… I…need to go check on everyone," he sputtered, turning around to fetch clothes from his closet.

His heart hammered in his chest as he threw open his closet and mouthed to himself how stupid he was. Why did he have to be so awkward around other people? Why couldn't he have more social skills so he wouldn't freak out when these things happened? He tried to reassure himself, saying in his head that France did this to everyone—he wasn't anything special. He shouldn't be so panicked about this.

However, even as he tried to calm himself, he nearly screamed when the words, "Quel est le problème, mon chère?" were said into his ear. He would have run away, but hands that placed themselves on his hips stopped him from moving. "Voulez-vous me pour vous aider à vous détendre?" France asked, his lips right against the shell of the Canadian's ear.

Canada froze, his eyes staring forward as his lungs forgot just how to work properly. "E-eh," he gasped, his hands visibly shaking, "Ah… F-France. Please… I…"

"Oui?" France whispered, Canada giving a small shiver as his breath danced across his skin.

"I…" His breath caught in his throat as France's hands traveled ever so slightly towards the center of his hips. "France, you're scaring me."

France's hands suddenly tensed, their movements stopping completely. Canada continued to stare forward at nothing in particular, completely unsure of what was going to happen next. After another moment, Canada was able to once again breathe properly as France retreated. "Pardonnez-moi," France said, his voice sounding slightly off. "Excuse me," he reiterated, his voice sounding farther off, coming now from the other side of the other room. "I'm sorry."

Canada had now gone from being panicked about being touched to panicked about France never coming near him again. He gave out a shaky breath, bracing himself as he turned around. He felt his stomach drop as he saw France at the door, looking like he was about to leave. "Ah, France!" he squeaked as he ran after him. "F-France!"

France looked up from the door, a small, fake smile on his face. "Yes, Canada?"

His stomach churned as Canada realized that France had called him just Canada instead of 'mon Canada.' Had he upset him that much? "Please," he said, his voice quieter and higher pitched than usual. "I… Don't just leave. I didn't mean to upset you. I… I get nervous easily, and I'm not used to people paying attention to me, and having someone suddenly notice me and… and t-touch me…" He felt his shoulders once again quivering, his eyes focused on the ground as he felt the beginning of tears prickle at the corner of his eyes. "I… I just got scared. I'm sorry."

For a few moments, all that was heard was silence. Canada was horrified that he was going to hear the door open as France left, or that they were just going to continue standing in silence. He was even more scared about France actually talking and then becoming angry at Canada for what he had said. He kept his eyes focused on the ground, waiting for whatever to happen. He was able to keep his flinch hidden as he felt France's hand place itself gently on his shoulder, lightly gripping it in a soothing manner. However, he wasn't able to stop the slight flinch when another hand cupped his cheek as his blond hair was softly brushed back behind his ear. His eyes finally looked up to see France smiling down at him. "Mon précieux Canada," he murmured, his thumb tracing the outline of Canada's cheekbone. "Mon chère, I would never do anything to hurt you. You are too valuable a person to me to ever make me want to hurt you."

Canada could hear his heartbeat rush through his ears, and felt like his throat was constricting, letting little air pass through. He felt himself grow nervous, but he didn't back away. "France?" he whispered, his eyes unable to move from France's deep blue ones.

France's face crept a little closer, Canada unable to move away. "Oui, l'amour?" he murmured, the hand on his shoulder slipping up his neck, making the Canadian shiver.

All Canada could hear was his own breaths, his own heartbeat. Everything else faded into silence. All he could see were the blue eyes looking back into his own. A word tumbled from his mouth before he could stop it. "Baiser...?"

France smiled deviously. "Si vous le souhaitez," he hummed, his face suddenly only a little over an inch away. A slightly strangled breath made its way through Canada's throat. Letting everything go, he let his eyes close.

And quickly reopened them when he heard a scream.

x-x-x-x-x

Translations:

Shénme? – Chinese; "What?"

Buongiorno – Italian; "Good morning."

Mi scuso! – Italian; "I'm sorry!"

Ça va? – French; "How are you?" (It's informal. I imagine France being informal/friendly with Canada and other, while Canada is formal and shy with others)

Je vais bien – French; "I'm fine."

Je veux dire... non, je suis ... Je… - French; "I mean…no, I'm… I…"

Ne sois pas si énervé, mon petit Matthieu – French; "Do not be so upset, my little Matthew."

Quel est le problème, mon chère? – French; "What is wrong, my dear?"

Voulez-vous me pour vous aider à vous détendre? – French; "Do you want me to help you relax?"

Pardonnez-moi – French; "Forgive me."

Mon précieux Canada – French; "My precious Canada."