Translations: mes amis = French for "my friends"

When the meeting concluded the next day, Poland got up from his seat and looked around for Sweden. Sweden hadn't actually said where they were going or what they were doing, but Poland definitely needed to go back to his hotel room first to change. He had just the right outfit picked out!...not that this was a date or anything, no matter how many times North Italy said it, but Poland had just gotten this new shirt that he was dying to wear.

Poland saw the tall Nordic at the end of the table, hanging out with the rest of the Nordic nations. Poland felt slightly uneasy at walking up to talk to Sweden in front of the rest of them, but whatever. It wasn't like, forbidden to go have dinner with someone.

Poland kept an extra jaunt in his step, even as they all turned to stare at him as he approached. Denmark looked him up and down – what the hell? – heading tilting to the side as Poland walked up and a suspicious smirk on his face. Norway and Iceland looked indifferent or maybe half-asleep or something. Honestly they always look bored, couldn't they like, smile occasionally? Only Finland was smiling openly at him. It looked like even Sweden wasn't all that welcoming. He had a stiff look on his face, Poland thought, at least compared to the few other times Poland had seen him smiling.

"Hi Poland!" Finland broke the silence with a cheerful greeting.

"Hey Finland, how's it going?"

"Great, thanks!"

Poland nodded and looked around at the other nations. "So, um..."

"Right, we should get going!" Finland said, latching arms around Norway and Iceland, the latter looking a bit puzzled. Poland could have sworn he also did something to Denmark, since the tall nation jumped and said, "Oh, yeah! Gotta go."

"See you later!" Finland called over his shoulder as he dragged away the other two nations.

"Yeah, have a good time!" Denmark was chuckling as he followed the rest of the group.

Poland frowned. What the hell was that supposed to mean? Anyways. He turned back to Sweden, who was staring at the departing nations.

Poland cleared his throat to get the other nation's attention. "Hello...?"

Sweden swung his gaze back over to him. "Right."

"Yeah, so, I've gotta get changed first, then we can go."

Sweden didn't say anything, so Poland forged on. "So, like, where should I meet you? Where's this place at?"

Sweden paused and seemed thoughtful. "Pick ya up in the lobby of the 'otel. Seven?"

"Um, okay. I guess that works." It did make things easier. Maybe Sweden would spring for the cab ride, too. Although that meant anyone could see them leave together, and it totally wouldn't help Italy's declaration that this was a date. "See ya at seven!" Poland turned and marched away, back to the hotel to change. He only had like, a little over an hour to get ready. He'd have to be quick.

Poland was down in the lobby a little after seven – nine minutes was hardly late, right? He'd been a little irked that Liet wasn't answering his phone lately – he had a suspicion that the idiot America was calling him after the meeting, just like Poland was trying to do. Whatever. Poland shouldn't be jealous of Liet being happy, he totally deserved it, even if America was kind of the dumbest nation in the world. With terrible fashion sense, too.

Sweden was sitting in one of the chairs in the lobby, flipping through a magazine. His kid sat in the chair next to him, kicking his legs idly and complaining loudly.

"Let's just go! Obviously he's not coming, the wanker!"

"Watch yer mouth," Sweden muttered.

"Um, I'm right here," Poland said, announcing his arrival.

"Finally," Sealand muttered, scowling at him.

"Peter," Sweden rumbled, giving him a look.

"Like, sorry, jeez." If the kid was going to have a fit about it, Poland might as well apologize.

"S'fine," Sweden reassured him. "No reservation," he said as he walked out the front door, leading the way, and Poland could see he was carrying something.

"What do you mean?" Poland followed him. Sealand raced past him, grabbing onto Sweden's free hand. He turned his head around and scowled at Poland. Poland narrowed his eyes but ignored him otherwise, like Liet had recommended. What was that kid's problem anyways?

"S'just down the street."

"The restaurant?" Poland asked as they walked down the sidewalk.

"A park," Sweden was walking slower than usual, probably because of the kid hanging off of him. Poland could easily keep up with his long legs, walking beside him at a steady pace.

"Um, okay?" Was there a restaurant in the park? Or worse – they were going to eat at a hot dog stand, or something equally awful. Poland was going to have flashbacks to the traumatic experience of eating hotdogs with America and Lithuania. He suppressed a shudder.

In a couple of minutes they were walking down a path into a nice green park. Poland saw a couple of street food stands, but they went past them all. Sweden seemed to know where they were going and they sat down on an edge of a water fountain in the middle of a square.

Poland sat down hesitantly as Sweden unpacked and spread out some food on a small coverlet between them.

"Help yerself," Sweden motioned for Poland to take some food.

Poland shrugged and helped himself. The food was pretty good, mostly small snack-like things but pretty tasty. Sweden offered him a choice of flavored water – well, after the brat took the one he liked – and Poland picked the orange-flavored one. All in all, it was so quiet and well, nice that Poland felt a little out of his element. There weren't any loud obnoxious nations to distract them, or even many other humans – mostly a few couples wandering through, holding hands, or families pushing kids in strollers. Sealand was marching around the edge of the fountain that they were sitting on, like any other kid.

"So, like, this is...nice." Although it was a lame thing to say, it was true, Poland had to admit. He'd never have thought they'd end up picnicking in a park, but it wasn't half bad, although Poland would still have preferred a nice, classy establishment with more than three drink options.

Sweden nodded, agreeing.

"I thought we'd go to like, a real restaurant, but this is totally chill."

Sweden nodded again. "S'hard with Peter. He doesn't like t' sit still."

Poland turned to find the kid. Sealand was hopping around the fountain, jumping off of it whenever people happened to be sitting in the way, then running around them to jump back up. "Yeah, totally. He's like a...kid." Poland hadn't been around kids in a long time. He had almost forgotten how high energy they were. As bad as some of the nations he knew, actually.

"S'young," Sweden agreed.

"I can't believe you, like, bought him off of eBay."

Sweden nodded. They sat in silence for a moment, munching on their food, before he said, "S'cheap."

Poland nearly choked on his slice of cheese. "No way, you did not just say that!"

"S'true."

Poland stared at Sweden and for a second, thought he was serious. Then he saw his blue eyes start to sparkle behind his glasses. Thank god, the tall nation was totally joking. "Oh my god, you are so weird," Poland said, starting to laugh.

Sweden chuckled.

"Like when you said you didn't like ABBA! Oh my god, I just about died," Poland admitted.

"Ever'one says that." Sweden shrugged.

"So, like, you don't like them?" Poland was curious to know.

"I do. Jus', there's more good bands th'n that."

"Well, duh. If that's all you can come up, that's so lame."

"Lots of other good pop 'ere." Sweden took a long drink of his raspberry flavored water. "Better th'n most places."

"As if! You should hear what comes from my place, it's super rad."

"Yeah?"

"Fer sure, we have totally amazing pop music." Poland hummed a few stanzas of one of his current favorites, swaying his shoulders as he sat.

"Hm," Sweden rumbled.

They lapsed into silence. Poland tapped his feet, still thinking about the song.

"I'd like t' hear it," Sweden said quietly.

"Huh?" Oh, the song. "Yeah, totally," Poland agreed, playing idly with the cuffs of his jacket. All this talk about music was making him think of the plans he and Italy had made last night.

"Actually, that so reminds me! Want to go out tomorrow with us? Italy knows this club, the owner of a club I should say, he says it's pretty good."

Sweden blinked behind his eyeglasses. "Club?"

"Yeah, like, I don't know if you're into that stuff, but they'll probably have good music and stuff."

Sweden looked uncertain. His eyes flicked away, towards Peter. Oh, right. Poland had totally forgotten. Maybe he had to watch his kid. But wasn't he old enough to take care of himself? Besides, if he was a nation or whatever, he would be completely fine on his own.

Poland frowned. Wouldn't he? Maybe Sweden needed to take care of him, since he was his dad. Or something. He did act oddly gentle around him, in a way Poland couldn't quite put his finger on.

"Of course, I totally forgot about your kid – it's fine," Poland waved his hand in the air. "Forget it –"

"I'll come," Sweden interrupted him.

"Oh yeah? Sweet! It'll be cool, you'll see." Poland felt rather pleased that Sweden had agreed to go. The Nordic nation wasn't nearly as scary as he'd thought he was. He was actually kind of nice when he wasn't glaring at people.

They watched Sealand run around for a few more minutes. Then Poland yawned.

"I should get back to my hotel. Like, I have so many documents to read before the meetings tomorrow, you know?"

Sweden nodded slowly, and started packing up the remaining food. Poland took what little trash there was over to a trash container and dropped it in. He turned around to walk back and nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard Sweden bellow, "Peter!"

"Jeez, dude!"

Sweden looked at him and smiled. "Scared?"

"No!" Poland huffed and defended himself. "You're just, like, deafening! They could probably hear you in the next town, god!"

Sweden chuckled. "That bad?"

"Totally," Poland smiled. Sealand ran back right then and stopped in front of his dad, looking back and forth between them.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothin'," Sweden ruffled his hair and picked up the picnic bag, turning to go. "Time t'go."

Sealand shot a dark look at Poland before turning and catching up to Sweden, once again latching onto his hand. Seriously, what was up with that kid? Poland mentally shrugged and followed Sweden out of the park.

The walk back to the hotel was fairly quick – the park really was close by, like Sweden said. The lobby was empty, although it really wasn't all that late in the evening. Sweden and Sealand followed Poland back to the elevator. The elevator chimed just then and opened, revealing a half-dressed France. Ewww.

"Excuse me," France murmured, stepping out to the side. He cast a lingering glance at the three of them and then winked at Poland.

"Have a good evening, mes amis," he tossed over his shoulder as he strolled away.

Sweden grunted a goodbye and got into the elevator with Sealand. He held the door open as Poland frowned at the back of France, retreating into the distance.

"Thanks," Poland muttered as he got in.

"Wh't floor?"

"Twelve."

Sweden punched in the number, plus the four. They rode up in relative silence, and when the elevator stopped at the fourth floor, Sweden turned to Poland.

"Thanks for c'ming out with us."

"Oh yeah, fer sure! It was nice, thanks. See ya tomorrow!"

Sweden nodded and walked off the elevator. Sealand shot him a look and then pushed all the floor buttons in so they lit up before running off the elevator.

"Hey!" Poland snapped. That brat!

Sealand was laughing at him as the door slid shut.

Poland scowled as the elevator went up, slowly, stopping at every floor. Seriously, that kid was so annoying. How did Sweden put up with him? He had way more patience than Poland ever did. That kid didn't deserve to have such a thoughtful guardian, seriously.