Quick Note:

Sorry it took me so long to write this chapter. For whatever reason, it really fought me. I'm pretty happy with the way it turned out and I'll probably start working on the next tonight.

Canada stepped carefully into the meeting room, dodging and ducking around people to avoid being pummeled by the nations who couldn't see him. Unfortunately for him, his brother could see him quite well. America jumped into the crowd, picking his brother up and causing a major fuss.

"Are you fucking blind? Can't you see him, you assholes?" He growled, motioning to the man in his arms. Most of the nations in attendance looked at him as though he was as batshit insane as England. England's fingers quickly found their way to the bridge of his nose, and he muttered to himself about the American being unable to see fairies, but able to see things that didn't even exist. France smiled pervertedly at the American, signaling for him to 'go for it' and gyrating his hips lewdly. Canada's face burned red and tears of frustration and embarrassment rolled down his face. Prussia watched the scene nonchalantly with his head rested in his hand as he sat in the back. Prussia was no longer permitted to sit with the other nations during meetings because he caused endless distractions and was no longer an actual nation. He studied the two carefully, paying careful attention to Canada's face.

"Alfred, please! They're staring…" Canada whispered, feeling small under the weight of the groups judgments. Alfred walked over to the Canadian's seat and put him down with a huff. Canada pulls up his chair and sits down, placing his head on the table and covering it with his arms. After the initial discomfort and subsequent whispers and stares directed at the Nothern brothers, the meeting passed without any major issues. Italy caused his usual fusses, the nations bickered, and America laughed loudly over it all. Canada sighed and looked around the room, only to meet a pair of red eyes. He stared for a moment and glanced away as social rules dictate, checking again a couple seconds later to see if the Prussian was still staring at him. He was. Canada's head spun back toward his desk and he swore to look at only it for the rest of the meeting.

Apparently, desks can be rather boring, for Canada found himself awakened by the sound of everyone shuffling out of the meeting room and heading toward the local bars. He blushed heavily, gathering his papers quickly and stumbling over a chair in haste to leave the now empty room. He pulled himself up and walked quickly out into the hall where he collided with something warm. Canada stepped back slowly, noticing that the warm wall that he collided with also happened to have white hair and red eyes. He decided to ignore the coincidence and leave as quickly as possible.

"Wait! Canada! Don't ignore me," Prussia jogged to catch up with the Canadian. "I was hoping I could talk to you-"

"Why did you come over to my house last night?" Canada asked, eyeing the floor.

"I needed someone to talk to…"

"Yeah, but why me, eh? You could've talked to France, or Spain, or any other nation. Why my house?"

"You just seemed… the most… I dunno…"

"Approachable?" He asked, crestfallen.

"No, not that. The most… nice… I guess."

Canada sighed and stopped, turning to face the Prussian. "Listen Prussia, you're a really awesomeguy, but I'm not going to be another one of your conquests."

"What? Canada!" Canada was walking away.

He turned over his shoulder and muttered quietly, "And please stop staring at me. It makes me nervous," and he strode away. Prussia just stared at the Canadian's back, confused and frustrated by the exchange. He didn't really want Canada, did he? The awesome Prussia does not stare!

Prussia tried to convince himself of this all the way to the bar, but by the second mug of beer, he still wasn't convinced. He pulled out his cell phone and called Spain, hoping that the chipper nation could take his mind off of things. The phone rang in his ear repeatedly until he was transferred over to voicemail. Fuck voicemail! Against better judgment, he called the final third of the best friend's trio after ordering another large mug of beer.

"Heeey, Francis! Come meet me at the bar!"

"Gilbert! Hon hon, how did you like the meeting today?"

"What? Dude! Not now! Drinking now, talking later. …or never."

"But I couldn't help but notice your interest in mon petit Matieu… Perhaps I could help you?"

"What? No! Just come drink with me, pervbag!"

"Fine, fine. The usual bar, I assume? I'll be there soon." Prussia hung up the phone and chugged his mug of beer, slamming it on the table before ordering another. About thirty minutes and two mugs later, France arrived, patting Gilbert on the back before sitting beside him.

"Heeeyy! France! You made it!"

"But of course! How could I leave you in need?" He smiled suggestively, but his innuendo was lost on the increasingly inebriated Prussian. He laughed and ordered a glass of wine from the bartender with a wink. The bartender just rolled his eyes and retrieved the French man's drink. As soon as the glass was before him, he started in on the albino next to him. Prussia's eyes were glazed and he was starting to lean precariously on his stool.

"So… How long have you liked Matieu?"

"Whattt? …uh.. I dun…dunn know. It's like, I totally would've fucked him that time I babysat him, but shit… that's different. He was a really fuckable twelve…," The Prussian slurred. He was easily eight beers down and starting to lose his edge, to say the least.

"Unnghh. I jus' want him, y'know? Not like, to just fuck him… he's just so… nice and awesome and stuff." France couldn't help but chuckle at the nonsense pouring from his friend's mouth. Prussia obviously cared for the Canadian, or he wouldn't be talking about his feelings to France, completely plastered. France decided that it was time to take action.

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