"Romano thinks love is stupid."

France blinked and looked up at Spain from over his drink. They were sitting in an old bar, hours after Spain and Germany had left Italy, doing what they did best. Namely, drinking until they forgot who they were and imposing their presence on as many people as they could physically manage before getting arrested.

France smirked ever so slightly. "Does 'e now," he answered, taking a sip of beer and grimacing ever so slightly. He preferred wine to beer, but seeing as they were in a German bar…

Spain shook his head, a shadow of a frown etched onto his face. "I can't understand why," he continued, staring into his mug. "I mean, look at how happy his brother is! And Germany, too! I've never seen him so happy before. How could Romano think that love is stupid?"

France just laughed. "Well, isn't zat obvious?" He asked airily. "'e is bitter and lonely! Of course ze thought of someone else being 'appy would make 'im angry. Well," he added as an afterthought, "angrier zen usual at ze least."

He took another drink, then glanced up. He was startled to notice Spain staring at him with a horrified look on his face. "T-That's horrible!" Spain said. "Poor Romano…" He turned back toward his drink. "And I was making him upset earlier, wasn't I? Oh, I should—"

"HEY!" Prussia shouted, causing them both to jump. Prussia, who had moments before been slumped unconscious next to them, was now swaying precariously on the stool. "H-Hey, I wasn' done complainin' 'b-bout my shit yet, ya arschlöcher!" He yelled indignantly, his speech slurring.

France and Spain glanced at each other. Then they turned toward Prussia, trying their best to look interested. "Erm, oui, Prussia?" France asked slowly.

"D'you know that West still hasn't got laid yet?" Prussia said loudly, causing most of the bar to send him uncomfortable looks. He scowled and crossed his arms, not noticing. "I mean, seriously I'm starting to think that he's gonna die a virgin and all that shit! How un-awesome is that? Come on, they've been dating for a year…or a…" he paused, trying to remember how long they'd been dating. "Well, a while or something. Ja."

France raised an eyebrow, then took the time to continue talking with Spain. "Don't look too much into it, mon ami," he assured him. "Romano is just naturally bitter and lonely."

Spain looked disheartened. "But that's not right," he mumbled, drinking some more. "Poor Romano… I wish there was some way to help him…"

"Anyway, I keep tellin' him to just go ahead and do Italy already so Hungary'll stop bitchin' to me 'bout it but he keeps yellin' at me and shit and turning all red and I mean what the hell is his deal anyway? Dosn' he wanna get laid?" Prussia hiccupped. "An' here he spent like a month trying to go out with him and hell Italy sleeps naked in his bed almost every night anyway why doesn't he just lean over and…" He make several rude gestures with his hands.

France glanced at Prussia, then decided it was better to ignore him. "Spain, zat really isn't a big deal. 'e just…" France trailed off, a thought occurring to him. A sly smile spread across his face. "Well, maybe we can find a way to 'elp 'im…"

Spain looked up. "Really? That'd great!" He smiled happily at France. "So what should we do, mi amigo?"

Prussia roughly shoved France off the bar stool. "Okay, firs' we're gonna need a bunch of squirrels, three-and-a-half palomino horses, and a flamethrower!" He shouted exuberantly, waving his arms up and down. "Come on, Gilbird! Let's go—!"

"Prussia," France muttered, clambering angrily back onto his chair, "tell me, what ze 'ell were we just talking about?"

Prussia blinked. "…Does it involve…lederhosen…?"

France crossed his arms. "No, Prussia."

Prussia thought for a second. He reached up and scooped Gilbird off his head. "H-Hey Gilbird, what were they talkin' 'bout?" He asked.

Gilbird gave a drunken chirp and fell sideways into Prussia's beer.

Prussia laughed. "Kesese, come on, Gilbird, they already said it wasn't about lederhosen…" He patted the mug.

France scowled at him. "Right…" he murmured. He turned back toward Spain. "Well…anyway, Romano is lonely, ze poor boy. We need to 'elp 'im find love!" When Spain gave him a blank look, he smiled even wider. "'e just needs a good lover to pull zat stick out of 'is ass! We should 'elp our poor…um…friend!"

Spain thought for a second. "Well, uh how do we do that?"

Prussia leaned on France's head. "Well we're gonna need a laser pointer and a chicken—"

France elbowed Prussia out of his chair. "Well, can't you think of anyone who'd want to go out with Romano…?" He asked with a smirk.

Spain smiled blankly at him. "Um, Belgium?" He guessed.

France's face fell. "Uh, no…" he replied slowly. "Well, you can't think of anyone, anyone at all, who would want to 'ave Romano to zemselves? Anyone at all…?"

"…nope." Spain continued smiling blankly.

France scowled. "Nobody? Not even someone possibly in zis room?" He pressed.

"…I don't think Prussia likes him that way…"

"Kesese, look, Gilbird's dancing…"

France face-palmed. "Are you really zat stupid?" He asked incredulously. He took a deep breath and looked back up at Spain. "Alright, try to think for once. Picture Romano with someone. Anyone."

Spain thought again, starting to feel confused. What the heck was France talking about? Who was he talking about? He shut his eyes, trying to think. Of course he wanted to help his poor little Romano, but he'd never given that much thought to Romano's love life. It was weird. Whenever he'd think of Romano with someone, it was always with him.

He tried to imagine Romano for a moment. Romano, smiling for once. It was a rare occurrence, but Spain could've sworn he'd seen it before, if only for a moment. He always looked so beautiful when he smiled… He pictured Romano, a smile lighting up his face, happy for once…in the arms of a faceless stranger, maybe…

Suddenly, he felt a swell of anger in his stomach. He opened his eyes. W-Why am I angry? He wondered, confused. That didn't make sense. Surely he would be happy to see Romano feeling happy like that, right? So why did he suddenly feel like lashing out…?

He shrugged nervously. "Yo no comprende, mi amigo…" he replied warily.

France rolled his eyes. "Zat is a little sad, mon ami…" He murmured. "Really sad…"

Prussia suddenly snorted with laughter. "Hey, France! G-Guess what! I…I bet I can speak French and shit jus' like yooou! Listen, listen: Bangeour!" he grinned proudly. "Kesesese!

France glanced at him, with a combination of flattery and amusement on his face. "Bonjour," he replied slowly. "Comment vas-tu?"

"Tu es un pamplemousse."

France's face fell. "Excusez-moi…?" He asked. "'I'm a…'?"

"'Grapefruit'," Prussia finished, nodding as if this statement made perfect sense.

France and Spain exchanged looks. Spain looked back over toward Prussia. "Maybe we should start heading back to Germany's house?" He suggested.

France nodded in agreement. "Come on, let's go." He grabbed Prussia's arm.

"Non! Je parle français! Pourquoi y at-il des lumières stroboscopiques nombreuses? Pamplemousse!" Prussia started flailing. "I dun wanna go! Leggo you son of a bitch!"

"Prussia, I honestly didn't understand a word you said." France pulled him harder toward the door.

Spain laughed as they dragged him through the door. "So France, um, what were you saying earlier?"

France glanced up from the semiconscious Prussian now staring complacently at the ground. "What? Oh, right, Romano. Well, as I'd been saying earlier, we need to 'elp out our poor friend! 'ow about we try to find someone for him!" With a grunt, he hoisted Prussia into the trunk in his car. "Like I said earlier, Romano just needs a good lover to pull zat stick out of 'is ass."

Spain raised an eyebrow. "So we'll act like a matchmaker for Romano?" He asked.

France smirked again. "Sort of…" he replied. "Maybe not just Romano…" He added under his breath.

Spain grinned. "Sounds great!" He glanced back down at Prussia. "Um, by the way, why are we putting Prussia in your trunk…?"

France glanced down too. "Whoops. Err, force of 'abit I suppose…" He pulled Prussia out of the trunk and roughly tossed him into the backseat.

"SCHNITZEL!" Prussia yelped, sitting up dizzily. He looked around blearily. "Whoa, how'd I get here?" He giggled. "I—I'm so awesome I teleported… Keses—" hiccup "sese."

France rolled his eyes and climbed into the driver's seat. "If you throw up, I will 'it you wiz somezing," he threatened calmly.

"Jus'…Jus' drive slow, okay?" Prussia flopped backward, grabbing his stomach. "So did I beat my record…?"

Spain sat down. "I think you were a few beers short," he replied. "Lo siento, Prussia."

"Well shit…" he mumbled sadly. "And I was so close."

France took off down the road. "Now Prussia, I'm drunk and tired. You tell me where I'm going."

"…Turn left into that warehouse or something," he mumbled sleepily, rolling so his back was toward the window. "Just don't get arrested this time. I'm out of cash."

France rolled his eyes and turned a corner. "So, per'aps we should visit Italy tomorrow," he said, glancing sideways at the Spaniard sitting next to him.

Spain looked up at him. Then he grinned. "Sí, we should…"

In case you want to know what Prussia was shouting: "No! I am speaking French! Why are there so many strobe lights? Grapefruit!"

Wow, this is the longest time I've had writer's block. I can't believe how long that took. Like a month. Jeez. And this is a pretty short chapter too. Oh well. Hopefuly the next chapter will be better.

I'm not that good with France's accent. Sorry if it makes reading difficult.

In case anyone actually cares (and/or reads this bottom thing) this isn't a sequel to Chasing an Empty Dream, but it does technically take place afterword. In case you care.