A/N: a few people wanted more. So. Um, yeah. LET'S GET ITALIAN.

The awaited day finally arrives. Iceland grabs his suitcase and calls a taxi, waving through the window at his family as the car pulls away. Mr. Puffin pokes at his coat insistently, wiggling the tips of his wings around.

'Oh, that's right,' Iceland remembers, picking him up. 'I didn't tell you where we're going! We're not actually going to a charity event. We're going on a trip to south Italy!'

Mr. Puffin stills for a moment, before drawing his wings together and waddling to the other side of the car and sitting down with a huff, sulkily facing away from Iceland.

'Oh come on, don't be like that,' Iceland coaxes the upset bird. 'It'll be fun!'

Mr. Puffin glances back at Iceland with disapproving eyes and continues to ignore him.

When the two of them arrive at the airport, Hong Kong is already there, holding a sleeping dwarf panda in his arms. Iceland waves and Mr. Puffin glares from his perch on Iceland's shoulder, angrily puffing out his feathers.

'Hey Ice,' Hong Kong greets the Nordic nation with a warm smile as they board their private plane. 'What's up with Mr. Puffball?'

Iceland tilts his head away from the mass of feathery displeasure on his shoulder. 'He doesn't like flying. He also doesn't like being called a puffball.'

'How come you never taught him to fly?' Hong Kong asks curiously.

'I tried,' Iceland sighs, plucking Mr. Puffin off his shoulder and lowering the bird onto the top of his suitcase. 'He can't use his wings any better than a chicken can.'

'He's a chicken in the body of a puffin,' Hong Kong chuckles, lowering the sleeping Mr. Panda onto a comfy little couch in the cabin and steps closer towards Iceland. 'Well, we're actually alone for once.'

He links his fingers through Iceland's and pulls the Nordic boy closer. Iceland instinctively panics, but tightens his grip around Hong Kong's hands to steady himself. Hong Kong draws them together until their foreheads are touching and by now Iceland is having trouble breathing.

Mr. Puffin, alarmed by his master's distress, launches himself of his perch, barrelling towards Hong Kong and violently headbutts the unsuspecting nation in the side.

Iceland is frozen in confusion as Hong Kong suddenly topples out of his line of sight.

'God damn it,' Hong Kong growls, swatting Mr. Puffin away. 'You literal cockblock.'

Mr. Puffin backs off and waddles towards Iceland and turns back to face Hong Kong, spreading his wings as if defending his master from a threat.

Iceland bursts out laughing, unable to take the situation seriously. 'Oh god… you just… Mr. Puffin… AHAHAHAHA…'

Hong Kong glowers at Mr. Puffin, his face dark with annoyance. He grabs the bird by his wings, ignoring the struggles of the creature and transports him over to the couch and shoves him into the sleeping arms of Mr. Panda. The tiny panda immediately clutches the bird in a vice-like grip, still asleep and snoring softly. Mr. Puffin squirms indignantly, but can't escape the panda's arms.

'There we go,' Hong Kong huffs, walking back to where Iceland is collapsed on the ground and trying to contain his giggles. Iceland suddenly finds himself grabbed by an annoyed Hong Kong.

'What's so funny?' the Asian asks darkly, gazing down at Iceland.

Iceland's laughter dies away as he struggles to breathe. 'You… pff… got your ass handed to you by a puffin.' He grins like a fox at Hong Kong's irritation.

'Wipe that shit-eating grin off your face, Ice,' Hong Kong threatens, an almost unnoticeable blush of embarrassment staining his cheeks. 'Or I will.'

But of course, Iceland notices. 'Aww, what happened to those kung fu skills, Hong Kong?'

In a blur of motion, Hong Kong flips Iceland and pins him face-down on the floor, pushing his arm against his back in an immobilizing position.

Iceland yelps at the impact. 'I give! I give! Stop!'

Hong Kong steps away, satisfied, releasing the startled Nordic. 'Don't be a smartass, Ice.'

Iceland sits up and rubs his wrist with a pout. 'I know you wrestle with your siblings and stuff, but I'm different, okay! I don't have the strength to fight you. My country doesn't even have an army. I can't use magic like Norway, I'm not buff like Den or Sweden, and Finland is just plain terrifying.'

Hong Kong smiles in amusement. 'But I still like you the best.' He leans down and plants a quick kiss on Iceland's forehead before helping the nation up. 'Just don't test me.'

The two of them banter back and forth during the flight, accompanied by Mr. Panda's snoring and Mr. Puffin's squawks of discontent and protectiveness.

They both grow excited as their pilot announces they are beginning to land.

'So where are we staying?' Iceland asks enthusiastically, gazing out the window at the patterned blankets of Italian land.

'Ummm…' Hong Kong scratches the back of his head. 'I figured we'd just check into whatever hotels we found on our way around.'

'What about transport?' Iceland questions, his nose still pressed against the window.

'I suggest we don't try to drive in Italy,' Hong Kong replies, recalling Japan's description of North Italy's insane driving. 'We can call taxis or catch public transport.'

'Is there anything you particularly want to do while we're here?'

'You mean besides you?'

'HONG KONG.'

'Geez, calm down. I think you've gotten too used to Norway stalking you everywhere. Paranoid?'

'I-I don't know, actually,' Iceland admits with a frown, turning to face Hong Kong. 'I mean, my brain is probably conditioned by Norway to act proper all the time, but then again, I don't have any relationship experience anyways… also thanks to Norway…'

'Well, at least it's just your brother,' Hong Kong sighs. 'I've got both China and England watching me. Parents are the worst.'

'Excuse me, but I think Norway is more extreme than both of them combined,' Iceland retorts. 'You've got it easy compared to me.'

'Maybe,' Hong Kong huffs in amusement. 'But screw them. We're on our own for once. Let's have fun.'

-page break-

'We should've booked it ahead of time,' Iceland sighs, wheeling his suitcase into the last available hotel room. 'Now we only have one bed.'

'Shouldn't be a problem,' Hong Kong smirks, making Iceland' face heat up. 'We should go down and check out the bar. I'm kind of thirsty.'

'I'm not legal age yet,' Iceland frowns. 'Or have you forgotten?'

'Don't look so offended, of course I didn't forget,' Hong Kong reassures him. 'You're not legal age in Iceland, but you are in Italy. Unless you don't drink alcohol at all?'

'Well, I have a couple times before,' Iceland remembers. 'But I'm not sure how good my tolerance is. I wonder what kind of drunk I am. Denmark get's even stupider, Sweden gets friendly, and Norway gets wildly inappropriate.'

'What about Finland?' Hong Kong asks curiously, locking the door as they exit the room, leaving Mr. Panda and Mr. Puffin behind.

'He… doesn't change,' Iceland pauses. 'It's like he doesn't get drunk at all.'

'That's kind of terrifying in its own way,' Hong Kong acknowledges as they head down to the hotel bar. They're greeted by smooth classical music, shining tiles and twinkling chandeliers. Glasses clink and evening gowns swish. Italian fashion is as impeccable as ever.

'I feel underdressed,' Iceland whispers, glancing down at his usual jacket and bow with lace up boots. 'I forgot how Italians are about fashion.'

Hong Kong looks down at his simple button up shirt and jeans. '…Wanna go shopping?'

'Won't the stores be closed?' Iceland looks out the ornamental glass windows at the night-time city lights.

'Some cities never sleep,' Hong Kong replies, taking Iceland's hand and leading him out the revolving door. Through a whirl of glass, they're transported to the outside world. The warm breeze stirs moth wings beneath streetlamps, carrying the scent of Italian spices and roses. The clicking of shoes against the pavement and steady hum of cars echo around them.

'How romantic,' Iceland murmurs, tugging on Hong Kong's hand. 'Let's go find a clothing store.'

They wander to and fro, darting in and out of little shops, Iceland forcing Hong Kong to stop for gelato, which Hong Kong insists on feeding to Iceland, despite the embarrassed nation's protests.

As they enter another brightly lit clothing store, a familiar voice drifts across the room, alerting them both.

'But I don't know…' the voice objects unsurely. 'It looks… odd?'

'You're just not used to it,' an Italian accented voice replies. 'It's Emporio Armani. Don't doubt Mr. Armani.'

Hong Kong puts a finger to his lips and beckons Iceland to follow him. The two of them tiptoe to the other side of and peek around a clothing rack to find Romano and America, the former dressing the latter in the latest Italian fashion.

'They're friends…?' Iceland whispers in confusion.

'I'm not doubting him,' America says, tilting his head at the mirror. 'It's just kind of… transparent.'

'Only slightly,' Romano rolls his eyes with a smirk. 'I like it that way.'

'Oh?' America glances at him, arching an eyebrow. 'Well, fine, if you like it…'

The Italian smirks and kisses the taller nation. 'I'm buying it.'

'They're dating…?' Iceland's eyes grow wide and Hong Kong shrugs helplessly.

'I have no idea,' the Asian comments, studying the two older nations in surprise.

America suddenly glances over, his blue eyes glinting behind his frames. 'Hong Kong? Hey bro! Who's that you got with you?'

Romano whips his head around to fix the busted nations with an embarrassed glare. 'What!?'

'Shit shit shit…' Hong Kong mutters under his breath, stepping out from their hiding spot and pulling a panicking Iceland with him. 'Um. This is Iceland.'

A/N: That's it for now. Eh. Tell me if you want more?