MW: Well, this is nice- A quiet, Saturday evening -Just eating my apple sauce as I post the chapter—

SEK: WOLF!

MW: (And there goes the quiet) Yes darling proof reader dear?

SEK: I just heard that you donated the money we got from last chapter's reviews (which is a shit load) to Lolidictator! (Dead serious guys—go look through the reviews of "Lamp Shade" and you'll see MW doing that).

MW: What? It was a good cause!

SEK: So many people were kind enough to review and you just throw the money away?

MW: Charity is good.

SEK: -_- I'm going to choke you right now. . .

MW: 0.o Oh dear. Um, thank you everyone for reviewing! For a first chapter, I say that this did extremely well! Please keep it up! I apologize for the boring chapter, but it always takes me three chapters to fully set-up the story. Things will definitely pick up pace at chapter 4.

Anyways, please review so that we get our money back and SEK doesn't kill me.

Chapter Summary: By entering the wrong room, Sherry somehow manages to make a few enemies.

Warnings: Strong Language, Yaoi, Yuri, and Sexual References.

Disclaimer: I still do not own Hetalia. Or Seychelles. Or anything else cannon in this.

~Chapter 2~

Introducing Hooker-Sherry!

"The reason truth is stranger than fiction is that truth has a better author."
-Stuart Taylor, English Football Player

Cycle 1: Monday

I stared. The two blonds with their tongues in their mouths stared back at me. This was the very definition of 'awkward moment'. I took one large step back through the door and closed it shut again. For a long moment, I did nothing but stare at the wood door in front of me. "Sadiq!" I turned around and ran back to my mentor. I practically glomped him, knocking his hoodie off and crying into his hair.

"What the hell Sherry!" He screamed, trying to pull me off. After a minute of wrestling, he had me peeled off his back and standing semi-calmly in front of him. He straightened out his clothes (especially the scarf) and glared. "What are you doing?" he demanded. "You should be with France and England right now!"

"The 'UsUK' and 'Franada' fan girls were wrong!" I squealed, hardly able to contain my excitement. "The 'FrUk' is cannon!"

The Turk gave me a blank look. "Cannon?" he repeated. "What the hell does that mean?"

I sighed. "I'll explain it later," I said. "But why didn't you tell me that France and England were boyfriends?"

Sadiq turned me around and started to march me back to the door. "It's common knowledge. They've been together for centuries."

I squealed again, "Really? Naw, that's so perfect!" When we were back at the door, I turned around and took my mentor's hands. "You have just made my life," I said. "How can I ever repay you?"

He scowled, yanked his hands away, and opened the door. "By getting that kiss!" He kicked my butt and I fell face first into the room. "If I do, isn't he supposed to tell me what shea butter is?" The brunette had the door safely closed again before I could lift myself up.

This time, the two gorgeous lovers were at opposite ends of a large conference table, sorting papers. They barely acknowledged each other, or the fact that both their clothes were ruffled. I couldn't help but to grin widely. So hot. "Good afternoon Seychelles," England greeted, writing something down on a yellow notepad. "How has your day been?"

At first, I just continued my creepy smile until the Brit looked at me with his bright green eyes. You know, in real life, his eyebrows were not that thick. In fact, they were on the rather large side of normal (did I just contradict myself?). Either way, I coughed and picked myself off the ground. "I've been fine," I said, trying to cover up a giggle. "How have you been today-" I couldn't help myself. "-Iggy?"

The sandy blond scowled and pressed his lips together. "Don't call me that!" he snapped, practically yelling at me. "Why the bloody hell did you think I would want to be called that?" I shrunk into a corner. Holy shit, Mr. Sexy Brows was freaking scary. It made me wonder how he'll look in his pirate form . . .

An image of his topping a tightly bound France came to my mind. Yummy, I should write a fan fiction on that.

Unaware of my disturbing thoughts, France—looking like the perfect blond Frenchman (no shit, Sherlock) -came to my rescue by casually standing and wrapping his arm around my shaking shoulders. "Ah, England you are too cruel," he said, pressing me close to his warm chest. He thickly smelled of roses- so much that I started coughing. It was worse than Axe. "You scared my poor little girl."

Little girl? Well some people (well, most actually) have Seychelles as France's daughter when she's not dating him. I mentally groaned. Great, that means I either had to go incestuous on myself or seduce England. And let me tell you this: I knew from all the fan fictions I read that seducing a pissed off British gentleman was not easy and very deadly. And besides, incest was not all that bad- I mean, I did try to make Jerry and Larry like that. What kind of a sister would I be to deny myself that simple pleasure?

Somewhere in the world, there is someone complaining over all the wrong things in that last sentence. I regret nothing.

The green eyed man's face softened. "I'm sorry," he sighed, a dejected puppy-dog-look on his face. "I just got a little carried away."

I awed, pushed France aside, and glomped this character as well. "You're so cute~!" I sang as he cursed for me to get off of him. I only squeezed harder. "No wonder France likes you~!"

At that moment, the other man pried me off and sat me on the table like a little girl. He looked a little upset at me, but he had a calm, seductive face to hide it. His hands were clamped on my shoulders as he struggled to find the right words to approach me with. "Are you feeling okay Seychelles?" he asked, his blue eyes meeting mine. "You seem a little-"

England huffed, "A lot."

"-off today." He pressed his warm hand on my forehead. "Are you sick?" he asked. "I heard you fainted earlier while you were kissing Germany." I scowled as the Brit banged the table and roared with laughter. Does everyone have to laugh every time they hear about that?

"Keep it together Sherry," I told myself. "You are Seychelles right now- she's probably use to all this." I took a deep breath. "Ignore everything; act like her."

Calmly, I brushed his hand away. "I'm fine, er-" I gave France an odd look. "Papa." His face eased in acceptance. Thank God I did that one right. "I'm just having a bad day."

The blonde gave a flick to his wavy hair and smiled. "You should take the day off," he suggested. He slithered over to England and wrapped his arm around his waist. "England and I don't mind having a little alone time," he slurred. He even gave a small wink.

I had to resist the urge to check to see if my nose was bleeding. It was so tempting to agree and go all ninja so that I could secretly watch. But there was that little voice in my head reminding me not to get carried away. "You have to get that kiss," it told me. "And that would mean breaking them up."

"But I don't want them to break up," I whined. My mental image of myself collapsed onto its knees and begged that little voice to let the yaoi live on. "You just can't do this to me!"

It sighed. "Yes I can," it said. There was a pause before it added, "Pay attention, I think they're trying to tell you something."

I snapped back to reality and into the middle of England rambling on about the papers we were suppose to sort through. ". . . It's the biggest event of the year and it's happening Thursday," he was saying. "If we screw this one up, those twats are going to burn our names forever. So that's why-"

I raised my hand high in the air. "What the heck are you talking about?" I asked. There was a collective sound of facepalming.

The Brit groaned, marched up to me, and slammed a pile of papers into my lap. "School prom. Thursday. Finishing up last details. Cannot mess up. Sort these by importance. Understand?" He made sure to pause after each word. The message slowly sunk in. Didn't Switzerland mention something about it to Sadiq and me?

I waved it off and took the piles in my hands. "That's easy," I declared, a smug look on my face. I started to flip through the papers. "I bet I can. . ." I trailed off. Each sheet of paper had the smallest print possible. I could place it an inch from my face and it'll still be impossible to read.

"Is something wrong?" England asked. He looked ready to take the papers back.

Faking a smile, I held them out of his reach. "Nothing's wrong!" I said quickly. Too quickly. Laughing nervously, I looked down at my task. "I can handle this!" It took another minute or so to convince him, but once that was achieved; the three of us were sitting at one end of the table. A stiff silence hung in the air; all of us were afraid to talk.

"So there's a school prom," I thought, bull-shitting my way through my task. I glanced over the papers and sorted them in a random order. "I bet that it'll be romantic." I saw a paper about ordering a batch of deep fried twinkies for food. Ew. That went on the bottom.

I peered up at the two blonds. They basically ignored each other, trying to avoid eye contact. "They seem like they don't want to be publicly affectionate," I noted. "I wonder why- everyone knows that they're a couple. . ." I silently groaned.

Not that I knew anything about how lovey-dovey couples were supposed to act. Dad was never around whenever the opportunity came. Like this one time back when I was a little kid.

After watching the Little Mermaid for the first time, all I really wanted to do was swim. So my mom signed me up for the city swim league and sent me down my way. I used to love how the water would splash around whenever I swam.

It was my first swim meet ever and I was very excited. Dad had promised that he would be back in town in time to see my race. As I waited for my heat to start, I remembered seeing all of the parents kiss their little girls good luck. Mom did the same, of course, gushing me with how great her daughter was.

"Where's Daddy?" I had asked, strapping my obnoxious pink goggles over my head. Mom merrily continued to kiss me more, saying that I was going to do such a fine job.

The buzzer went off, but I did not jump into the pool. "Not until Daddy comes," I had said, pouting like the little kid I was. They did the race without me and I stood at my spot for a whole hour, waiting for Dad to come.

Eventually, Mom lifted my into her arms and drove me home. She made my favorite meal of ravioli and mint flavored ice cream. Gary Sue's plane had been delayed- he could not come home.

I frowned. "What did that have to do with anything?" I wondered, evening out the completed stack's sides. "I think I had to point to that, but what was it again?"

England looked up from his work and smiled. "Are you done Seychelles?" he asked, raising a thick eyebrow. "You can leave if you want."

"Are you sure?" I asked. Try to sound helpful. "I can do something else if you want."

France laughed his signature French laugh. "Oh Seychelles, this is why I love you." My heart beat quicken. He already loved me? Was my job done? The blond reached over and wrapped an arm around my shoulder. He nuzzled my hair and added, "You are the best daughter any man could ask for."

"Damnit, so close," I thought, pushing his arm away. "Thanks I-" I released a large yawn. Man, I was exhausted. I glanced at the clock. It was six in the evening. Damn, was it that early? I usually stayed up till three in the morning, drawing away on my computer. "I'll get going now," I said, rising from my spot. I slung my bag over my shoulder and waved to both of them, bidding them "good bye".

Right when the door was closed behind me, I heard the Frenchman say, "Now, where were we?" I smiled and pressed my ear to the door. No way was I going to miss-

"Seychelles!" My body froze. Germany was turning the corner. He looked so happy to see me- I mean, Seychelles. Because he was her boyfriend, not mine. Cold sweat drenched my back. Not good, not good, not good.

I fled. My flats clicked on the marble floors as I ran as far away as I could. Of course, he chased after me, calling out Seychelles's name. He was fast, but the legs of Seychelles's body were faster. "I can never run this fast normally," I thought, impressed. I went down a flight of stairs and paused. "Maybe Seychelles is good for one thing-" Not even a second later, the booms of the German's steps came after me. Shit.

I dashed again, further down the evening halls. The large windows brought in an orange hue from the setting sun. Name called again, I adjusted the bag on my back and ran faster. I had to get away. Sliding, I made a sharp corner and ran through the first door I could find.

I closed it shut and pressed my ear against it. Through my loud panting, I heard Germany run right by me. I sighed and closed my eyes. Slowly, I slid my back down the floor until I was sitting on the floor. Free at last. I could finally- "What the hell are you doing here, straightie?" My eyes flew open and I saw that I was not alone in the room.

The room I had chosen to take refuge in was in fact the science room. It was large and stereotypical with lab tables, fake skeletons, and Bunsen burners. On one of said tables were two beautiful blondes: Belarus and Belgium. They were embracing each other with their tongues in each other's mouths and hands gripping each other's shirts.

Oh. My. God.

Immediately, I flew my hand on my eyes. "Fuck!" I yelled, trying to erase the image from my head. Were Germany and I the only straight people here? Well, she did just call me 'straightie'. But why yuri? I bloody hate yuri! "I'm sorry!" I yelled, climbing to my feet. I turned my back to them and grabbed the doorknob. "I'll leave right-"

Then my world went black.

Cycle 1: Tuesday

"DING-DONG~! DING-DONG-DONG~!" I winced and opened my eyes. Those bells were freaking loud. It was as if they were ringing in my head and not over the sound system. Groaning, I tried to sit up but quickly found that I already was. My back was pressed to a stone column while my hands were duct taped together with it between them.

I blinked and remembered the previous evening's events. "So Belarus knocked me out and tied me up here." I looked around me. I was right under a large, brass bell, swaying slightly from the remaining momentum. There were a few others, all in a nice row. Morning light flooded in from open arches supported by stone columns- like the one I was tied to.

I screamed and huddled closer to my support. I was in the clock tower, more than six stories in the air! Why would she tie me up here? I looked around and saw a yellow post-it note on the ground. It read:

Have fun starving to death

-Belarus

I cursed and hugged my support tighter. Already, my stomach was growling, begging for more food. How much longer did I have? God, was I really going to die here? Tears pricked my eyes and my throat tightened. I didn't want to die yet! There was still so much I had left to do! I have to live! Eventually, I calmed down enough to think rationally about the entire situation.

"What would Mom do?" I could imagine her sitting calmly until she saw people in the outside courtyard. Then she'll call for help and pray that they heard. If not, she would charm her way out. I may not have the charm, but I could try to patience.

For three hours, I sat there, waiting for some form of help. When I did see someone in the courtyard, I did try calling for them, but they did not hear me. I even tried calling for the Hero America, but his obliviousness blocked out my voice. Eventually, the bells roared their chime of the noon bell and I gave up.

"Okay, that didn't work. What about Larry?" He would chew his arm off like a trapped wolf. Yeah, I was not going to do that.

Groaning, I banged my head against the cool stone. Jerry would cry and I didn't even want to know what Dad would do. God, why didn't I have some magical transportation ability that could zap me out of here? Or why couldn't I be a firebender and just burn the tape away.

Great, now I want to watch an episode of Avatar. . .

Another thought came to me. "What would Bella do?" I could picture my friend miraculously producing a cell phone from mid air. But Seychelles's phone was in her bag which lay a few feet from my foot. It was a long shot, but it was worth a try.

I scooted closer to the floor and extended my foot as far as I could. The tip of my shoe barely brushed the canvas strap. "Shit." I sat back up again and kicked off my Mary Janes. I bent down as far as I could and ripped my socks off with my foot.

On my second try, I was able to use my toes to grab the strap and pull it towards me. I don't know about you guys, but that was a trick I learned from the George of the Jungle movie. I used to love that when I was a kid. . .

Still using my toes, I unzipped the front pocket and pulled out the phone. It was one of those blue, sliding keyboard ones. Now all I had to do was call the police and get my ass saved. Carefully, I pounded my foot on the 9. The option for speed dial came up. "Interesting..."

I pressed the send button and heard the faint dial tone. After a few seconds, an equally soft voice answered it. I couldn't tell who it was, but all I knew was that they were a male. "Help!" I yelled, trying to get my voice into the phone. "Freaking Belarus tied me up in the be-" At the moment, the bells rang, breaking my ear drums and covering my voice.

They sounded for a whole minute. By the time they wore down, I saw that whoever I had called had hanged up on me. I groaned. "Great. This time, I'll just call the authorities." I tried to pound my foot on the keys, but instead I nicked the side. The phone skidded away, far from my reach.

I stared at it. Did I just ruin my chance of being saved? I hugged the column tighter, banging my head against it. "FUCK!"

For the longest of time, I just hugged my stony friend and cursed my stupidity. Why was I so pathetic? Even Jerry would have been so much more careful! But no, I had to go screw everything up like usual! "Why can't I be perfect?" I wondered, banging my head on the stone. "My life would be so much better if I was."

"Seychelles?" I lifted my head and turned to see England peeking his head from the trap door below. The minute I looked at him, he jumped out and ran towards me. "Bloody hell," he cursed, crouching to my aide. "Are you alright?"

He placed a hand on my shoulder. It sent spikes all around my body, making my face turn red. There was so much concern in his voice, as if he really cares for me. "What if he does," I wondered. 'What if he really does care about me?"

England reached into my bag and pulled out a pair of scissors. "I'm so glad you called me," he rambled, reaching over to the other side of the column. His upper torso was over mid-air whereas his lower was directly in my comfort zone. I could smell the noisome odor of scotch and brandy. "I was in the bathroom, but I hadn't seen you all day and so I had to answer-" He reached over it more, pressing his toned chest into my face. My blush only worsened. "-The minute the bells went off, I knew exactly where you were. And to think that Belarus would do such an unladylike deed- there!"

The duct tape fell from my wrist and I yanked my sore arms away. England climbed away from me and smiled. "There you go Seychelles, all nice and free," he said triumphantly.

I smiled, jumped to my feet, and hugged him tightly. "Thank you!" I cried, feeling tears prick my eyes. "I thought that I was really going to die here!"

I felt him stiffen before gently petting my back. "It's fine now," he whispered. "You're safe." It took a few more minutes to get me to calm down long enough to gather my stuff and leave back through the trapdoor.

There was a long, narrow staircase leading down to the ground levels of the school. It was dimly lit with lights that flickered from overuse. "Be careful now mate," England said, taking my hand. "Don't trip now."

I glanced down at his hand and blushed even more. "This is stupid," a sane side of me said. "You should not be getting worked up over every single little thing a gay man does to you!" My face hardened as I tried to control my hormones. Unlike Bella and my mom, I was never good around guys.

When I was in middle school, we had to learn classical dances in PE. I was paired with Ed Goodwin, a hot guy I used to have a crush on. Every time he placed his hand on my back, I would blush insanely and lose whatever will I had to speak.

One day, I gained the courage to tell a joke. It was the one about the Irish and Jew in the bar and how neither of them left. Ed didn't think it was funny mostly since he was Jewish and his grandfather died during the Holocaust.

Ooops.

When we reached the ground level, England still did not release my hand. Instead, he determinedly led me down the empty hallway. "Where are we going?" I demanded, tempted to just push him away.

The blonde didn't even glance back at me when he said, "Administration. We're going to report to Principal Pangaea about what Belarus did."

My mouth flew open. "Pangaea's the principle too?" I wanted to bang my face against the nearest hard surface. "Is there anything she doesn't do?"

England paused in front of a door. It was grander than all the rest, a sign reading 'administration' at the top. "I don't know what you mean," he said, opening the door. "Just go with it."

Instantly, I was faced with a stereotypical principal's office. There were those cubical like areas for the secretaries and chairs for students waiting for their turn. The man led me to the nearest desk and tapped a gold bell. The same Pangaea as my history teacher and nurse looked up at us. "Hello England," she chirped, twirling a pen between her stubby fingers. "What can I do for you today?"

He smiled. "Secretary Pangaea, Seychelles and I would like a meeting with Principal Pangaea." Sexy-blond-British-Man-Say-What? You had to schedule a meeting with this seemingly split profession personification?

The blonde pressed her lips together and pounded something into the computer. I winced. Poor keyboard, if she kept that abuse up, she was going to need a new one by the end of the month. But this comes from a girl who had to pound her foot into her phone, so I guess I really wasn't one to judge. "I'm sorry England," she said. "But Principle Pangaea is busy for the rest of the day. If you want, the two of you could fill out a form explaining your problem."

"Yes please, my good lady." He readily accepted a stack of yellow slips. There were lines and boxes to check, meant to help explain the issue. As he easily filled it out, I felt Secretary Pangaea nudge my shoulder.

She beckoned me to lean in and whispered, "If it's about a missed period, you and your boyfriend should go see Nurse Pangaea. She can give you a pregnancy test-"

I loudly pounded my fist on her desk. "He's not my boyfriend!" England shot his gaze up at me, the most perplexed look on his face. Shit. I laughed nervously and tried to repair the situation. "Not that I wouldn't want you to be my boyfriend," I said. "But she was merely suggesting that I had sex with you- not that I wouldn't want to have sex with you either." That totally didn't help.

"What the bloody hell are you talking about?" He demanded, eyebrows knitting together in frustration. I squeaked and raised my hands up in defense. What, it's an automatic reflex! The nation gave me a crazy look before shaking his head. "Never mind," he muttered. After handing the woman the slip, he once again took my hand and led me out.

Once again, I could not help but to stare at it. Seriously, why was he always doing that? Clearing my throat, I gently pulled my hand away. "Well, thanks for the help," I said. "But I really do need to get going. . ."

England turned to me, looking confused. "Why? School's over and everyone's at the bar."

That sparked my attention. "Bar?" I repeated. "You mean, like alcoholic beverages?"

"That's right." The blond reclaimed my hand and led me further down the halls. "But why are you asking? You act as though you've never been there yourself." Instead of fabricating some lie, I just smiled and allowed myself to be dragged along.

We went down multiple halls until coming upon the door to the basement. I could imagine him knocking discreetly on the door and muttering a password- like those movies during the 1920s with the speak easies. But no, he simply just opened the door and led me down a nicely lit staircase.

A gasp escaped my mouth at the sight. The bar was huge. Shiny chestnut floors stretched from one end to another, reflecting the old fashioned lamps on the walls. Couches, pool tables, and tables scattered everywhere, each used by a group of excited nations. Directly in front of us, at the far wall, was a bar itself.

It was attended by Pangaea (of course) in a traditional bar tending outfit. She cleaned shot glasses as she talked to the patrons sitting at the stools in front of it. Behind her were cabinets with bottles of alcohol from around the world. Jazz music filled the air, giving the whole room a mafia feel.

"This is so cool," I sang, looking around with puppy eyes. "I didn't know that something like this was in the basement!"

England laughed and slapped my back. "Of course you didn't." he said, pushing me towards the bar.

I turned to him and excitedly took his hands. "Am I allowed to have some whiskey?" I asked, jumping up and down like an excited fangirl. Actually, I was a fangirl, so I could get away with that one.

If any of my questions sounded odd to the gentleman, he sure didn't let it show. Like the Santa Clause at the mall, he chuckled, "Of course you can, Seychelles. We all can have whatever drinks we want."

I practically ran to the counter, stealing the nearest open bar stool. "Can I have one whiskey?" I asked, bouncing up and down in my seat. The two nations next to me- Sweden and Iceland -exchanged glances before sliding out of their chairs and moving somewhere else.

"Here ya go lady," Bartender Pangaea said, sliding a tall one towards me. Greedily, I gulped it down in one go. Immediately, I started choking. Since when did alcohol taste so nasty? I may have never had any before, but by the way fanfictioners write about it, I just presumed it tasted half way decent. Not like cow shit.

"Seychelles, are you alright?" England asked, rubbing my back. After a whole minute of my coughing, he resorted to slapping his hand firmly on me. Right when I felt a giant bruise developing there, the coughing ceased and I could breathe normally.

"Thank you," I said, rubbing my neck. God, that bloody hurt. A small smile danced on my lips. "You just keep saving me today."

England blushed and did his best to shrug. "I just did what any proper gentleman would do," he defended. "Nothing special."

For some odd reason, I found myself rubbing my hand along his shirt collar. "What the hell am I doing?" I thought as I gave him a sly smile. It was as if I had no control over my- Seychelles's- body anymore. I started slurring, "No, you really did save me. I really should repay you."

His face turned a deeper red than a ripe tomato. It was so obvious that the blond was panicking, yet his pride was the only thing that kept him from shoving me away. "N-no that's n-not necessary," he stuttered, sweating like a sinner in church. "I-I like p-p-performing charity."

I leaned in and placed my lips right by his ear. "Call this karma then," I whispered, sounding like a hooker (and a damn good one at that). The next thing I knew, I was kissing England right on the lips. Wow, was being in a slut's body making me one myself?

His emerald eyes grew wider and he froze with shock. I, Sherry Sue, dominated the kiss, passionately rubbing my lips against his (man, my inner monologues make nothing sound romantic). He didn't move, not even to push me away. His stunned senses were radiating vividly to everyone nearby.

"What the hell?" Yes, this included France. Slowly, Hooker-Sherry pulled away and gave him a smirk. The blonde's face was mixed with shock and anger. "England . . ." He pointed an accusing finger at the both of us. "What are you doing being straight?"

England jumped to his feet. "I'm not straight!" He yelled back, looking angrier than ever. "That slut-" of course he pointed at me. "-forcibly kissed me!"

"And you went along with it!" The Frenchman bit his lip, folding his arms over his chest, and stomped his foot on the ground. "You know England, I wouldn't mind if you kiss another guy, but a girl!" His blue eyes were full with tears as he smacked his hand over his heart. "Are you telling me all this time that you were just using me?" Oh on, were they fighting?

Snarling, the other snapped, "Why the hell are you acting like the damn damsel here? You've kissed Monaco plenty of times and yet I've never given you a shit about it!"

"Monaco is my daughter-"

"And Seychelles is my ex-colony!" The Brit jabbed a sharp finger into his chest. "I'm so sick of you and your whorish needs. I'm sick of always being put last against your latest prey- whatever the gender may be!"

France swiped his hand away and took a step forward. "And I'm sick of your constant jealousy! Every time I even look at someone, you accuse me of wanting to get into their pants!"

"Because you are!"

The world consisting of England, France, and I grew silent. The rest of the bar continued on with their merry making, unaware of the fight among them. I sat dumbly in my seat, wondering what in the world should I do. The two men stood rock still, breathing heavily, bodies posed for a fight. After what felt like a long time, France eased his stance, saying, "Maybe we shouldn't be together anymore."

Tears gathered in England's eyes. He turned his back to him and crossed his arms. "I was just about to say the exact same thing," he growled. He didn't flinched as his ex-boyfriend stormed away, stomping his legs as he traveled up the stairs and back to the school.

Contrite feelings firmly gripped my heart, causing my lower lip to quiver. I reached out to touch his shoulder, whispering a soft "England." He brushed me away and stood. This time with much more force, I called out his name again. "I'm sorry!" I yelled. The blonde continued to march out of the bar, leaving me feeling like a complete douche bag.

Which I am. Like seriously, who just randomly seduces gay guys?

"Ah, poor gal." I turned to Bartender Pangaea, cleaning a clear glass in her hands. For some reason, she had a thick Brooklyn accent. "Just screwed that one up, didn't ya?" I groaned and banged my head on the counter. I didn't want to talk about it. The woman shrugged and slid a tall glass of beer to me, saying, "Drink ya worries away, honey. It's on the house."

I still didn't lift my head up. "Thanks."

"Oi! Straightie!" I was knocked off of my chair and onto the ground. A sharp pain shot through my head and down my spinal cord. Belarus stood straddle leg over me, looking as bitchy as ever. "What the hell are you doing here?" She demanded. Distantly, I heard someone exclaim 'chick fight'. Bastards.

I pressed my lips into a light line. "None of your business," I snapped back.

The blond only grew more upset. She pulled out a flipping steak knife from under her skirt and raised it high in the air. She brought it down at me. I flinched and closed my eyes shut. It was going to stab me when:

"Get out of here, jackass." A smile grew on my face as I opened them again. Sadiq stood between me and my attacker, holding the knife wielding hand away from me.

There were a few people staring, all wondering what in the world was going on. Belarus flashed her teeth and snarled, "Why so protective of the straightie, Turkey? Last I checked, you played on the right team."

My mentor shrugged and pried the weapon from her. "She looks good in pink," he replied. :And Poland would hate it if someone so pink worthy would die." He threw the knife to the other side of the room and pointed to it. "Go get it and don't come back," he growled. "Or else I'll plant that in your face, got it?"

For a moment, it looked as though she was going to defy him. But instead, Belarus cursed at him again before doing as she was told. Neither of us relaxed until she was gone from sight.

"I don't see you for less than a day and yet you somehow got yourself tangled up with the bitchiest nation at school." Sadiq made one of those 'I'm humored, but I won't say it aloud' faces. For some reason, he wore the same outfit as yesterday. Doesn't he have any clothing variety at all? Then again, this was a uniformed school, so he and everyone else here had to wear the same thing each day. He pulled me to my feet, saying, "What the hell have you been doing?"

We took two seats at the bar and I explained everything that has happened to me. My free glass of beer was safely between my hands waiting to be drank, but after the hooker incident, I was not going to risk it. "So overall, I'm a straight douche bag with slutty tendencies," I concluded, releasing a long sigh. "I can't do anything right."

"Yes you can," Sadiq said. He pulled out his metal canister and took a long swig of his sweet apple juice. "After all, you did break France and England up."

"I didn't want that!" I exclaimed, nearly jumping out of my chair. "Those two are meant for each other! I just can't force them apart."

He took another drink. "Yet, you just did." I groaned and nearly banged my head again. Self-inflicted pain was what I really wanted. Not that I was a cutter of anything, I just needed a little reminder that I was the only sane one here. Sadiq pulled out his golden watch again and checked the time. "Sherry, listen to me," he said, soft enough for only me to hear. "We have to hurry up," he urged. "We're running out of time."

A puzzled look masked my face as I asked, "What do you mean?"

"You have to get that kiss the second midnight hits on Friday," he said.

My heart dropped. Forgetting our secrecy completely, I jumped away and nearly screamed, "Friday? Why Friday?" I counted my fingers. "I have only two days left! Why didn't you tell me this earlier?"

"I didn't want you to panic." Sadiq gave me a sever look, as if reminding me that he was the senior for this situation. "But obviously, you need a little motivation."

Slowly, I eased my buzzing senses. Two days. I could do two days. Ariel was able to win the prince's heart in three days- one more than what I had. And she was a bloody mute! "But that is a Disney movie," my realist side scolded. I told it to shut its pie hole. Two days- I could definitely do three days. But . . . Calmly, I asked, "What happens if I don't?"

Sadiq started to get out of his seat. "Just do it by Fri-" He knocked straight into a very hard chest. Grunting, he stumbled back a few steps and looked up at his impasse. "Hi Germany," he greeted. Germany continued to give him a blank and stoic. "I haven't talked to you in a-" My dear mentor was punched right in the face.

I winced as he stumbled into the bar. "What the hell Germany?" I screamed, directing more attention to the fight. I made a move to help the Turk, but Seychelles's boyfriend raised an arm between us.

"Stay away from my girl," the blonde yelled. "If I hear you do anything to her-"

"Don't flatter yourself." Sadiq, to my utter admiration, stood onto his feet, wiping away the blood from his split lip. There was a deadly glint in his amber eyes when he spat, "Neither of you are worth my effort." That hit a nerve.

I watched from my barstool as Germany proceeded to beat the shit out of him. And I just sat there. What could I do? Even in Seychelles's body I would be powerless against a buff German. It got to the point where Bartender Pangaea had to kick them out of the bar and finish it outside.

"Well that settles that question." I thought, gathering my stuff together. "Germany pwns all. But what about Russia. . ." I looked at my free beer. It was a little warm now, but I bet that someone would want it anyways. Sitting to my left was a brown head of hair laid on the counter. His fair hands held a halfway empty glass of moonshine. I slid my beer to him, ordering him to take it.

"Vee, grazie." The man sat up and I saw the familiar defiant curl. He looked so sad, tracing his finger over the rim and sighing softly. "Italy? Why was he getting drunk?" The eight o'clock bells sung. "I'll ask him later."

I hurried on up the stairs to an empty hallway. There were small drops of blood on the marble from the fight, but besides that, mostly empty. The dark outdoors made it necessary for the lights to be on. It gave the whole school a warm, inviting feel to it. Adjusting the bag on my back, I sighed and started to make my way to my dorm.

My heels clicked on the floors, echoing off the walls, making me feel more alone than ever. "This sucks." I paused at a crossway, trying to remember where to go. "This must be how it feels to be Canada: you're freaking alone all the time!" I chose right and continued on. "There's no one I can talking to. The only people Seychelles seemed to hang out with besides her psycho boyfriend is France and England and boy! That sure didn't turn out right!"

"There's like something that's totally bugging you." I paused. That sounded a lot like Poland. I mean, who else would speak in such a valley girl manner? I stuck myself to the wall and peeked around the corner. He was supporting his boyfriend on the shoulder, helping him inch his way back to his dorm.

Sadiq made a noise that sounded like a combination of a sigh and a groan. "There's nothing wrong," he breathed. "It was just a small disagreement."

"As if! There's like something way sketchy going on right now."

A weak laugh left my mentor's lips as he chuckled, "You always worry about me." I saw him lean over and kiss the blonde's lips softly. My breathing hitched. This scene was so cute- it was as if they were truly meant to be together. "I'll be fine," Sadiq said, as they turned another corner to their own dorms. He was saying something about stress as his voice faded away.

I stayed in my spot, feeling guiltier than ever. I really shouldn't have eavesdropped. That was a private moment only for their eyes. Sherry Sue had no right to witness it. I turned away and started a mad dash to the student council room. "France and England need to hook up back together," I thought determinedly. I didn't care what happened to me; those men had a perfect relationship and I ruined it. It was my responsibility to fix it. "But how?"

I flashed back to the time Dad had missed my swim meet. He came home the next day, exhausted as usual. Dad was a tall, lean man. He always wore stylish, yet casual clothes and circular glasses to help his green eyes see. He skipped kissing mom and marched right past little Jerry and Larry. My ginger father went straight to my room and knocked softly. "Go away!" I had yelled, throwing a stuffed dog at the door.

He invited himself in anyways, smiling softly at me. "I'm sorry Sherry," he said as he took a seat at my bed. I stuck my tongue out at him before burying my head into a pillow. Must not listen to his blasphemy. . . "I know that you don't love me right now, but I'm really sorry that I missed the race. Can you ever forgive me?"

I was a good little girl. There was no way I could stay mad at either one of my parents for long. I sat up and removed my fluffy cover. "I forgive you," I muttered, looking intently at the floor. Even back then, my room was a complete mess. Clothes and toys made a thick layer over the carpet.

Gary Sue grinned and engulfed me in the largest hug known to man. "That's fantastic~!" He squealed, nuzzling the top on my head. "The first step to getting you to love me again is for you to forgive me~!" After that, everything was good with my father again.

That is, until he missed something important. Again.

"Forgiveness before love." A wry smile stretched across my face. I guess it was worth a shot. "I knew Dad was good for one thing." I traveled further down the halls. The problem was how I was going to be able to do that. The two men weren't even talking to each other.

I was so deep in thought that I walked right into a partially open door. "Ah! I'm sorry!" Estonia exclaimed with a laptop in one hand and the doorknob in another. "I didn't see you there." Well, it was nice to know that someone cares.

I moaned and brushed it aside. "It's alright," I said, rubbing my forehead. I was going to have a bruise there later. "I wasn't paying attention."

The Baltic gained this panicky look on his face. "No, I really am sorry." There was sweat falling off his brow. Something told me years of living with Russia made him this way. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"No it's. . ." Then I got an idea! An awful idea! I GOT A WONDERFUL, AWFUL IDEA! (I love copying Dr. Seuss). I smiled at him and inched a little closer. "Actually there is one thing." I wrapped my arm around his shoulder and nudged him along. "Tell me Estonia: what do you know about apologizing?"

That night, I laid in Seychelles's bed, feeling more accomplished than I ever thought possible. I hoped France and England liked their flowers.

Cycle 1: Wednesday

"Seriously, Pangaea is weird," I complained, joining Sadiq at the lunch table. We had trays of exquisite food from around the world. The smells wafted up to our noses, making our mouths water. "She's the secretary, principle, nurse, bartender, history, math and art teacher, and now she's the cafeteria lady? How in the world does she do it?"

Poland, sitting right across from me, gave me a disbelieving look. He and my mentor had been with me through both art and math, listening to me rant on and on about the woman. "You're, like, totally an idiot," he said, idly twirling his hair between his fingers.

"Just let her figure it out for herself," Sadiq growled, taking a large bite of his dolma. For the first time ever, I saw him in his white mask. He was only wearing it since my dear Germany had given him a nasty looking black eye. Remind me later to buy him a cupcake or something in apology. "Why aren't you hanging out with Liechtenstein, Prussia, and Germany?" he asked suddenly. "You guys are friends you know." I saw him wink from under his mask.

I took a glance at said people. The small, blond girl was beautiful in real life. She sat timidly with the loud, albino nation, chuckling at his outrageous jokes. Germany sat across from them, glaring at my general direction. "Oh right." I laughed nervously and stood. "I better get going to them," I said. "I'll see you all later."

Poland waved to me."Like later!" I gave the two men one last smile before hurrying over to Seychelles's friends.

Germany's face softened and he pulled up a chair for me. "There you are," he muttered shyly. Okay, dude, make-up your mind. Are you bold enough to fight for your girl or are you too shy to even speak a word to her? Stupid bipolar Germans. "I was wondering where you were." Bull shit!

"I was asking Turkey what I missed in class yesterday," I said, gracefully taking the offered spot. "Since you- you know -beat him to a pulp when I tried yesterday." He frowned at the smug look at my face.

Prussia laughed ever so loudly and banged the table. "The awesome me heard about that!" he yelled. "Bartender Pangaea was so pissed!"

The smaller girl next to him nodded. "You should be more careful," she added softly. Gosh, she was so cute. If I was a lesbian, I would not hesitate to kiss her. She kind of reminded me of my pet cat Berry. He was so fluffy and sweet! Well, at least when he was alive he was. She took a small bite of her sandwich, saying, "It would be terrible if our group of straighties fell apart."

I tried not to let my shock show. Liechtenstein and Prussia were straight as well? Now that I thought about it, the way they seemed to hang off of each other hinted at a pretty romantic relationship. I could not help but to smile.

In the world of Hetalia, there were four different kinds of pairings: Cannon, Fan, Accepted, and Crack.

Cannon is pretty obvious, though there's very little of it. Some examples are 'SunFin', 'AusHun', and 'LitBel'. As you may have noticed, most of them are one-sided and incestuous.

Widely known pairings, like 'FrUk' and 'PruCan' are simply called Fan pairings. Most of these are homosexual or genderbent.

There's, of course, our crack pairings. We've been having quite an adventure with them so I'll just presume you know what they are. If not, get your ass to Urban Dictionary right now and look it up.

Last, but not least, a lesser known category (mostly since I made it up) is used for other fan pairings called Accepted. These are for pairings that aren't cannon, not crack, and not popular. Like 'ItalyXHungary' and 'PrussiaXLiechtenstein'. As my examples show, most of them are heterosexual.

"Well, it's not 'FrUk', but it can do," I thought, stabbing a fork at my fried fish. "Well, I wouldn't want to leave my precious Germany either," I said, getting that disgusting flirty tone in my voice. What? I was trying to be Seychelles!

The blonde responded bashfully. He stuttered a compliment in return and met my eyes. His cold hands tilted touched my chin and tilted my face towards his. He started to lean in . . .

"Get your Godforsaken ass over here you munter loving, rose smelling, nancy-git!" I took the opportunity to shove the German away before he could kiss me again. Everyone in the cafeteria watched England as he marched over to France and slammed a bouquet of red roses onto the table. The ex-boyfriend nonchalantly looked up at him, as if he didn't expect any better. "What the bloody hell were you thinking asshole?" England demanded. "I told you to sod off!"

"I could say the same to you," the other huffed, pompously heaving his chest into the air. "Did you not send me a bouquet as well?"

His thick eyebrows raised themselves in shock. "How dare you suggest such a thing!" The Brit snapped. "Why the hell would I send flowers to you, git?"

France flicked his hair and smiled broadly. "I do not know," he said. "But tell me this: why did you give me a card that reads- and I quote - 'I am sorry for everything I said, I still love you'?"

"Bloody hell! You sent me the exact damn thing!"

"Why would I do such a thing?"

"That's what I'm bloody asking you, git!"

That, my dear readers, was all that I saw of the argument. Why? Well, just as France started his next insult, there was a hard tap on my shoulder. Curiously, I turned and saw Switzerland looming over me, a glare in his eyes. A machine gun was strapped over his shoulders, adding to my fear. "Principle Pangaea needs to see you," he said.

Oh yeah, I had a meeting with her.

About Belarus.

Shit.

MW: Well I think I just efficiently raised the stakes there.

SEK: Is every chapter going to end with some form of a cliffhanger?

MW: Maybe . . . Anyways, you wanna know something? This story is also posted on deviantArt and it's actually doing better there! That's right, this chapter received about 15 comments there compared to the 6 here.

COME ON GUYS! MAN UP AND SHOW THOSE DA PEEPS WHO'S THE FAN FICTION BOSSES!

SEK:-_- MW, Please do not start a turf war.

MW: I'll do what I want. Like make you guys review! So REVIEW!

Funfacts

-"Bella Moon" I forgot to mention this last chapter, but Bella is named after two people: Bella Swan from Twilight (the prime example of a Mary-Sue) and my dear friend MoonSparrow (because she's awesome)

-"You have to get that kiss by Friday" Basically, the minute midnight strikes on Thrusday (thus, making it Friday), time's up. I don't know whether I made that clear or not.

-"Then I got an idea! An awful idea! I GOT A WONDERFUL, AWFUL IDEA! (I love copying Dr. Seuss)" That's from "How the Grinch Stole Christmas".

-"Dolma" Some Turkish food. I don't know what it is—SEK just selected it.

-"Munter loving, rose smelling, nancy-git!" British slang. "Munter" means an ugly woman and "nancy-boy" means a womanly man.

Next Chapter: After some more Belarus action, the prom comes along.

***LET'S DEFEAT THE DEVIANT-ARTERS BY REVIEWING MORE THAN THEM! YEAH~!***