SO yesterday was busy (went out to my local zoo with friends and then went to a party) and today was also busy (woke up late and didn't get out of bed til almost 1) and then I had to drive an hour to drop my car off to get fixed and-bleh. Here's the next chapter.

Thank you all so much, everyone who followed and favorited!

I own nothing Hetalia related.
Additional chapter warning: Romano's potty mouth and a pissed albino Germa-Prussian, Prussian... *slinks off*

December 30, am

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Ring~! Ring~! Ring~! Ring~! Ring~! Ri-"

"Who the fuck do you think you are calling this early in the fucking morning." A thoroughly pissed Italian spat into his boyfriend's cell phone.

Yeah, that's right. Boyfriend. How, you ask? Let's just say that the Christmas party had some interesting results to it.

"Oh, it's you!" A voice- sounding like a smug Gilbert- sounded from the stupid phone. "First, it's ten, so it's not early. Second, where's Toni?"

"Non so, non mi interessa" (don't know, don't care) Lovino grumbled, sitting up and yawning. "Why the hell are you calling?"

"Well, I wanted to talk to Toni, but I guess you'd do too" Gilbert replied, chuckling.

"Like I want to talk to you" Lovino growled sourly. He then sighed, sitting up and letting the sheets pool around his waist. "Alright, whatever. You have my attention for a bit- what do you want asshole?"

"Soo charming, Lovi, I-"

"Call me 'Lovi' again and I'll castrate you, bastard." The grumpy Italian interrupted, standing up. There was no use going back to sleep now that he was up. Plus, he wanted to know where the hell Antonio went.

"Fine, Romano" The albino snickered through the phone. Lovino growled, but said nothing. "There's a New Year's Eve party Mathias – or Denmark I guess you'd know his as..." The Prussian added quietly. "Anyway! He's throwing a party."

"Why the hell should I care about that?" He asked, pulling a pair of pants on. Don't get the wrong ideas! Just because he slept in his boxers- BOXERS- doesn't mean he and the Spaniard... did it yet. And even if they did, it was no one's business, dammit.

Lovino's face flushed as red as a tomato and he cursed quietly. He shouldn't be thinking about that- especially while on the phone with that perverted ex-nation...

"Oh? What was that Lovino?" An amused voice almost purred (was it just him, or was this bastard starting to sound too much like the French one?)

"Sh-shut up!" Lovino snapped, scowling, "Just tell me why the hell I should bother even mentioning this party to Antonio. At your party he got shit faced and-"

"Finally made the move on you. Sheesh Lovino, you have weird ways of thanking people. Just tell Toni and be there. It'll be fun, I'm even bringing Matty!"

"…fine" he grumbled, "But just because I like Matthew and don't want him to be alone with all you bastards!" he then hung up, tossing the phone back on the bed. Might as well go inform his stupid Spaniard about their new New Year's Eve plans.

He blushed again. He had forgot about that... dammit!

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Blue eyes scanned the items on his kitchen counter once more, making sure he had everything he needed for tomorrow night. He knew for a fact that Gilbert and his many other friends would be drinking- likely including Arthur. No matter what the Brit said, he would never turn down good alcohol at a party.

Mathias chuckled, amusing himself momentarily by thinking about how Arthur would probably spend the first hour of the party trying to decide whether or not to drink, only to finally resolve against it. Then, about a half-hour later he'll talk himself into having one drink and then end up drinking for the rest of the night until he was beyond drunk.

'Unless he decides to "spend time" with his boy toy' the Dane thought, laughing. That was usually how his and Gilbert's parties went for the Englishman—never dull and always entertaining.

Once more he scanned his refrigerator, making sure he had everything he needed for the dishes. He had an assortment of foods in mind to prepare, not just Danish food but German (Gilbert would end up pouting and whining all night if he didn't), Hungarian (He owed Elizaveta for her... advice), and, of course, Norwegian.

"I guess I'll start making the desserts now... and wait to do the appetizers tomorrow..." He mused, closing his fridge and grabbing his apron off its hook.

He slipped the dark, blood-red apron over his clothes and set to work, thinking about other ways he could impress Lukas besides making kransekake and multekrem*.

With a happy sigh the Dane grabbed the recipes he had printed out for various desserts he had never made before. He also grabbed his yellowed, hand-written recipes for kransekake*, and coffee cake.

The decision he had made earlier was to start with the coffee cake before focusing on the Hungarian chimney cakes*, German spice cookies*, and some homemade chocolate. Then he would take a break before making the multekrem*, double checking his fridge's inventory. He would not start on the kransekake until all the other sweets had been completed, as he wanted to spend the most time on that one in order to make it perfect, and fill it with as much love and care as he could.

Another big, optimistic grin stretched across his face. This party would be amazing, he just knew it; so amazing, that Lukas would finally accept him.

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December 30, pm

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"Pick up you unawesome bastard..." the man growled, his red eyes flashing in the dimly lit room. He cursed again loudly as the call, yet again, went to voicemail:
Sorry I can't get to my phone right now, I am likely busy. Please leave a message and I'll call you back when I can. Adieu, mon cher~

"Verdammt!" He yelled, throwing his cell phone to the ground in his anger. "What the hell Francis!" The albino fumed, "Where the fuck are you?" He snarled, glaring at the cell phone with enough intensity to possibly set in on fire with his directed awesomeness.

He had managed to call all of the European nations to invite them to Denmark's party, and all except a few agreed to come…
Iceland was spending New Year's Eve with his Asian boyfriend and his family, Greece was spending it with his cats and the socially awkward Japan, Poland was apparently "grounded" by his boss for skipping work to go shopping too many times, England's brothers were going out drinking, Netherlands was planning on staying home and getting high, he didn't even bother inviting Switzerland, and who the fuck knew where France was.

He still had to call a few more nations, though. Like Austria, the Baltics, Belgium, and a few others.

Deciding to take a break from calling the Frenchmen, Gilbert scrolled through his contacts and pressed send once he found the contact "piano brat."

It rang four times before a sigh was heard. "What do you want, Gilbert."

"I just thought you wanted to hear my awesome voice, R-"

"Spare me the headache, please. Elizaveta has already informed me of the party, so there is little reason for me to stay on the phone with you. Good bye."

Gilbert frowned as the line went dead. He touched his phone again and began to type something, changing Roderich's contact name to "prissy bitch."

Brushing the conversation off, he decided to try the Frenchman again. This time it went right to voicemail:
Sorry I can't get to my phone right now, please leave a message and I'll call you back when I can. If I don't answer it is because I am currently doing something more important than conversing with you—please do not keep calling. That means you, Gilbert. …Beep.

"You little fucking shithead! You saw I was trying to get ahold of you and you not only ignore me, but find time to fucking change your voicemail recording?! When I get my hands on you, Francis, I'm going to fucking kill you! I'm going to dig up mein awesome crop and use it to beat you—I'm going to take your saggy, overused balls and twist them until they fall off! Don't think I'm fucking kidding. You can't ignore the awesome me when I'm trying to get ahold of you, you French assh-"

The message cut off due to length, enraging the Prussian enough for him to hurl the phone against the wall. The force of the impact caused little bits of plastic phone carnage to fly across the floor.

"…well then" he huffed, realizing what the French-induced fit of anger caused. "Guess I gotta use Matty's phone to call the rest of 'em up."

And with that, the awesome Prussian left the room in search of his Canadian.

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"In a word, I was too cowardly to do what I knew to be right, as I had been too cowardly to avoid doing what I knew to be wrong-"

"Artie!"

'And there's the quiet reading time interruption. A bit later than usually, actually'' the Englishman though with a quite sigh as he placed a laminated bookmark into the worn and yellowing book. He said nothing as he set it in his lap and looked up at the intruding American, waiting. The normally energetic blond looked rather perplexed as he fidgeted with his fingers and bit his lip.

"What is it, Alfred?" Arthur asked, calmly looking up at his partner.

"I, uh, I need some… advice" he muttered, avoiding the brilliant green eyes of the Brit.

An eyebrow was raised at the uncharacteristic behavior. "'Ask no questions and you'll be told no lies'" he quoted, reopening his book. A growl emerged from Alfred's lips—the desired response.

"That's not what I meant Art, and you know it! I'm trying to be serious here."

A small chuckle escaped from the Brit as he grabbed Alfred's hand. "Oh? Very well, what do you need advice on, poppet?"

The larger hand engulfed the smaller one, nervously linking their fingers together. "I may have, um…" he trailed off, looking torn. 'What could he have done to make him so skittish?' Arthur thought, placing a kiss on the American's knuckles to gently encourage him to continue.

Yet, just like that, the vulnerability faded and the blond quickly detached his hand from the Englishmen's and forced out a loud laugh to conceal his worry.

"I may have accidentally put one of your sweaters in the drier" came the cover-up confession.

Arthur narrowed his eyes, intently studying the male in front of him. He could tell Alfred was lying, but could not think of a reason why—what could he have done? What action was bad enough to breed that look of nervousness and weakness?

He decided to play along, sighing internally. Green eyes narrowed and a firm frown formed on the Englishman's lips. "Excuse me, but what did you do?"

Another laugh came from the American's lips, a little less forced than the last one but still filled with pseudo-nervousness. "It was an accident, but I think I ruined it. Sorry!"

"You insufferable-! How dare you, you bloody twat!" Arthur's nose wrinkled. He could feel genuine anger bubbling up inside of him—he now doubted that Alfred was lying.

"It's a good think though Art, really! You shouldn't be wearing such stiff, stuffy old clothing! Ya need some fresh, modern stuff!" the blue-eyed blond laughed, his true and radiant grin starting to reappear.

"Old and stuffy?! I'll have you know, I am quite comfortable in my sweaters!" Arthur stood from his seat on the couch and began to stalk darkly towards the other male. "You're going to regret ruining it, dear."

And thus, the weekly game of chase began as Alfred bolted away, his booming laugh filling every corner of the house.

Really, some people have the strangest ways of dealing with sexual tension. Though, the scene today was a bit different then the past—did Alfred really do something worse than ruining another of Arthur's sweaters?

So here you have it, part three!

*Desserts mentioned:

multekrem: a traditional Norwegian dessert, made by mixing cloudberries, whipped cream, sugar, and often vanilla together. Often used as a topping on other desserts, such as kransekake.

Kransekake: Means wreath cake, known in Danish as Kransekage. It's an almond cake made into rings stacked on top of each other... just search a picture of it. Common dessert for weddings and New Year's eve celebrations. I really want to try making one someday...

Hungarian Chimney Cakes: Known as Kürtőskalács in Hungarian...um... originally they were a festive treat, but they're common dessert items now.

German Spice Cookies: Known as Pfeffernüsse in German, which translates to "pepper nut" or something similar. I've actually had these, and love them. They're cookies made with cinnamon, all spice, and lots of nutmeg and have this hard sugar coating around them. A common holiday cookie that can be dipped in wine.

See ya'll tomorrow! (oops my American is showing)

~Cheetay