The summary for the story was changed, as I found that there is more to the story than simply getting Antonio and Lovino together.

Antonio Carriedo was delighted.

Scratch that. He was elated.

The world seemed so much brighter and happier today. The flowers were all so colorful and fragrant, the sun shone with vigor, and the tomatoes were bright red and ripe. The day was perfection in every single way.

Never mind that there was a thunderstorm practically flooding the entire city right now.

It was Tuesday, and that meant seeing Lovino during the first period. It was perfect.

Even though the black eye Lovino gave him during the lesson hurt a little; it wasn't anything that Antonio couldn't handle.

"You never learn, mon cher," was what Francis muttered as Antonio happily nursed the nasty injury.

"¿qué?"

"It means you're a moron, Tonio." Gilbert supplied.

"Sí, but I am Lovi's moron! I think." Antonio was not insulted.

Really, if Gilbert wanted to insult Antonio, there was a multitude of alternate terminology that he could put to use instead. Call him oblivious if you wish, Antonio was not all that dense when it came to deciphering his friends' intentions.

(Though he never really took notice of when Francis started becoming a little too touchy…)

"Damn, the kid has quite a punch though." Gilbert grumbled as he patched up his own bruises and scrapes.

"That is why you don't antagonize him when he has cooking implements in his hands, mon ami. I thought dear Elizaveta taught you that already, non?" Francis didn't hide his amusement.

Gilbert muttered, "Not my fault."

Francis rolled his eyes with as much elegance he could muster. "You had it coming! You practically tricked him into your bet. No wonder he was furious."

Was Lovino furious? Really? Antonio didn't really think so. True, Lovino had attempted to beat Gilbert senseless (not surprising nowadays) with such fervor that his face had been all flushed…like a tomato!

That was the comment that had gotten Antonio the black eye in the first place.

But anyways, Lovino didn't really seem as angry as he seemed…embarrassed? Reading Lovino's feelings was not easy, but Antonio tried. Beneath the swearing and violence and antagonistic behavior that dear Lovino always displayed, there was something far more complex and sensitive and emotional. Nobody else knew that, except for a few people. Not many people understood Lovino, which was a little disheartening, but Antonio was fine with that.

Antonio liked being one of the few people who actually knew what Lovino was like.

"Too bad for him!" Gilbert snorted. "He can't back out now."

Really, Gilbert was such a good friend. He had risked a few cracked ribs and a broken arm just for the sake of Antonio and Lovino! Ah, friendship. What a wonderful word.

"Well, he can back out if you fail your attempt at school domination." Francis deadpanned.

"Nie! I'm too awesome to fail something like that. Everyone knows I'm awesome enough to own this school!" Gilbert seemed very confident, which was a good thing for Antonio. "Don't worry, Tonio, you'll have the kid wrapped around your finger in no time!"

"Gracias, Gil! Gracias!"

Francis seemed to be muttering something about how Antonio was the one wrapped around the other's finger, but Antonio didn't pay much attention. Gilbert chuckled and turned a ruby sharp gaze on the Frenchman.

"You're not chickening out though, right?"

"Bien sûr non. This is for the sake of l'amour, and for l'amour I shall become Antoine's martyr." Francis purred as he slid over and slipped his arms around Antoine's waist.

Good thing that Francis was such a kindhearted friend as well.

Good thing that Antonio was as dense as the Great Wall of China.

Francis was quite sure that Gilbert was not the type of person to volunteer and devote himself to such a romantic project without any profit. Considering that he had tricked the older Vargas twin into making the bet, Gilbert's main goal was most likely winning the bet itself: becoming student council president. There was some different, less selfless reason for the matchmaking service provided, Francis was sure. Gilbert could be a little manipulative if he could get his brains to function every once in a while.

Not that Francis was complaining.

Dear Antonio, oblivious as ever, was probably clueless about Gilbert's less than innocent intentions. Just like he was always oblivious of Francis's advances and the very rare occasions when the grumpy Italian boy actually looked at Antonio from across the hallway. Francis recognized the look on Lovino's face on such occasions.

The look that said how much Lovino wanted to give in, just for once, to stop pretending and cry into the Spaniard's shoulder.

Francis knew that look too well.

It wasn't a matter about making the two lovebirds smitten with each other. Oh no, they had already completed that step far long ago (Francis had first noticed during a fateful dress up week when Lovino had openly stared with a red face at an Antonio-with-glasses version). It was a matter of getting the older Vargas to simply admit that he was smitten with the dear Spaniard.

That would be as easy as forcing Arthur to admit that Francis had superior cooking skills over the Brit.

Francis opened the door of his International Relations classroom to find it empty, save for one person. To be more exact, an Englishman who Francis would have been admittedly happy to see (and spread the l'amour to…and it's not molesting, you know) except for the fact that Arthur looked a little unhappy.

To be precise, Arthur seemed downright gloomy. He looked like he was on the verge of contemplating jumping off the school building or some sort of rather devastating matter. It would be the wisest choice to keep his hands off the boy for a while.

Let it be known that Francis never really was known for making wise choices.

"You insufferable git!" Arthur seethed as Francis lay on the floor, clutching at the nose Arthur had very nearly broken when a stray hand had landed on the sour-faced Brit's ass.

"Good to see that you still have some energy in you." Francis hissed behind his hands.

Arthur's laughter was bitter. "Ha! Energy. I'll need as much as I can to ensure that this school isn't utterly destroyed by some blasted twats in the next couple of weeks."

Twats? That was plural, right? Gilbert was probably who Arthur was most troubled about, for sure, but who else to worry about? It was not as if Arthur would believe that any of Gilbert's "helpers" could do some real damage (Ludwig would take care to not let events spiral out of control). So what now?

Unless…

"Now, Arthur," Francis purred, ignoring how one of those huge eyebrows twitched—ugh, it looked like it was alive now—at the mention of his name, "is this about little Amerique?"

Seeing by how the other boy's shoulders sagged at the mention of her, Francis was right.

"Don't call her that. It's just boosts her bloody ego." Arthur groaned as he raked a hand through his sandy blonde hair.

"She adores me for it, mon cher. Don't deprive her of the title."

Not like Arthur could stop Francis anyways. The nickname had stuck since Alyssa had been in first grade. A pet name that was practically ten years old was not going to disappear that easily.

"Not at a time like this, though." Arthur muttered, lightly kicking Francis in the shin for calling him anything affectionate ("mon cher, you break my heart!" "Call me that again, and I'll break a few bones as well.").

Francis rubbed his shin and frowned. "So something has happened yesterday, after our little…incident in the student council room?"

"I took Kiku to my house so we could talk a bit. About the...thing that happened."

Arthur being straightforward without any roundabout insults to Francis meant that something was definitely up. It usually was a gossip-worthy happening, so Francis was all ears.

"Allow me to guess. Little Amerique showed up?"

"How intelligent of you."

"More intelligent than someone who probably took his lady to his home and forgot that he lives next door to the source of his trouble, non?"

Arthur flushed. "Look, I didn't forget that she lives next door. I just thought that she'd be at Kiku's house."

"Very well, then what happened?"

"She barged in—and no, she didn't break down the door this time—and said that…that she'd rescue us from the wanker."

It took a few moments to process that.

"From Gilbert?"

"From 'the evil albino alien that invaded poor Kiku's mind and needs a hero to kick its ass' were her exact words, but yes, that would be what she meant." Arthur massaged his temple.

"And how exactly would our little heroine plan to do that?" Francis tried to hide the bemusement in his voice. He failed.

Arthur shot Francis a weary glare. Whatever the American girl had declared must have been a serious drain on Arthur's system. What on earth could she have—

"She's running for student council president as well."

Oh. Oh.

Gilbert and Alyssa. (Self-proclaimed) Prussian versus American. It would be quite the match, and probably extremely entertaining.

Hopefully the school would still be standing by the end of it all.

Hopefully the school would be blasted to smithereens and turned into ash by tomorrow.

Mathias Søren Christensen crumpled up the sheet of paper in his hands and stuffed it into a pocket. Stupid math. He didn't need math. He was cool enough without it. But apparently his math teacher disagreed with him.

Ugh. Mathias scowled. He had an English project to work on and a Biology test coming up. Math was not helping his situation here.

And speaking about that English project…

"Ah shit, Mia is going to kill me."

He was supposed to meet her five minutes ago at the library! And her temper when it came to punctuality…God, even the Vikings would run from her wrath.

Mathias hitched his bag over a shoulder and started to run, hoping like hell that the Norwegian girl wouldn't take too much offense at the tardiness. After thirty seconds of sprinting, he noticed a poster taped to one of the school walls.

"Wait, isn't that Gilbert?"

Why was the albino's picture on the poster? Mathias walked up to the wall for closer inspection. After a few moments of reading and processing, his eyes widened. Seriously?

Without a moment's delay, he snatched the poster off the wall (it wasn't the only one around, he was sure there were more taped up) and resumed the sprint to the library. Maybe, really hopefully maybe, Mia would be distracted by the poster and forgive him for being so late.

Not a chance.

"You idiot, have you no sense of time? I thought you would at least know how to read a clock by now, but I obviously overestimated your abilities."

Face masked with perpetual indifference, Mia Johansen was one of the strongest (and scariest) girls around in the area. Even though her full height barely reached Mathias's shoulders, she could really stare a guy down. Rumor had it that she had even challenged Ivan Braginsky once and had walked away unscathed.

Mathias was the only person who knew that the rumor was actually quite true.

However, this was not the time to be in awe of her temper and those really smooth looking legs (no, he mentally whacked himself, stop ogling your best friend). Making sure that his eyes stayed on the upper part of Mia's body (wait, that shirt looks a little tight…No, stop it, you stupid hormones!), Mathias focused on looking at the cross-shaped barrette in her hair as he quickly shoved the poster into her hands.

"What is this?" Mia looked at the rolled paper before glancing up at him.

"Look for yourself."

She unrolled the poster and started to read it. A thoroughly disgusted look flitted through her facial expression before her usual wear of indifference was back in place. Mathias looked at her expectantly.

"…Well," Mia kept her eyes on the poster as she talked to Mathias, "it seems that Gilbert Beillschmidt wants to run for student council president."

"I know, right? I can't believe it's that time of the year already!" Mathias grinned.

"You don't even have the concept of time in that nonexistent brain of yours." Mia deadpanned.

He was not deterred in the slightest. "Maybe I should run too? I'd be a super cool president, right?"

The question went unanswered. Instead, Mia opted to avoid the suggestion entirely and calmly point something else out. "I think Alyssa Jones is also running for the position."

"Seriously?" He didn't have any classes with the American today, so he hadn't heard any news of the nature yet. Funny, though. Somebody had told him about elections and all that stuff today. He just couldn't quite remember who it was… Something about elections and sisters…

Wait, didn't Alyssa have a brother? Oh yeah, she did! Ma-…Ma, Mark? Something like that. Yeah, he was the one who told Mathias about how his sister was running for student council! Right!

"Ah, come to think about it, I think I heard about it."

"Tina told me today."

Riiiight. Tina was secretary in student council. She'd know about that kind of stuff.

"If Jones and Beillschmidt can do it, I suppose you could to."

Mathias blinked. Had Mia just told him to go ahead and run for president of student council?

Apparently that was exactly what she said. "What are you staring at?"

"Nothing!" He couldn't help but break out into a huge grin. "Yeah, it's about time to kick Berwald out of student council, right?"

"He's the historian. That doesn't have much to do with running for the president."

"I can fire him, can't I? I really hated it when he got to run for student council when I couldn't!" Of course, only upcoming juniors and seniors could run for the positions, so it was natural that Mathias couldn't run when Berwald could. Which just wasn't fair, since he was older than that damn Swede.

"Well, you get to have a turn now." Mia conceded lightly.

"Yeah, I better kick Gilbert in the ass." Because it was the goddamn albino's fault that Mathias ended up skipping a year of school and dropping down a grade.

"I will assure you that I'm not stopping you in this case." Mia carefully folded the paper in half. Her eyes seemed to gleam with…mischief? Something that returned the devious look she used to have a long time ago. It was a look that he missed.

"Join me, Norge!" Mathias yelled, oblivious to the glare that the librarian was sending him from afar.

Mia smirked at the old nickname. "Why not? Beillschmidt has a lesson to learn."

It would be just like old times, when Mathias lead the way and Berwald followed with Tina in tow, when Kaya grudgingly but loyally stuck to the group, when Mia had stood beside him and stayed with him.

This was going to be so fun!

/ Francis is mistaken; while Alyssa loves being called little America, she doesn't really like Francis himself. Of course, she doesn't hate him, but well... She knows that he gropes a little too much.

And the Nordics are here! Mia means "sea of bitterness" while Iceland's name Kaya means "pure". Norway, Iceland, and Finland are all genderflipped. Christensen and Johansen are really common surnames in Denmark/Norway. So many surnames ending with -sen. It was really weird...

Anyways, the Nordics also have their own tale regarding their past and the Gilbert influence. Things are starting to get crazy.

Bien sûr non - French for "Of course not"