Disclaimer: Hidekaz Himaruya owns Hetalia and not me.

Acknowledgements: Thank you to all those who have reviewed, alerted, favourited so early on in this story: Canyon's Rose, chickenkitty, ZeroLuver567, Lady Sandra of Sealand, Tamarutaca, 101Icestormxx.

Warnings: Fluff, cross-dressing, Prussia (but not fluffy cross-dressing Prussia)

Chapter 2 – Money Money Money

Leningrad, Russia

It was a strange afternoon in Russia's house. Ukraine had arrived that morning on an 'impromptu' visit and had announced she was staying for a while. She often visited and in the last few weeks since their return from the world meeting at Austria's house had been and gone three times. However, this time she had a determined look on her usual open cheerful face. Russia was worried for a minute that she was taking over as the obsessive sister.

Belarus had only visited once in the past month and that had been to pick up some of her favourite knives and, frighteningly, some handcuffs and a whip she had secreted somewhere. Russia and the Baltics assumed she must be on some new medication as she'd skipped off happily after hugging them all in a purely sisterly fashion. Nobody's fingers had been broken and she didn't even try to abduct her brother.

Russia had no idea what had possessed England to fall in love with his sister – she'd been living in London ever since leaving Austria's mansion. He'd never really given the English Nation a lot of thought since they'd been allies in the War, however, he was now in awe of the man. And if he could have he would have given him a big hug. ('I say, old chap!' would no doubt have been England's response to this.) Perhaps, he thought, England was indeed 'possessed', he wouldn't put it past Belarus to use black magic.

However, it wasn't her brother Ukraine had her eye on, it was Estonia. And it wasn't just her eye that was on him. Whenever she got the chance her hand would be on him too – largely on Estonia's bottom, which she thought very cute.

Lithuania who had observed this, thankfully, the only one who had, was extremely nervous, he had been the one to give Estonia love advice pertaining Ukraine, and knowing Russia and his protectiveness, was afraid for his health. Belarus didn't count, for the moment, anyway, while she was out 'bothering' England (Russia still couldn't work out what on earth was going on there) she wasn't chasing her big brother around the house, tying him to bedposts or tricking him into signing a marriage contract.

"Yikes!" Estonia almost dropped his coffee as Ukraine pinched his bottom.

"What's wrong with you? You need to calm down," Russia frowned.

All five Nations were sat around the kitchen table, Russia reading a newspaper, Ukraine knitting, Estonia doing Russia's tax return, Latvia reading a novel and Lithuania shelling peas.

"Nothing... I'm fine," Estonia mumbled, a blush spreading across his cheeks.

Russia shook his head, he wasn't taking much notice of his newspaper. He was thinking about what to give Latvia for Christmas – which was just a few weeks away. He knew what he would like to give her...

"Did anyone find out what happened to Lily and Iceland? Did they get married?" Latvia asked, breaking the silence.

"Yes they did... in Seychelles. They looked so cute..." Katya said, and received a very unromantic kick under the table from Estonia. "... so I heard..." she added quickly.

Russia slouched down in his chair and reached out under the table with his foot with the intention of playing 'footsie' with Latvia. It didn't appear to be working. He gently rubbed her leg with his foot and raised his eyebrows at her. She ignored him and her face showed no emotion whatsoever. 'She's an ice maiden' he thought.

Whilst Estonia wondered why Ukraine was stroking his leg, he pulled back quickly and then shook his head urgently at her.

Russia, the support of the other person's leg suddenly gone, almost slid off his chair and very nearly went under the table.

"Vanya! What on earth do you think you're doing?" Ukraine exclaimed.

Russia, his cheeks blazing, pulled himself back up, and tried, unsuccessfully to regain his dignity. He glanced at Latvia, but her face was fixed and she showed no indication at all that anything untoward had happened.

"I heard that Mr Switzerland wasn't happy and caught up with them..." Latvia said, she looked across the table at Russia, who was shuffling in his seat and then she took a look under the table. Her legs were tucked up under her, Lithuania's chair was empty (he'd got up to make coffee), Estonia's were fidgeting around, Ukraine's legs were demurely crossed, Russia's long legs were stretched out and he was twitching his huge feet, his army boots discarded and there was a hole in one of his socks.

She looked back up at Russia with a questioning look. He mouthed something at her. She ignored him and carried on, "He went all that way with his leg in plaster," she said, wonderingly. The fact that the Swissman had a leg in plaster because of her, she decided to omit.

"Yes, in pink stripy hospital-issue pyjamas," Ukraine said, then hurriedly, "... so I heard..." it was unnecessary, Russia wasn't listening. He straightened up, raised his eyebrows at his little lover or what he hoped to be his little lover.

Latvia frowned, "So what happened then?" she asked Ukraine.

"He kicked Icy's arse all the way around Seychelles."

"With his leg in plaster?" Latvia said astonished, but then again, she thought, this was Switzerland.

Lithuania plonked a pot of freshly-brewed coffee on the table and said, emphasising every word, "Brothers can be very protective of their sisters," and looked meaningfully at Estonia.

Russia frowned, looked at Lithuania and then at Latvia.

Lithuania was not Latvia's brother, but Russia knew that the three Baltics thought of themselves as 'siblings' and protected and looked out for each other.

He mouthed 'Does he know?' at her.

'What?' she mouthed back.

'Does he know?' Russia mouthed again. Russia was hoping the secret was out and then there'd be no more sneaking around. And if Lithuania wanted a fight, well that was okay. Russia was loath to hurt his eldest Baltic – Toris was the one who cooked him nice food – but he would kick his arse if he had to.

Latvia frowned, 'What the bloody hell was he on about?' she thought.

"Does he know?" Russia suddenly blurted out.

"Of course he knows, Vanya, keep up with the conversation. That's what we're on about. Icy and Lily eloped, Vash caught up with them and kicked Icy's arse. He's been trying to keep them apart ever since," Katya told him.

"She's been meeting him in secret, though," Latvia said.

"Noooooo, tell me more," Ukraine said, suddenly perking up.

"Well..." Latvia was about to explain her and Lily's clandestine midnight telephone conversations which largely revolved around their respective lovers when the doorbell rang.

"I'll get it," Lithuania said, unnecessarily really as no-one else showed any signs of movement. "There's only me does anything around here," he murmured to himself, "I'm like... Cinderella. Ha! Maybe this is my handsome prince?"

It wasn't. Stood on the doorstep were three heavily-built men in uniform. They had faces you could break a brick on. Judging by the insignia on their overcoats, Toris realised with a sick feeling in his stomach that they were the KGB – the Soviet Secret Police.

Hamburg, Germany

Poland was dressed to the nines in a smart black dress and jacket, a floral scarf adorned his neck, elegant red stiletto heels (size 9) on his feet. He was dressed to impress, but also dressed for deception. He arrived at the smart elegant shop front, took a deep breath and strolled in. 'This is it,' he thought, 'in a few moments I will be rich'.

"Can I help you?" a rich, fruity, plummy English accent called from across the shop.

"Cedric Cameron?" Poland asked, smoothing his dress over his hips.

"Yes, that is I," the voice answered and the owner of the voice, a tall, immaculately-dressed man appeared from behind an antique chest of drawers.

"You were recommended to me by a friend," Poland said.

"I see. Are you buying or selling?" the man asked, his accent was comically 1930s BBC English.

Poland almost giggled and then stopped himself. 'Cedric' reminded him of England – when the latter Nation was trying very hard to be posh and proper. Until he reverted to default mode and began swearing and using cockney slang and calling everyone a 'bugger' or a 'sod'.

"Oh, selling," Poland answered and he peered around at the various object d'art, the furniture, Ming vases, 18th Century pottery and Persian rugs.

"Well, I see, I will warn you though, I don't buy anything younger than 100 years old, unless of course it is true art deco," Cedric said.

Poland simpered and batted his eyelashes. He himself was well over 500 years old and was ancient before most of the stuff in this guy's shop was even thought about.

"Well, let's have a gander, dearie," the man said.

'Dear God,' Poland thought, 'he's gayer than I am'.

Bonn, West Germany

In Germany's house, the want for material possessions was also on the mind of the now sole occupant. Prussia, his brother Germany still residing the psychiatric ward of Vienna Hospital, had pressing needs to attend to. He'd relied on his brother for money for so long, he was not allowed a bank account of his own and was now running out of the necessary funds for his beer, porn and take-aways.

This was not awesome, the awesome ex-Nation thought. It had been several weeks and he only had enough money to see him through a few more days of beer and then what? He needed money and fast. He'd ransacked the house top to bottom, but Ludwig's security conscious ways had meant that there were no bank details, visa cards or any other means of getting into the German's bank account. Prussia didn't even know which bank his brother dealt with.

Prussia still refused to think of his brother as anything other than his younger brother. It still rankled him that Germany had regained his memories of his time as Holy Rome and realised that he was the older brother. Being the younger sibling was not awesome or cool, Gilbert thought. Also, at first it had been great having his brother out of the way. He'd been able to bring back as many girls as he'd wanted without his brother's interference, shouting at him 'to be quiet and not get beer on the rug'.

He'd also been free to bring his motorbike into the house where it now stood, leaking oil onto Germany's living room carpet. Germany's three dogs were still at the dog kennels and Prussia had visited them, thought about bringing them home but then changed his mind when he realised they would need walking and feeding – this might interfere with his partying.

But after just three days of women, beer, watching as many porn movies as he could, and throwing food at the ceiling to see if it would stick, he'd got bored. There was only so much destruction you could do and besides it wasn't half as much fun without his brother's disgusted reaction.

Prussia now sat with his embroidery and his Jane Austen novel (he would kill anyone in an instant if they came upon his secret hobbies) and thought up a cunning plan. He needed an easy way to get money. It didn't occur to the Awesome One to get a job. It was all Lithuania's fault that his brother was currently restrained in a straitjacket. If the Lithuanian hadn't punched Germany for telling him not to smoke, then he, Prussia would not be looking at a future with no beer. Denmark could help him, he thought, but then remembered that poor Den was under house arrest at Finland's house.

Revenge, he thought, revenge on Lithuania. But no, he actually liked Toris. Now, the big commie bastard, he hated him. Hmm, now then, the wheels in Gilbert's brain started very slowly to turn. It was not enough to just prank call the fat Russkie, no, he was going to get money out of him. Even if it meant rubbish rubles. But how... and then it hit him as Gilbird cheeped in his ear. "Yes!" he yelled. "It could work, haha! I'm so awesome! I could do this... I just need ... a cage, some catfood and my van..."

Prussia loved his van, sure it still had 'Sanitary Hygiene' printed on the side – despite his attempts at a paint job – Mystery Inc. style, the letters were still visible. He grabbed a big tin of black paint and proceeded to paint over the letters with the words 'Animal Control' – in both German and (here Prussia had to swallow his rising bile) Russian.

"Awesome!" Gilbert yelled to no-one, this was going to work, he was sure of it. "I'm going to get my revenge and get me some cash. Kesese!"

Back in Hamburg, the art dealer was indeed 'having a gander'. At first, the dealer was sneeringly and sarcastically polite about the contents of the suitcase. He took the ten canvases out one by one – using thumb and forefinger. They were all smelling of smoke and Poland had spilled mascara on one of them.

Poland sat on a nearby Chippendale chair filing his nails. He had not really looked at the 'pictures' since taking them from Austria's office desk drawer. He'd quite liked one of them – a painting of edelweiss. There was one he'd been severely tempted to stick pins in – a painting of Austria dressed in medieval 'crap' (Poland's words) with the words 'Count Edelstein von Habsburg' underneath. There was also a painting of Vienna, a rather shit one (again, Poland's words) of Austria's mansion, a grim battle scene with some dude in armour who looked weirdly like France (Poland had laughed at that one, but had not properly looked at it, he hated battle scenes – he'd seen too many in his lifetime), a rather risqué one of a topless woman ('tut tut,' Poland had thought), one of some hunting dogs and various 'crap' ones of Austrian mountains and a detailed painting of the Matterhorn. 'When you've seen one mountain you've seen them all,' Poland thought. All in all, very boring, but they should be worth a couple of grand, he thought.

Cedric Cameron pulled each canvas out, shaking his head, "Yes, yes, most amateurish. Hmm a bad painting by a good artist, but it is damaged... hmm, a good painting by a bad artist..." and then silence.

Poland blew the on his nails, sighed and looked up, "So? How much?" he said impatiently.

The man had stopped dead and was staring at the last painting, "It can't be... no... I'd heard rumours..." he murmured to himself.

"How much?" Poland insisted. 'God this guy was weird.' Poland knew enough about make-up, fashion, battle tactics, how to run an underground resistance under occupation and how to look good in a skirt, but he knew absolutely nothing about art.

The man looked up, his face was flushed and he had a weird manic look in his eyes. Rather like the look Belarus had when she found her brother inebriated and on the floor unconscious. "I think I may need to have a closer look at this one," the man said holding up the 'shit' battle scene.

Poland shook his head, "Not possible, bro. I need to get going. Places to go, people to see. If you don't want it then someone else will."

Cedric Cameron panicked, he had a feeling this was the holy grail of the art world, there in his hands. The fact that it was possibly smoke-damaged meant nothing. It was still worth millions. He just had to have it valued. He doubted though that the young woman had any idea what it was (Poland's disguise was holding up well – although he had to keep adjusting his chicken fillet bra). In fact he knew that there was no way she could. The rumours of a lost Da Vinci had been doing the rounds for years in the art world. It hadn't really reach the ears of the general public.

"A thousand dollars for the lot." The man said desperately.

Poland shook his blond head, pouted his red lips and crossed and re-crossed his gorgeous fish-net stocking-clad legs, "I don't think so, they're worth more than that, I'm not, like, stupid."

"Five thousand."

"Excuse me, while I go and see Herr Bergerbank down the road..."

"No... erm ten thousand, my final offer," the man was sweating now, but Poland didn't notice this.

Poland considered this. He thought the paintings were a pile of shit and he doubted they were worth a thousand. He certainly did not expect ten thousand. He thought that the man was dazzled by his gorgeous legs.

"Well... I suppose... seeing as I have urgent business to attend to... ten thousand it is."

The man almost jumped for joy, but found his hand grasped by a very strong, rather big (for a woman anyway) manicured hand. "Cheque? Er Miss...?"

"Cash. And it's Miss Lucinda Lovelace," Poland exclaimed happily. Now he and Lithuania could start a new life together away from that fat commie dude. 'I can rescue him from his life of servitude,' the Pole thought.

Author's Notes:

Have a gander – have a look at something (English slang)

Bonn – the capital of what was (then, i.e. early 1980s) West Germany

The Matterhorn – a mountain on the border between Switzerland and Italy, one of the highest peaks in the Alps.

Mystery Inc. – refers to the Scooby Doo gang's van

'how to run an underground resistance under occupation' – the Polish resistance movement aka the Home Army was the largest underground resistance movement in Nazi-occupied Europe. As a side note, Poland never surrendered to the Germans during the 2nd World War. I reckon Poland is actually the biggest bad-ass in the whole Hetalia universe.

Sorry there's a lot of re-capping from the previous story, but it's just to explain what our characters are doing at the moment and why... The plot will pick up I promise.

Next Chapter: A visit to the mafia, violence, IggyxBela and probably some France.