A/N: Ta-da! So, Act I: Scene II was finished a lot quicker than I expected, but it turns out that it's a much shorter scene than the previous one since it's mainly introducing another one of the main plotlines in Shakespeare's play.

Speaking of the main plotlines, I should probably mention that there are three of them or so in Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream, which are vaguely referenced in the summary of this fic. I don't really want to spoil too much, so I'll still be kind of vague when I say that one is the "love rectangle" (which was introduced in the previous chapter), one involves "some fay" ("fay" as in "fairies" and the like, so you may or may not be able to guess who that might involve), and one involves "a play" (the one introduced in the chapter you're about to read). Well, four of them, if you count the wedding as one, too. ^J^

A lot of the chapters, especially toward the beginning, focus mainly on these plotlines individually, though they're all related to each other in some way and still overlap in some chapters.

Warning: The following chapter is mostly dialogue. And contains Romano. And Prussia. ^J^

Disclaimer: I own neither Hetalia: Axis Powers nor A Midsummer Night's Dream.

Act I: Scene II

1.2

Germany is being blackmailed. Prussia is a regular guy. France is a girl. Spain is a ton of bricks. Literally. Well, sort of. Oh, and Romano is floating on a damn cloud of sunshine. Yeah, nothing could possibly go wrong with this setup! The part with France being female, at least. He could totally pull that off. Probably.

"Remind me why I've got a part in this damn play again, you jerk bastard," Romano scowled as he stared at the fuzzy yellow monstrosity of a costume in front of him.

"Because I asked you nicely so now you're doing it out of the goodness of your heart?" Spain suggested good-naturedly, pulling on his own costume without complaint.

"If this takes up the goodness of my heart, it's going to run out by tomorrow afternoon," Romano grumbled, but took an experimental step inside his costume as well. Yep, it even felt like a fuzzy yellow monstrosity.

"Oh, but that's when the wedding is!"

"Great, then you see my point!"

"Aw, Romano! You know what you need?"

"Don't you damn dare, you—"

"This calls for a cheer-up charm, si? Fusosososo!"

"Quit summoning all those flowers, you bastard! You're getting pollen all over the room!"

Being the responsible, organized and well-rounded nation he was, Germany seemed like the best choice for managing the wedding to make sure everything was running smoothly. So, at Hungary's insistence, he courteously agreed to—Oh, screw it. He was totally blackmailed into running the play that would serve as their wedding entertainment and he wasn't even being paid for it, to his disgruntlement.

"Okay, is everyone here?" he asked, checking his clipboard impatiently. Faint shouts—something about pollen getting down someone's costume, followed by a sneeze, then a shout of "I'm not allergic to pollen, but you'd sneeze too if you got it up your damn nose, you jerk bastard!"—could be heard from the dressing room area. Germany urged himself to remain professional and proceeded to go down the list. "Bruder, are you present?"

"Yeah, and awesome as ever, kesesese!" Prussia affirmed with a cackle. Germany looked up and frowned at him.

"You were supposed to change into your costume. You've been wearing those clothes all day."

"But West, I'm playing a regular guy!"

"You're playing Pyramus, a 'regular guy' who sneaks out of the house to go talk to France and Spain every night."

There was a pause as Prussia considered this, blinking both curiously and awesomely.

". . . How did you know my awesome schedule? Other than the 'regular guy' part, of course. Lame-o!"

"That's why the house is so quiet at night? Mein Gott, I thought you spent your nights sleeping like a normal person! Now get into your costume already so that we can quit wasting time or else I'll stop paying for all your beer!"

"Nein, anything but the beer money!" Prussia exclaimed, immediately scampering off into the dressing rooms faster than if he were being chased by a frying pan.

With his bruder gone to change, Germany continued with a sigh, "France, are you in your costume, at least?"

"But of course!" France exclaimed. "I'm playing a regular guy too, aren't I? The one that Pyramus goes to talk to every night . . . Thisbe, non?"

"Thisbe is female."

"But I have a very hot and alluring stubble growing out! How else am I supposed to attract all the—"

He looked up to see, to his disappointment, that Germany was very much unimpressed. Spain, having joined them after leaving the dressing room covered in what appeared to be pink petals, leaned over to whisper to his fellow member of the Bad Touch Trio, "Unless you want to hear his spiel about 'staying true to the original' and 'appreciating the hard work and blood and sweat and other bodily fluids put into these costumes', mi amigo, I suggest that you just do as he says."

"How would you know if such a spiel exists?" France wondered.

"I play a wall," Spain said simply, gesturing at his brick-patterned costume as if that explained everything.

France glanced between Spain and Germany, who both stared back at him expectantly, before exhaling loudly in defeat. ". . . I think I'll go change clothes as well, mon ami."

Because, y'know, at least France didn't have to spend all his scenes standing still on the stage in a shapeless costume pretending to be an inanimate object. Besides, he could still feel pretty in a dress. Probably.

"Spain, present," Germany noted, checking said nation off his list. "At least you seem to know your part."

"Si," Spain beamed. "All I do is stand there and emulate everything that is happy and wonderful about walls, right señor?"

"All you do is stand there," Germany affirmed.

"And feel happy and wonderful!"

"No."

"And radiate happiness and wonderfulness?"

"Nein, you just stand there."

"But I must be happy and wonderful if I'm a wall!"

"Mein Gott, what is so happy and wonderful about walls?"

"They're walls!"

"That's why I'm asking!" Germany facepalmed, groaning before he turned back to the clipboard. "Fine, let's continue. Romano, are you in your costume?"

"Yes, and it feels like I'm floating on a damn cloud of sunshine, you bastard," Romano replied, sounding very much discontent with his "damn cloud of sunshine". "Now, do you have my part written down or something, potato bastard? Because I'm not in the mood for any damn memorization."

"You may go without a script as long as you know your cues," Germany assured him as he checked off Romano on the list as well. "All you do is roar, anyway."

"That doesn't sound like it could get boring in the slightest," Romano drawled.

"If it's just roaring, can the awesome me have that part too?" Prussia piped in, having returned from the dressing room with a fake beard glued lopsidedly—AHEM, the fake beard was glued awesomely to his chin. "And I can roar so awesomely that that pansy Austria will call animal control because my awesomeness is just too—"

"You are not getting in trouble again with the animal authorities and that is final."

"Fine, then. I'll roar as gently as Austria throws."

". . . You really like to bash the piano bastard, don't you?" Romano observed.

"Romano's still keeping the part of the lion," Germany stated.

"Dammit."

"Alright, alright. I'm too awesome to play the lion, anyway," Prussia huffed, using his fingers to hold the sides of his falling fake beard in place. "Now, what beard should I play Pyramids in?"

"Pyramus," Germany corrected, unceremoniously ripping the rest of the beard off of his bruder's face, "and the answer to that would be none."

"Aw, you're no fun," Prussia pouted. Suddenly seeming to perk up, he changed the subject, "Now, didn't you say we were having a press dispersal—"

"Dress rehearsal."

"—or something?" he awesomely finished, paying no attention to his bruder's correction.

"Ja," Germany nodded in confirmation. He pulled out a map and handed it over for Prussia to see. "Italy will meet us over there after he's done going looking for props. There's a fancy hotel that has a theatre but doesn't have any productions currently going on, so they agreed to lend us some props to use for our play. However, we'll have to travel to our destination by foot because there is no road that goes through the wo—"

"Wait, are you saying we have to walk in public in these costumes?" Romano demanded, interrupting him furiously. "Oh, no. There is no way I'm walking out there looking like some damn kid's life-sized stuffed animal!"

"What kind of hotel has a theatre?" Prussia snorted, apparently having missed both the last part of Germany's statement and Romano's outburst as he flipped the map both ways before refolding it and stowing it away in his pocket. "Lame-o!"

"A fancy hotel," Germany repeated, casting him a clearly-unamused look. "And if you miss the dress rehearsal, I still won't hesitate to cut off your beer money."

"Aw, but West!"

It was only after Spain, Romano, and his bruder had left for the location of their dress rehearsal and he was left waiting for France to finish changing—"But it clashes with my stubble! I can't be forced to go out like this, mon ami!" "How does something clash with your facial hair?"—that Germany remembered he hadn't finished telling them that the rehearsal was in the woods.

Notes on this Chapter:

Me: "Really, Hungary, what were you thinking putting Germany in charge of the entertainment for your wedding?"

Hungary: *smiles innocently* "He was the only responsible one I had enough blackmail for."

Me: "Who did you have enough blackmail for?"

Hungary: "Everyone."

Me: *sweatdrops* "O-okay then . . ."

"Pyramids" and "press dispersal": As Germany so generously clarified, Prussia means "Pyramus" and "dress dispersal". In Shakespeare's play, though, Prussia's parallel makes a LOT more of these switcheroos with his words, except there's no Germany to translate for him. ^J^

"Cheer-up charm": Spain has a cheer-up charm in Hetalia canon. Seriously. In one webcomic, he radiates flowers and sparkles as he goes "FUSOSOSO" while using it.

Romano: *sneezes out . . . is that glitter?* "That damn pollen . . . . Wait, is this actually pixie dust or something? What kind of crapola is this?"

Spain: "Magic, si?"

Romano: "Ha! Yeah right, tomato bastard."

Me: *grins deviously* "Well, maybe that opinion will change . . ."

Romano: "Did you say something?"

Me: *sweatdrops* "I've said too much."

The next chapter will be the first scene of Act II, which also has a total of two scenes, I think. But it will probably be longer than this one, so it might take longer to write. Hopefully, it'll be worth the wait. ^J^ Feedback is greatly appreciated!

In response to Guest reviewer Layla, I'm glad you like it! And don't worry, you'll be seeing a LOT more Prussia in this fic. *grins deviously* Speaking of Prussia, outro, please!

Prussia: *dusts self off* "Finally! Stay awesome, kesesese!"

Germany: ". . . Would now be a good time to warn him about the woods?"

Me: *grins deviously* "Oh, he'll see for himself soon enough."

Romano: "Quit grinning at us like that, dammit! You're almost as bad as the tomato bastard!"