Day 2: Let's Deny, Deny, Deny

"Love is like a ninja-it sneaks up behind your back and hits you before you even realize that it did."

"Are you sure that this is absolutely safe?"

"Mathieu, we are absolutely safe—"

"I mean you being safe from Arthur. I am pretty safe alright—since I am 'invisible' for most of the time or I get mistaken for Alfred," Matthew paused, an annoyed tone slowly seeping into his sentence as he continued. "It's painfully obvious that there are quite a few differences between me and Alfred, if anyone even bothered to take note of-Gilbert was the only one who did, by the way. How could Arthur think that I am Alfred when I am carrying a polar bear in plain sight and not wearing that stupid bomber jacket of his?"

"Mon cher-"

"I mean, how flipping blind are all of you? Did you know how frightening it was the last time Ivan-" the Canadian paused, an involuntary shiver running down his spine at the mention of that name. "-Ivan thought I was Alfred and cornered me, dishing out thinly veiled threats meant for that twat who nearly caused an international incident–" Matthew stopped abruptly when he realized that Francis was staring at him, apparently lost for words.

"Ah, I am sorry! I didn't mean to-" Francis walked over and gave Matthew's back an affectionate pat, dismissing the Canadian's apology with a wave of hand.

"Non, non, c'est bien, Mathieu." Francis closed his eyes as he sighed. "You are right; we could have paid more attention. At least I didn't get you wrong, oui?" Matthew shook his head, a small smile gracing his face. "Excellente. Now let's get moving before Arthur comes."

The elevator doors slid opened without a sound as both Francis and Matthew stepped out, the carpeted floor muffling the sounds from their loafers as they walked down the corridor.

"Francis, what exactly are you planning to do?" questioned Matthew when he realized that they were heading towards the direction of the conference room. Francis gave a secretive smile and winked at the Matthew. "All in good time, mon cher, all in good time. Ah, we have arrived~"

An elegant white oak door with a gold knob stood in front of them. Francis' hand grasped the knob and turned, opening the door as he stood by the side, giving his hand a small flourish towards the room. "After you, mon ami."

Matthew gave a small absentminded nod and strolled in, muttering a word of thanks. He was completely used to Francis' idiosyncrasies-after all, he was France. Francis entered as the door closed behind him with a small click.

Matthew surveyed his surroundings for a moment before turning to Francis, a confused look apparent on his face. "What are you going to do in the lounge?"

Francis gave a mock gasp and placed his hand over his heart, a look of absolute mortification appearing on his face. "Mon dieu! Have you not learnt anything under Brother France's care?"

"No, I was too young to remember anything." It was a complete bare-faced lie. Matthew didn't even want to remember whatever Francis had told him-he still remembered Francis' attempt to tell him all about the birds and the bees when he was young, during one of his visits over to Arthur's house (Arthur was none too happy about that)-fortunately, his older, boisterous brother had burst into the room in the nick of the time, dragging him out to play and thus saving Matthew from having a scarred childhood. There were some things that you really don't have to know, and Matthew was better off without knowing about Francis and his sexual encounters.

"Ah, such a pity…You have a long way to go, Mathieu. Now, watch and learn." Francis replied lightly as he moved over to the cabinets. As Matthew watched, Francis kneeled down on one knee, opened the cabinet doors and stood up, scooping up the mugs that were sitting on the kitchen counter and putting them into the very deepest confines of the storage space. After that, he got up, grabbed the jar of coffee that was on the metal rack, opened up a random wall cabinet, and again, placed the jar at the very deepest of the cabinet, giving it a final push with his fingertips before shutting the doors.

"Now, Mathieu, this is brother France's tactic number #20-"Francis began, but stopped when he saw Matthew walking to and fro around the lounge, seemingly searching for something. "Mon cher, what are you doing?"

Matthew didn't reply-he was far too engrossed in his search. However, after a few seconds, Matthew's face brightened up and Francis got his answer.

"Ah, found it!" Matthew smiled as he held up a short stool. "I-I thought this would probably be useful…" He set the stool at the corner of the room. "Since Arthur might probably need that…"

Francis stared at Matthew for a moment, grinned and walked over, embracing the shorter blonde, giving Matthew a hearty pat on his back."I knew it. You did learn something deep down in that heart of yours, my boy!"

Matthew fidgeted a little, a light blush creeping up onto his cheeks, a little pleased. "That was nothing, really…I only figured out a little. I would like to see Arthur and Alfred getting their act together, too."

"Oui." Francis released Matthew from the hug, giving his hair a flip. "The rest is up to those two now, especially for Angleterre… Let's leave now. This is not our scene~"

Matthew couldn't agree more. He was tired of those two and their sexual tension-as if the meetings weren't complicated enough without them.

It was about time to turn this slow dance into an extremely fast tango.

(And after all, rules were meant to broken.)

Alfred let out a big yawn as he trudged into the lounge, without bothering to even close the door behind him. Rubbing his eyes blearily, Alfred loosened his tie and let his body fall onto the couch, closing his eyes as he attempted to get some sleep. Alfred didn't know exactly why he ran out yesterda-oh, who the hell was he trying to kid? Of course he knew! Arthur-England-Arthur fucking Kirkland attempted-argh, that stuffy old geezer had freakin' molested him in broad daylight!

He exhaled heavily, willing himself to sleep and not to think about yesterday's incident, how Arthur's voice made him feel strangely uncomfortable in his clothes all of a sudden, how those skilful ministrations of his was strangely thrilling-

Oh fuck this; he needed a cup of coffee. It was too goddamn early to deal with this shit.

…

Wait, where was the coffee? And the mugs?

Alfred groaned and immediately started looking high and low, determined to find those two items. He didn't get much sleep last night, woke up at an ungodly hour this morning (barely managing to finish his breakfast and making his way down here in record time. Alfred figured that if he couldn't fall asleep on the bed, why not try the couch?) and damn it, he didn't want to go down because Arthur might be there and Alfred wasn't sure that he'd like to deal with Arthur first thing in the morning under the circumstances of the American lacking sleep (it didn't help that Arthur was the cause of it ) and Arthur might just try and pull another crazy stunt on him.

Alfred perked up immediately when he finally located the coffee jar-it was at the very top shelf, at the very end. Odd, why would the staff place the coffee jar all the way up there? Alfred thought, and then shrugged his shoulders. Not a problem for me-I can reach it! Stretching out his arm, he reached for the coffee jar, only to find himself grasping in the air. Alfred cursed under his breath-he misjudged the distance. Tiptoeing, he leaned forward slightly, his hand going deeper into the cabinet. Almost there—

"Don't move."

Alfred tensed up for a moment as those words were whispered into his ear. That thick, annoying British accent could only belong to one person.

Shit, Arthur?

Alfred's body was suddenly hyper aware that Arthur was touching him at such close proximity. He felt Arthur's hand pressing down upon his left shoulder, with the other brushing against his right hand as it reached in. He felt Arthur's body pressing against his back as the other man leaned forward to retrieve the jar of coffee. He felt Arthur exhaling, his warm breath on his hair….

For perhaps the very first time in this 'Special Relationship' of theirs, Arthur was driving Alfred insane.

"-such an inconvenient location. Also, you could have used a stool, you daft prat," Arthur chided as he climbed down, placing the coffee jar down onto the counter. "There was one at the corner-what are you doing?"

Arthur stepped down from the short stool and stared at Alfred. Alfred's face was scrunched up together really tightly.

Arthur smirked inwardly, taking his time to mock ponder for a moment or two more before saying, "Are you suffering from a case of constipation?"

Alfred's eyes immediately flew open as he stood up straight, spluttering indignantly. "W-What—! Of course not! Whatever the hell are you crapping about as usual?"

Arthur ignored his question and continued. "Figures, with all the junk food and greasy burgers that you stuff yourself with-"

"I don't stuff myself with burgers all the time! I do eat other stuff! I was concentrating really hard" Pause. "-I was just thinking about today's agenda-you know, about the economy." Alfred's eyes followed Arthur as he moved around the kitchen area.

"That's a miracle-you are actually using those brains of yours to think. Should I start applauding now or should I get the rest to give you a standing ovation later when the meeting starts?" Arthur drawled as he bent down. He started to open up the drawers and the cabinets. "Fuck, where did the mugs go-ah. There they are." Arthur straightened up and coughed. Alfred looked up and stared at Arthur, who was clearly looking at him and then at the mugs again.

"Why can't you do it yourself?"

Arthur crossed his arms and growled. "…My back's stiff today."

Alfred let out a laugh. "Hah, old age finally catching up on you, huh?"

"Just shut up and get the damn mugs."

Alfred grinned and got down onto his knees and saw that the mugs were located at the very back. Alfred frowned. First the coffee was placed at the very top, and now the mugs were placed at the very bottom? Something strange was going on. Alfred poked his head in and gingerly reached his hand in. Ah, got the-!

SMACK!

Alfred almost dropped the mugs. He got up on his legs in record time and stared at Arthur, who was looking at him in the strangest way possible. It happened so fast that Alfred didn't quite know how to react. His free hand had moved over to his ass. The younger blond stared at Arthur for the longest time.

"…Did you just smack my butt?"

Arthur's eyebrow rose ever so slightly. "Yes, I did."

"Why did you smack my butt?" No, the better question would be, why the hell am I asking him this?

"Your arse was calling out to be smacked-high up in the air, and you were wiggling it like as if you were advertising that piece of meat. I didn't raise you up to whore your butt to other people-"

"My butt is awesome and it's not whoring itself out!" Alfred burst out, and then stopped when he realized what he said. His cheeks reddened as he glared at Arthur, who had a smug smirk on his face.

"...Shut up, Arthur."

Arthur gave a nonchalant shrug and smoothed his hair. "I said nothing." He grabbed the mug from Alfred's hand and quickly made his own tea. "-Also, my arse is, ah-more 'awesome' than yours." Arthur turned around, his back facing Alfred as he slapped his own ass for a good measure. Grabbing his freshly brewed hot earl grey, he strode out of the room quite elegantly, leaving one very stupefied and embarrassed American behind.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind Arthur, Alfred promptly went over to the nearest piece of wall and banged his head against it-for two reasons:

1) He actually checked out Arthur's ass.

And

2) Arthur was right- he had a damn cute butt.

Today's meeting was, thankfully, peaceful. Ludwig was satisfied, if not pleasantly surprised. Although it took some time to adjust to-Alfred being a more subdued and presenting something that made sense for the first time since the day started-it was nonetheless a change welcomed and appreciated by the majority. Francis was the most satisfied amongst the seven of them-his plan worked without a hitch. That, and Alfred was presenting his own thing properly and was actually listening to the others and not hogging the whole damn stage.

Francis reminded himself to send a case of wine over to Arthur later.

When the meeting ended and the nations begun to file out, Alfred quickly gathered his papers and mumbled a quick goodbye to

"Francis. Can I have a word with you about Arthur?" Alfred's hand rested on his shoulder as he shot him a pleading look, glancing at Arthur's form. "Please."

Francis smiled. Completely aware that Arthur was glaring at him, he causally slung an arm over the Alfred's shoulder and looked over at Arthur, giving him a wink. Arthur growled and gave him the middle finger. Francis rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to Alfred, who was watching the exchange with much confusion.

"I just happen to know a nice place for lunch…"

With Francis:

"-and those, those invasions! They wouldn't stop coming!"

Francis leaned on his hand, nodding absentmindedly at Alfred as the latter continued. "I mean, why the hell would Arthur want to invade me? Sure, our relationship might get rocky and wonky once in a while, mostly due to Arthur and not me like he always would say-don't listen to him, by the way-he flips out on me almost every single time and recently he's just…" Alfred closed his eyes and sighed. "…weird. What is up with him?"

The Frenchman ran his hand through his hair and looked at Alfred in knowing amusement. "-Mon ami, let me first say that you two complement each other perfectly."

Alfred raised an eyebrow. "Do you need an ambulance? I have a shrink that I can recommend you to check whether your brain's working-"

Francis clicked his tongue. "-Ah, youth-so naïve, so innocent! Not that Arthur is young himself but-"

"Just cut the chase and get to your point."

"Such impatience! Alright, Angleterre has taken a very special interest in you."

Alfred stared at Francis, his confusion starting to get more and more apparent on his face as each second passed. "If you are talking about interest, I just think that Arthur's in one of his weird moods again."

Francis ignored Alfred. "Oh, where do I start on this thing of absolute beauty and wonderment-"

"Somewhere today would be nice."

"Oho, using sarcasm already? Live and lea-"

"-WAIT!" Alfred slammed his hands down on to the table, startling Francis and several of the dining occupants around them. "I know! Arthur's acting like that because he's having some sort of a complex regarding his sexual performance versus mine!" Alfred leant back against the chair, a smug smile on his face. "So this is why he's going into his Empire on me because in a way, he's envious of my Florida and sexual performance."

Francis stared at the expectant Amercian blankly for a moment before letting out a deep sigh, bringing his palm up to his face.

"…Go and find your brother."

Room 404:

"-what is Arthur to you?" Matthew let out a yawn as he placed Kumajirou on to the floor. Alfred took a moment to ponder.

"…Well, he's kind of fun to tease, he's like an annoying buddy, he's awesome for helping me when I am in a hiccup and he's al person that I do not mind annoying the rest of my life."

Alfred waited for the information to sink in.

Matthew stared at his brother for one, long moment. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to calm himself.

"…Are you fond of Arthur, Alfred?"

Alfred blinked, a little taken aback at the question. He tilted his head to the side slightly. "Dude, I don't understand what you are trying to say."

Matthew snapped and threw a pillow at Alfred.

"You idiot! Ugh, why is it that I have an idiot for an elder brother? Why are you so thick headed? Any normal being would have gotten it by now! After so many years and you still don't get it—!"

A pillow hit Matthew's face, muffling the rest of his sentence. "Al, Wha-"

"-PILLOW FIGHT!"

"-eh? Al, wait, no—HEY, NOT THERE YOU SODDING MORON!"

With Italy:

Oh, damn it all to hell.

Feliciano. Feliciano was his last hope. Alfred figured that since Feliciano was good with relationships-both in general and romance sense-the Italian should be able to help him somewhat. He couldn't go straight up and ask Arthur—that old man was probably going to do something weird again and sprout confusing and vague sentences out of his mouth.

"-and things are like that now. I went to Francis and he says to find my brother, Matthew went absolutely crazy halfway through and threw me questions instead of answering my questions." Alfred looked at the Italian hopefully. "…sooo what do you think?"

Feliciano smiled knowingly and then he gave Alfred an apologetic look. "I'm sorry. This is something that you need to figure out yourself, Alfred-I can't help you."

Fuck.

Room 301:

"Hi."

Alfred fidgeted on the spot, thrusting his hands into the pockets of his pants, a little nervous. Arthur's eyebrows frowned, an affronted look evident on his face, no doubt disgruntled with Alfred dropping by at such a late hour.

"Come on in. It's tiring having to stand at the doorway and rude of me not to invite a guest in, albeit the fact that I am about to sleep." Arthur opened the door fully, standing by the side as he gestured for Alfred to walk in. Alfred hesitated for a split second before allowing a small smile onto his face and went in.

"Nor is it polite of you to insult your guest either," Alfred countered, immediately taking a seat on the couch. Arthur scowled. He followed Alfred and took a seat beside him, taking up the tea pot on the table as he filled two tea cups, placing one in front of Alfred. Alfred clicked his tongue in annoyance.

"Ugh, tea again? Don't you ever get tired of it? You serve this every time I drop by!"

"Belt it and drink it, Alfred. Tea tastes better than that black swill you drink."

"Hey!" Alfred protested. "It's called coffee! And it's much, much better than your stinking tea-"

Arthur slammed down the tea cup onto the saucer, effectively cutting off Alfred. "Cut the bloody chase and get to your point, Alfred. I am fairly certain that you are not dropping by just to banter with me."

Alfred let out a short laugh. "Mommy knows the best, huh?" Arthur glowered. "Alright, I'll be serious." Alfred looked straight into Arthur's eyes. Keeping his gaze on him, Alfred took placed his cup together with the saucer with a gentle clink on the table. "What is up with you recently? What are you trying to do to me? Why are you acting like that?"

Arthur took up his own cup and sipped it languidly, letting a moment of silence blanket the atmosphere. Nothing could be heard save for the soft humming of the air conditioner in the background. Alfred observed Arthur, expectant and curious. Arthur was calm, relaxed. He placed the tea cup down on to the saucer and reclined back against his chair as he folded his hands together. "Why don't you start telling me what you have deduced so far, Alfred."

Alfred looked up and met Arthur's eyes with his own, trying to search if he had any intentions or motives-

"Well, go on." Arthur gestured, his voice breaking Alfred's own train of thoughts. "What have you come up with so far?"

Alfred tapped his chin thoughtfully. "I wrote you off initially that you were simply drunk, but after that when I went to find Francis, he mentioned something strange about love-"Arthur visibly twitched at that. "-but it couldn't be, so I went to find Matthew and gave me more questions and Feliciano-" Alfred stopped abruptly when he realized that Arthur was climbing up on to the couch. He started backing into the couch and moved up to the corner-Arthur's hands were on Alfred's wrist, pinning them down. "Jesus, Arthur. What are you trying to do now?"

Arthur smirked. He lowered his head, closing off the large gap between the both of them until their lips were almost touching. "Tell me something, Alfred. We have known each for so long…" Arthur's own emeralds looked into Alfred's sky blues. "Don't tell me you are too blind to see?"

Alfred stayed silent, his eyes wide. That whole hyper awareness was coming all back to him again-

-he didn't know, perhaps it was in a heat of the moment-that overwhelming feeling that he couldn't discern at the moment but that rush-

-Alfred broke free of Arthur's grip and pulled Arthur down fully, their lips crashing together.

Arthur's eyes widened-and then Alfred felt Arthur relaxing completely and fully against him, his mouth opening slightly-

-No no no no no-

-Alfred shoved Arthur away and sat up, breathing heavily. Arthur sat up on the other end. Several emotions filtered across his face rapidly before it settled on pissed.

"What the fuck Alfred-"

"-it isn't ri-"

Arthur grabbed the cup of tea and dumped its contents over Alfred's head. "-what isn't! Fucking Yank, you are a good for nothing sodding wanker! Use your nonexistent brains for once!" He balled his fists together, glaring at Alfred. "Fucking hell, sit down and think it though properly-I don't hate you, you idiot!" Arthur's eyes widened in realization and flushed red when he realized what he said.

Alfred sat there, momentarily shocked. Arthur doesn't hate him? Then what was it-

"Hey wait what are you doing-" Alfred found himself being forcibly pulled up and pushed out of the room.

"Shut up and get out-you overstayed your welcome." Arthur wasn't looking at him-he refused to-somehow, he managed to push Alfred to the doorway.

"Arthu-"

"Good night, America."

Arthur slammed the door shut.

Alfred swore loudly as he glared at the door, willing it to burn through the wood and hopefully scorching Arthur.

Fuck that old geezer and his estrogen levels.

Room 304

Alfred glowered at his laptop, too distracted to even do any administrative work. He touched his lips with his fingertips briefly-and then fell back on to his bed, groaning.

Fuck, things were really messed up. There wasn't any one left he could ask-

-wait, there was one more.

Alfred sighed. He must really be that desperate enough to even try asking that person. The American got up and logged in to his email. It took himself to type out a nice summary of what happened. He took a deep breath and hit the 'send' button.

It didn't take long for Alfred to get a reply.

To: Awesome. Hero [at] hotmail [dot] com

From: moreawesomethanyou [at]hotmail [dot] de

Subject: How dumb can you get?

Artie wants to fuck you.

P.S: And you want to fuck him too.

Alfred stared at the reply for a full minute, letting Gilbert's reply sink in. No, this didn't make any sense!

To: moreawesomethanyou [at]hotmail [dot] de

From: Awesome. Hero [at] hotmail [dot] com

Subject: Re: How dumb can you get?

It doesn't make any damn sense. Why would Arthur want to fuck me anyway? I will not, am not and do not want to fuck Arthur, ever. I don't even like him that way!

…Despite the fact that he has a cute butt.

Meanwhile, on the other side of Atlantic Ocean, the silver haired albino took one look at Alfred's e-mail and started cackling madly.

To: Awesome. Hero [at] hotmail [dot] com

From: moreawesomethanyou [at]hotmail [dot] de

Subject: I take it back

You are dumber than I thought. Arthur wants your ass because he likes you in the kind of mushy, romantic way. Dude, every single nation knows the both of you want each other since forever-the sexual tension between the two of you is so incredible to the point that I am going to acknowledge—just this once—it's awesome. We are all waiting for you two idiots to get on to the grand finale-so make your move too, you ass. Artie's waiting for you to make yours. Don't keep him waiting for long or else you will get topped and that would be so not awesome for a hero, nein?

P.S. You definitely want him. Go forth and top the hell out of that old geezer-shit, that sounded wrong. Ugh, the mental images. Do not want.

To: moreawesomethanyou [at]hotmail [dot] de

From: Awesome. Hero [at] hotmail [dot] com

Subject: What the hell

The last time I checked, Arthur and I were arguing. He called me a 'good for nothing sodding wanker' and told me to 'use my non-existent brains'. Plus he dumped a cup of his precious tea on my head after that. That was definitely not the sign of 'You. Pants off. Fuck me. Now.'

Come on, you are the last person who can probably help me in this. I asked Francis-he gave me some weird answer. I asked Matt and he gave me a really complicated one. Hell, I even went to ask Feliciano and Arthur himself and the both of them gave me vague answers and more questions.

…And you are so not awesome.

Gilbert growled at the last sentence and glared at the screen. That ungrateful American-how dare he declared that he's not awesome at all? After all that help he gave during the Civil War!

To: Awesome. Hero [at] hotmail [dot] com

From: moreawesomethanyou [at]hotmail [dot] de

Subject: Fuck you

I AM awesome. Hasn't it been established that I am still here and not with Rome and my awesome grandfather (despite that the dude's really all serious looking like West, and I am more awesome than him) whose looks Legolas ripped off from because of my sheer awesomeness? That's because you are an idiot. Fine, here's some awesome advice from the awesome me-just get out there, tell him ' I really, really want to fuck you right now', awesome kiss that English idiot breathless, awesome sex him up and then proceed to have awesome, awesome, manly sex between the both of you and have some mushy cuddle in the morning.

P.S: You owe me now. Is Matthew there? Ask pancake boy to send over some of his awesome maple syrup and e-mail me his awesome pancake recipe-West left me in charge of the house without any of that awesome goodness and let me tell you, three days without those awesome pancakes is so not awesome. And West is shitty in making pancakes.

If it was even possible, Alfred was positive that his brain was actually starting to hurt from the abuse of the word 'awesome'. He quickly typed up a reply:

To: moreawesomethanyou [at]hotmail [dot] de

From: Awesome. Hero [at] hotmail [dot] com

Subject: No thanks and

What kind of 'awesome advice' is that? You suck. Even Veneciano can do better.

P.S. What is up with you and pancakes?

Alfred fired off the e-mail and closed his laptop. Gilbert…that crazy ex-nation was also of no help either. Arthur's previous words echoed in his brain-asking him to think it through properly—

-Wait.

Hold on a damn second.

Alfred sat up and started thinking, going through all the events. His mind was working extremely fast as things begun to click in place-

"I GOT IT!" Alfred leapt up. Yes, this made sense. It would explain every single thing-Arthur's actions, Francis's words, Matthew's constant throwback of questions and Feliciano's refusal to give him advice…

Alfred was convinced that Arthur had some sort of a secret sex plan up to his sleeve, and he was the first target. The rest of the nations probably knew about this-Francis was probably in cahoots with Arthur (It did occur to him that it might be impossible, but the fact that Arthur had been rather unpredictable these days meant that it just might be possible)-but they were just probably afraid to say it out or something.

Or something.

Alfred cracked his knuckles. If they weren't going to stand up to Arthur, he was.

There was no hell way he was going to let Arthur Kirkland empire his (awesome) ass.

TBC

A/N: It took so long, but I finally completed the second chapter, yes ! /o/ Oh my god I think I screwed up this-especially the characterization so,so badly. But right. Need to get this off. Also, thank you to the reviewer who pointed out that mon cher is 'My dear', not 'my sir'. Thank you for reading and for the long, long wait! I hope that you have enjoyed reading this and you are not foaming by the mouth now 8D;

EDIT: Damn. it ate my paragraph breaks. Edited. It's not edited yet-so any mistakes in grammar and stuff like that wise er...I will update a clean version once I get around to doing it later or something. For now, enjoy!

French (Hello, internet) :

Mon Chou-It means, colloquially, "my honey". It's a term of endearment, affection or a pet name. Direct translation would be "My cabbage".

It is said that the French, for reasons best known to themselves, use "chou" ("cabbage") as a term of endearment. However, some French speakers says that the "chou" here wasn't originally the word for cabbage; there was a popular type of small, sticky cake, sweet, with cream in it and caramel on top. This was also called "un chou", and was the origin of the term - which would make it much more in line with "honey", "sweetie-pie" etc.

However, the French have adopted the alternative meaning of "cabbage", originally out of irony, and this seems to be what they mean when they use the word today.

Bite Sized History:

Prussia and The Revolutionary War:

German-American military relations date to the time of the American War of Independence when German troops fought on both sides. Friedrich Wilhelm von Steuben, a former Lieutenant General in the Prussian Army, was appointed Inspector General of the Continental Army and helped form the rag-tag militia into a proper military force during the winter of 1777–1778 at Valley Forge. To this day he is considered to be one of the founding fathers of the United States Army.