Hey guys! Sorry this has taken so long; I have started my summer job, and I'm half-zombie right now -_-

Japan: Excuses. You are a sracker.

Me: Oh, hush! I'm not done talking! Readers, please take note that this is only part 1 of chapter 3; Skulls keeps changing her mind about what she wants to happen next, so the end is not yet written. I'm about to the point of just writing what I want and saying screw her, but... *shrugs* It was supposed to be a gift-fic, so I'm trying to be nice.

Japan: More excuses...

Me: YOU WANNA WRITE IT?

Japan: ...No.

Me: Didn't think so. Now keep your trap shut until I make you do the disclaimer.

France: My, you are testy today, non?

Me: *death glare* Bonnefoy, I am not in the mood for you right now. You hush too, before I find Germany's dog and sic him on you.

France: *un-manly squeak* Oui, madame!

Me: *satisfied smile* Good boy. Now, Japan. Disclaimer please, and dirty Hetalia-related jokes.

Japan: *sigh* destinykeybrade does not own Hetaria or any of the characters in this fanfiction, other than those representing Skurrs and herserf. Arso, anyone who is uncomfortabre with sexual imprications may not want to read this chapter. There is no content, because destiny epic fairs at writing it, but the warning must be given nonetheress.

Me: Japan, I said jokes!

Japan: ...I don't want to.

Me: Y'know, I doubt Germany's dog is going to notice that you're not France if I splash his rose perfume on you...

Japan: ...Severar weeks ago, destiny was praying an educationar game meant to teach her my ranguage. One of the sentences she was supposed to say was very simpre, but due to her mind was taken in a perverted way. This sentence was "China is big."

France: Onhonhonhonhonhon~! ^^

Me: Thank you, Jap-

Japan: There was another one that destiny attempted to transrate herserf-

Me: *pales* Wait, don't tell that one-!

Japan: It was supposed to be, "I rike France," but-

Me: SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP!

Japan: *doesn't miss a beat, raising his voice* -she said it incorrectry; instead of 'rike,' the word she used meant 'want.'

France: *mentally puts sentence together* I want Fra- Oh, chéri, why did you not say so sooner? Onhonhon!

Me: No, it was a screw-up-!

France: Love is never a mistake! Come, let us-

Me: NUUUUUU~! *runs for the hills with France in hot pursuit*

Japan: *smiling victoriously* Prease enjoy the fanfiction now, readers. *bows* Arigatou gozaimasu.

RRRRRMMMMM...

Thunder continued to rumble ominously, occasionally roaring its apparent displeasure at the nation representatives and their two guests. One of said guests let out a sigh and repositioned herself, trying to get comfortable. Sleep, for some reason, was eluding her, though she couldn't fathom why. Storms were among her favorite weather conditions, and especially at night. Listening to the voices of the thunder and the wind, being lulled to sleep by the rain's pounding rhythms... Angel sighed again, giving up on comfort and flopping onto her back to stare at the dark ceiling. With one hand, she made a grab for the bedside table, fumbling around until she found her iPod, going to her insomnia solution: When all else fails... Count bodies like sheep.

Within 30 seconds, her headphones were on, the song had been selected, and the familiar beat started up in her ears. Km. Km. Km. Km. Km. Km. Km. Km. Km, km-km km, km, km-km. Km, km-km-km-km-km, km, k-k-km-

BAMBAMBAMBAMBAM!

"ANGEL LET ME IN PLEEEEEEEEEEEASE!"

She flew a foot off the mattress when her dark yet soothing music was interrupted by frantic knocking and shouting; heart racing, she stumbled across the room to her door and opened it. Immediately, something zoomed past her and hid in the corner of the room, shaking like a leaf. "...Alfred?" she asked, squinting at the quivery thing. She was, like several of the people in the building, practically blind without her glasses, which currently lay on the table the iPod had been atop. "Is that you?"

GGRRRRRMMMMM!

At the powerful thunderclap, the invader (A/N: that word is so wrong after Prussia) scrambled onto the bed and covered himself in the blankets, creating something akin to a cave. "Yeahit'sme! CanIstayherewithyouPLEEEASE?" he squeaked, identifying himself, indeed, as a very spazzed-out Alfred. Angel blinked and walked over to him, yanking the blanket cocoon off and looking at him with her hands on her hips.

"What the fuzz are you doing here at... (here she squinted at the digital clock) ...2 AM?"

He shuddered, though from cold or fright she couldn't tell at that point. "My room is haunted!" he whimpered. Definitely fear. "PUHLEEEAASE let me stay here with you!"

The girl/woman/thing put a hand to her temples. "Alfred, your room is not haunted-"

"YES IT IS!"

"NO IT'S NOT!" she yelled, matching his volume and making him jump. With a growl-like sigh, she grabbed his hands and yanked him off her bed. "We just watched a movie about ghosts, okay? You're having nightmares-"

"You have to be asleep to have a nightmare!" America protested, giving another little shudder. "And I was totally not asleep yet when I started hearing all these creepy noises and moans and scary whispering and-LLALGH!" The odd sound that issued from his mouth was the result of being viciously pulled forward by a now irritated sleep-deprived female. He nearly lost his balance, but managed to right himself - and, upon doing so, found to his horror that the doorway was coming towards him. "Wha- WAIT WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" he squeaked, trying to wrench his hand out of Angel's grasp, but to no avail.

"I am proving to you that your room is perfectly normal," she answered calmly; however, her tone held an underlying message: Screw with me and you DIE. So it was that, trembling and letting out the occasional pathetic whimper in the hopes that it would change her mind, America was drug down the hallway back to his room. After several agonzing minutes, they arrived at his door, still slightly ajar from his mad dash for safety. He shivered, wrapping his free arm around himself for both comfort and warmth as Angel fearlessly stepped into the room, pulling him with her.

The first thing both of them noticed was the temperature. It was inexplicably cold in Alfred's room, so much so that Angel dropped his hand to wrap her arms around herself. Strappy tops similar to the one Nikki had worn the day before and short shorts were not suited to anything below sixty-five degrees, and the room had to be near forty. "Why is it so cold in here?" she asked, glancing at the other blonde out of the corner of her eye.

"Because it's haunted," he answered in a quiet, shaky voice. "Seriously, let's get out of here before-"

"Don't leave..."

Both teens jumped, moving closer together. "What was that?" Alfred squeaked.

"Your imagination," Angel replied, refusing to admit that she was spooked. "Calm down-"

CCRRRRRRR-KKK...

America latched onto her arm at the loud creaking sound, casting panic-filled blue eyes around the room to try and find the source. "Holycrapit'sstartingagain! CanwegetoutofherePLEASE?" he begged, quaking.

"I-"

KKKKKRRRRRRRRRSSSSSSHHHH!

The duo jumped again at the violent thunderclap that rattled the windows. Speaking of windows, Angel glanced up at one, intending to watch the lightning flashes and time the thunder that followed to determine how close the storm was. However-

"HOLY CRAP WHAT IS THAT?"

The window was illuminated by lightning. In the brief but bright light it provided, something was visible, pressed against the glass. A pale, slender hand, partially coated with... blood? Two more strikes followed almost immediately after the first, revealing that the hand was not alone. A ghostly white face now joined it at the window, crowned by hair that was half fluffy and white, half matted crimson; the blood ran down from a hidden wound, leaving harsh streaks of red on the ashen flesh. Then the darkness fell again, as though the fury of the thunder had frightened it the light away.

Alfred was not visible, but he didn't have to be. The expression of sheer terror on his face was almost more audible than his voice as he whispered, "Now do you believe me?"

KMPH.

Still more jumping ensued as a result of the sound of something heavy hitting the floor to their left. As one they whirled to face that direction, and-

America's heart stopped beating for what felt like an eternity before starting up again at twice its normal speed. There, in the corner next to his bed, stood an enormous dark shape with no distinguishable features - save a menacing version of the Cheshire Cat's grin, and, above that, two glowing red eyes. A twisted giggle issued from the thing's general direction. "Let's play a game!" said the voice from before, nearly silent yet echoing throughout the room. The shape raised what appeared to be a hand and pointed it towards the window with another giggle. Wondering why the fuzz he did it, Alfred glanced where the figure pointed. In another, very convenient flash of lightning, he saw-

The bloody person from outside was in the room.

He couldn't help it anymore. America let out a blood-curdling scream as both the shape in the corner and the crimson-coated figure took a step in his direction and the voice asked, "Aww, you don't want to play?"

"MOVE!" came the screech from beside him; pressure increased on his hand, and a sharp pain in his arm snapped him back to reality. Angel was pulling on him with all her strength, trying to drag him to the doorway, but he was rooted to the spot. He changed that quickly, tearing himself away from the sight of the things coming at them and following the girl's lead. Together they raced back down the hallways, not stopping until they reached her room, whereupon they hurried inside and slammed the door behind them.

Angel leaned back against the door, twisting the device on the knob that would lock it as she struggled to catch her breath. Alfred was right beside her, also panting from the sudden exertion of running. "Do... you think... we lost them?" he asked desperately, slipping his hand into hers for comfort. She didn't seem to notice his speech or actions, simply letting her head fell backwards, making a thmp sound on the wood. After a moment, she drew in a deep breath and forced herself to stand up straight, exhaling as she did.

"Okay, let's... try to get some sleep," she said in a strong tone, ruined by the shaky sigh that broke her sentence. "You can sleep on the couch thingy-"

"No, I don't wanna be alone!" he interrupted, squeezing her hand; she jumped, apparently having been as oblivious as she had appeared. "I swear I'll be good, just let me in the bed! Please?"

Angel opened her mouth to protest-

GGRRRRRMMMMM!

-but one last roar of thunder shut her up. Wordlessly she scurried over to her bed with a relieved America in tow, and they quickly reconstructed his blanket-cave from earlier. "Thanks," he said quietly, sliding his arms around her before she had time to argue. "You're more awesome than Prussia ever wanted to be..." Almost immediately after that, Alfred dropped off to sleep, leaving his bedfellow with a conscience that wouldn't allow her to yell when his face fell to her chest again. Outside, the storm continued, but its fury began to wane as the thunder and lightning ceased. At last, the combined factors of the now comforting rain and the warmth from America's body sent Angel into slumber as well.

~Day 4 - Situations~

Though the ground was soaked and the air was somewhat foggy, the sun reigned victorious, forcing its bright rays of light through the icky fog and warming up the earth. Again bouncy due to waking up late (and remembering some of the EPIC girly screams I'd gotten out of Angel and Alfred last night, hehe), I threw on a pair of black jeans and my lime-colored tank top, then skipped down the hallway to the living room. I was greeted with giggles from my partners in crime, whom I promptly high-fived while everyone else gave us odd looks. In response, I grinned at them and, singling out the gun-happy Switzerland as my victim, said, "It's okay, man, we hid the body. They'll never find it!", winking conspirationally. Instantly the weird looks were directed at him, and I, feeling pleased, plopped down on the couch next to a giggle-fit afflicted Prussia.

Mere moments later, who should wander into the room but my dear not-afraid-of-ghosts-or-zombies cousin, the object of my amusement? I noticed and raised an eyebrow at the fact that Alfred wasn't with her, wondering why. After all, I knew for a fact thanks to my epic spying skills that he'd stayed in her room after the 'haunting' with his face in her boobs yet again. Onhonfusokese! Ah, I owe thanks to the Bad Touch Trio for their funny laughs... But anyway, back to what's happening. Angel walked in all by her lonesome and, spotting me, sat down on my other side, letting out a sigh.

"What's up with you?" I asked, feigning total innocence. "Rough night?" I regretted my choice of words almost immediately - Gilbert busted out laughing again, and I was unable to keep a smirk off my face; we were clearly on the same wavelength, thinking about what that phrase could mean given that America was in her bed last night. Fortunately, she didn't pay that any attention, slamming her head against the back of the couch.

"Yes," she growled, massaging her temples.

"Aww, what happened?" I said, struggling to keep my voice under control. Must... not... cackle demonically...

"Ugh... Well first off I couldn't sleep, and then at 2 fuzzing AM Alfred comes beating on my door begging for me to let him in 'cause his room is haunted, and like a moron I did! After that I drug him back to his room, and I swear I don't know WHAT we saw - I still don't think it was a ghost, but I have to admit that there was something in there... Anyhow, the end result was us back in my room, and he insisted on sleeping in my bed, and I was too tired to argue with him, so-"

I cut her off, acting shocked. "Wait, wait! YOU, the touch-me-not Angel, let a BOY sleep in your BED with you?"

Her head fell foward into her hand this time. "Yes," she groaned, as though the fact had left her tainted. The worst part was that in her mind, she probably had lost some of her innocence just from that. Poor deluded pilgrim girl! You only lose innocence points if they touch you! ...Face in boobs doesn't count. Now, hand would be a different story...

But anywho. Pleased that she'd even had the guts to confess that to me, I grinned and patted her on the shoulder. "Yeah, thought I'd help you out there," I said, throwing in a wink. "Glad that worked out so well."

Fury flashed across her face like a lightning strike. "That was YOU?" she hissed, making me blink at the sudden ferocity.

"Uh, technically it was me, Prussia and Russia..." I said, trailing off briefly while she processed the information (meaning that she shot death glares in their directions). "But yeah. I was the creepy little voice, Russia was the red-eyed thing, and Prussia was our bloody awesome ghost boy. It was fun." So is unintentionally cursing in British and figuring out that you did a few seconds later when you actually hear yourself.

For a minute there, I honestly thought she was gonna go shark and bite a chunk out of me, but then her anger faded. She didn't let it show on her mouth, but I could see the smile in her eyes and considered myself unofficially thanked. Maybe she's not as pilgrim-y as I thought.

"Buenos dias, mi amor!" said a playful Spanish voice. I immediately jumped up and ran over to Antonio, smiling like some kinda idiot.

" 'Mornin'!" I said brightly. Angel shot me a sideways glance; even when I've slept in, I'm not usually THAT bubbly. No doubt she thought it was the Spaniard's presence... which, of course, it was. Hey, nothin' gets you high like a hot guy who likes you. Trust me, I know. I snickered at that thought when Alfred joined the party barely a minute later and saw Angel start to smile involuntarily. Even if she upheld her word and never tried any of the drugs you smoke (killjoy), she was getting high as a kite just from being around that hyper blonde. Good enough, I suppose.

"So, mi bella dama, what would you like to do today?" Antonio asked, bringing my attention back to him. Still smiling, I put my hands on my hips and cocked my head sideways, staring off into space as I considered the question. What DID I want to do today? Hum... maybe- nah, not that... We could-! No, wait, that would NOT go over... Well, dang it! What could we do?

"Hello?" came the question; I snapped back to reality just in time to see Spain waving his hand in front of my face, holding back laughter all the while. "Are you still on Earth?"

"In body only," I answered, deciding to let them make of that what they would. Then Angel spoke up and said, totally out of nowhere, "She was receiving a transmission from the leaders. They wanted to know if preparations were complete for the invasion."

Aaaand Gilbert Beilschmidt once again cracked up, holding his sides. "Baby," he forced out through his chuckles, "the invasion can start whenever you want!"

Another burst of laughter was heard then from across the room - Canada looked like he was about to fall over, cramming his polar bear plushie (who he had apparently named Mr. Kumajiro?) in front of his mouth to muffle the noise.

"Bro! Dude, what're you laughin' at?" America asked from his perch on the arm of the couch, raising an inquisitive eyebrow. "I can't remember the last time... actually, I don't know if I've EVER seen you laugh that hard! For reallz, man, what's funny?"

The normally quiet Matthew shook his head and, incapable of otherwise answering, pointed a shaky finger at France. Bonnefoy was sprawled out on one of the other couches, sleeping like a baby, and honestly not looking the slightest bit amusing. Alfred crossed his arms, clearly agreeing with me. "And?" he said.

"H-he... he m-mumbled... HAHAHAHAH!" he tried to say, but broke down again. "I-hi... I sh-shouldn't be... hahah... it's n-not f-fu-AHAHAHA!"

By this point he had the majority of the room's occupants looking at him (le gasp, they finally notice Canada!), wondering what the heck was so hilarious, a question that Angel soon repeated. "Come on, Matthew!" she demanded finally, crosing her arms under her chest - thus pushing it up and momentarily diverting Alfred's attention from the situation at hand. I thought about smacking him for a minute, but decided in the end that he was gonna look at 'em anyways, so why bother? "What did he say?"

"It... it was in F-French, s-so..."

"Je parle couramment le français," the show-off said, tossing her ridiculously long hair and grinning smugly. "Repeat it to me. I'll get it."

The weed-smoking representative faltered for a moment. "It was REALLY inappropriate," he warned, his giggles almost ceasing.

Angel just gave him a look and pointed at me. "I live with THAT," she said. I huffed, pretending to be hurt. "I'm used to it. Now tell me."

The blonde took a deep breath, glanced at France and promptly started to laugh again, then looked back at Angel. "He said... gé- hahaha! S-sorry... h-he said, 'Gémir pour moi' " Canada proclaimed. My cousin's lips immediately curled upward, and I saw her shoulders start to shake. However, before she could laugh, Matthew spoke up again. "Gémir pour moi... Angleterre!"

The expression of amusement quickly became one of horror; behind her eyes I could see her waging mental war with herself. I could even hear what she was saying: "Do not laugh. It is NOT funny. At all. DO! NOT! LAUGH!" The battle proved in vain. Angel glanced over at Canada, as if asking 'really?'. He nodded, and the both of them collapsed into the kind of demonic cackles I'd forced myself to hold back earlier.

"One of you wanna translate?" I asked, putting my hands on my hips. "I like a dirty joke as much as the next person, y'know!"

Angel, who had been leaning on Alfred for support, managed to straighten up. "Yeah, I'll tra-haha-nslate," she giggled. "But first: England!" The green-eyed man glanced up. He was sitting across the room in an armchair, not far from the napping France. (Greece moment much?)

"Yes, what is it?" he asked, but didn't give her a chance to answer, following his question with another. "Tell me, has that bloody Frog finally driven me mad, or did I hear my name in that mess of monkey chatter?"

Canada was nearly in tears and struggling for breath. I was really starting to worry about the guy. I mean, if he didn't get a good breath in, he was gonna die or somethin'! Angel was able to keep her composure a bit better and nodded in response. "Yes, you did. Which is why you need to come sit with us before I say that in English."

Arthur's thick brows furrowed, making him look quite comical. "Why?" he asked suspiciously. "I'm fine where I-"

"No you're not," she insisted. "You NEED to sit over here. For your safety, and for his."

England was still hesitant, annoying Prussia to the point of marching over to him and hauling him back. "Siddown!" he ordered, throwing England onto the couch. Then he pointed at Angel. "Translate!" he said imperiously.

She shot him a cold glare that said 'don't boss me around', but did as she was told. "Yeah, yeah. I can only guess at what he's dreaming over there, but Francis said 'Gémir pour moi, Angleterre,' which quite literally translates to..." She broke off for a second, fighting back another laugh-attack, and Prussia practically started jumping up and down.

"WHAT?" he half-screamed. "What does it mean?"

"It-"

"TELL MEEEEE~!"

"Moan for me, England!"

A momentary hush fell across the room as our minds attempted to process that information. Then, as if it had all been engineered by some outside force (A/N: It couldn't possibly be the feeble little authoress... ;P), the sleeping France let out a rather... inappropriate noise, making England turn a peculiar shade of green. The rest of us... pretty much fell in the floor with Canada. Don't deny that you're laughing too! After that, about three people, one of them Germany, had to tackle our dear little Brit so he couldn't go murder France; the green had become a bright red that was one-third mortification and two-thirds PO'd. Aforementioned Germ actually managed to calm him down a little bit, upon which Arthur stalked out of the room, muttering darkly under his breath. The remainder of us, still giggly, parked our butts on the couch and turned the TV on, searching for something that wasn't in Spanish. We couldn't find any such thing, for the record. Figures.

Since I had no desire to watch shows that I couldn't understand, I hopped up from my seat and went over to a window. The ground looked a little soggy, but good enough for me. "Yo, Antonio!" I called, skipping back towards him. He glanced at me, waiting. "You got any fancy Spanish games we can play outside?"

The brunette smirked at me mischievously. "If it's a game you want, we can play a very fun one inside..."

Wow. He really IS part of the Bad Touch Trio! That's funny! And sexy... hmm... I wonder...?

"But if you insist on outside, I suppose we could all play football," he said with a more innocent smile and a slight shrug.

"Hold up dude, are you talking about actual football or soccer?" ...Do I have to tell you who that was? America frowned and crossed his arms when Spain replied drily that everyone else in the room knew what REAL football was. The bespectacled blonde then proceeded to pull an England and mumble dark, incoherent things. My cousin reached up and patted his head, quietly saying "It's okay, Alfie. It's okay." He sniffed and nodded. "Yeah, okay," he said, standing and stretching. "Sounds fun, Spain. Let's go play 'football'." The smart-butt American put heavy emphasis on the word as well as doing finger quotes in the air. He got some looks like 'Really, kid?' from a couple of the other reps, but was largely ignored.

A few minutes later, the mob had assembled outside, several members of it complaining about the squishy-ness of the ground. They, like America's attitude, were paid little attention to as my sexy Spanish man laid out the rules of this particular game. "Alright, since we've got so many people... Hm. We'll start with an even number on each team, and if a player loses the ball or fouls three times, they're out."

"How are we s'posed to know if we have a foul?" I asked, shoving my hand into the air like I was at school. "I know how to play basically, but-"

"I'll be referee," England volunteered, smoothly excusing himself from playing THE GAME. (You just lost it XP) Before there could be an argument about it, the Brit had found a chair and gotten comfy, then crossed his arms and looked at us impatiently. "Well, are you going to play or not?"

Antonio rolled his eyes. "Sí, England, we're working on it. Okay, who wants to be a team captain?"

A surprising chorus of voices was heard, including those of America (I lie; that one was NOT surprising), Prussia, China, Russia, and France. ...Wait, when did he wake up? ...Eh, whatever. I spaced out as they all raised their voices about why they should lead and blah blah blah... ...Good grief that man's got a sexy butt... I am so tempted to-

"I choose Monique," said the voice of the man whose bum I was admiring. I glanced up with a 'hunh?' kind of sound, but he just pulled me over to him and slung an arm around my shoulders. I felt myself grin. Sexy man likes me! W00t!

"I want the other one, then," Prussia proclaimed. Huh, apparently he won the captain contest. Which would explain why Alfred has a pouty face. ...I guess he IS kinda cute. And he seems nice enough, if annoying. Hm... Well, if she likes him, I suppose he'll do.

"No you don't," 'the other one' spoke up instantly. "She sucks at sports of every variety. Whichever team she's on will lose."

Gil just waved his hand. "So it'll be more of a challenge," he said in an offhand manner. "I claim you anyways." Three... two... one... "Kesese... And if you want, I can REALLY claim you later!" I have SO got these Bad Touch Trio guys figured out. 'Course, it takes a perv to know a perv, but we all know I'm as bad as them already, so whatevs.

And so the choosing continued, during which I again zoned out, this time contemplating the fun I could have if Spain had an ahoge, and I wonder if America and Canada's work the same way the Italy and Romano's do, and I may have to try Mattie's later just to see, and wow I'm hungry; wonder what's for lunch, I hope England's not cooki- OOOOH, BUTTERFLY! ^^

"-all ready, then?" England asked, glancing at both the captains. They nodded briefly; I scrambled to get myself into a suitable starting position. When was the last time I played soc- football? Like... 6th grade? Oh carp... "Alright then... GO!"

With that, our mushy grass field transformed into a BATTLEFIELD for multi-national warriors who were DEAD SERIOUS about winning. Me? I was serious about not tripping over my feet, someone else's feet, or the ball; forget winning a game! The passage of time was completely irrelevant - this was solely about survival for me, and, to my great delight, I managed 'quite splendidly', as Arthur might say. Alas, I was, finally, defeated. Stinkin' Francy-pants stole the ball from me twice, and I don't really know what I did, but Iggy said I fouled and was thus out of the game. As I sauntered off the field I stuck my tongue out at him, then left it out and pretended to be a puppy, panting and barking. Somebody laughed at me, and then there was a lot of angry/spazzed out yelling as a ten-man pile-up occurred. Knowing from the lack of pained yelps that they weren't hurt, I laughed like my madwoman self as they all tried to disentangle themselves. "Get your butt out of my face!" "OOWW, THAT'S MY HAIR!" "Prease ret go of me before I hurt you. Because I wirr." Somewhere to my left, England facepalmed.

Needless to say, after the crash, the game was deemed over, (I didn't even catch who won) and the warriors became normal men once more, flopping down into the grass to rest after all the physical exertion. Normal, that is, except for their inhuman hotness. I glanced up at the sky - and frowned. "What time is it?" I asked, crossing my arms as I looked at the position of the sun. "How long have we been out here?"

"A good hour," Arthur answered, pulling a pocket watch out of... well, his pocket. "It was... about twelve when we came outside, I think? And it's close to one now."

"Didn't seem that long," Antonio remarked. A mumble of agreement rippled through the group, which I was now surveying with an even bigger frown.

"Hey, yo, where's that snarglewarp relative of mine?" I demanded, putting my hands on my hips. "And the 'hero' she hangs out with?"

Poland, whom I had been pointedly ignoring (one Polish person in my life is enough, thanks) spoke up in answer. "Oh, those two like, totally ran out on us a while ago! So not cool. Like, totally lame!"

Perhaps sensing that I was about to pound me a Polock, Germany decided to elaborate. "Your cousin vas out before anyvone else-"

"Man, she wasn't lying when she said she sucked at sports!" Prussa broke in.

"-und America got out because he vas trying to talk to her und play at zhe same time. Zhey sat here for a vhile, but zhen zhey vent in."

I returned my arms to my chest and "hum..."d, glancing at the building behind me. "Aaaand when was this, again?"

Germany shrugged. "Tventy, zhirty minutes, maybe? Zhey're probably in front of zhe video games again."

My oddly colored eyes remained fixed on the structure for a moment more... and then I shrugged, satisfied enough with the answers. "If they're playing games, I say we leave 'em to it and go get some FOOD!" I said loudly, waving my arms around desperately. "I can't be the only one starving here, right?"

Prussia jumped to his feet, copied almost instantly by about seven other people. "Food," the Germ agreed, nodding vigorously. "Need it NOW. Spain, where's the-"

"Pasta?" Italy interrupted, clasping his hands together and giving us all the kicked-puppy look. "Please can we have-a some pasta?" Though we all fought valiantly, the power of the face eventually reigned victorious and, feeling as though we'd just been cheated out of something, we trudged back inside to wait on the pasta that was being prepared.

Forty minutes saw us all happily stuffed with some REALLY good pasta; the feeling of being ripped off was gone. For me, at least. What can I say? I like me some carbs. As we started to make ourselves comfortable on the couches, I realized with mild surprise that nobody'd bothered to go find Angel and Alfred to tell them we had food, but then decided that it wouldn't have done any good anyways. I've seen Angel play video games many a time before, and let me tell you, she gets so sucked in sometimes that if you even try to SPEAK to the girl she'll bite your head off, whether you're offering food or just babbling. I figured that if they were hungry, they'd tear themselves away from the screen of their own accord, meaning fewer injuries and missing fingers (or heads) for the rest of us. Thus satisfied, I snagged Spain and got him to sit down and snuggle with me, which he did with few complaints. Everybody was chilled out and content. ...Well, until-

~England~

Arthur wandered through the maze of hallways, actually smiling for once. Italy and Spain must have put something in the pasta... But either way, he felt fairly happy not that he had a full stomach and whatnot. However, there was one thing that was bothering him...

Almost from the moment they got here, I've been giving Alfred a hard time about that girl, he thought to himself, biting down on his lip as the wheels in his head turned. I shouldn't have doubted him so much. He's proven himself to be quite responsible, as far as this, ah, relationship goes. ...I ought to go apologize to him. It's only proper, after all... I'll do that now.

So deciding, the Englishman set off for America's bedroom, certain that the teens would be there with the game consoles again. Lost in cheery thoughts of how Alfred was really behaving himself, and that perhaps he'd finally grown up just a bit, England didn't notice that he was there until he saw the white door out of the corner of his eye. Idiot, pay attention, he scolded himself, backing up to stand in front of the barrier. He raised his hand to knock-

-and froze as solid as a block of ice. He didn't hear that. That was not what that was. There was no WAY that was-

Color drained from Arthur's face as he realized that, yes, he had heard that, and that was exactly what that was, and- The sounds from behind the door grew exponentially in both volume and intensity, to the point that he almost wondered if everyone else could hear from the living room. At the next in the series of sounds, his color returned with a vengeance, staining his face a deep, glowing red, and returning with it was his mobility. Attempting to banish all thoughts from his mind, Arthur turned and fled as though his life depended on it, heading for the kitchen. He needed rum; lots of rum, and he needed it NOW.

A sudden series of loud clattering and clanging sound effects drifted to our ears from the direction of the kitchen. "Who's breakin' stuff?" I called, but received no answer. I pouted, disliking to be ignored. "Francy-pants," I said to make him look up, then pointed an imperious finger toward the kitchen. "Go see who's breaking junk."

He blinked. "But I don't care," he said slowly, like he was explaining something to a child.

I simply pointed again with a more commanding air. "And I care that you don't care why? Go see what's happening in there. ...NOW, FROG!"

With a sigh, the purple-clad blonde got up and shuffled into the designated room, grumbling under his breath in French. A moment passed in relative silence before we heard a string of "Onhonhonhon"s, followed by an "Angleterre, mon ami, it is a bit early for zat, non?" This immediately made us curious (and made us remember the earlier incident involving the word 'Angleterre', thus making us wonder how they'd interact now), so more than a few of us forced ourselves to stand and followed France.

Upon entering the kitchen, I saw a bunch of bottles on the counter. Several were wine, at least one was tequila, there was something I wasn't quite sure what to call - brandy, maybe? - and joining them was a last, triumphant-looking bottle of rum, still in the hand of one Arthur Kirkland. Speaking of ol' caterpillar eyebrows, he looked... like he was gonna be sick, honestly. "Wha'ssup wit' you, mah Igger?" I asked, going gangsta for a minute. (A/N: Because he's "Iggy", y'know? This is supposed to be Skulls' character, and she would do that, so no offense meant to anyone; just supposed to be funny :D) He ignored me yet again, uncorking the bottle and taking a big swig of the stuff inside. Maybe I'm naive, but somehow I don't think it's normal to drink straight rum. I tapped him on the shoulder; he jumped and clutched at his heart. "Dude, I'm talking to you! What's your issue, man?"

His green eyes fixed themselves on my gray (on one side) and hazel (on the other) for a minute. As we held eachother's gaze, his own grew panicked, and his face turned a bright red color. Quickly after that he looked away, tipping the bottle up again. He then proceeded to sink onto a stool that was sitting next to the kitchen counter, one hand still holding the alcohol while they other now held his head. I turned to my companions. "Iggy has gone bye-bye," I informed them matter-of-factly. "Any o' y'all know how to get him back?"

"Hmm... zis usually works," France said in a dangerously cheerful voice. He flounced across the room to where England sat and leaned toward him with a flirty-sounding "Anglete-"

He cut off when the hand that had previously had a head in it shot out and grabbed the front of his shirt. "KeepyourbloodyFrog-lipsAWAYFROMME," he hissed savagely, pulling France down to look him in the eye, then tossing him backward. He took the third shot as France said shakily, "See? 'e is back, onhon..."

"Alvright, Arthur," Germany said, crossing his beefy arms over his buff chest. ...What? No, I'm not lookin' at him! Why would I do that? He's just hot as all get out... Oh, come on, people, you know Spain's my man, but Germany's still hot. "Tell us vhat's vrong vith you."

Our favorite Brit let his head smack against the counter, shaking it slowly. "No," he said, almost as a whimper. "I can't."

"Und vhy not?"

"Because I'm trying to forget it!" he shouted, suddenly coming back up for the fourth drink, which looked considerably larger than its predecessors. "I don't ever want to remember that, EVER!"

"Remember what?" Prussia pressed, leaning on the counter on his elbows. "Come on, England! Let us in on it! If you're drinking this early in the day it must be something interesting!"

England did not answer us, instead mumbling to himself while staring into space. However, in his string of muttering, I happened to pick out a word, which I repeated. "Did you say Alfred?" I demanded, hands on my hips. He froze up, an expression of horror on his face. "Oh, you DID?" I yelled, getting loud. I gave Arthur a taste of his own medicine, latching onto the front of his shirt and yanking him toward me. "What did you say about him?" He didn't answer and I shook him. "My cousin is hanging out with him, now what did you say?"

At the words 'my cousin', England stiffened up and started shaking his head, turning red again. "No! I can't-"

"What's going on, Iggy?"

"No, I don't-!"

"WHAT?"

"Please, Nikki, don't-"

"WHAT?"

"Don't make me-!"

"TELL ME BEFORE I EAT YOU, BRIT-BOY!"

"They..."

"THEY WHAT?" I shrilled in his face, shaking him violently. "YOU TELL ME NOW OR I'LL-"

"THEY'RE HAVING SEX!" he wailed finally, his facial expression pained and terrified.

My hands lost their grip, going numb. England dropped to the floor with a 'plmph' and didn't bother to get back up; this I noticed subconsciously. My brain had also gone quite numb, so while my senses did observe things, none of them really registered. ...I lie. It registered very prominently when Prussia and France burst into uncontrollable laughter. I vaguely considered getting a knife out of one of the kitchen drawers and killing them, but then I wasn't sure which them I meant: Prussia and France, or Alfred and...

"!" I roared thunderously, feeling returning to my hands as I clenched them into tight fists. I take this opportunity to explain to you that I have never understood the phrase 'cold fury', because when I get ticked, I get hot. My blood starts boiling under my skin, and I literally feel like I can breathe fire if the anger is intense enough. I don't think I need to tell you that this was most definitely one of those times. It seemed that every exhale was a stream of flames as I stomped down the hallways.

Being so PO'd, I was unable to pay enough attention to where I was going and kept getting lost, which gave me time to really think the situation over. On the one hand, I had every reason and right to be mad at her for this. Honestly, what was she thinking? Was she stupid? Maybe I shouldn't have let her bleach her brain out, if it made her this dense!

But... on the other hand... how many times have I shaken my head and thought, "She's gonna die a virgin"? Part of me couldn't help but start to smile, because really, if she's gone this far, she's in love. I don't know about Alfred, of course, but depending on... how it goes, to put it delicately, he could decide he's in love, too. This little mishap trip to Spain might have just found that girl her man. And I suppose there's always the possibility that Arthur doesn't know what he's talking about; it might not even have happened! ...But if it did, then she wouldn't be able to say anything to me if I decided to, ah, 'play a game' with Spain, something that's been tempting me since he mentioned it earlier this morning...

By the time I finally made it to Alfred's room, I had semi-cooled off, although I was still kinda ticked. Thus I raised my fist to the door and pounded on it, my face not feeling remotely like a happy one. I didn't say a word, just beat on the door; after a couple minutes, it opened, and more of my anger was simply shocked away by the sight before me.

No shirt. No glasses. Dazed expression. Hair messy. Pants only loosely hanging onto his hips. And covered in a glistening sheen of sweat. This... was a side of Alfred F. Jones that I did not need or want to see, but according to England - and the living proof right there in front of me - someone else felt differently. When he recognized me, that dazed, drunk on life (*coughsexcough*) look in his eyes started changing into panic. "Ahahaha, oh, Nikki," he said, his voice high-pitched and nervous. And... kind of... scratchy... like he'd been yelling a lot... "Umm... what... brings you here?"

I crossed my arms over my chest, noting that he didn't even glance there. Well, at least he was gonna be loyal, just looking at his girl instead of every broad he passed. Now if only his girl wasn't my cousin. "Cut the carp, Alfred, I know she's in there," I said, resisting the urge to just push past him into the room. Cousin without clothes is not something anyone needs to see, and I wasn't even gonna take the risk. He glanced over his shoulder briefly, then back at me and nodded slightly, as though it had been a question. "Tell her to get her butt over here." I was proud of myself for keeping my voice under control.

"I, uh-" he started, but I wasn't in the mood to listen to excuses and cut him off by yelling, "ANGEL! COME TO THIS DOOR RIGHT NOW AND TALK TO ME BEFORE I KILL SOMETHING!" Aaaand there went that control I mentioned.

Noises that indicated movement came from within the room, and in a moment, two greenish eyes appeared, just barely visible around the edge of the door. Slowly, the rest of her face came into view; there was a nervous smile on her lips. When I was silent, four fingers entered the picture as well, waggling tentatively in greeting. I never wanted to find out what those fingers had been doing... I shuddered, but instantly pulled myself together, fixing her with a hard stare.

"I don't need to ask what happened; I think I can see that," I said, and they both turned slightly red, glancing at one another and making the blush worsen. "And honestly, the only thing I can say is this." I paused and glared at Alfred, then looked back at Angel, or what I could see of her. "It better have been good."

The nervousness left her smile, which widened to a grin as she closed her eyes and sighed, "It was. Mmm... It was..."

Did not need to hear that. Did not need to see this. Do not want to be having this conversation!

I shook my head, twitching slightly before yanking Alfred out into the hallway and grabbing his hair, pulling his face down to my level so I could ask him a serious question - or rather, THE serious question.

"TELL ME," I growled into his ear, "that you at LEAST had brains enough not to... contaminate her?"

The shade of red he turned was one I had never seen on a human being before. In fact, if I wasn't looking at it, I'd have said that it was impossible. "YES, OF COURSE!" he replied frantically. "I didn't! We... I mean... there was... I KNOW BETTER THAN THAT!"

I glared at him for a moment more. "Alfred," I said in a low, dangerous tone, watching him squirm uncomfortably. "...Good man! Good man," I said then, dropping the scary voice and patting his shoulder; his expression spoke of total confusion as I released him. Ugh... my hand is contaminated now, though! I couldn't help but think. Glancing back at the confuzzled Alfred and the cousin that I could no longer see, I gave them a little wave with my left hand, wiping the sweat (and... slobber? Ew...) off my right and onto the wall as I started down the hallway to find my sexy man. With Alfred's answer - and a teensy bit more time to think about it - I had decided that I wasn't mad anymore. In fact, I say more power to 'em. Just so long as that answer is always the same, I have no problem with them. HAH, and she really CAN'T have a problem with me now, or she'll be the worst hypocrite on the planet! Mwahahahaha! Spain, here I come! ...That sounds kinky... Hee hee hee.

~TO BE CONTINUED~

Japan: As destiny has not returned *hides smirk* I wirr take over her duties answering the reviews. There is onry one, so it wirr not take rong.

SilverMoonKitty - Haha, that's great! ^^ Humor was the point, so I'm glad I was able to make you laugh ^.~ Sorry this chapter took so long, but I hope you liked it too! If I can ever get a final answer out of Skulls, I'll finish this up... and as I mentioned, I might just do it anyways :P So don't expect anything real soon, but definitely expect it; I WILL finish this fic. Thanks for reading!