Romano was honestly the most tired son of bitch ever; he couldn't fathom why everyone else believed that Europe had to wake up at the crack of dawn just to get jet-lagged flying to America for another useless meeting.

Not only that, but the constant nagging from stupid Spain and stupid Veneziano didn't lighten up even after he showed them actual evidence of him dragging himself to the airport. Romano was very close to swearing in the name of God; no one else would care that he was there or not. But, apparently, the Potato Bastard would throw such an epic bitch fit that they would literally get nothing done because "you're so important to the discussion, fratello".

'If someone would shoot me right now, that would be the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me,' thought Romano as he slouched over in his airport seat.

"Thankfully" everyone could show up at the airport within an hour of each other, so Romano was stuck with his idiot family and their loud voices while he had to deal with no sleep, a headache, and crappy airport coffee. He was so going to draw a mustache on the Potato Bastard later - with permanent marker this time!

As Romano plotted his wonderful revenge on the lame Macho Potato he could hear the others arriving. Of course it was mainly arguments with the Eyebrow and Wine Bastards, the Creepy Bastard bothering the Old Bastard, and the Potato Bastard complaining about the Albino Bastard not being there.

The last one was the only one to catch Romano's attention. He narrowed his eyes and gave Germany a sideways glance; why in the good Lord was he talking about the Albino Bastard? If there was one person Romano could somewhat deal with, it was Prussia. Not because Romano actually liked the poor bastard, Romano only talked to him because they were both overlooked for their brother, plus the Prussian had stories that even Romano and his old age had never heard.

Romano huffed and crossed his arms in a sulk, 'It's not like he's something amazing or "awesome". The closest thing is "interesting" and even that's pushing it.'

Still, as time went on, it became more and more apparent that the older German wasn't going to show. Everyone was there, it was an hour, and Romano was ready to take a freaking nap, not wait another hour because of some bullshit reason Prussia would most likely have.

However, as the minutes dragged on by and Germany started calling his brother in hopes of getting a clue as to why he wasn't there - why the two bastards didn't just take the same damn plan made no sense to Romano - the Southern Italian started to get a bad feeling. Like in those horror games where you're right about to turn a corner and the music picks up; you know something is going to happen but what that something was going to be was a mystery.

Then, like Satan or, God forbid, Grandpa Rome, heard Romano's thoughts, the sound of the tuning of a microphone pierced the air. The horrible screech caused more than a few people to clutch their ears, but Romano was more preoccupied with twisting around in his seat to see, to his absolute dismay, Prussia standing on top of the chairs with an amp.

"Keseseseses~!" Prussia's oh-so familiar laugh sent a chill down Romano's spine and he had the worst feeling he knew what was about to happen. "Hello, you wonderful Americans! I, the Great and Awesome Gilbert, have a question for you."

Romano was too far away to see Prussia's smirk, but he doubted anyone was too far away to see the picture the Prussian carried. In his right hand was a huge blown-up picture of none other than Romano. Not only that, but it was a picture Romano didn't know existed. He was in a meeting, that much was obvious, but he was twirling a pen in his right hand while his chin was propped in his left, eyes not focused on the speaker but not on the photographer either.

The Italian's jaw dropped when he realized that Prussia had to have taken that picture without him knowing, in the middle of a freaking meeting. However, that wasn't what had Romano turning, and seeing, red.

Prussia snickered, "Has anyone see this bastard or nah?!" Which lead to an instant head-wave with all the countries almost snapping their necks as they turned to Romano. However, Romano himself had clenched his teeth and felt a twitch in his eyebrow at the sight of Prussia waving his face around on a freaking sign.

Spain tried to reach out to Romano, but Romano slapped his hand away and stood up, his legs locked into place and hands curled into fists. Before Romano could get a momentum going to kick Prussia's ass, the Prussian kept going on, "I mean, he's pretty sexy, so one of you poor suckers have to of seen him!"

That stopped Romano in his tracks, his eyes comically wide at the compliment. He shook his head and jolted himself out of the random stupor; no, damn it, he was going to be mad! But nothing seemed to work as he just stood in place, his face going into a deep pink in a nice shade of embarrassment as Prussia kept spouting praise after praise on his looks, his attitude, his personality, his talents - things that Romano had never heard, even from Spain.

It was around the time Prussia was going on about his painting skills - something that didn't even make sense if the white-haired man wanted someone to find Romano - that people finally took notice of the standing, slack-jawed, Italian man and put two and two together. Nothing was done as they just kept staring at Romano, waiting for him to do something, but it seemed as if a certain someone was getting a little impatient.

"What are you doing, Romano? Go, go forth and claim that man!" The familiar French accent had Romano spinning around, but it was too late. Already France had pushed him forward into the crowd of people surrounding Prussia. People saw this as a chance to do something and kept the forward motion going, pushing and pulling Romano until he was at the very front.

Given his new view, Romano could see how Prussia's lips split into a grin and how his eyes twinkled when he winked and how he was gesturing to Romano to come up and - oh Hell no, he was not getting up there to be a circus act!

Romano pointed at Prussia, his arm stretching to poke him in the chest, and hissed, "What in the fuck do you think you're doing?!"

All Prussia did was roll his eyes and changed his grin into a smirk before he said, "Well, hopefully you later~." and pulled the shocked Romano up with him by his outstretched arm. And, in the middle of a crowed airport, Prussia dipped Romano in front of them all - country and human alike - and kissed him straight on his mouth.

The chorus of cheers practically deafened the two men, but Prussia was able to slip his mouth to Romano's ear to whisper, "Doesn't it feel good to have people see you for once?"

Romano's chest inflated with a sharp gasp. So that's what Prussia was doing. It was sweet, in a way, and when Prussia pulled them back up into a standing position, Romano mumbled, "Thank you, I guess."

Sadly, his bubbled was popped by the accompanied squeals and Romano remembered just where he was and, in a fit of pure instinct, brought his head back and headbutted Prussia right in the chest. The albino went down hard and Romano jumped from the seats to crouch in front of him and said, "Next time you try this bullshit, try it not in the middle of an airport!"

Then, without checking to see if Prussia was truly okay, Romano turned and strolled back to his seat by his brother before plopping down and telling him, "I'm too tired for this shit."