A/N: So you know how way back in...I think Leunung...I randomly mentioned Prussia and France giving Germany the "talk"... Well... Yeah. I decided to write it out. I think it'll probably only be 3-4 parts, so it'll hopefully be finished soon. Warnings for blatant anachronism with ages and such…mostly used purely for the cuteness ;D

The Talk

Part 1

Today was the day.

France was standing in his office, decidedly not starting on the piles of paperwork that almost covered his entire desk. Instead, he was flitting around the room happily, singing softly to himself in French as he flipped through stacks of papers and shoved various documents into his briefcase.

He paused by his desk, glancing down with a bright smile at the calendar that covered a good quarter of the space. It was an impressive calendar. It had actually been a gift from his boss this year—as a way to keep himself organized (AKA: Get rid of his usual excuse for getting to meetings late). It was probably the first gift from a boss that he'd actually bothered to use.

The thing was crammed with his flowery script, each day marked with at least four different meetings. He'd even done one better and had adopted a colour for each type of appointment. Black for meetings with his boss or other very important people, blue for World Summit meetings, green for personal appointments, and red for his…

…Well… Let's call them his 'even more personal' appointments.

There was a lot of red on the calendar.

Today's box was a little different, however, as it was missing the lines of text that were crammed into the others. Instead, it had been outlined with a purple marker and then filled inside with a large pink heart.

And that was because today was the day. The day he'd been waiting for!

He was interrupted from his excitement by the sudden vibration of his cell phone in his back pocket. He immediately pulled it out, glancing at the caller ID and grinning brightly as he answered. "Bonjour, mon amour!"

"Fucking bloody frog! Fuck…" He could hear some rustling from the other end, along with more muttered curses and threats. He just stood there patiently, distractedly running his finger around the outline of the heart on the calendar.

"Mon Angleterre?" he questioned, as it seemed that England wasn't going to be continuing anytime soon.

"What's the fucking idea of having your bloody friends come over here and tie me up?!"

"Ah, mon ami, don't tell me that you forgot what day it is today?" So Prussia and Spain had done as he asked. And they'd even apparently left a phone within reach so England could call him… He'd have to thank them later.

There was a long pause on the other end of the line, as if England was trying to imagine what in the world France could be talking about. "What…day? What are you talking about? Today isn't anything special! And what does that have to do with tying me—"

"Mon ami, I am disappointed in you. How could you forget such an important day in your little colony's life?"

Now there was a long long pause, finally ended by incomprehensible spluttering on the other end.

"What are you talking about, you wanker?! What does Alfred have to do with any of this? You'd better not be planning on doing anything perverted to him or I swear I'll make the Hundred Years' War look like a damned picnic!"

"Relax, mon cher. I was thinking nothing of the sort. Remember. We spoke of this a while ago. Today is an important day for your little Alfred and mon cher Mathieu."

Another pause and then, "Just come out and bloody say it. I have no idea what you're talking about."

"We agreed that Mathieu and Alfred would learn about l'amour today. Remember?"

Ah, England had remembered, if the strangled sound that came through the phone was anything to go by. France grinned even more widely and held the phone a few inches from his ear. Three. Two. One…

"YOU BLOODY WANKER! I never said that, and I said that I would tell them when I had to! Since you'd just traumatize the poor kids… I told you to keep away from them!"

"But mon amour, no one knows more about l'amour than I do. It would be a shame for them to only get the abridged version from you. Particularly when they have an expert such as myself ready and willing to tell them everything that they need to know."

"I am going to fucking kill you. I am going to fucking kill you, France…"

"Mon Angleterre, do not worry. Alfred and Mathieu are in my very capable hands. You do not have anything to fear."

"Once I get out of this, I am going to murder you."

"Now, Angleterre, I must go. I don't want to keep mes amis waiting. I'll see you later."

And at this, he hung up, ignoring the screeching profanities that ended the conversation with England. Then he slipped the phone back into his pocket and went back to singing happily to himself. Ah, today was going to be a marvelous day.

~.~.~

Today was going to be a horrible day.

"Lovi~? Por favor? It's just for a little bit."

"No! I don't want to, bastard!"

Spain sighed as he stared at the irritated child glaring up at him from his seat on the couch. He loved Lovi. He really did. He just had to keep reminding himself of the fact.

"Come on, Lovi." He held out the little brown jacket that he'd been trying to coax Romano into for the past half hour. "Your brother will be there and so will Alfred and—Francis's other colony—and you'll have lots of fun."

Romano flashed him a skeptical look. "I. Don't. Wanna. Go!"

Spain knew that he could have just picked him up and carried him out of the house, but he really hated to manhandle his little charge in any way. "Lovi…" Fine. It was time for his weapon of last resort. He sighed, hanging the coat back up in the closet and walking out into the kitchen.

He paused for a few moments, listening carefully. Shouldn't take long.

That was a moment of short silence. Then there was a soft thump and then the sound of little feet following him.

He grinned and then continued across the room to the refrigerator, pulling the door open so he could bend inside and pull out a small jar of red liquid. He heard a soft gasp from behind him and then it quietly stifled itself.

Cute…His Lovi was so cute.

He carefully unscrewed the lid of the jar and then walked over to the cupboard, pulling a tomato-shaped sippy-cup from the top shelf. He began to pour the liquid into the sippy-cup and now definitely heard a sound from his charge.

He turned, catching Romano peeking around the doorframe at him, his head ducking out of sight so only his curl was visible when he noticed that Spain had caught him watching.

"Would Lovi like some tomato juice?"

Romano peeked out again, eyeing the cup greedily, but not yet trusting him enough to actually walk across the room to grab it.

"If you come with me, Lovi, I'll let you have the tomato juice. If not, I'll have to drink it myself."

The Italian's eyes widened in horror at that and he took an involuntary step forward. "Mine!"

"Will you come?" he questioned, starting to bring the cup closer to his mouth. "You can only have it if you put on your coat and come with me to Prussia's house."

For a very long moment, Romano seemed to be weighing his options. Finally, he turned and ran back the way he'd come. Spain mentally patted himself on the back. If nothing else worked, then bribe the kid.

Romano returned in a few minutes with his coat on…the buttons entirely mismatched. He immediately ran to Spain's legs and attempted to grab at the cup. "Gimme!"

Spain chuckled, but then nodded and handed the cup to him, grinning to himself as Romano instantly began to drink the tomato juice, trying to get as much as he could as fast as he could.

"Slow down, Lovi. Come on." He knelt down and began to redo his buttons, standing after a few minutes and smiling at him fondly. "You'll have fun. Don't worry."

~.~.~

"Ve~! Ludwig!"

The German child had no time to prepare himself for the sudden attack; he opened the door and the next moment he was lying on the floor, a very exuberant Italian boy bouncing up and down on his stomach.

"Ludwig!"

Ow.

"Feli!" And suddenly the weight was removed, giving him a chance to breathe again. Italy giggled in excitement as he was picked up and spun around in a circle by the albino man.

"Ve~ Prussia-nii!"

Germany was still attempting to catch his breath after the sudden attack. He now glanced up to see Austria and Hungary standing in the door, eyeing his brother as if rethinking the intelligence of coming here.

"Prussia…" Austria started.

Prussia glanced over his shoulder and then set the boy back on the floor, flashing the two visitors a cocky grin. "Yep?"

Austria sighed and shook his head, but forced himself to continue. "Prussia, you are well aware that I do not want to do this. However, we really have no other choice. We're going to have to leave Veneciano with you for a few days. Now…" He pulled a small blue notebook from his pocket and handed it to the rather-surprised man. "That's a list of everything that needs to be done in order to take care of Veneciano. It's very important that you follow everything written on that list."

Prussia eyed the notebook as if it were a dead frog, but nodded. "All right… Don't let the kid have any fun. Check. Don't worry your pretty little head about it, Roddy." He winked and flashed him another wide grin, ignoring the glare he was receiving from Hungary. "I'm great with kids."

"Because you are one," Austria muttered just low enough for Prussia not to notice.

Either that or he just pretended not to notice. Either explanation was plausible.

"All right." Hungary knelt down to be on the same level as Italy and squeezed his hands in hers. "You be good, okay?"

"Okay, nee-chan!" he exclaimed, immediately throwing his little arms around her. "I will!"

She smiled and then stood, instantly flashing Prussia a rather frightening glare. "You'll take good care of him, won't you, Gilbert? If he gets hurt or anything happens to him…"

Prussia had visions of frying pan-inflicted concussions flash through his mind. He immediately held up his hands in a surrendering motion. "Hey, hey, don't worry. Nothing's gonna happen to the kid. I'll take good care of him."

The look he received was definitely disbelieving, but then Austria sighed and gave in. "Fine…" He turned, nodding toward Hungary. "All right, we'll see you in a few days, Feli."

"Bye-bye!" the little boy called back, waving happily at them until Prussia closed the door and instantly grinned brightly toward the child.

"So let's see…" Prussia flipped the notebook open, wrinkling his nose in disgust at the familiar, perfectly formed letters of the Austrian's penmanship.

Rule 1: Veneciano may only have pasta for dinner once every other day.

Rule #2: He is also only allowed to have three meals per day along with one snack between lunch and dinner at exactly 15:30.

Prussia glanced toward the clock. It was only ten in the morning. "Hey, Feli, want some pasta?"

Italy immediately jumped up in excitement, eyes shining with joy and his curl bouncing in time with his excited exclamations of "Ve~! Pasta~!!"

"Great, then let's make some while we wait for Antonio and Francis to get here. They're bringing some of the other kids over to play with you and Ludwig."

"Ve~!!" Italy continued to bounce in excitement. "Yay!!"

Germany followed them reluctantly toward the kitchen. Already sensing that this was going to be a disaster.

A/N: Who let these guys raise kids?

As said, this story makes no sense chronologically, since Romano and Veneciano should be OLDER than America and Canada, but they aren't....Yep... Cuz I felt like ignoring chronology again (which is why Spain has a sippy-cup for Romano… because little!Romano with a sippy-cup of tomato juice is an adorable mental image, which I would draw if I could, but I can't *sad sniff*).