The English Channel is a fair bit smaller than the Atlantic Ocean, so England made it to France's house with plenty of time to prepare. "So America thinks you broke Canada's heart," he said tersely, cutting off the almost certain question as to how England had broken into his house. "He's on his way here, cell phone off."

"I was warned," France admitted, and England noted he was packing.

"You can't just flee, even if you are French!" England snapped. "You might as well tattoo 'guilty' on your forehead!"

France let out a creative French swear. "And what am I supposed to do, wait until he bashes my skull upon and then accept his apology when he realizes I've done nothing wrong!"

"Canada's on his way here too, and I placed a few calls. fIn theory you'll be unharmed by the time Canada gets here to calm his brother down."

France finally deflated, sitting down on his half-packed luggage. "I always knew those boys would be the death of me. I was just hoping it would be because of the foursome…"

"Oh shut up."

The calls England had placed were to the other European nations who could beat America there – of course he had really only called Spain, Germany and Switzerland, but the Italys and… Prussia… had arrived as well.

"Ve~ This is so exciting!" Veneciano cheered. "It's so secret and sweet and romantic! Romano, if anyone breaks my heart, will you kill them too?"

"Hell yeah." Only Veneciano thought Romano would do it out of brotherly love.

"I already came up with this awesome plan to save France's sorry butt!" Prussia crooned, dramatically pointing to the chalkboard he'd dragged along for that purpose. "First we-"

"Germany Germany Germany!"

The blond sighed. "Yes, Italy?"

"If someone hurt Prussia, would you avenge him?"

Germany looked awkwardly between Prussia and Italy, knowing there was no good answer to that question.

"As if he'd need to! I'm invincible!" Prussia reminded them all.

"Ohhhh, right. But-"

"The plan!" France interjected loudly.

"Right! First, we split up in the forest after tying a naked France to a stake-"

Already there as a chorus of vetoes.

"Whaaaat! You haven't heard the whole thing!"

"Why are we splitting up!"

"Why am I tied to a stake!"

"Why is he naked!"

"Fine, someone else come up with an awesome plan, and I'll just sit here and watch you fail," Prussia said, sounding rather put out as he sat down and pouted.

"Me next!" Veneciano cheered, standing up and going to the blackboard, erasing the remains of Prussia's rejected plan. In its place he drew a lovely picture of France wielding a white flag. "We all give big brother France a delicious farewell dinner 3"

Germany face-palmed loudly. Spain gave a happy sigh and pinched Veneciano's cheek. "So cute!"

"Knock it off you bastard!" Romano shouted at him. "You come up with a plan now!"

Spain regarded the blackboard. Then he erased the drawing and began to sketch what looked like America, and Spain in a bull-fighting outfit.

It was England who finally spoke. "America's not a bull, Spain."

"Oh, right." The smiling Spaniard gave America pointy ears, little horns and a cow tail. It was cute, yes, but hardly practical, so Switzerland finally huffed and got up, pushing Spain out of the way as he drew on the chalkboard quickly.

"Aww," said everyone at the adorable chibis. Then they all noticed what it was he'd drawn and grimaced. It was America getting shot in the face.

"Why don't I just shoot him?" he asked.

"He does have a point..." Romano rubbed his chin.

England stood up. "You are absolutely not shooting America in the face! No one is shooting America in the face, so stop looking so eager, Romano!"

"Fuck you!"

Germany sighed, realizing that once again he was the only sane one. "Here's what we'll do."

The plane touched down in Paris, France. One incredibly angry national personification stepped off. He had spent the last twelve hours deciding exactly what he was going to do to the man who had defiled his poor innocent baby brother, as well as what theme music he was going to play as he enacted said torture.

France was going to choke on his genitals before being bludgeoned to death with his own limbs. "One Winged Angel" was going to be playing in the background, because while it wasn't his, America knew that somewhere Japan would Know and Approve*.

At France's house, all the lights were on and the doors were unlocked. America, disappointed that he wasn't going to have to break in, decided to beat down the door anyway. The offending wood out of the way, he walked into the main entranceway and smelled the delicious scent of what could only be –

"Hamburgers!" he cried in glee. Yes, he had vengeance on the mind and it was very important, but hamburgers! Surely Canada's bruised chastity wouldn't mind if America's empty stomach got something to eat first.

Following his nose, America went to the kitchen and was a bit surprised, but not alarmed, to see both Italy brothers cooking. He gleefully sat down at the counter. "You're making hamburgers!" he informed them happily.

"Shut up," Romano snapped at him.

"We are! Maybe if I make them myself I can figure out why you like them so much," Veneciano trilled in that way which made America want to keep him as a pet. "Would you like some?"

America nodded, excited. "You bet! There's nothing better to wash down the cold taste of revenge like a nice hot hamburger."

"Ve~ that's kinda weird but okay!" Veneciano flipped a burger.

"Psychotic bastard," Romano muttered.

* Japan did Know, and he did Approve.

"So, Germany, Spain," England began, "I do have to ask, before I forget… do the Italy brothers have some sort of mystical twin bond that lets them sense the others emotions?'

Germany's bright-red face answered the question, but just in case it didn't Spain got a little smile on his face as he answered, "Weirdest bonus ever, especially if we get the timing right and-"

"Waaaay too much information!" Prussia snapped once he saw the Look that France gave England.

England for his part pinched the bridge of his nose. "You're absolutely never coming into any bed I'm in, frog, and if you touch America sexually I cannot be held responsible for any pain you're subsequently subjected to, by either me or him."

France merely smiled enigmatically, wondering just how much alcohol he'd need to change England's tune. Not that England was even necessary…

"All right, enough bullshit!" Prussia interrupted. It's time to put this pseudo-awesome plan into action!" He clapped his younger brother on the back; it was clear from his expression that he considered "pseudo-awesome" to be a great compliment for Germany.

Moving together, Germany and Prussia flanked America on either side while Spain was in the middle. America, mouth full of delicious burger, didn't seem to either notice or care.

England stepped forward into the kitchen, the calmest smile he could muster on his face. "Hello, America. Jolly good to see you there, luv."

America waved, chipper, and swallowed. "Hey England! These burgers are awesome! Way better than anything you or I could ever make!"

They had worked as a distractor, then, if America couldn't remember he was in France's house enough to wonder why England was there. England gestured behind him, and France entered the scene.

America stood up. Germany and Prussia each grabbed one of his arms while Spain wrapped himself around his legs. "YOU ASSHOLE! YOU BROKE MY BABY BROTHER'S HEART!" he roared; in his attempt to kill France, he managed to drag the three men holding him exactly one inch forward. Veneciano and Romano hid beneath a beautifully-embroidered white flag.

England stepped forward and took America's cheeks in his hands. "America, look at me," he said in his sternest voice. America's eyes flicked to him then back to France. Having no other recourse, he snapped, "Alfred Fairfax Jones!"

There was snickering from under the flag. Prussia chortled. "Hey!" America cried in dismay, "I can't believe you middle-named me, in front of witnesses!"

"Then listen to me! Canada was going to tell you that France was in love with him, you stupid git!"

"Awwww," said everyone who wasn't France, England or America.

America was visibly processing this information. "I guess the knowledge that someone who you've been pining over for over 200 years loves you is kinda emotional," he admitted, having had first-hand experience. "Plus he's a bit of a sissy." At the Looks everyone was giving him, he awkwardly continued, "I once made him cry by telling him all of his faults! Like geez, dude, you should know these already, can't believe you'd cry. Ha ha, yeah."

"That was you!" Canada declared dramatically and breathlessly, obviously having sprinted here from the airport. France definitely did not hide behind him, no matter what other disreputable nations will tell you*. At France's not-hiding, Canada was hastily reminded of what he was here for and so said, "Also, France didn't break up with me, he told me he loves me!"

"Awwww," said everyone who wasn't France, England, America or Canada.

"Would you all knock that off!" France snapped at their audience, because there was his sexy bachelor pride to think of, after all, even if he was now not exactly a bachelor. Prussia and Romano gave him the finger.

America looked at Canada and France and at length nodded. "Hey France, sorry I broke into your house to attempt murder over a misunderstanding, dude. We still cool?"

France shrugged. "You'd be surprised how often that happens."

Canada smiled. "Crisis averted, then. Go ahead and let him go, boys." Germany and Prussia let go. Spain, who was using America's bum as a pillow, did not.

A shot rang out and America slumped forward, only held up by a napping Spaniard.

Everyone looked at Switzerland.

"What?" he asked, putting his rifle away.

* He totally did hide behind Canada.

"So let me get this straight," France mused from his spot at the end of America's hospital bed, "This entire situation was in attempt to form a relationship between myself and Canada? Never mind that Amerique spent most of it attempting to murder me?"

America had gotten a pretzel for good behavior and he was happily sucking on it, so England was the one to answer, "Regrettably, yes. May your love flourish, etcetera, but I find I must apologise, and should America plan to match-make anyone else in the future I'll be sure to veto most of his ideas."

America pouted. Canada nuzzled him. "It was the thought that counts, and we did end up together in the end," he said fondly. "Besides, I feel like I learned things."

"Really?" France asked doubtfully, and neither he nor England looked convinced.

Canada shrugged. "I feel like it, at least."

America took the pretzel out. "I learned that sometimes I have to trust in Canada's judgment and let him make his own mistakes without beating the crap out of anyone who hurts him," he said wisely. "Although I'll still do that, France."

France waved that away with a hand. "Yes, yes I get the picture. Are you going to pay for the damages to my home, by the way?"

"Nope."

Canada thoughtfully added, "I learned that America does care, although he's stupid about it. I also learned that if I follow my heart and say what's on my mind, things will turn out for the best." He also learned that America was an attention whore who managed to monopolize his getting-together scenario. He shouldn't be surprised.

"Good for you!" England cooed, patting Canada on the head.

France hummed thoughtfully, looking at his newfound love who was cuddling with his brother. "I suppose I learned that, well, sometimes love can be found in places where you aren't looking. And also, in light of recent scenarios," he purred in French, "America is incredibly violent and cheap, and I've got the better twin."

Canada snickered. America pouted because he really didn't like it when they all talked specifically so he couldn't understand. "I also learned I'm gonna have to learn French," he muttered.

"Bonne."

Everyone looked to England.

"I learned absolutely nothing." Except for that thing about the twins, but that was better left unsaid… for now.

France agreed.