Life had carried on casually for the world after that, Spain and France received a beating, and they left, sobbing about how they were "just doing it for the better good!".

America and England struggled through a very awkward and incredibly tense relationship, but with some help (torture) from their good (bad) friends (enemies) they managed to struggle towards the light of a somewhat stable and trusting relationship.

"Please, Iggy?" America said, pouting as he leaned over his boyfriend on the couch.

"Absolutely not." The Englishman replied, stiffly drinking his tea.

"But Iggy!"

"Don't call me that."

"But Ig-"

"WHAT DID I JUST SAY?"

Ding Dong.

The two blonde's startled at the foreign sound, the doorbell? At this hour?

Arthur got off the couch, leaving his tea, and answered the door. Maybe, just maybe, if it hadn't been raining and dark, he could have closed it in time.

But because this was England (the country—not the person, that is) He didn't see the telltale blonde locks, flashy coat, and perverted smirk.

"Mon Cher!" The Frenchman cried, stepping into the room before England could do a thing about it. Three others followed, trekking in mud and rain.

"Wow, the place in a mess." One mumbled.

"Dammit, France!" England shouted. "Get out! And take your 'bad flush Rio' too!"

"It's bad touch trio."

"Whichever!" England huffed. "What precisely compelled you to intrude into my home?"

"Mon cher!" Francis gasped, clutching at his heart. "Have you no idea what today is?"

"Wednesday."

"No! The date!"

"…It would be the tenth of April. Why…?"

"Well! At this exact day, this exact moment, and just last year, Spain, Prussia and I locked you in your own closet!"

England face-palmed and muttered "Oh god, not this."

But it was too late, a godly spotlight had already appeared above France, his arms were spread wide, and he began to retell a tale.

"It was a beautiful night, this tenth of April; one quite unlike the one we face now." France walked about the room, eyes twinkling with lust for the théâtre.

"In a room, a dark, old, dusty room, lay two men. Brought together by fate-"

"Or a Frenchman." England interrupted.

"They had met before, former loved ones. But now it was time to take a step into the unknown, in the dark-"

"Towards the door." England interjected again.

"They realized in that room that past was just that: past. That the now is what is most important…"

-one hour later-

"Pass the popcorn" America whispered, eyes still on the over-dramatic Frenchman before them. They had turned down the lights, so only the divine spotlight remained. They sat on the couches in the living room, while France preformed on the coffee table.

"-l'amour, the powerful thing was far too strong to resist. Despite their fight about cowboys and pirates"

"Hey." Gilbert whispered. "Who won that fight?"

"Shh!" Antonio shushed, waving his hand. "No spoilers!"

"-with love for each other still in their eyes, and with that they exited the meeting, to discuss more important matters. It was the best of the-"

"Guys, I'm going to go to bed. I've already seen this one."

"M'kay." Gilbert mumbled, shoving some popcorn into his mouth. "Buenos noches!"

"I'll actually join you." Arthur said, standing up and brushing crumbs off his pants.

And so it came to be that the two blondes spent the night spooning and sleeping, and the bad touch trio found themselves laughing and crying with the journey of two men through their love for each other.

And Canada was there too, but no one noticed.

And that short and incredibly rushed chapter concludes this story!

I wrote this chapter four million times. I eventually settled for this. I hope it doesn't dissapiont all that much. BUT C'EST LA VIE.

Tata!

-Mallory