A/N: Oh my god. I am so sorry you guys. This fic really got away from me. First, I was all busy with school and then I let other fandoms take over my life and stuff... really sorry, but I was just stumped with this fic. Anyways, I got it going again after reading Romerica fics and fem!America fics as much as possible. But I really am incredibly sorry. I hope this isn't too crappy because most of it was written at ungodly hours in the morning and I honestly haven't edited it that much. Please, please point out any grammatical an/or spelling errors. Also, "ruched" is a term used for sleeves and such in clothing where it's kind of scrunched up at the end. Sorry, again. All translations are at the bottom! (There might be some weird verb mistakes because the other fics I'm writing right now are all in present tense, so it was kind of hard to slip back into past tense...)

Chapter 3

Wednesday, 10:03 am

"No, you can't wear that!" Lovina exclaimed with exasperation, throwing her hands into the air. Al gave her a big, puppy-eye look, but Lovina just ignored it. She had plenty of practice with that, after all, because of Antonio and Feliciano.

"Then what should I wear?" Al cried, also throwing her hands into the air. Romana rolled her eyes, because obviously, Al was being ridiculous.

"Stramba, you need to wear something that… highlights your good features and downplays your bad ones," she answered, shrugging. For Romana, this clothing thing was easy. She honestly couldn't understand how America didn't understand it.

Al looked at her feet, fidgeting and biting her lip. Her cheeks grew a shade darker.

"I don't think I have any good features," the poor young nation admitted, making Lovina narrow her eyes with trepidation and anger.

"Who told you that?" She growled fiercely, grabbing America by the arm and dragging her to the mirror.

Then, with a disgusted look at the shirt Al was wearing, she wrestled the other girl out of it, tugging down the pants at the same time. It was like one of Prussia's lesbian pornos, except that Lovina steered clear of Al's rather impressive cleavage and kept her own clothing on.

America allowed her to do this, frowning the whole time.

"Okay," Lovina huffed, once Al was down to her underwear in front of the mirror, "what do you see?"

Al obediently turned her eyes to the mirror, studying herself carefully. She arched an eyebrow and sent Romana a glance using the mirror.

"Uh, myself," she replied, crinkling her face with confusion.

The half-nation rolled her eyes, "Well, of course. If you must know, what I see is a very pretty girl." She said it with a blush, one that encompassed her entire face, but the point was to make America really believe that she was pretty—and could be even prettier if she actually tried.

"Really?" Al asked eagerly, face lighting up.

Swallowing down rage at the thought that anyone told her differently, Lovina just nodded firmly, crossing her arms.

"Now we just have to get you into acceptable clothes," she sniffed, "and I can be seen in public with you."

America beamed, and pointed to the open closet.

"Welp, all my clothes are over there," she told Romana. "I don't know if they're any good, though…"

She trailed off, frowning again, and Lovina rolled her eyes. The idiots she was surrounded with would probably give her eye problems later in life, but whatever. Now it was time to go shopping.

"We're going to have to go shopping," she announced, dragging Al by the arm to the door and completely ignoring the closet. "I need some real clothing to work with."

Al agreed excitedly, bobbing her head, and a sudden idea struck Romana.

She smiled triumphantly, pulling out a hotel key card from her purse. America blinked at it for a moment, giving Romana a questioning look.

"What's that for?" She asked.

"It's Spain's hotel key," Lovina explained, feeling strangely mischievous. "He, kindly, is going to provide the money for our little shopping trip."

Al's eyes widened, and she bit her lip.

"Are you sure that's okay, Lovi? I wouldn't want to make him angry." She said. Romana just shook her head.

"We'll just go to his room, take his wallet, and it'll all be dandy! Antonio has a separate credit card for whenever Feli and I want to go shopping, so we can both sign for it. Besides," she continued smugly, leading Al from the room, "you'll look so hot by the time I'm done with you that he'll be proud to have sponsored our shopping trip."

The other nation still looked hesitant, but nevertheless followed Lovina to the room. They opened it to find that it was surprisingly clean, except for a bottle of wine (courtesy of France, if the rose and envelope sitting by it was any indication) and a single towel. His bed was also unmade, but that was unsurprising considering how much the Spanish nation slept. Romana would be more startled that he was actually awake at this hour if she didn't know that Prussia and France came to drag him out of bed whenever they could in order to get as drunk as possible before the meetings.

That usually resulted in, of course, Germany hunting them down (and briefly abandoning her idiot of a brother to sleep in the potato bastard's bed) before they could do so (sometimes with England's help, depending on how bad his hangover was from the night before) and single-handedly taking Prussia down while ignoring France's attempts to molest him (unless France was conveniently distracted by England) and Spain's daft giggling.

She rolled her eyes at the thought of it and took Spain's wallet from where it was resting on his bedside table. Al, weirdly enough, stood in the middle of the room and blushed like a fucking idiot (which she was).

"What?" Lovina deadpanned, glancing around to see if Antonio had left any of his stupid underwear lying about.

"N-nothing," Al stuttered, avoiding her gaze and flushing an even deeper rose color. Lovina huffed, of course the American nation blushed all attractively and not tomato-like at all. Not that she was jealous or anything, 'cause Lovina was hot. Like, super-mega-fucking-hot if she had anything to say for herself.

"Sure it's nothing," Romana said disbelievingly. "Whatever, I'll grill you later. Now, we've got to go."

Al nodded and stumbled after her out of the tomato bastard's room. Lovina didn't bother leaving a note. Antonio probably wouldn't even notice his wallet's absence until the world meeting when Lovina would give it back to him. The moron.

They walked back to the mall, America humming beside her happily. It was silent, for once, but it wasn't an awkward silence. It was… nice. Lovina didn't have many people she could be comfortable with like this.

They arrived at the mall, and Lovina dragged Al in, taking her straight to a store she'd seen the other day and new had cute clothing. They weren't here to waste time.

"Alright, let's get going," she started, shuffling through some hanging clothes already, "we'll just buy one or two outfits for today and I'll take you shopping for real in Rome."

Al's face lit up at that, and Lovina reddened at what she just implied—that Al was coming to visit her after the world meeting.

The younger nation immediately threw her arms around Romana, squeezing her tight (too tight, Romana couldn't breathe properly), and squealing.

"Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!" She shrieked at a ridiculous level, oblivious to the stares from the Irish citizens in the store. "I've never been invited anywhere like that, not really!"

The Italian nation felt herself smile reluctantly at the thought that she just made America so happy, but she still shoved the other girl off of her harshly, scowling. There was no time to be sappy.

"Whatever," she muttered, reaching for another shirt, "don't be all weird now, stramba."

Al just grinned and said, "I won't, Lovi~!"

She reminded Lovina, annoyingly enough, of her brother. But not so, because Al was at least a fraction more intelligent than Feliciano and didn't even talk about hamburgers as much as Lovina expected. It was refreshing, at the very least, to speak with another girl.

She handed Al some button downs that were appropriate for the meeting, along with skirts that were both stylish and business-like, and a few jackets to go with them. Lovina eyed the shoes on the other side of the store and vowed to take America there next, along with some basic jewelry.

Feeling satisfied with her choices, Lovina sat down on one of the cushy couches and waited for her… friend to exit the dressing room.

"Hurry up, idiota, we don't have all day," she called, studying the bright red color of her nails, something she'd done last night.

"Mm-hmm," Al said back, rustling coming from behind the curtain. Some people who worked at the store tried to approach them, but Lovina warded them off with her unfriendly glare and Al just waved awkwardly.

The Irish seemed to get the point and kept their distance. They weren't nearly as pushy as Americans (or Italians, but only northern Italians, of course).

Al came out wearing some kind of ensemble of the things Lovina handed her, and the older nation rolled her eyes at the other girl's inadequacy at this. She should have known that this would happen.

Herding Al back into the dressing room, Lovina went for the skirt first, which looked bad anyways. Cut Al up in all the wrong places. The shirt wasn't so bad, though, very simple and white—sheer, though, so in order to wear it and not look like a total slut, Al would need an undershirt. That could be done.

Lovina unbuttoned the shirt and pulled it off, holding it up.

"I like how this looks on you, but first put on that undershirt," she said, pointing to a white cami with a lace neckline and fringe. "And this skirt looks disgusting, try out that black pencil skirt instead."

Al smiled at her, luckily not bothered by Romana's pushiness (and the fact that she undressed her again), obeying her orders without a second thought.

"You got it!" The "heroine" replied, pulling on the cami, then the button-up, and finally the skirt. Lovina turned her around and adjusted each piece until she was satisfied.

"That's how you should wear it," she told Al smugly. "With the shirts tucked into the skirt and the buttons only done until the top."

She grabbed one of the jackets—black, like the skirt, and the same material, with ruched sleeves and a shortened body. It was cut perfectly for the high-waisted skirt.

"Put this on," she ordered. Al did so without complaint, reaching up to button the one round, gold button in the middle.

"I like it," Al said, with a small, surprised smile. "It looks good."

Lovina fluffed her hair, feeling smug again, "Of course it does, I picked it out."

America turned to her with a giant grin, and embraced her again, much to the Italian's irritation (and, okay, slight happiness).

Pushing her away again, Lovina said, "Well, it's okay. Needs a little color, though, so we'll have to get you some sexy shoes and maybe a scarf or earrings…" She trailed off, muttering the last bit in Italian.

Al tried on the rest of the clothing, and in the end they went with the first outfit plus one more skirt—this time white with a purple stripe on the bottom—and a less business-like top, one that highlighted Al's curves and small waist perfectly. It, too, was purple, and the white sweater they got to match it looked wonderful.

All in all, it was a very successful, quick shopping trip, as they also found two pairs of shoes, a scarf to spice up the first outfit, and enough jewelry to put a rather large dent in Antonio's savings. Of course, those savings also included some money that Lovina herself had made, as well as some from when Feliciano decided to run a bakery for a short while, so she didn't feel bad at all.

They had fun, too, and Al convinced Lovina to buy a red dress that looked absolutely stunning on her, in a very sexy way, as well as a new necklace. The people at the store were very happy with the amount of money spent, so when Romana suggested that Al change in the dressing room, there were no arguments.

Lovina was proud, extremely proud, of how, quote unquote, awesome Alianora looked in her new clothing, especially since the meeting was very soon. Quickly, before they had to leave, she dragged the American back to the hotel and to her and Feliciano's room.

Her brother was missing, probably because Germany had already come by to pick him up. Because Feliciano was an idiot and Germany was a potato bastard, it usually took them about 20 minutes to make it to the meeting. In her experience, her fratellino often got distracted by things like pretty women (Lovina didn't know why because Feli was so obviously gay for the potato bastard…), food, kittens, puppies, or trying to get Germany to kiss him that he completely forgot where they were going, ran off to somewhere else, and generally made a nuisance of himself. One thing the potato bastard was good for, at least, was getting Feliciano to the meetings on time.

She did Al's makeup, mostly because she wanted to. She didn't use too much—this wasn't a night on the town, it was a business meeting—but she did make Al wear a little mascara, some eye shadow, and nice, pink lipstick. Lovina was kind of jealous of the other girl's absolutely flawless skin (even countries went through that awkward phase where sometimes pimples popped up) until Al complimented her skin, and then it was all okay.

"There," she said, finally entirely satisfied with Al's appearance, "you look perfect."

And it was true—the outfit with the royal blue high heels (not too high, mind you, for Al warned her that she would have trouble walking in them if they were too high) coupled with a matching blue and black scarf and some gold jewelry looked great. The blue was a good choice, Lovina thought, because it really made America's eyes pop.

Lovina herself looked quite nice, too, wearing some new jewelry as well and, choosing to forego her normal uniform so that Al wouldn't stand out too much, she wore instead a light pink dress (reminiscent of her days under Spain's control, not that she would ever, ever admit it), fitted to look very professional. It was one of the more comfortable things in her wardrobe, but she managed to pull it off with a business-like air because of her practical accessories and because Lovina Vargas never dressed anything less than absolutely fashionable. As long as she didn't look frumpy in any way, she be fine for the meeting. Now, though, she could walk beside someone who looked (almost) as good as her. (Lovina was unwilling to admit that anyone could ever look as good as her, and Al didn't really care either way. It was the best kind of friendship that either girl could have asked for.)

"Are you ready for this?" Romana asked, brushing one last curl into place with a smirk. She'd insisted on doing Al's hair as well, which now sat softly and tamely on her shoulders, brushed to perfection. The curls shone in the light and the only piece that had slipped through Lovina's precise handling was the ahoge. After tweaking it once and reading the reddened, embarrassed look on the other girl's face, Lovina had figured it out easily enough (having one untamable curl herself ) and avoided it for the rest of their session.

"I guess so," Al said, starting to lose her confidence as time went on. "The others won't think this is weird?"

Lovina raised an eyebrow at her. "Uh, you look hot," making Al blush, "so they better not. I'll kick their ass."

"You look pretty too," America complimented back. "I'll beat up anyone who says otherwise, 'cause I'm the heroine!"

She punched the air with one fist, just like that rebounding from her earlier doubt. Lovina kind of wished that she had the other nation's energy, but then she'd probably be annoying and stupid like Al, too. Couldn't have that happening.

"Time to go," she mumbled instead. The blonde followed her out of her room, and they made their way down the stairs and toward the meeting place.

By pure luck they didn't run into a single nation on the way there (Lovina wanted to make an entrance and insisted that Al hide with her should they see someone else), and about five minutes after the meeting should have started (everyone knew that the meeting wouldn't actually start until 10:30 because of all the stragglers and the arguments and all that) they were ready.

"Let's go!" Al exclaimed happily, this time clutching Romana's arm and taking her into the chaotic room ahead.

Spain woke up that morning feeling vaguely… exhausted. Lately, he was always tired in some way, but today was the first day that he was glad for it—he could probably sleep through the meeting like Greece and no one would notice. Well, except for Lovina, but his adorable little tomato wouldn't wake him up. Scoff at him, yes, but she'd be far too tired herself, hopefully, to ridicule him.

Sleepily, Antonio glanced around his room, spotting the reason for his early awakening. As usual, Francis stood over the end of his bed, face serene as he watched the Spaniard dream.

Over the years, Antonio's self-preservation skills kicked in whenever Francis decided to do something like this and wake him up before at nation of amor could molest him into wakefulness. Admittedly, the first time Francis did such a thing Antonio hadn't woken up until Lovina walked in on the other nation feeling up his ass and screamed bloody murder.

"Buenos días, mi amigo!" He greeted France, receiving a warm smile in return.

"Bonjour, mon ami." Francis returned smoothly. "It is time to wake up, Antonio. We have things to see, people to do, the usual!" He clapped his hands and threw open the curtains in Antonio's hotel room, sending bright sunlight across the Spaniard's face.

Never one to whine, Antonio yawned and stretched until he felt content and hopped out of bed, mostly naked except for his boxers. Francis let out a small chuckle of appreciation, taking a seat on the bed and placing a bottle of wine on the floor.

"For later, chéri," he told Spain, winking. Antonio smiled back, happy to have something to look forward to when he was alone in his room later on.

Or, perhaps, he thought as he dressed, he could invite his tomate mona and her adorable little brother over for some. Yes, he would do that.

"Is Gilbert coming?" He asked, pulling on a relatively unwrinkled button down. Francis eyed his clothing choice, a tad put off, but he didn't say anything, for which Spain was appreciative.

"Oui, but he must escape from his brother first, of course," France flipped his hair and studied his nails like a teenage girl, only more… professionally. Spain wasn't entirely sure, even now, after all the time they'd spent together (centuries, at this point) how Francis managed to be both girlish and completely manly at the same time, but it seemed to work for the ladies (and the men) just fine, so he must be doing something right.

Usually all Antonio had to do to get someone to spend the night with him was smile at them. Not that he noticed.

Antonio smirked at the thought of dear Prussia's predicament with his strict brother. "Por supuesto," he answered.

Finished with pulling on his pants and shoes, he skipped off to go brush his teeth and mess with his hair. Francis came up behind him in the mirror while he worked, pressing his chest against Spain's back in a mock embrace.

"You look wonderful today, Antonio," France commented, almost casually. Spain laughed.

"Querido, I always look wonderful to you," he replied. France chuckled at that and released him.

They made for the door, Antonio briefly wondering if it was a good idea to leave his wallet lying on the table, but then deciding that he didn't really care that much. The only people who would think to use it were Lovina and Feliciano, and what were the odds that either of them would go shopping at this hour? Feli, no doubt, was still sleeping, or would be spending time with Germany. Lovina would want to be sleeping as well, or, possibly, searching for some ripe tomatoes.

Antonio giggled at the thought of his cute little Lovi eating a tomato. Francis, seeing the look on his face and correctly interpreting it as Spain thinking of Romana, wisely decided not to ask.

They made it downstairs without running into England (which would have impaired France), Germany (which would have impaired the impending Prussia), or anyone who might have distracted or dragged Spain away.

All in all, it was more successful than many of their previous attempts.

Gilbert leapt out at them suddenly from behind the wall next to the elevator, but both Francis and Antonio were so used to his random appearances that they did not react at all. (Well, France automatically groped Gilbert's ass when he fell in line next to him, but that was nothing new. It was how France said hello.)

"Kesesese, now that I have escaped meine bruder, we can do awesome things together!" He exclaimed, slapping Antonio on the shoulder in greeting and groping Francis right back. It was their special communication, this cycle of sexual perversion. They all loved it so much… although perhaps Antonio less than the other two and Francis most of all.

And so they began their daily ritual of stalking the halls and searching for nations to harass, exploit, and molest, all with the added bonus of watching out for England or Germany while they were at it. Switzerland too, because he was scary with those guns.

"Oh, Matthieu~!" France called when he saw his "little brother" wandering around, looking quite invisible. Gilbert recognized him too, and dashed over to grope him. Spain straggled behind a little, not as familiar with this person who looked a lot like America (except male) and faded out of existence sometimes.

"Oh, hello Francis, Prussia, Spain," this Matthew replied, bobbing his head shyly. Antonio was kind of taken with him, as he was quite cute.

"Hola, Matthew!" He said with a large smile, cheerful at the thought that he might make a new friend today.

Matthew smiled weakly, batting away Francis' wandering hand as the older nation pulled him into a tight embrace. Obviously, he'd had a lot of experience with France in the past, for he seemed to know all the moves the other nation was going to make even before he did them. It was impressive, in Antonio's opinion.

"I'm Canada, if you, er, didn't know that," Matthew told him helpfully, for Spain hadn't known.

"Oh, of course!" He responded joyfully. "Canadia!"

"Birdie here makes the awesomest pancakes," Gilbert explained, slapping Matthew hard on the shoulder. "Really. They're almost as awesome as me."

Francis pulled Matthew even closer, nuzzling him. "Oui, he gets his wonderful cooking skills from me, naturally! And he even knows fluent French!"

Canadia finally managed to pull away from France's hug-grope-molest-y thing, gently pushing the older nation away in order to give himself some personal space. Unsurprisingly, he then found himself with an arm wrapped tightly around his shoulders courtesy of Gilbert.

"Whatcha' say, Birdie, make us some pancakes right now?" Prussia "suggested," purring into Matthew's ear. Matthew shuddered and tried to back away, wishing with all his heart that for once he was invisible again.

"E-eh?" He stuttered, completely taken aback. "I suppose if you want… I could make you breakfast."

His voice was really quiet, Antonio thought. Like, whisper-quiet. Sometimes, he could barely catch what the young nation was saying. From what he remembered, though, this Canadia was the other part of the North American continent. America's twin.

America. America was pretty. She didn't dress very nicely but… she could be so cute with those big blue eyes and soft-looking hair. Spain kind of wanted to squeeze her cheeks, too, which never seemed to have lost a layer of baby-fat. They were usually pink from all her running and jumping around… ah, America. America the beautiful, for sure. Not that Antonio would ever tell her that, because England constantly reminded them all that the girl didn't need her ego inflated any more.

He daydreamed, standing there and listening with one ear to the increasingly one-sided conversation between Gilbert and Matthew and Francis' little perverted chuckles on the side. His dreaming, however, prevented him from hearing both Germany and England's approach.

Unfortunately for them, neither did Prussia or France, and thus the two nations were caught.

"Frog! Release Mark this instance!" England shrieked, face turning a spectacular shade of puce that actually looked kind of attractive on him, if one found bushy eyebrows and a scowl attractive (Francis obviously did, if the look on his face suggested anything).

"I-it's Matthew," Canadia stammered quietly, liberated from his prison by an enraged Germany who snatched Prussia up with ease.

England nodded and said soothingly, "Yes, of course, er, Matthew. That's what I said."

Francis latched onto him then, and Arthur was gone. "Mon cher, you should not forget Matthieu's name! He has my hair, non? How could you forget someone who is almost as gorgeous as me?" His arm found its way around England's waist then, making the man bristle like a peeved cat, and the beating and yelling began.

Spain stopped paying attention and briefly focused on poor Gilbert and Ludwig, who were locked in an extremely one-sided yelling match.

"I told you to stay in the room! You weren't even supposed to be at this meeting, bruder!" Germany was shouting at a very shamefully unapologetic Gilbert.

"Whatever," Prussia muttered. With that, Germany dragged him away, probably to their room for more yelling and then some make-up wurst. Spain snickered. Gilbert was always getting pushed around by his younger brother.

Waving goodbye to the space where Canadia used to be (he simply assumed that the other nation had disappeared into space once again), Antonio took off to find some breakfast (preferably including tomatoes), Lovi and Feli, and possibly a nice place to curl up for a nap.

Ah, he thought, that would be the life.

He made it to the breakfast room at the hotel without any trouble, humming as he went, and then he promptly ran into Feliciano and Ludwig, the latter cooling down from his fuming temper from before.

"Ah, buenos días, Feli~!" He sing-songed, grabbing the adorable Italy into a hug. Feli immediately hugged him back.

"Ve~, Spain! How nice it is to see you! Don't you think it's nice, Germany!" Feliciano exclaimed, holding Antonio close.

Germany cleared his throat briefly, eyeing their hug with slight disapproval, and answered, "Of course, Italy. Good morning, Spain."

Spain's eyes sparkled with mischievousness. "Good morning to you as well, Germany! Tell me, how is mi amigo Gilbert this morning?"

Germany pursed his lips. "He would be better," he grumbled, making Italy lean away with fear, "had he not left the room. I told him to stop doing that, but as usual, he never listens."

"Well," Antonio sighed, "you know Gilbert! He loves trouble!"

Ludwig nodded sourly in agreement. Feliciano let out a small hum and grabbed both their hands.

"I'm hungry!" He cried predictably, pulling Germany and Spain with him to the buffet line. "I hope there's pasta!"

Germany suppressed a face-palm, it was obvious from the way his feature twitched just so. "I doubt there will be pasta, Italy, but you will make do." He barked.

Spain giggled, bringing a hand to his face. Oh, they were so cute! And so in love! Antonio wished he could be in love like that, except hopefully he would notice it so that he could have sweet kisses and hand-holding.

Not that they didn't have that already. From what he gathered from Lovina's rants, Feli often appeared naked in Germany's bed for no reason, was always kissing him on the cheek in greeting, and often held his hand when they did things together. Just thinking about it made Antonio's heart lift. Now, if only Lovina had someone like that for her. She'd be so much more smiley. It would be so cute!

With those thoughts in mind, he got breakfast and ate with Italy and Germany, commenting every so often between Italy's endearing babbling and Germany's short, useful remarks.

Then, Germany decided it was time for him and Feli to start walking to the meeting (they had to leave a certain amount of time earlier because of Feli's attention span and inability to correctly read the atmosphere), so Spain decided to tag along. It was much more fun to be with friends than it was to be alone!

He would have waited for France and Prussia, but he had a feeling Prussia had retired to his room until the meeting actually came to a start. Then, of course, he would jump out at the last minute from underneath Austria's chair and scare them all, making Ludwig yell again and Austria get into the fight with Gilbert and Hungary slam her terrifying pan into all of their heads. France, naturally, would be held off by England. They were probably working out a little bit of their sexual tension right now, or at least, Francis would be trying. Until England got that stick out of his ass, Antonio doubted his poor amigo would get anywhere with the other man.

He pouted at that thought, and by then they had made it to the meeting room, relatively on time (which relieved Germany to no ends). Only Austria and Switzerland were already there, and the two chatted comfortably even though Switzerland was usually kind of an asshole to anyone who wasn't his cute little sister and Austria was generally a stuck up prick.

Oh, well, they had to be at least vaguely friendly sometimes, he supposed.

Speaking of vaguely friendly people…

"Feli, where is your sister?" He asked, frowning unhappily because he had not seen her pretty face all morning.

Feli brightened with interest, "Oh it's so funny, Antonio! This morning she and America went off together!"

Spain blinked. Romana and America? It couldn't be! The two girls were too different! But if it were true…

"How cuuuuuute!" He squealed, bouncing in his seat. Germany sent him a weirded-out look, but Italy seemed to agree.

"Isn't it, ve~?" Feliciano concurred dreamily. "Lovi has a female friend! And they're both so pretty! Ve~, Germany, don't you think they're both pretty?"

Obviously unwilling to disagree with the love of his life, Germany blushed and tugged on his collar, stiff and formal in his seat. It made Antonio giggle because… well, it was cute to see Germany this way, all uncomfortable when the man was usually so put-together.

"I, er, suppose they are both rather, uh, nice-looking," Germany agreed awkwardly. It was no secret that Lovina spent most of her time insulting him and spitting out various curse words in his direction (she was so adorable when she was angry!), and that America, because of her often childish, hyper ways, bothered him, but Ludwig couldn't disappoint Feliciano. Internally, there was a rainbow of happiness that Spain was dancing under at all the cuteness radiating throughout the room.

Italy seemed content with Germany's response and latched onto him with a "Ve~!" of delight. Spain chuckled at the expression on Germany's face. He saw Austria roll his eyes and Switzerland look away with a scoff, but ignored them both. Party poopers, he thought with a pout.

The other nations slowly filed in, all in various states of chaos. France and England made an appearance with Northern Ireland following uneasily behind, and Japan showed up with a sleepy Greece in tow and an irritated Turkey following him. Spain spotted Prussia sneaking in as well, narrowly avoiding a suspicious Hungary when he made his move to hide under the table.

Gilbert curled against Antonio's legs, and the Spaniard gently touched his friend with his foot. He received a long-fingered hand stroking his ankle tenderly in response, as well as a perverted little giggle as it climbed further up his leg. Luckily, no one else heard the giggle or they surely would have recognized it.

When almost everyone was there, Russia coming in with Lithuania and Estonia behind him, shaking nervously, Germany stood up to count heads and figure out who was missing.

"Only America, Scotland, South Italy, and Denmark," Ludwig muttered. Spain heard him and perked up. Where was Lovina (and, presumably, America)?

He turned his attention to the door, and five minutes after ten, it opened again to reveal Lovina, who looked as beautiful as ever, and… America?

His eyes widened. She looked… different, and certainly not in a bad way. It's not that she wasn't pretty before, because she was but right now… she looked great. Seriously. All those sweet curve he knew she had but he never saw were carefully covered by the outfit so that she remained professional, but weren't concealed by baggy t-shirts and loose jeans. Some other nations claimed she was "fat" or, at least, "chubby," but he'd always doubted it. (That one time Spain had seen her exiting a hotel room in her bathing suit might have something to do with it.)

Nevertheless now they couldn't claim she was fat at all. She had on a little makeup, more than usual, but not too much, and was wearing a well-fitted skirt and jacket combination with high heels that, when he checked as she walked by, made her ass look great. Of course, all of this was probably Lovina's doing, if the smug look on his tomate's face was anything to go by.

She had real reason to be smug, though, for, aside from looking stunning herself in that cute pink dress, she had accomplished what many could not—she'd actually made England's mouth drop open in shock.

America clung to Romana anxiously, that much Antonio could tell, but she still held her head high with confidence. The fact that she hadn't announced her heroic presence right away, however, gave away her slight insecurity. It made Antonio's heart melt a bit at the thought of the American nation's wavering ego. He knew she wasn't as aggressively confident as Britain made her out to be. Take that, Arthur.

And boy did the other nations stare. Lovina's expression grew increasingly satisfied at their shock, and America got more and more nervous. Lovina, though, seemed to notice and took America's hand, squeezing it briefly. It made Antonio coo out loud at the adorableness of that gesture.

Gilbert tugged at his leg, "What, what is it?"

"It's America and Romana," Spain whispered back, his eyes still on the pretty nation.

"America and Romana?" Gilbert questioned, head popping up between Antonio's legs and turning to catch the superpower in his sights. "Damn, they look hot."

Spain was inclined to agree.

"Ve~, America, Lovi come sit over here!" Feli suddenly called, waving his sister and her friend over. France and England's heads snapped around to follow America as she walked, relieved, towards Italy.

"Thanks, Italy," she said warmly when she got there, taking one of the free seats near him and letting Romana sit next to Antonio.

Lovina rolled her eyes, but sat down next to Spain regardless, giving the rest of the room an unimpressed glance.

Antonio leaned in closer to whisper, "You look very pretty today, mi tomate."

She didn't even get nearly as angry as normal, although irritation did flash across her face at the nickname.

"Hmph," she grunted. "America does too."

Spain nodded eagerly in agreement, now leaning even further across Romana to get to America.

"Yes, América, you look lovely today as well," he wished he'd had the chance to tell her that he always thought she looked lovely, but now was as good a time as any. America immediately flushed bright, bright red. Almost redder than Lovina, except instead of turning into un tomate, she became more… magenta. Like a strawberry.

Mm, strawberries. Fresas. He liked fresas.

"Um, t-th-thank you," America stuttered out, flustered. England frowned, from across the room, but Francis' eyes gleamed approvingly.

Then America looked between his legs and shrieked. Needless to say, the meeting when downhill from there.

Italian

Stramba - feminine form of strano, or weirdo (sorry I got that wrong in the last chapter... :()

Idiota - feminine form of idiot

Fratellino - younger brother

Spanish

Buenos dias - good morning

Mi amigo - my friend

Tomate mona - feminine form of cute tomato

Por supuesto - of course

Querido - my dear

Hola - hello

Fresas - strawberries

French

Bonjour - good morning/hello

Mon ami - my friend

Mon cher - my dear

Non - no

Cheri - darling

Oui - yes

German

Meine bruder - my brother (not sure if "bruder" is supposed of be capitalized or not, so I'm extremely sorry if I got this wrong)

As always, please correct me if you believe or know that I am wrong with anything. Also, if you find the random not-English words really annoying, please mention it. I've seen plenty of other authors do it, but I can't really tell when I'm overdoing it, so please mention it if you think that is the case. Thank you for reading! Comments are always appreciated!