"Deal With It."

A/N: My good friend prompted me to write Liechtenstein being fed up with Switzerland's stuffy attitude, and as such, she calls the normally very bubbly Spain for advice. This is how it turns out. Please read and enjoy! Be warned—Liechtenstein is a bit out of character here.

All she wanted was an escape. Switzerland, despite all he had done for her, was far too stuffy. She huffed, setting the table, aligning the silverware and placing down a platter of homemade sandwiches, which, incidentally, tasted like sandwich. Sighing, the small girl went to the stairs, and in her Soprano voice, she called for her "big brother."

"Big brother…! Come downstairs, dinner is ready!" She hollered up the stairs, pausing to hear Vash moving around and grumbling to himself as he, apparently, stubbed his toe on something.

Finally, after what seemed like ages, the Swiss man descended down the stairs and into the foyer, rubbing the back of his head as he worked his way to the kitchen. "What's for dinner…?" He asked slowly, glancing with green eyes over at Liechtenstein.

"Sandwiches." She said easily, yet with an uncharacteristic bitterness to them.

Vash nodded and sat down slowly, staring at the pile of turkey and Swiss Cheese sandwiches centered in the middle of the table. "How many can I have?"

"Two for now." Once more, the words seemed bitter, but were uttered easily, and the blonde, petite girl took her seat across from Switzerland.

The two nations stared at one another for the longest time before Vash tentatively reached forward, brining his plate with him to take a sandwich from the pile looming on the platter. He plucked the two with the most meat on them and placed them carefully on his plate, his green eyes never once leaving Liechtenstein's face.

Liechtenstein remained still, watching the elder nation take his two sandwiches, frowning as he took the two fattest sandwiches. "I have a question, Big Brother."

"What is it?" Vash asked, taking a big bite out of the sandwich and chewing slowly, keeping his stern gaze on the girl before him.

"What …nation," She cringed at that word, "is bright and sunny, and likes to be around people?"

Switzerland frowned, setting down his sandwich. "Spain." He said, raising a blond eyebrow. "…Why…?"

The blonde girl shrugged, taking a nibble out of her sandwich, quickly changing the subject. "Big Brother, are they good?"

"Mm… they taste like sandwich."

"That's good…" Liechtenstein said, a forced smile twitching at her lips. That was the last straw. Of course they tasted like sandwich! It was a sandwich. The dinner continued, uneventful, and the silent as Liechtenstein plotted her escape from the stuffy Switzerland's house.

The night fell quickly. The duo said their good-nights to one another and split apart to head to their own rooms. The moment the door to Liechtenstein's door latched, she snatched a phone and a National Directory with all the other Nation's numbers, both cell phone and home phones, searching for Spain's name and his numbers.

"Spain…Spain…Spain…ah!" Liechtenstein smiled and snagged the phone from her bed-side table, quickly typing in the Spaniard's number. "Please pick up…" She mumbled softly, hearing the phone ring. Finally, it clicked and she heard a sleepy voice.

"Hola…?" Came the voice, laced with sleep.

"Spain?"

An annoyed huff was heard from the other end and Liechtenstein bit her lip, running a small hand through her blonde hair, tugging out the tangles. "M-Mr. Antonio…?" She whispered quietly, awaiting a response from the obviously roused Spaniard.

"Mmm…what is it, Liechtenstein?" He yawned, squirming a bit in the sound asleep arms of Romano, glancing up to gaze at the other while waiting for the small girl tor respond.

"I need help." Liechtenstein stated firmly, crossing her legs on her bed.

"Oh…? With what…?" His voice was starting to sound even more annoyed than it had been previously. Obviously the Spaniard didn't like to be disturbed when heaved a heavy sigh and released the air slowly, in a steady stream. "It's too stuffy here! I need out."

Spain stifled a laugh and a snort of contempt, shaking his head slowly, not that the girl could see. "From Switzerland…?" His words were teasing, but somewhat icy, making Liechtenstein frown a bit.

"Yes!" She squeaked out, blushing at the octave of her voice. "He…" She dropped her tone, glancing over her shoulder to see if the former mercenary had heard her squeal. "He's too stiff. He thinks that sandwiches taste like…well, sandwich."

Spain rolled his eyes from his bed back in Madrid. "No, I thought a sandwich tasted like gelato. No shit it tastes like a sandwich."

"That's my point exactly! I can't take it anymore!" I thought he was supposed to be nice…Liechtenstein thought to herself, sighing out loud once more. "I need suggestions on what to do."

"Deal with it."

Liechtenstein felt her jaw fall open to the floor. Had he really just said that? Where was that nice, charming, overly-romantic Spaniard that she saw flirting endlessly with Romano at World Meetings and chatting aimlessly with France at small cafés in downtown Paris? She pushed her jaw back up and clenched her teeth, making a mental note to back hand the short man next time she saw him. "Deal with it." She repeated, slowly.

"Sí." Spain droned, yawning unceremoniously. "Deal with it."

"…..Deal. With. It?"

"Oh for the love of God, yes! Deal with it! You're the one who chose to stay with him, you have every opportunity to just get up and leave yet you don't. So deal with it. I'm going back to bed. Buenas noches."

And with that a click was heard and Liechtenstein sat, slack-jawed once more at the Spaniard's harshness. The warnings on waking him up had been true, it seems. Sighing, the blonde flopped back onto her bed and tossed the phone to the side. She then promptly rolled over, pressing her face into her pillow before taking a deep breath and screaming as loud as she could into the pillow. It had been a very trying day.

The morning ran into the windows all too quickly and Liechtenstein cursed the very sun, chucking a pillow at the white-paned window across from her bed. "I hate you all…" She growled, rolling out of bed, not even bothering to straighten up her bed-head, pieces of blonde hair sticking straight up and to the sides randomly.

She padded down the hallway and into the kitchen, seeing Switzerland up and making a small breakfast, simple breakfast breads with butter and jam. "You…" She snarled.

Switzerland stiffed up his back and turned around, an utterly confused look on his face. "Yes…?" He stammered quietly, unsure as to why Liechtenstein was in such a foul mood.

"You lied to me."

"I what…?"

"You lied to me. You said Spain was nice."

Switzerland bit his lip somewhat, wondering what was even prompting this conversation. "Well, he is, generally."

Liechtenstein scoffed, turning away haughtily and crossing her arms over her chest. "You still lied." She stepped away, glancing over her shoulder. "And no shit sandwiches taste like sandwiches." And with that, the blonde girl stomped away, kicking at random furniture and shoving random tables and pieces of art from their rightful places.

Vash just stood there, watching utterly astounded at Liechtenstein, before letting out a low sigh and going back to his preparation of breakfast. "And she calls me stiff."