Disclaimer: Himaruya + Genius = Hetalia. Do you see me anywhere near the equation?

Warning: Italians and handcuffs and pasta. Oh, some maple syrup as well.

Hi people! I'm back, excuse the lame chapter please.

Confusion.

"Fuck, why did I ever agreed to this?! What was I even thinking?" England said, walking through the long, forlorn hallways of the school.

And yes, he's still in a skirt. A too-bloody-short skirt that keeps on swaying and hiking up.

He stopped at the front of a large door and look in his bag for his keys.

And yes, he is in the front of the infamous Student Council office, known to be a place where a lot of poor souls enter and few return from the hands of the demons that run it. It has been dubbed as the Demon's Gate, the place of no return.

Said Head demon now wearing a skirt.

"Where is that blasted key?!" Arthur said, quickly trying another one. Well, it would have been good if there were only a couple of said keys. Bit unfortunately, the council president holds a copy to every single club room, equipment room, gates and to the gym. Racking those will be like looking for a needle in a haystack.

Specially since you practically have all of the keys in the school with the exception of the Principal's office. England remembers how much he wanted to strangle the man when he presented him with the set of keys. And he has to carry them all day.

"Bloody hell…" England's hands were sweating. Of course he knew that if Hungary were to catch him around the office, he'll be a dead duck.

Arthur shivered at the promise of wearing the girls' pe uniform. He'd rather quit school than wear that. No, he'll definitely die first before wearing that!

With that thought in his head, Arthur resumed looking for the said key, without noticing the person that sneaked up behind him.

"England." The said person said behind England, breath wafting on the man's nape.

"Gyaaah!" England jumped away from the voice, not even distinguishing if the voice was of a man's or a woman's.

Well, England knew it wasn't Hungary. He didn't get hit by lightning right on the spot so it cannot be her.

"What the hell!" Arthur raised an eyebrow at the blond-haired man in front of him. "Who are you?"

"I'm Canada, England." Canada said, lips quirking to the side slightly.

"Canada…" England frowned. "What are you doing here? Don't you have classes?" England asked wearily, careful not to let anyone hear or even see him. He was forbidden to be here.

"Ah, well I had been following you for minutes now, you just didn't notice."

England stared up to the man. For such a meek looking person, he was so tall. He was almost as tall as Russia…

"Eh, do I have something on my face?" Canada asked. England could see that the boy was nervous. Now why would he be… England turned away from the Canadian, without hearing the small sigh of relief.

The two blond nations stood in front of the giant door. England, quickly running his hands over on the keys, Canada watching the man, trying not to let his eyes wander to those thighs. Canada silently cursed France.

It didn't help that the skirt was swaying ever so dangerously just before his eyes. Again, Canada silently cursed at that annoying little 'France voice' on his head. Canada shook his head. No, that 'France voice' is JUST A FIGMENT OF HIS IMAGINATION!

Though he isn't sure if the urge to jump the Englishman is a part of his imagination or not. Canada mentally hit his head on an imaginary wall. Again another figment of his imagination

"Umm, you could use my key if you like." Matthew said, feeling cold sweat on his nape when the Englishman sharply turned to him.

"Why didn't you say so in the first place!?" England snapped at the man who looked very much like America but is not America. Though when he saw the taller man stiffen he tried to reign his words. This isn't America. This is his calmer, more agreeable brother Ca…something.

"Err, sorry. I'm…" England tried to think of a word for it. He didn't notice the slight surprised look on the younger countries face.

"I'm just a wee bit riled up. And I usually take it out on other folks, so s-sorry if I snapped at you." England averted his eyes, staring at a particular space on the wall. To be exact, a place where he cannot see the violet eyes of the Canadian widening in surprise.

The sound of students walking towards the Council office jolted the awkward atmosphere out of them. England's eyes widened as he was dragged into the room, which is already opened, by Can…America's older brother. The two of them leaned on the door until those footsteps disappeared.

Two sigh of ease were heard within the four corners of the room.

England quickly went over to his desk, rummaging through the drawers. A sound of triumph was heard when Arthur pulled a M16 caliber gun. England had to thank Switzerland for this later. After all, he was the one who left all these pretty much capable artilleries here, all for Arthur's convenience, well not exactly Arthur's, more like the school's convenience but still it did serve its purpose for the Council president. Whether the disturbance had something to do with the lecherous vice-president or just a few rascals messing up the school, or just one of the people in Arthur's long, very long list of people he'll shot dead one day, the fear and threat these arms had is enough to crumble all those disturbances to the ground. Arthur had, as in had really had, seen Switzerland smile at the way his beloved arms brought peace to the school and more importantly, to Arthur's life. Well, for Arthur that is the most important.

His peace and his tea that is.

"W-what are you gonna do with that?!" England lifted his head to see a petrified Can…again England can't remember. England cocked his head in confusion. Why is that that the lad always looked like he had seen bloody murder or something?

Of course what England didn't know is that he was making a face that looked like he was ready to turn the school into a mere puddle of blood and discarded flesh.

"Nothing, just to hunt frogs." Arthur smiled at the Canadian. Canada gulped, not sure just why did he thought of frog legs at the moment or if the thought was even…never mind… Canada refuses to dwell on the thought much longer.

Canada stiffened when Arthur's jaded eyes looked up to him. The man's eyes were always so expressive. Even he didn't need France to tell him that. When the Englishman was in pain, the vibrant lush green dulled, when he was mad it flared like melted emeralds within cauldrons as hot as hell, when he was happy its shine couldn't be matched by any amount of emeralds, jade or limestone put together. The man's eyes were so expressive that even if he tried to hide his emotions, it still blatantly showed in those emerald orbs. The reason the Englishman seemed cold and unfeeling was because not a lot of people pay attention to his eyes, their eyes usually glued to those eyebrows. And the fact that England is a very, very, very good actor. But then again, most people just really can't get over those eyebrows. Canada almost felt himself laughing again when he remembers the first time he saw those eyebrows….He was not able to take his eyes off it for like a month, always watching it if twitched or wiggled or if it would crawl away like what France had said.

But there was a time when Canada noticed it wasn't on the eyebrows his attention was fixed on. It was during the America's revolution. Those times where when Canada would see England's eyes dull, furious, dark and then dull again. Even though England kept his cold and indifferent mask on, just fixed on suppressing America's forces as if it was just a job and nothing more.

Of course it had been more. And Canada saw it more than anyone else's , not even France nor America, nor anyone else's. Canada felt a something well inside him, something he only identified as pride quite recently.

He after all stayed with England through the whole ordeal. He would know. But at same time, it brought memories of a broken, dull-eyed Englishman back on Canada's mind.

It was something Canada couldn't help but hate America for. He had never seen his former caretaker that desolated. He knew that it pained America as well to see their former caretaker like that but it hurt Canada in ways America wouldn't even fathom.

Afterall, it wasn't America that had to deal with England when the man would wallow in his despair and practically drown himself in alcohol or lock himself in his quarters or not eat until he gets so sick he cannot stand up, or…or….

Or just plain seeing England fell apart and make a steel cage over his heart. Canada cannot even remember how many time he cursed America as well as France for those years that he didn't feel the same warmth he felt from England, the same rare smile that Canada coveted everytime now gone and nonexistent, those small touches cold, those eyes that Canada would still watch even if they looked like the eyes of a dead man. When England only conquered and conquered coldly. Just pure lust for power.

America and France weren't the ones left longing for the old England back… It had been him and the rest of England's other colonies, those who knew that there is something more to the man that just being a power hungry empire.

Though Canada is sure the both the American and Frenchman longed for England, in more ways than one.

"Why do you have a key anyway?" Canada broke his litany when he remembered England's eyes and the questioning look it held. That was the reason he got dragged back into those thoughts again.

"The people who have their own individual keys were members of the council…" England said, not noticing that Canada had drifted off on his own thoughts even for just a short period of time. England sat down, scrutinizing the gun. A please sound came from him when he saw the cartridge fully loaded. Trust Switzerland to be so awfully prepared…

"I-I'm the Council Treasurer, don't you remember?" Canada tried to hold onto the irritation and anger he suddenly felt. Here he was, already waist-deep in thoughts on the man who cannot even remember him.

Just him. Not as America's older brother or France's look-alike.

He was Canada.

He was the child that hated the Englishman first but learned to really love him gradually.

He was the man but not yet a man that stayed with the Englishman through and through it all.

He was the man who watched the Englishman pull himself up, slowly and painfully relinquishing his hate for the sake of his people.

He was the man that always watched from behind and although he cannot claim he knew the Englishman the best, he knows that he knows him enough not to be thwarted by that cold, demeaning mask and look deep within.

He was the man that stayed. He loved England

He was Canada.

"Hmm, what's your name again?" England asked, looking up to the other man.

Well, that did it.

"My name is Matthew Williams. And I'm Canada, Arthur." England stared up to the Canadian.

"W-what?!"

Okay something is wrong, very wrong with this scene. (more like something right for a change)

When did Canada, weird as it is that he finally remembered the lad, became that fast. He was sure that his wrist weren't trap within those, now that he noticed, large hands. Nor was he pinned down on the couch. Before he was pinned down on a wall, now a couch… What's next? A desk maybe…

"G-get off me! Now!" England screeched. There is something about those eyes that made England feel awful.

Guilt.

"No. Not until you see me."

England glared at the man. "I CAN SEE YOU JUST FINE! YOU'RE STRADDLING ME REMEMBER?!" He gulped at the intensity those violet eyes burnt. He had never noticed but Canada can be very scary. His breath hitched when Canada leaned in, their nose nearly touching.

"I wonder…If you can really see me?" Canada's hair hiding those eyes. England looked up confusedly at the Canadian, as well as peeved. How dare he doubt his vision… He could see the man just fine, if not then why would he feel cold sweat at the position the two of them are in.

"Of course I can see you, you're America's-" Arthur was interrupted when his lips were caught by the younger man. England trashed around, in an attempt of getting his hands free or threw off the taller nation.

The Englishman's eyes widened.

The Skirt.

The bloody skirt was hiking up. More importantly, when did his legs, yes with the bare skin and all, got tangled with the Canadian. His face heat up as Canada's pants brush against his legs. He never paid attention to skin contact before but having your legs tangled, brushed, rubbed and touch, as well as that bloody skirt just really have to be too short, practically exposing his umm, vital regions is just embarrassing. England felt the skirt grazed the couch and hitched up even more. He felt so exposed with just a bloody short piece of clothing on.

England swore that when this day is done, he'll just wear pants forever. Not even shorts. He wiggled, trying to flatten the skirt again. It didn't work, thus he concentrated his efforts on getting his hand free. He almost forgot about the Canadian who was kissing the daylights out of him.

That was until he ran out of breath. He kicked at the Canadian more fiercely when he felt the need to have air. Unsurprisingly, the Canadian willingly drew back, face flush and he was panting. The need for air, apparently grew to great.

Arthur drew a deep breath in. But not before landing a punch on the Canadian's gut, making the man fall off the couch and writhe in pain. After that he quickly straightened his skirt, and attempted to lower it again but to no avail.

"What was that for?!" Arthur shouted, giving up on the skirt. England was proven that the skirt is not stretchable. For like his thirty-sixth try.

"Don't say America. I'm not him." England cocked his head to the side, baffled by the other nations' answer.

"Of course you're not him, you're…"

"I'm not France's look-alike either."

"Of course not! You're-" England was once again cutoff when Canada took a hold of his arm, his words were choked within his throat as he was pulled down to the floor by Canada.

"I'm Canada, England."

"I KNOW THAT!" England tried to loosen the man's hold on him but it proved to be harder than he espected.

"I wonder if you really know…" Canada unconsciously tightened his hold. He wondered, truly wondered if England would see him, just him alone.

"Of course I- Bloody hell! You're hurting me!" England's eyes widened as he was pulled into a bear-like hug. His head pressed against the Canadian's broad chest.

"I had always wanted to be seen by you. Please see me." England heard the man whisper. It was like a child's plea. It only made the guilt in England's heart worst. And he felt the man's hug tighten a fraction.

"Canada, lad. You and Ame-your brother are different. I might not see you sometimes but I know that you're you and I am proud to have raised you. Now please loosen your arms, I can't breathe."

Canada quickly released England. He watched as the smaller man took in air. "Sorry." The Canadian mumbled.

"That's fine." England let out a strained laugh. "But I must admit, I thought you were going bonkers for a second there…" Again England laughed. His eyes widened when Canada once again seized his hand.

"I wasn't." Canada held his breath. He was going to tell him. He saw that England was scared, surprised and curious at the same time. He needed to tell him now, this is his chance!

"England, I-"Canada is really going to tell him. Nothing could foil this moment.

"ENGLAND I KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE!"

Canada jumped at the loud banging on the door. That was America. Canada thought maybe he could ignore his brother. This is one-in-a-million chance. He cannot lose this!

Choosing to ignore America, Canada tried again.

"England, I-"

"Mon cheri, We know you're shy and all. Let big brother in~"

"Maple." Canada mumbled. Okay, he was pissed right now. Here he was, about to declare his love and his brother and former caretaker have to be such cockblockers.

A jiggle of keys made England push the Canadian away and duck behind the couch. Whatever it is that Canada has to say, it will have to wait. He cannot be seen in this particular room, at least if England still wants to get through the day and salvage whatever is left of his pride. He didn't saw the amused smile on Canada's lips. Nor the look of the Canadian probably screaming just how cute he looked at the moment, hiding behind the couch, cheeks slightly reddened and pouting.

England didn't know that Canada just had another reason to fall in love. And to help him not be seen by his brother and former caretaker.

The doors opened, revealing France and America as well as Japan trailing behind them. They only saw Canada sitting on the couch, casually reaching for paperwork he needs to get done.

America looked around the room to find that there is no sign of the Englishman anywhere. "Hey, Matt, have you seen England here?" America asked the Canadian.

"No. I haven't. " Canada said easily. 'As if I'll tell you. Consider this a payback.' He thought as he gave America a smile.

"Well, mon Canada, please give big brother a call if you see England around here, oui." France said, eyes also surveying the room. The room is still except for the couch that the Canadian sat on. England didn't come here.

"Yes, France." Canada flashed another smile. 'Yeah, right. Payback's a bitch, eh?' Canada smiled as he watched the trio go away. Canada sat there for a while before sighing.

"So much for confessing, eh…" His violet eyes wandered towards the opened door of the balcony.

The balcony leads to a pathway to the corridors. England is already gone.

"Maybe I'll join this chase too…" Canada murmured, wishing he had brought Kumakochi along.

England leaned against the wall, panting. He didn't know what he would have done if anyone saw him there. "That was a close one…" England said, silently making a note to thank Canada next time he sees the lad.

"And in the end I didn't get that stupid gun…" England frowned. If it weren't for those two morons he would have safely gotten it.

"Now…what should I-"

"Ve! England! Found you!"

England turned towards the voice sharply, seeing a smiling Italy running towards him. He relaxed. It's just Italy.

"Shh, keep it down." England said, not insulting the Italian. He just can't insult him, even if he says his cooking is icky. Well, he calls him idiot or moron from time to time but that's just that.

The Italian stopped in front of England and smiled. "Ve, sorry~ Are you still running away from big brother France? He went to look for you, you know." The Italian whispered. He tried to control himself from jumping the man right now. It didn't help that he looked adorable while anxiously looking for any wandering students. Italy is glad that he took the secluded part of the school alone for a change.

The skirt is a super bonus though.

"Ve, England! Have pasta with me!" Italy tugged on the Englishman's sleeves.

"W-what?"

"Have pasta with me."

"Why? Italy, this isn't the time…"

Italy smiled at England. "But any time is good to have pasta~"

"And I'll help you out of the building too!" Italy said, further coaxing the Englishman. Of course, he'll be able to lead Arthur out of the building. No one would suspect him after all…

"Okay." England agreed begrudgingly. He followed the Italian as he was dragged away.

"Ve~ Finally we're out!" Italy said, still dragging England away from the building and towards the school gardens where he left his picnic basket.

'And Germany said leaving pasta all over the school was a bad thing…' Italy thought as he skipped, England following closely behind.

England followed the Italian, watching him closely. He didn't know that the Italian could lie so smoothly like that. Feliciano just never looked like he could hurt a fly.

Much less lie to France like that.

"Ve, that was a close one. France-nii almost caught us." Italy chimed, sitting down on the grass, reaching for the basket he hid somewhere in the bushes. That won't be good. Italy mentally added.

"Err, I guess not." England watched Italy as he sat down on the grass and rustle through the bushes. He wanted to say that Italy helped him by lying to France but a part of him is weary of the bubbly Italian.

"Ve…" Italy frowned when he saw the look on England's face. He looked like he would run away any second. Italy would have none of that though.

"England…" Italy grabbed England wrist and pulled him down to him with surprising strength. "…You should seat down, ve~" The Italian smiled when England kneeled down on his knees beside him, probably surprised he was able to pull him down.

'Well, they all would be at first~' Italy hummed in his head.

"Italy…don't you think I should be hiding right now…"

"But, if the others see you with me, they'll not think you went anywhere near you office~" England contemplated on what the Italian said but his thoughts were cut short when he handed down a plate of pasta.

"Ve, England, don't you like pasta?" Italy asked, noticing that the Englishman only stared at the plate.

"Uh, well, I do like your cooking. I was just thinking…"

"That's good! You should eat then!" Italy said, enthusiasm overflowing.

"Hmm, it wouldn't hurt…"

"Yay~" Italy smiled as he watched the Englishman eat. England found it hard to seat on the grass, in a skirt so he shifted frequently as he eat. Italy found it cute. Of course, Italy knew from the very start just how cute the man is really, even without the skirt, Italy always found England adorable.

And of course he wanted England for himself just like the many others scattered around the school. Italy's face twitched a little at the thought.

"Hey, Arthur…"

England stopped eating before looking at the Italian. "Hmm?" He stared confusedly when Italy pointed at his face.

"You have some sauce on your face, ve." Italy chuckled as England quickly reached to wipe the sauce off.

"Ah, thank you telling me, I-" England froze as Italy leaned in, cupping his cheek. He jolted when he felt something wet lick the side of his mouth. England quickly recoiled when Italy pulled away.

"You missed some~" Italy only smiled at the Englishman's reaction.

"Eh?" England pointed confusedly at the Italian. When did Italy become a lot like…a lot like…

'France!' England thought as he felt his cheeks redden. Warning sounds rang like hell's bells through England's head.

The smirk on Italy's wasn't helping one bit as well.

"Ve~ Are you alright, Arthur?" Italy seized England's hand and tilted himself closer to England, melted chocolate eyes meeting confused green ones.

"You looked flushed..." England tensed as he felt Italy's breath mingling with his own, practically purring in front of him.

And totally invading his personal space. And his warning senses were telling him to get away.

England quickly stood up, despite his knees feeling like jelly, and tugged on his hand. Italy lets it go, face neutral. England couldn't be sure but he thought he saw Italy's lustrous brown orbs take a darker look.

"Y-yes! I'm fine. I guess I was a little faint from running and all, hahaha…" Even to England's own ears he sounded unbelievable. And even though he knew that the Italian had a known nature that would surely be naïve enough to believe him, England wasn't so sure about it now… especially with the scrutinizing look he receives from the Italian, just barely seconds after.

England tried to not release a sigh when he heard Italy's jovial laughter. At least that was familiar.

"Ve~ I guess you would be. Maybe you would like some wine to drink, yes?" England tried not to dwell on the fact that that would be what would France say if he were here. That man's answer to everything was wine. Well, wine, sex, food and more sex but then again it is France…

'Not Italy…' England reminded himself.

"No, I-I think I just need water. I'm feeling a bit too light-headed for any alcohol at moment…" England saw Italy's eyes dropped, showing disappointment.

"Ve…I guess so…"

"I'll just go to the drinking fountain then…" England turns away from the Italian and lets out a deep sigh. Well, was about to, when it was cut off when Italy took a hold of his hand once again.

And brought it to his lips. England stared startled when Italy placed a light kiss on his knuckles.

"Don't be too long. We still have gelato left." Italy said in a sultry, honey-laced voice. The look he gave to England however was enough to elicit a shiver from the Englishman.

Well, actually did elicit a shiver. England would be shot dead if he didn't see the small, smug smirk on the Italian's face which was quickly covered up with a good-natured, sweet smile as he lets go of England's hand, just a brief as how he took it.

However, how does Italy make such a brief and quick action seems so seductive?

"Uh…" England only manages to nod at the Italian, speechless. He scurries off to the direction of the drinking fountains.

And the feeling of eyes staring never left him. In fact, it only intensified.

Italy watched as England's lone figure disappear though the buildings. A part of him wanted to frown and curse because he had been planning that one for quite a while now, well, inviting Arthur to lunch and Arthur wearing pants were part of his plan. It wasn't part of his plan to fluster the man though…

Well, sort of not part of the plan…

But then again…Arthur wearing a skirt had been a catalyst so Italy figured he'd have to step on it if he wanted to feed his fratello and his other competitors dirt and dust. Italy laughed as he relished on the thought.

"Ve…I wished Japan was here…I would have like a picture of Arthur." Italy said absentmindedly, debating with himself whether he should follow the Englishman or wait.

"What was that?!" England said as he splashed some water on his face. The water is good and cools down the previously hot feeling on his cheeks.

Italy, sweet, innocent, weak Italy…England is still dizzy from all that, and the cool water helped to wash it away.

"Ve! England are you here?!" England stiffened when he heard the Italian's voice. And from the sound of it was a close. England splashed some more water on his face. He heard footsteps behind. England, assuming that it was the Italian dried his face before turning to face the man.

"Italy, you-" England was cutoff as he felt a swift impact on the back of his neck, literally knocking the breath and consciousness out of him. England saw golden brown eyes before plunging into darkness.

Italy hums a certain tune as he skips through the corridors of the school, deciding to follow England after all. He smiles at when he hears the faintest sound of water running. He decides to shout at the Englishman, inquiring if he was anywhere nearby. Italy frowns when he doesn't receive anything.

A slight tap on his steps were heard as he quickens his pace.

Italy hears the water, still running. He smiles before peeking at the drinking fountain, fully expecting a startled England.

But there was no England present. Only a cold look on the Italian's face.

"Fratello…" Italy mutters knowingly before his lips curves into a smile. A cold, deceptively sweet smile. He wears that smile as he skips down the corridor.

When England woke up, he was in this room. One of the vacant rooms in the school. He was tied to a chair, a his head was slightly throbbing in pain.

"You're awake." England looks over to his side, to see Romano sitting on the floor.

"What do you think you're doing Romano?" England asks the Italian. He knows that Romano is afraid of him, and of this is one of Spain's jokes, it certainly isn't funny.

"Isn't obvious eyebrow bastard?" England looks up to Romano, when the man stood up and walked towards him. Those light brown eyes. England remembers how he hates looking up to people.

"I'm kidnapping you." England blinked at the statement. How could Romano say that as if that in a matter-of-fact voice?

England glared at the Italian. "If this is a joke, it isn't funny! Release me at once! I swear, if this is Spain's doing, I'll-" England didn't get to finish when the Italian lowered himself, face directly in front of England. England lets out a yelp when Romano took a hold of his tie and pulled him closer.

"No, eyebrow bastard…This is my own doing." England choked when Romano pulled on the fabric harshly. "Don't say other names when you're with me." England felt shivers through his spine at the dark voice of the Italian.

"Bloody hell…I can't breathe." England managed to say. He breathed deeply when Romano dropped the tie and pulled away.

The two of them stayed like that. England avoiding those brown orbs that lingered on him. He searched his head for any reasons as to why the Italian would have a grudge of him

"Why are you doing this…If it is revenge because I sent you to detention last week, this is rather shallow. I mean you did attack a student and I had to do take action-"

"Do you really think I would this for something like that? If I wanted revenge, I would have lace your tea with poison, bastard."

"T-then what is that you want?" England tried to not dwell on the fact that Romano would actually lace his tea with poison, or even think that he would get away with it.

"Isn't that obvious?" England's verdant eyes meets melted caramel ones, as his head was forcefully turned to face the Italian, hands gripping on his chin hard enough that England thought it would bruise.

"I want you."

"Eh?" England stared, confused at what the Italian just said. Okay…something is really messed up here.

"Are you an idiot?"

"W-what?"

"When I say I want you…" England let out a startled sound when Romano's unoccupied hand grazed his bare thighs. He tried to get it off but it tightened its hold, clawing on his legs.

"I mean it." The Englishman felt Romano's warm breath on his ears, as he said those words but his attention wasn't on that. It was on the man's hand. The hand inched dangerously close to England's skirt. Again, memories of a certain Frenchman's not-so-long-ago shenanigans flashed through England head.

And like what happen to a certain Frenchman, Romano soon found himself on the floor. Although, his vital regions were missed by few millimeters.

"Bloody hell…WHAT IS WITH YOU, PEOPLE!?" England shouted, trying to get up from the chair he was bound to.

"Have none of seen someone in a skirt before!" England's breathing raspy. "Maybe I should have signed that memorandum, then I wouldn't be pestered by annoying people that seems to get high seeing a male in a freaking skirt!" England's were heard inside the room, him trying to catch his breath after saying all that. He didn't even pay attention to the Italian on the floor, staring up to him. He also didn't notice the somber expression on the grumpy man's face.

"I like you."

England turned sharply towards Romano. "What did you say?"

"I said I like you."

"You are not serious."

"And who are you to say I am not serious?"

England raised an eyebrow at the Italian. The look on the Italian's face was, well, dead serious. But to Arthur, it definitely didn't sound like a confession. Arthur Kirkland never thought he'll get a confession from Romano, of all people.

"Seriously? Are you this slow? Even Spain's turtles would be faster than you."

"Hey! That's uncalled for!" England gulped when Romano was suddenly back up on his feet and on England's personal space again.

"I like you, and it isn't just the skirt but I can say it looks good on you." England flushed at both the proximity and Romano's words. Not exactly what he expects.

"I like you, and I kidnapped you because I don't like that others are getting ideas on what is suppose to be mine."

"W-what?!" What other exactly? England wanted to ask.

"And here I was thinking you're smart." England watched as Romano sighed and step back a little. "You were with my fratello, I saw you." Romano paused before continuing.

"I don't like that."

"Why?"

"Because…" Arthur's eyes widened when Lovino cupped his face using both hands, making him look straight through those golden brown eyes.

"I like you, like you a lot." England felt his face warm up again.

"Wha?" England tried to think of what to say when a knock on the door was heard.

"Ve!~ Fratello! I know you're in there! So mean, trapping England to yourself. I'll call Germany if you don't get him out right this second~" Romano 'tsked' at the familiar voice.

"Call that potato macho if you want, I don't care." Romano glared at the door. Both England and Romano heard laughter from outside.

"Well, he'll probably bring France-nii or Prussia…then we would have no chance at all…Ve! Why don't we just share?~"

"Don't you dare open that door Feliciano. I'm not good a sharing, and your even worst at it than me. I should know."

"Meanie."

"Lier."

"Hahahaha~ I would get England out of there right this second if I were you. Japan and the others are coming."

"Fuck…"

Romano meets England's eyes before sighing. He reaches for something in his pocket. England watches as Romano reach to unlock the handcuffs tying him to the chair.

"Don't get out of the room, unless you have counted to a thousand. And be careful, my grandfather already cancelled most of the classes, making today a special Club's day."

"Why?"

"Fuck, weren't you listening, I just confessed I like you. I cannot have you be discovered here by those people." Romano glanced at the door. "And I can't trust my brother not to do something if you stayed here."

"Romano…"

"What?"

"I-I…"

"If you're gonna say that you'll be mine, then say it bastard."

"That wasn't it!" England frowned. Romano wasn't this much of an arsehole last time he remembered.

"Remember to count until a thousand." And with that Romano came out of the room, locking it from the inside. Arthur noted that Romano even left his keys.

"A thousand…" England whispered as he starts to count on. He could hear Romano and Italy's steps going away, and a couple of shouts. England could clearly picture Romano dragging a crying Italy through the hallways. There were cussing sounds and a couple of ve's that England could still hear.

Oooooooh. WHAT A LAME ENDING. Sorry, Romano, I cannot have you jumping England this early in the story, maybe later.

Also, that's one point for Romano. I assure you someone didn't bribe me with a dozen boxes of Italian pizza and threaten-I mean coax me to let him win Mafioso style, nuhuh, nope, I WISH.

And…I also didn't find some crates of tomatoes in my backyard just this morning. Like tomatoes…

Anyways, there's gonna be more than one incident of kidnapping here(someone already talked to me about it) and I'm rapidly running out of sick, wicked situations to put England in, I would like some help, really, REALLY.

Also Canada appeared, now that was from a nicely done bribe(brother, you never fail to put solutions to my problems) I was debating whether to bring UsUk out or FrUk BUT then my brother said to go with Canada, so here he is…I just got a bit carried away.

Next chapter will involve a janitor's closet and a broom and woods. Review, please, just day what dark, dark, fangirlish fantasies I know you people have. I cannot read minds you know. Or maybe bribe me into letting your OTP win, I'm invulnerable to puppy dog eyes and promises of strawberry milkshakes!

Now excuse me while I run away from the pasta being thrown at me, along with other things. Seriously, France, a flying dildo -throws it away-