A/N: I have ADD. Can you tell? Yes another one. The good news is, this is the last one I plan on starting for a while. Read and enjoy while I attempt to write my novel!

Summary: In an attempt to give his life some hint of meaning again, Gilbert Beilschmidt makes a bet with his best friend that he can get the next girl he sees in bed with him before the end of the year. Unfortunately for Gilbert, that girl happens to be the least appealing woman in the world: one Miss Chiara Vargas. What a disaster! Now, not only is Gilbert concerned with his abysmal health, he is also resigned to the task of courting a woman he can't stand and who in turn, loathes him. How could this situation possibly get any worse? This is an AU were the Nyotalias exist alongside the hetalia characters we know and love. The vast majority of nations require both a male and female persona. Only tiny nations, like, Sealand for example require only one. The main pairing will be Het!Prumano but there are mentions of several other pairings. So fear not my Spamano lovers :D

Warnings: Foul language and scenes of a graphic sexual nature. There will be lemons later on.

And thus, we begin. Enjoy.

Chapter 1: A Friendly Wager

Gilbert Beilschmidt was dying.

I know. Quite a way to begin a story. But it's the simple and complete truth of the matter. It had been coming on for decades: ever since the Kingdom of Prussia had been dissolved after World War II his and his younger sister, Maria's, health had been deteriorating, reducing the twins of East Germany to little more than a burden to their younger brother and sister who so desperately wanted the two of them to live. The both of them staying alive indefinitely was not an option, especially after 2011 The fight that had ensued over who would claim a micro-Prussia founded in Canada, a piece of land, too small to require the control of both a male and female persona, rocked the house in Germany to its very core. It was only after several days of shouting matches and tears that Maria finally agreed: she would be the one to represent Micro-Prussia, leaving her older brother to wither away in sickness and eventually die. But you see, an ex-Nation is as immortal as he chooses to be and for the most part Gilbert had managed to keep himself in good enough spirits to remain in reasonable health for the year that followed the micro-nation incident. Recently however… things had really been taking a turn for the worst.

Which is where the story begins. It was early in the morning, just after dawn to be exact, in June and Ludwig Beilschmidt had just made his way downstairs to make his family the coffee they would all surely need to stay awake at the world meeting. It was then he saw his brother passed out on the living room sofa, the empty bottle lying on its side on the floor, shining in the early morning sun. Ludwig sighed at the sight, pinching the bridge of his thin nose in irritation. This was the third time this week he had come downstairs to find his brother in this state. It was impossibly frustrating. Ludwig knew what the problem was—a certain Miss Hungary currently wanted nothing to do with Gilbert—but this was no way to handle it, particularly with the circumstances the way they were. If Gilbert continued on this path, he would not survive the year. The thought alone made Ludwig shudder with cold dread; he did not even want to think about what would happen to him or his sisters if his brother were to… he couldn't even think the word. Gilbert had to get better. He just had to find a reason to live.

"Bruder," Ludwig called softly, moving to stand over the unconscious lump. "Bruder come on, we don't have time for this today."

A soft moan escaped from the older brother's lips and a pale white hand came to cover his still closed eyes The voice was bothering him, irritating him to the point that, had he been able to move, he would have reached for his gun and blown off the head of whoever was talking. He'd been out late the night before, looking for a human woman to entice into his bed and maybe help fill the hole that one Miss Hungary had left in his heart several months previously. He had been, yet again, unsuccessful, unsurprisingly. His hangover was making his already abysmal health feel a thousand times worse.

"Bruder!"

"Get bent, West," Gilbert muttered, rolling over to turn his back on his brother and burry his face against the cushions.

"Bruder, I am not going to do this with you today. We don't have time. Get. Up."

Gilbert ignored him completely, intending to go back to sleep but unfortunately his strict and serious baby sister, Monika, had other plans.

Out of nowhere, he was screaming, his hands held tight over his ears attempting to block out the unbelievable, screeching sound of the airhorn being held to his ear.

"Monika!" he shouted, rounding on his sister, outraged. "What the hell?!"

For someone that had just held an air horn to her brother's ear, Monika appeared rather unfazed. She simply stood there, her broad-shouldered arms crossed over her large chest straining against the seams of her trench coat, the glare under her short bangs meeting her brother's without shame.

"Ludwig is right. We don't have time for this. Get up now."

"Has anyone ever told the two of you to get the sticks out of your asses?"

"NOW!" Ludwig and Monika shouted in unison.

"Alright, alright, Gott…." Another moan was pulled from his lips as he sat up, a hand going to his head as the elegant room before him swam in his vision.

"Don't you dare throw up on this carpet!"

Monika's shriek, however were drowned out by the hacking coughing fit that Gilbert had suddenly succumbed to. As the hacks got worse, growing to the point they rocked Gilbert's entire body, Monika and Ludwig exchanged a look. They both knew what the other was thinking: it was happening again. Gilbert's depression was forcing his illness to progress. The last time this had happened, Gilbert had grown so ill; he'd slipped into a coma and very nearly died. If Gilbert didn't cheer up soon… they didn't want to think about it.

"Bruder… are you okay?" Ludwig's tone had changed so drastically, it was as if he were a different person. The concern in his voice was so overwhelming, Gilbert may have cried… had tears not already been forming at the corners of his red eyes from his coughs.

"I-I'm—" he couldn't finish. His hacking coughs tearing at his throat made it impossible to get the words out.

"Go get him some water," Ludwig said to Monika, who ran off to the kitchen to obey as Ludwig began pounding on his brother's back in an attempt to help him clear his throat.

When Gilbert finally pulled his hand away from his mouth, it was to find it coated in sticky, red blood.

"Don't you give me that look," Gilbert demanded, upon meeting Ludwig's pitying, blue eyes. "I'm fine."

"Bruder—"

"I said I'm fine," Gilbert insisted struggling to get to his feet without passing out. "This happens all the time now."

"Somehow, that isn't reassuring," said Ludwig, reaching out a hand to help steady his brother on his feet. "You're really beginning to get bad again. I know you're still hurt from what Elizabeta—"

"Don't talk to me about her!" Gilbert snapped. The last thing he needed right now was to think of that vile woman. It would only make his health worse.

"That's my point," said Ludwig, "if you don't move on from this soon, you'll—"

"I am not going to die!" Gilbert insisted. "I'm too awesome for that."

"But, Gilbert—"

"I have to go get ready for the meeting," said Gilbert shortly, pushing past his brother to get to the stairs.

"Gilbert, we can't ignore this!"

But that's exactly what he did as he trudged up the stairs and into the hall bathroom intent on splashing cold water on his face. Before he could reach the sink, however, a head rush forced him to grab the doorframe for support, his knuckles going—if possible—even whiter as he gripped it for dear life.

"Dammit, not again," he mumbled as his head spun. He couldn't take this anymore. He couldn't handle being this sick. It was unbearable on both him and his family. He couldn't stand it.

He hobbled over to the sink, leaning against the porcelain in an attempt to stay upright. Despite what he had told his brother, he knew if this kept up, he very well may not survive the year. The thought terrified him. What would happen to his brother and sisters if they lost him? He shook his aching head slightly to rid it of these thoughts; now was not the time.

"You need to pull yourself together," Gilbert murmured to his reflection. He had to get a handle on himself or the consequences could be dire. The last thing he wanted was to abandon his family. He was the oldest, the one meant to take care of them all. That was precisely the reason he had made Maria take Micro-Prussia. He didn't want to think about the repercussions of leaving them. No, no matter what happened or how depressed he got, he wouldn't allow that to happen. He had a family to take care of.

"Get it together, Gilbert," he said to himself firmly. "Get it together before it's too late.

The same morning sun, shining brighter due to the part of the world, was creeping its way steadily through the windows of a large house in Rome. Little did the only still-sleeping occupant know the still silence was about to be broken in the cruelest way possible.

"Chiara! [pronounce Key-ara] Get out of the bathroom!"

Feliciano did not want to wake up this early. He did not want to have to deal with his brother and sister's fighting right now. He rolled over, pulling his pillow over his head in an attempt to block out the noise. His sister's voice, however, was still heard loud and clear.

"There's more than one bathroom, idiot!"

"Not with my shaving stuff in it!"

"First come, first serve!"

"Will you just hurry it up?!"

Feliciano groaned. Today was just another day in the house of Italy; Chiara and Lovino were up first, fighting over something or another, waking up the younger two with their sharp words and raised voices. It was like this every single day. Feliciano desperately wished for just one day of peace and cooperation between his family; just one day where Chiara and Lovino weren't screaming at each other, especially over—

"What? You think putting a bunch of make up on and doing your hair is going to make him want you? He's after me, Chiara, get over it!"

Okay. Time to get up. Now was when things were about to turn very ugly. As soon as Antonio was brought into a fight, things escalated to a dangerous level if no one intervened. There had even been fist fights in the past.

With another groan, Feliciano rolled out of bed, rubbing his eyes wearily and made his way out of the bedroom and down the hall towards the bathroom.

"Lovino, you don't have to be mean…."

His twin sister Alíce [pronounced A-leese] had already arrived on the scene of the argument.

"Shut up and stay out of it."

"Ve~ Lovi, please don't start this…," said Feliciano sleepily.

"I'm not starting anything!" Lovino shouted. "And for god's sake, put some clothes on!"

Feliciano winced at the angry tone he should have been used to by now. His brother was a naturally angry person.

"Fuck you," said Chiara throwing the door open and marching up to glower in her twin brother's face, brown eyes alight with fire. Lovino didn't even blink.

"I know someone who wants to," he said unabashedly.

"Why, you-!"

Alíce managed to grab hold of her just in time, wrapping her arms around Chiara's waist and pulling her away from Lovino just before her fist collided with his jaw. How Alíce managed to hold someone struggling with such vigor would always remain a mystery to Feliciano, but he didn't have much time to think about it. As Chiara kicked and screamed for her sister to let her go, Lovino started forward, pushing the sleeve of his right arm up in a show of power.

"You wanna start something, Chiara?!" he shouted at her, as Feliciano darted forward to wrap his slender arms around Lovino's waist in an attempt to hold him back from giving Chiara another black eye.

"Feliciano, don't grab me when you're naked!" shout Lovino, turning his anger on his younger brother.

"I wouldn't have to if you'd stop fighting!" he exclaimed.

"We wouldn't fight if Lovino didn't always push me so far," screamed Chiara

"Oh, that's right, it's always my fault!"

"Stop it!" shrieked Alíce, still fighting with Chiara who was all but biting her sister in an attempt to escape. "We don't have time for this today! Can't we all just try and get along until after the world meeting?"

Lovino and Chiara completely ignored her, each still struggling to get at the other, wanting so badly to vent just a little bit of their pent up frustration out on each other.

"Ve, you're acting like children!" said Feliciano. "We're the younger siblings, you should be setting an example for us."

His words fell on deaf ears as his siblingsf continued to struggle to throttle one another. Miserably, his eyes met those of his twin. With a sigh she nodded. Without a word, Alíce pulled a wet rag out of her pocket and placed it over her sister's nose and mouth. Chiara shrieked one more time in rage, knowing what was happening before her eyes rolled back and she went still in Alíce's arms.

All was silent for a moment before…

"Seriously, where the hell do you two even get chloroform?" asked Lovino, shoving his naked brother away from him and straightening his jacket.

"We have our sources," said Alíce, folding the rag back up and stuffing it into her pocket. "We wouldn't have to use it if you two would act like adults."

"Whatever," said Lovino carelessly stepping over his unconscious sister in order to get to the bathroom. "You two go get ready or we'll be late," he added over his shoulder before shutting the door, banging Chiara's head in the process.

Feliciano sighed.

"Do you think we'll be able to get through the day without a fist fight?" he asked his twin.

"I really hope so," she said, quietly, glancing down at her unconscious sister, feeling a slight twinge of guilt at having knocked her out. "But you know how they get when Antonio is brought up."

"I wish he would just choose one of them."

"He's clueless," said Alíce with a roll of her eyes. "He has no idea either of them wants him."

Feliciano heaved another sigh. "He has the power to tear our family apart and doesn't even know it."

Alíce nodded.

"I just hope he never figures it out…."

"Ugh… my head. Why the hell did you feel the need to use that stuff on me again?" Chiara grumbled as the family trudged through the lobby of the ornate hotel, heals clicking on the gold tile beneath their feet.

"You wouldn't calm down," said Alíce, unabashedly. "It was knock you out or let you and Lovino kill each other."

"I'm a fan of option number two," said Lovino, crossly.

"Ve~ don't be mean, Lovi."

"Shut up."

"Italy!"

The four siblings stopped and looked over their shoulder for the source of the voice.

"There's my favorite country next to Spain!"

Chiara and Lovino both felt their hearts skip a beat as they watched the curly-haired Spaniard prancing towards them, his eyes bright with excitement, his face split into a wide grin. Heat spread to Chiara's cheeks as the green eyes met her own, and she looked away in spite of herself. She never had the courage to look into those eyes, those beautiful green eyes she loved so much, for more than a second at a time.

"Hello, my favorite little minion," said Antonio when he had reached them, throwing an arm around Lovino's shoulders.

"I'm not your minion anymore, Antonio," said Lovino coolly. Chiara couldn't help but feel envy lick her insides at how easy it was for her brother to talk to Antonio, though admittedly he had had more practice. Lovino had lived with Antonio for well over a century back when Southern Italy had been belonged to Spain. Chiara had had the misfortune of living with Antonio's spastic sister, Carmen. To this day, Chiara could barely stand to be in the same room as Carmen.

"Haha, you'll always be my special little underling, Lovi," said Antonio brightly. "And how is adorable North Italy?" he added to Feliciano and Alíce.

"Ve~ hello, big brother Toni!" said Feliciano excitedly.

"We're okay, just sleepy because Big brother and sister were fighting again this morning."

Chiara wanted to slap her. Good god, her sister was an over-sharing idiot. Couldn't she figure out what was private?

Antonio's merry laugh, however, quickly had her anger melting away. She adored Antonio's laugh; it was just so melodic and beautiful and God she wished she could be the one to cause it someday. Maybe if she wasn't so goddamn shy around the clueless, yet unbelievable handsome, idiot."

"Fighting again? Now why can't you two learn to get along and love each other," Antonio said in mock admonishment, before chuckling. "Oh, Chiara," he added. Chiara felt herself go, if possible, even redder, forcing herself to glance up into his sparkling eyes.

"Would you like to have lunch with me today?" he asked. Chiara nearly fainted. Had he really just asked that? She must be dreaming.

"I-I… yes… that would be nice," she stammered, eyes trained on the golden angel beneath her feet, her face glowing like a Christmas tree.

"Great," said Antonio brightly, "Meet me here at lunch break and we'll go get something good to eat… or at least as good as possible considering we're in America."

"O-okay…."

With another smile, Antonio's tanned hand slipped under her chin and slicked his wrist upwards, giving her skin a light touch, a gentle chuckle left his lips as she froze in shock and she grew so light-headed she feared she might faint.

"I'll see you then, bella," he said softly, before dropping his hand and scurrying off to the meeting hall after his sister.

Chiara breathed a heavy sigh, a huge smile splitting her face as she watched the man she had loved for so long run off. Cockily, she threw a smirk over her shoulder at her red-faced, jealous brother, meeting his glare without shame. What did it matter if Lovino was angry? Antonio had asked her out! Life was perfect.

"Well, let's haul or things up to our hotel room and get ready, shall we?" she said, marching off, a smug smirk on her face and her nose in the air. Feliciano and Alíce exchanged a worried look. This could easily be the beginning of the end of their family. If Antonio chose either one of them, things within their household would escalate to near catastrophic levels. Feliciano threw a glance back at his brother, feeling pang of sorrow on Lovino's behalf as he stared moodily at the floor. His brother or his sister's heart? That was the decision Antonio was making. Feliciano sighed, wishing sincerely for a way for everyone to win this game

Chiara Vargas and Gilbert Beilschmidt had next to nothing in common but that day, neither one of them could focus on the meeting, Gilbert because his head was still killing him and Chiara because she was too busy staring at a certain Spanish stud. The first half of the meeting passed without much event, other than the usual of Alfred proposing obnoxious, impossible plans, which Arther shot down, causing Francis to jump in and call both of them stupid, forcing Ludwig to demand that they stay on topic and stop acting like children. *inhales deeply*

Everyone was more than ready for their hour long lunch break, exhausted from the four hours of arguing and childish bickering. Finally able to chat about their personal lives, the nations flocked out of the crowed meeting hall and down to the lobby.

Chiara hovered anxiously by the golden, revolving door to the hotel, waiting, sweating, and praying that she wouldn't screw this up. She had dreamt of this day for years and years, yet instead of excitement, she stood there filled with dread at all the things she might do wrong. What if she said something stupid? What if she spilled food down her dress at lunch? What if-?

"Chiara."

She jumped maybe a foot in the air as Antonio's voice broke through her rambling thoughts and her head snapped up to meet his gorgeous, smiling face.

"Hi," he said, simply.

"H-hi," why did she always have to stutter around him?

"Are you ready to go?" Antonio asked her, kindly.

"Y-yes."

And so they set off, leaving the hotel in search of something mildly edible in New York City. Their hopes were not high.

"So how have you been, Chiara?" asked Antonio when they came to a small pizza place about a mile from the hotel. "I haven't spoken to you in so long. You've gotten to be so beautiful."

Chiara's blush spread right to the roots of her hair.

"Thank you," she said shyly, unable to meet Antonio's eye. "I've been fine. Just fighting with my brother as usual."

Antonio chuckled, causing her heart to flutter up to her throat.

"Why do you two fight so often, anyway?"

"J-just… differences of opinions, I suppose."

Mainly because I think you're best for me and he thinks you're best for him. She would rather die than admit those words out loud.

"How is Lovino?" Antonio asked as they sat down at a dingy table in the corner of the restaurant.

"Fine, I guess," she said shortly, eager to get the subject off her brother.

"Can I ask you something, Chiara?" Antonio asked, leaning towards her, elbows on the table, bright eyes twinkling even in the dim light.

"Y-yes," she said, her heart beating wildly. This was it. Antonio was about to admit how he felt, something she'd always hoped for but never dared to believe. This was really happening. On the edge of her eyes, she felt tears of joy forming. Good god, this was real!

"Chiara… for a long time now, I've been in love with…,"

She swallowed deeply, trying to hold back the tears, and smiled widely at him, ready to return the wonderful notion he was about to convey, so excited she nearly missed the next word.

"Lovino."

And just like that, it was gone, the balloon of happiness she had felt just moments ago popped, vanished into thin air. Lovino? Had he just said he loved Lovino? Her heart pounded like a drum against her chest, leaving her to wonder how this was possible when it was in so many pieces. Lovino. Antonio was in love with Lovino. Not her, her brother. It had always been a dream, a wish that would never come true. All the fights, the arguments she and Lovino had had over him over the years were for nothing. Lovino had won, hands down. And Chiara had been left alone in the cold with no one to save her.

Antonio's mouth was still moving but Chiara couldn't make out the words over the sound of her own sorrow and devastation. Her heartbeat in her ears seemed to be beating out an echo of his words: Lovino. I've been in love with Lovino.

The tears fell from her eyes but they were no longer of joy, they were simply a sign of her weakness, how quickly she was falling apart. She couldn't take this. She couldn't sit here in front of him, watching the mouth she had so longed to kiss move, the green eyes she adored, suddenly shining with concern for her. But not the kind of concern she needed from them.

"Chiara, what's wrong?" he asked.

Clueless. This idiot was clueless. He always had been. He'd never been aware of her feelings for him and now he never would and never needed to. He had made his choice and he had chosen to break her. Without a word, she jumped up from the table, turned on her heel and ran as quickly as she could from the restaurant, doing her best not to scream out her agony as Antonio called after her, confused and concerned for his friend. Just his friend. Never anything more. The thought alone, broke her down even further and for a moment she really thought she would be sick. Instead, she ran faster, the tears streaming down her face as she dashed back to the hotel, desperate to reach the privacy of her room where she could fall apart without any witnesses.

"Mon ami, you look terrible."

"Thank you, Francis," Gilbert said irritably as he sat in a chair in the lobby, holding his head as it throbbed agonizingly beneath his fingers.

"Mon cheri, Gilbert, have you been drinking again?"

"No, I took a bullet to the head."

It honestly felt that way, Gilbert thought, as his head gave another painful throb and his stomach clenched just begging him to vomit.

"Oh, my Gilbert," Francis said in an overly dramatic sympathetic voice, slipping an arm around his friend. "Keep away from the bottle. You should just have sex, like me."

"I've been trying," said Gilbert miserably. "Human women are harder to pick up these days. All about class and such. Those bitches."

"Honhon, losing our touch, are me, Mon ami?" Francis simpered slyly.

"I'm not losing my touch," Gilbert said with a glare which he immediately regretted when it added to the pain in his head. "It's the women I'm going after."

"Ohon, perhaps you should run after a nice Nation, then?"

"There's only one nation I'm interested in…." Gilbert muttered softly, not looking at Francis.

Francis sighed.

"Gilbert, perhaps you really should considering going after someone else. It might be good for you. Besides," he added craftily, "You obviously need to touch up on your sexual appeal."

"Please, I've lost none of my sexual appeal. I bet I could get any girl I wanted in bed within six months."

"Ohon, a bet? This sounds like it could be interesting," said Francis, stroking his beard in thought.

"Haha, you really want to go there?" Gilbert asked, smirking at his friend. "Okay then. I bet you a hundred euros that I can bed the next girl I see before the end of the year."

"Alright," said Francis, holding out his hand. "It will be your lost."

"Oh no, Fran," said Gilbert getting to his feet and taking Francis's hand, an evil smirk alighting his face, "It'll most definitely be yours."

"The next woman you see," Francis said looking over Gilbert's shoulder, laughter in his voice. "I think not."

"What are you-?"

Before he could finish his question, something slammed into his shoulder, knocking him to the side as it ran past in an eager attempt to get to the elevator. Gilbert's red eyes widened in shock and horror as he recognized the curly brown hair cascading over slender, olive-skinned shoulders. Oh no… that couldn't be….

"That doesn't count," Gilbert said quickly.

"Au contrair," said Francis, through a laugh. "You said the next girl you see. Mon ami, you must sleep with Chiara Vargas if you want to win this bet."

"Oh come on!" Gilbert shouted, "There's no way I can or would want to fuck Chiara Vargas!"

"Then I win," said Francis, raising his hand as if to take something from Gilbert. "Hand it over."

Gilbert looked at him for a moment, glaring before a frustrated groan broke the silence and he sat back down, his head in his hands. How in the hell could he possibly bring himself to have sex with her. They got along about as well as Arther Kirkland got along with Ivan Braginski. She would never jump into bed with him and convincing her to through old fashioned dating would be a nightmare. Good god, he had a mission ahead of him. A miserable mission. Why had he decided to make this bet again? Dear God, how could this get any worse?

A/N: Not really my best writing but I just had to get this one out there. I was so excited about this one, though I doubt it will be very popular. Leave a review if you want to see updates. Later!