O_O Hi. Uhm... My first fic, and I'm a bit worried that it's OOC but I tried. That's what counts, right?

Not such an original concept, I'm aware. But I came up with it and I tried to add my own spice to it. Hope it works!

'Kay so uh... UsUk right now. I'm sure other pairings will pop up if I get enough people interested in this to continue it. But you can call this chapter a... Test. The pilot chapter.

I don't own Hetalia because I'm not ingenious enough to come up with something that cool.

"... And if I were L'Angleterre's condoms, where would I be?" France pondered as he snooped around England's house. He had a date later, and, well, you can never be too safe. He paused a moment, slightly amused, and continued on through the Englishman's house. Wandering through the long hallways, he finally stopped in front of a door he recognized as England's bedroom.

You probably don't want to know why he knew which door it was.

"Ah-hah." The blonde haired pervert of a nation smirked before entering the room. Immediately his eyes were drawn to the bed. Good times. He thought slyly. His focused changed to the large wooden dresser a few feet from the bed. France whistled as he crossed over the hardwood floor of England's bedroom to meet the object. Running his hand over the wood, he pulled open the dresser.

"Where, oh where.." He sang softly as he rummaged through the first drawer. Sifting through the clothes, a black object caught his eye. "And what," he asked, pulling out a small leather covered book. "Might this be?"

His interest now piqued, he took a quick glance around the large bedroom. Once he deemed it safe, France flipped open the book to the first page.

'April 29th, 2:15 P.M.

Just for the record, this is not a bloody diary. Nor is it a journal. This is an assignment my boss made me do. She says I need to log my thoughts because she's afraid I'm too stressed about the oil spill in America. And a stressed nation makes for sick inhabitants, she said. But I'm certainly not stressed, out of all my years I've been through much worst. Besides, it's not my fault those wankers down there couldn't handle things properly and exploded the whole rig, coating Alfred's-'

There was something crossed out. France scrutinized it for a moment before shrugging and moving on.

'-Southern regions.

… Isn't there a better way to say that? Bloody Alfred, making me have dirty thoughts..'

France's eyebrows shot up. What was that supposed to mean? He smirked and continued reading before he got ahead of himself.

'Damn it. I'm just way too – Forget it. Git. That's it. No more. I'm done.'

… And that's where the entry ended. Ah, France should have seen it before! This diary had England's love for America written all over it. That would explain all of the flirting at the G8 meetings.

Something had to be done. In the name of love.

Pulling his phone out of his pocket, France quickly dialed Canada's number. He smiled to himself as a plan began to arrange in his mind.

"H-Hello?" A meek voice answered on the other end of the phone.

"Ah~! Mattieu! Mon ami,you won't believe what I found in L'Angleterre room!" Francis practically yelled into the phone. Oh, this would be good.

"Francis? What is it?"

"A diary! Arthur's diary! And oh, you won't believe what it has written in it! It was mostly boring stuff until the end, but then it got really good, things about L'Amérique. I have a plan, Canada! They were meant for eachother, but obviously neither of them will make the first move, and I am the country of love, so-"

"What the bloody fuck?"

France turned towards the door to see a very confused looking England staring at him. "What the hell are you doing – Is that my diary?" England's face turned from baffled to pissed as his glance fell down to the small book in France's hand.

"Aha! Au revoir, Mattieu!" France said quickly as he flipped his phone shut.

"FRANCIS!" England was seething as he marched across the room.

"Ah, wait, Arthur, let me explain myself." France said, talking fast. "You see, I was just passing through when I found this wonderful piece of English literature-" He paused a moment to gesture to the offending item.

"YOU FROG. GIVE IT BACK. NOW!" England demanded, lunging for the book. France side stepped the smaller nation easily.

"Now now, Arthur, let's not be rash." France said smoothly. England glowered darkly at him.

"I. Will. Kill. You." He hissed at the Frenchman. France chuckled. "Wow, there must be even more revealing things in here that I didn't read.."

England's eyes flashed. "What did you read." He said. It wasn't a question, it was a command. France smiled. "Nothing really... The oil spill.. Alfred's southern regions." He put special emphasis on the latter part, pleased as he saw England flush.

"Give me the diary." England said, trying to act calm.

"Aw, but I wanted to read more." France pouted. England gave him a very nasty glare. "I'll give it back," France started. "But you have to agree to something."

"What now?"


"No bloody way. Tell me what it is."

"You don't trust me?" France faked a very hurt look.

"Hell no."

"Matthew is in on it too."

"Who?" England scrunched his nose in confusion.

France sighed. "Canada."

"That wishy-washy nation? So what?"

"I'll announce the contents of this entire diary at the next meeting if you don't agree." France said proudly. He knew he had him in a corner now. England's eyes narrowed.

"Can't I know what it is?"


"Because you know I won't like it."

"You'll be pleased with the results!"

England shuddered internally at what that last sentence could entail.

"Fine Frog, whatever. Hand over the diary."

"I thought it was an assignment"


France scowled. "No need to get loud, Arthur." England rolled his eyes as he took the book from the larger nation's hand. "Bloody git."

France smiled as he brushed past Arthur, walking towards the door.

"What you read in here stays between you and me." England warned as France reached the door.

"Of course." France smiled. "Oh, but before I go, where do you keep your condoms?"

England turned red. "Get out, git!" He yelled as he threw a shoe at France.

"Be that way then." France grumbled as he pulled the door shut and exited the house.

It's so short because I cannot write long chapters no matter how hard I try. It's a problem. Buuut I promise to update regularly to make up for that if this goes over well. Sob. ;; Short chapter is short and stubby.

Francis over reacts, methinks. He made me laugh while I was writing this. Because I laugh at my own work and ideas. Does anyone else do this?

Thanks for reading! Constructive criticism is appreciated because I know I'm not the best author, and I love to improve. :)