Thank you all for the kind reviews, and for the constructive criticism. I hope you enjoy this final chapter.
Thank you Fortune Maiden for giving me a few heads up about some of the events in this chapter! And another thanks to MitsuneMarufuji for correcting all of the German in this chapter for me!
"Scheiße... Scheiß HӦLLE!" Prussia hissed in anguish.
"Aniki, keep your head tilted back or you'll bleed all over your shirt again." Germany walked over to his brother and helped to direct his head back. He made Prussia press a blood-soaked handkerchief over his face. "You were lucky, though. She didn't break your nose."
"I saw Belarus break Lithuania's nose," Austria said idly, reading a book. "I felt sorry for the lad; he really didn't deserve it. All he did was try and talk to her and she punched him square in the nose. I was standing quite a distance away and I heard it break. Poland completely lost it—"
"Fuck Poland!" Prussia hollered. He then winced. "Ow, ow, ow! That bitch ruined me!"
"Your nose isn't broken, and she only knocked out three teeth," Germany sighed. "We're countries, Aniki. By tomorrow your nose will no longer be bleeding, and your teeth will start to grow back."
"Why did she have to hit me with a verfickten frying pan?"
"Because you threw up all over her," Austria pointed out. "But at least it sobered you up."
"Too late for that," Germany grumbled. "We already performed!"
"But we killed them!" Prussia protested. "West, you heard the cheers! They had to stop the show because people wouldn't stop!"
"You both did get a very enthusiastic response," Austria said. "They haven't reacted that way to any other performance tonight. It's a very good sign."
"Yeah!" Prussia yelled, giving Austria the middle finger. "We sure showed you!"
"Aniki, he's cheering for us!" Germany snapped.
"Don't bother," Austria said, shaking his head. "This is behavior I've dealt with for hundreds of years. Keep in mind, Germany that this idiot yearly takes trips to one of my smallest towns and makes an unnecessary ruckus."
"Then maybe you shouldn't have named one of your town FUCKING!" Prussia laughed.
Austria turned bright red. "…You know very well that that's not how it's pronounced…"
"Located in the north of Austria is a tiny town named Fucking. Pronounced 'fooking', the population size is just over a hundred people. This town gained notoriety during World War II thanks to British and American soldiers, who were amazed by the perceived name of the town. Today, this tiny village gets thousands of visitors each year, and the main town sign was routinely stolen for many years (perhaps by Prussia). Because of the antics of the tourists from all over the world, townspeople have had to setup security cameras in front of Fucking signs because people in the past have had sexual intercourse in front of them."
Hungary came into the room, rubbing a towel through her hair. "I'm back. It was so difficult to find the showers…"
"Are you all right?" Austria asked.
"I'm fine. I was just taken off-guard, is all." Hungary glared at Prussia. "But don't ever puke on me again, got it?"
Prussia grumbled under his breath, holding the handkerchief against his face.
"But Portugal goes up next, and then two more performances before the end of the show," Hungary said, changing the subject. She smiled at Germany. "I'd say you two have a pretty good chance this year."
"Danke," Germany said.
"Let's make a bet!" Prussia announced, jumping to his feet. "If we win…rather, when we win, Nancy boy here has to pledge to enter next year!" he pointed to Austria.
Austria arched an eyebrow. "How does this penalize me in any way?"
"Because then we can KICK YOUR ASS on our own soil!" Prussia cheered, pumping his fists. His face was very swollen, but it appeared the bleeding had stopped.
"You should enter, anyways," Hungary said. "It's been a long time since you've done so."
Austria calmly closed his book and stood up. "…Fine," he said neutrally. "If you win, I'll enter next year. But, if you lose, even if it's second place, you can't make fun of me for a whole year."
The color drained from Prussia's bruised face. "W-What?"
"Deal," Germany cut in, rubbing his head. "Look, Portugal is starting to come onstage!" he pointed to the green room television.
"That's an unfair deal!" Prussia screamed. He grabbed Austria by his collar. "I can't make fun of you for A WHOLE YEAR? That's IMPOSSIBLE!"
"Then you'd better get first, and nothing less," Austria said harshly.
"It's a win-win for you either way, Austria!" Hungary cheered.
The arena began to darken once more in preparation for Portugal's performance.
"Well," Denmark said, standing up from his seat. "I go after this guy and Israel. I'd better get backstage."
"You're leaving as he's taking the stage?" Norway asked, pointing to the country as he took the stage.
"Look," Denmark said, leaning over Norway. "I understand you wanted to spend more time with me, but I have to go onstage and perform soon." He winked at Norway. "But don't worry. I'll return the favor to you."
Norway stared at him blankly. "Wha—"
"G-Good luck," Finland interjected. "You'd better get backstage and get ready, Denmark!"
"I know, I know. Farvel, alle!" Denmark hurried off towards the side of the stage.
Norway shook his head. "Did he hit his head or something? What has he been rambling on about?"
Finland stiffened. "U-Uh…"
"He thinks you sang My Heart is Yours to him," Sweden said blandly.
Norway gaped at him. "You're joking."
"…No, I'm not."
Norway sighed heavily and slapped a hand over his face. "I can't believe this…"
"But you aren't denying it," Finland said, laughing a little.
Norway glared at him and straightened in his seat. "I don't have time to dwell on such idiotic subjects." He sighed shortly, and looked at Iceland.
Iceland glanced at him nervously. "W-What is it?"
"You still haven't told me who you're in love with."
"So much for not dwelling on idiotic subjects," Sweden grumbled.
The lights came up onstage and the music began to play.
"YEAH, Portugal!" Spain cheered, clapping his hands.
"You're pretty enthusiastic about his performance," Romano pointed out.
"Come now, tomate pequeño! I didn't complain when you cheered on Belgium!"
"Yes, you DID!"
Portugal was revealed standing in front of the microphone. As Spain's closest neighbor, Portugal did look a little like him. Only, his brown hair was so dark it looked almost black, his eyes were hazel, and his skin was bronze. His short hair was long in the front as well, and it fell slightly into his face. "Há dias assim…Que nos deixam sós…"
"He's singing in his own language," America said.
"Are you going to point out every instance somebody doesn't sing in English?" England snapped.
Spain was humming along with the song, and tapping his fingers on the armrests of his chair.
"You're pretty enthusiastic, Antonio," France laughed, twirling a rose in his hand. "And to think, that man onstage use to be your mortal enemy…"
Spain shrugged. "Time changes people, I suppose. He sent me a texted letting me know he'd given me a perfect score on my performance. I'm sure I'm going to return the favor."
"Why don't you just marry him if you get this giddy?" Romano barked over his shoulder.
Spain stared at him for a moment before he shook his head. "Been there, done that."
"There's no need to act so jealous, Romano," France teased. "We all know whose heart Antonio belo—"
"Shut up!" Romano slapped his hands over his ears. "LA LA LA, I CAN'T HEAR YOU, LA LA LA!"
"Spain and Portugal did not initially get along through their extensive history. They both set out on expeditions around the world around the same time, and often feuded over land in South America. In 1580 King Philip II of Spain seized the Portuguese crown, and the two countries wound up in a rather bitter marriage that lasted until 1640. During this time Portugal was forced to fight in all of Spain's wars, and adapt to his foreign and domestic policies, which he was not happy about at all. After their messy divorce, the two countries were very often enemies in the many wars that ravaged Europe.
After both countries ended their individual but extensive isolationism in the 1970s, all of a sudden they saw each other in a completely different light. They both entered the European Union at the exact same time, and have become very close allies in many domestic policies, and have recently thrown in a bid to jointly host the 2018 World Cup."
"You've always been pretty close to him, Francis," Spain said.
France shrugged. "He's always been a good…companion to have. He may be a bit reckless with the allies he chooses—and pissing off the ones he does have—but I like his company."
"Hmm." Spain thought about it for a moment. "Sí, he is good company to have. For all the fighting that we've had in the past, he is rather good with—"
"Why the fuck are you idiotas talking about THAT?" Romano hollered.
"But you, of course, are much better," Spain added hastily.
"But what are they talking about?" Italy asked obliviously.
"So whose company does he have now?" Poland asked wickedly, turning in his seat.
"Feliks—" Lithuania began.
"I'm…not sure," Spain said after a moment. "He seemed very close with Serbia, but unfortunately it's as Francis said; he's made Serbia quite angry a few times. But, I do know he calls North Korea a lot—"
"W-WHAT?" America screamed, jumping to his feet.
"NANI?" Japan screamed at the same time. "J-Joudan deshou?"
Spain looked at them in confusion. "What's wrong?"
"Why would he be buddy-buddy with North Korea?" America snapped.
"North Korea tests his weapons right outside my house!" Japan said. "And when I bring my complaints to him, he threatens to declare war on me! Don't you pay attention to the U.N. meetings?"
"Well, that's Portugal's own business," Spain said simply. "I do know that North Korea went to Portugal personally to offer condolences when his prime minister died. Nobody questions your friendships with certain countries, America—"
"Yes you guys do, all the time!" America barked. "And my relationship with Israel is drastically different! Israel hasn't built a personality-cult government and brainwashed her own people!"
"Well, the Korean twins are the way they are now because of you two," France said, indicating America and Japan. "So you guys only have yourselves to blame for it."
"You aren't exactly on nice terms with him either, frog-face," England snapped. "You and Estonia here are the only countries in the EU not acknowledging his existence, in addition to having no economic ties to him and virtually no diplomatic ties to him!"
"I think I'm fairly justified in not acknowledging him," Estonia said defensively. "But why are you dragging me into this argument?"
Japan sank into his seat. "I'm conjuring up horrible memories…"
"Excuse me for trying to save the Korean War," America fumed, slamming himself down hard into the seat. "And why doesn't anyone ever cite Russia's atrocities during that war? No, I'm always the evil invader!"
"Up to the 20th century, Korea was overseen by two twin brothers. In 1910, the country of Korea was seized by Japan as part of his empire and both brothers were horribly mistreated. At the end of World War II Japan relinquished hold of Korea, but the brothers were immediately separated again; Russia and China claiming the brother of the North, and America, England, and to a lesser extent France the brother of the South. This ignited the Korean War, where both brothers sought unification, but only based on the ideals of the respective countries who claimed him. In the end the war ended in a stalemate, and the brothers remained separated along the 38th Parallel. While South Korea has flourished as a country diplomatically, economically, and culturally, North Korea has become known as a "hermit kingdom", isolated from much of the world and incredibly poor. Famine crisis, and rumors of labors camps for citizens deemed enemies of the government, many human-rights violations and resolutions have been stacked against North Korea. However, he continues to maintain an incredibly close relationship to both Russia and China, while harboring hatred towards Japan and America."
"Let's not discuss such unpleasant things," Greece said, reaching over the seat to rub Japan's shoulders. "This is a peaceful event, and the Korean War was sixty years ago. And I think a great deal more people these days are to blame for the state in which North Korea is in."
Portugal surely couldn't have missed all this screaming. But he didn't break beat once, and finished his song without a hitch.
"¡Bravo!" Spain cheered, jumping up and clapping enthusiastically.
"You weren't even paying attention!" Romano snapped.
Scores were sent out the minute Portugal left the stage, and everyone was quick to check them.
"Eight points," France said.
"…Six points?" Spain read from his phone. He thought about it for a moment. "Oh, wait, I already gave Germany a perfect score. Oh…" he sank into his seat. "Portugal gives me a perfect score and I only give him six points? That's…bad."
"That's what you get for giving a perfect score to a shitty song!" Romano reprimanded him.
"Don't talk about Germany's song like that!" Italy snapped.
"Six points," Latvia said. He looked at the other countries. "Is that it?"
"One point," Iceland said, tucking his phone away. "Looks like that's it from us."
"Israel is next," Norway said, folding his arms over his chest. "Though, she's been in quite a bit of trouble lately."
Sealand flipped to another page in Swedish for Dummies. "'Jag är snyggare naken!'"
Sweden ripped the book out of his hands and tucked it into his coat. "That's enough of that."
"Hey! I'm learning Swedish!"
Israel took a deep breath and let it out slowly. It was time for her to perform. Many of the other countries were keeping their distance from her. She knew it had to do in part with the soldiers that were guarding her, but it couldn't be helped. There were just too many threats to her, and not just from her neighbors. Even a peaceful event like this didn't mean there wouldn't be problems. The Olympics were also a peaceful event, and yet…
No. She shook her head. Don't think of something so unpleasant. Focus on the present. Focus on victory.
"We're ready for you," the stagehand told her; mindful of the armed guards surrounding her.
"Thank you." Israel brushed out her pale blue Fendi dress and stood up. "I'm ready."
"The next country we would like to present is Israel!"
America jumped to his feet and began clapping furiously. "YEEEEEAAAAAAH! ISRAEL!" he shoved his fingers into his mouth and whistled loudly.
"She hasn't even come onstage and you're asking for an encore," England sighed, shaking his head.
Israel did receive a modest applause as she took the stage and stood in front of the waiting microphone. Behind her, one of her musicians took to the piano and began playing a soft melody.
"Shuv ha'etsev kan, shuv hapachad kan…Vehasof nirkan…bechaloni…"
"Aren't you going to comment on how she's singing in Hebrew?" England asked.
"SHHH!" America hissed. "Don't interrupt the song!"
"But it was okay for you to, like, totally talk through everyone else's songs?" Poland pointed out.
"Sfarim mesudarim, uven hachadarim." Israel's voice started off very soft, but it began to grow in volume and strength. "Hesh'art li rak milim, zer shel man'ulim…"
"The contest is almost over," Prussia said anxiously, wringing his hands a little as they watched Israel's performance backstage. "Come on…please let us win!"
"It would be our first win since 1982," Germany said thoughtfully, glancing at his brother. "You want victory that badly, huh?"
"West, if we don't win I can't bother Austria for a whole year!" the idea seemed quite horrifying to Prussia. "What am I going to do with myself if I can't antagonize him for a whole year?"
Austria coughed discreetly. "I'm standing right here, you know."
"You shouldn't have made the bet then if it bothers you," Germany said.
"YOU made the bet, not me!" Prussia wailed.
"Germany." Hungary moved closer to him. "Why are you still back here? Don't you want to sit with Italy in the audience?"
Germany's whole face turned bright red and he ducked his head. "I-I, er, that's n-not necessary…"
"Not necessary? We all saw how he cheered for you. He would be quite happy to see you!"
"Uh…" Germany rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "N-Nein. I'd rather not…"
"This is becoming rather idiotic," Austria sighed.
"Elohim, hesh'art li rak milim." Israel finished her song with a bang and curtsied to the audience.
"ALL RIGHT, WOO-HOO!" America cheered, once again jumping up and cheering furiously for Israel. That didn't really surprise anyone.
"ADBHUT!" India, who'd been silent the entire evening, suddenly jumped to his feet and began cheering as enthusiastically as America, startling everyone around him.
"Make a noise or something other than that!" Australia complained loudly.
"Why didn't they cheer for me like this?" England complained. "They came to see me, after all…"
"They came to revel in your humiliation," Ireland quipped.
England seethed at his sister. "Bloody hell, just bugger off!"
Scores were quickly sent out, as it was nearing the end of the show. "Ten points," Netherlands said.
"Uh-huh, that's right!" America said with total satisfaction.
"One point," France said.
"Three," England said.
Poland checked his phone. "I didn't score her."
"Neither did I," Lithuania said.
Several other countries confirmed the same thing, and America gaped at them. "Are you kidding? How can you NOT score her?"
"We haven't scored a lot of people," Latvia said defensively. "Besides, we don't make these scores!"
"B-But it was a good song," Canada said quietly. "It seems rather odd…"
"Here we go again," England grumbled.
"Five points," Norway said.
"Ten points," Finland said.
"Can I have the book back?" Sealand asked. "I don't see what the big deal is."
"Nej," Sweden said coldly.
"Denmark, it's time!"
"I know!" Denmark brushed himself off and smiled. He was pumped, and full of energy. He'd changed into a blue and black vest-like shirt with white pants, but his mind was on the song…and a certain someone in the audience. Time to return the favor.
"The final nation to perform tonight is Denmark!"
"The song his boss chose is a duet, right?" Iceland asked Norway. "How's he going to do that? Will some girl sing onstage with him?"
Norway shrugged stiffly. "Who really knows or cares?"
Sealand's pocket suddenly began to hum and he checked the user-I.D. "Oh, not again!" he flipped open the phone. "Åland, stop calling my cell phone if you aren't going to talk to me! Call Papa-Finland's cell phone!"
"Is your refrigerator running?" hissed the voice on the other line.
"What?" Sealand demanded. "I don't have a refrigerator!"
"Then you'd better catch it! BWAHAHAHAHAHA!" the line abruptly disconnected.
"SCREW YOU, NORTHERN CYPRUS!" Sealand screamed into his phone, never mind that he'd already hung up. "THAT'S A LAME JOKE!"
Sweden stared at him. "What was that?"
"The Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus!" Sealand fumed. "He prank-called me!"
"That wasn't very nice of him," Finland said. "Why does he bother you?"
"Because HE'S a micro nation as well! But he keeps rubbing in my face the fact that at least ONE country recognizes him! NOBODY RECOGNIZES ME!"
Finland looked at Sweden warily. "Um…"
Hanatamago licked Sealand's face in comfort, and the boy held onto the dog tightly.
Denmark came onto the darkened stage to a mild applause. He approached the edge of the stage and knelt down. The Nordics noticed that he had both hands behind his back. Also, that his musicians were quite a distance away.
Music rose from the stage, and the lights abruptly came up. Denmark's right arm came forward to reveal a microphone. "For as long as I remember…For as long as I've been blue…Every day since we've been parted…All I thought about was you." his eyes wandered just briefly towards the Nordics, but then he focused forward.
He suddenly dropped his right arm and brought his left arm forward, revealing another microphone. "Didn't need the time for sorrow…Didn't need the time for pain…"
He quickly brought the other microphone up, and held both to his mouth. "What am I supposed to do? When living without you. Is the worst I ever knew?"
Denmark suddenly jumped to his feet, still holding both microphones. "In a moment like this! Wanna know, wanna know, wanna know what you're looking for! Wanna know, wanna know, wanna know could you ask for more!"
"Well, that solves the duet," Norway said blandly. "He sings it all himself."
"Wanna know, wanna know, wanna know what I have to do! Wanna know, wanna know, wanna know how to get to YOU! Hoo, ooh, ooh! In a moment like this!"
It was hard to miss that overly punctuated 'you'. Norway glanced at Iceland and shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
"Ever since the day you left me…Ever since you went away." Denmark sang into each microphone individually before putting them both together again. "I'm lost and I don't know! Where am I suppose to go? I still miss you so…" As he sang these lyrics, he began to look blatantly in the direction of his fellow Nordics.
"Why does he keep looking at us?" Sealand asked. "It's kind of weird!"
"When is he not weird?" Sweden asked.
"When I need for you to hold me! Say you love and never leave me! My heart will forever be true!"
"I…" Iceland glanced at Norway. "Think he's singing about you."
"I don't care," Norway said flatly.
"Well…everyone's in a romantic mood, I suppose!" Finland laughed feebly. "Spain, Germany, now Denmark…everyone's serenading!"
"…Great," Sweden said dully.
Denmark finished his song and got an amazing burst of cheers. He bowed graciously to the audience and blew a kiss at Norway, causing the other country to visibly flinch as he hurried offstage.
"…I gave him a perfect score," Iceland said painfully.
"Wow, two points!" Finland laughed.
"…Eight," Sweden growled, jabbing his phone back into his pocket.
Norway didn't check his score, and Iceland glanced at him. "Don't you want to see?"
"Not really, no—ACK!"
The green troll abruptly resurfaced in front of Norway and fished into his pockets for his cell phone. "Vennligst ikke bli kalde. Se hva du gav til eders tidligere mann."
"He's NOT my ex-husband!" Norway shouted, struggling with his magical troll.
"See, he can be quite annoying!" Iceland pointed out.
"Not your ex-husband?" Finland asked. "But you two were married for three or six hundred years!"
The troll wrestled the cell phone from Norway and flipped it open. "Du gav Danmark åtte poeng. Det var ikke så vanskelig, var det?"
"Eight points?" Finland confirmed. "That was a good score!"
Norway ripped the phone out of his troll's hands. "Tak," he snapped sarcastically.
Sealand's phone hummed again and he pulled out the phone. "Northern Cyprus, it's NOT FUNNY!"
"…Bror Sealand?" came the response.
"Å- Åland!" Sealand said up. "Come on, call Papa-Finland's phone!"
"Is that Åland?" Finland asked. He held out his hand. "Here, let me talk to her."
"Why does she keep calling my phone? Tell her to call yours!"
"Five points," Estonia said.
"Two," France read.
Poland checked his score and laughed. "So here's my perfect score!"
"I gave him a perfect score too!" Ireland exclaimed, sounding disgusted.
"Ten points," Latvia said.
"Three," Lithuania said.
"Six," England said.
"Four," Spain said. "Looks like he has a good chance…"
"Thank you so much for being such a fabulous audience," came an announcement. "We will now have a thirty-minute intermission to tally up the scores! In just a little while we will crown this year's winner!"
"Looks like we'll need to get backstage soon," England said, rising to his feet.
"They don't need to count anything!" Wales said obnoxiously. "We all know that you LOST!"
Most of the countries that had been part of the British Empire laughed loudly. England growled in fury and rounded on them. "Sod off, all of you! Your childish antics and trying to sabotage my performance! I don't have to put up with this!"
"Oi, just calm down mate," Australia said, while his koala glared murderously at England from the top of his head. "This is all in good fun!"
"All in good fun? HOW IS THIS FUN?"
"Why are you so angry?" Hong Kong said bluntly. "Our presence doesn't make your song any worse than it already is."
"Silence or I'll curse your eyebrows again!"
Hong Kong narrowed his eyes. "Do that and I'll fire a shell rocket at you!"
England visibly paled. "E-Er…"
"Time to stretch my legs," Romano announced, standing up. "I can get away from the idiocy now!"
"Ah, mi amor!" Spain laughed, standing up as well. "Don't you enjoy my presence?"
"Hell no! And who the fuck are you calling 'mi amor'?"
Italy suddenly abruptly stood up. "I have to go."
"Eh?" Romano gaped at his brother. "What? Where?"
"I-I just have to go. I'll be back before the final." Without another word he took off running up the aisle.
"Idiota," Romano fumed, shaking his head. "Where is he going?"
Poland laughed loudly. "Isn't it, like, totally obvious?"
"No, not really," Spain admitted.
France joined in the laughter. "Little Italy is going to see Germany!"
"Why the fuck would he want to see that kraut-bastard?" Romano yelled. He kicked the side of his seat. "He IS an idiot!"
Austria poured himself a cup of tea. One sugar and one teaspoon of skim milk. He calmly stirred his tea before he set down his spoon and raised the cup.
Before the cup reached his mouth though, a waterfall of sugar fell right in front of his face, and straight into his cup. He sat there stunned for a moment before he calmly set the cup back down. "…Gilbert," he said quietly.
Prussia cackled loudly and slammed the now empty sugar bowl on the table next to Austria's ruined cup of tea. The sugar pile inside the cup looked like a submerged iceberg. "What do you want?"
"What are you doing?"
"Isn't it obvious? I'm preparing for the worst!" Prussia slapped him hard on the shoulder. "I'm confident we will win, but if we don't, then I'm a man of my word! So I'm playing all of my best tricks on you now in case anything happens!"
Austria groaned with mild irritation. "Then I will wish for your defeat. It wouldn't be the first time, anyways."
Prussia's face flooded with fury. "YOU—"
A frying pan was waved casually in front of his face. "You had better leave him alone, Prussia, before I knock out more of your teeth."
Prussia stiffened, but covered up his fear with another laugh. "I was finished, anyways!" he hurried to the other side of the room where Germany was sitting.
"…Danke," Austria said quietly.
"It's not fair for him to bother you," Hungary said, tapping the frying pan in her palm. "Besides, I'm certain Germany will win so this won't be the last time he bugs you…unfortunately."
Austria folded his hands in his lap. "If they win, then I must participate next year."
"Why is that a bad thing? You're very talented."
Prussia fell into the seat beside Germany, scrubbing at his face. Germany looked at him. "Are you crying, Aniki?"
"Nein! Absolutely not! I'm way too manly to be crying!" but tears were spilling down Prussia's cheeks. "These are manly tears!"
"…I'm nervous, too," Germany admitted slowly. "We haven't won in years. It would be nice to win, especially after singing such a humiliating song. But…"
Germany jumped violently in his seat. Both Hungary and Austria were also startled by this voice. Prussia, however, immediately brightened and jumped to his feet.
"Italy!" he cheered. He ran over to Italy and promptly crushed him in a hug. "You came to cheer me up! You look adorable!"
Germany slowly stood up from the couch. Hungary quickly looked at him and smiled broadly. "Well! We must be leaving!"
"Eh?" Austria said.
"Igen, we are in quite a rush!" Hungary grabbed Austria by his sleeve and proceeded to drag him towards the door, where Prussia was still cuddling Italy. She glared at Prussia, and grabbed him by the scruff of his neck. "We must go! Come on!"
"Hey, I wanted to visit with Italy! Hündin!" Prussia tried to pull Italy out of the room with him, but Hungary's tightening hold on his neck forced him to let the other country go. "It's not enough you broke my teeth! Why can't you let me have fun?" Prussia continued to scream at Hungary, all the way down the hall.
Italy gaped after them. "Ve…Miss Hungary is still very scary!"
"Ja, she is," Germany said uneasily. "Did you…want to come inside?"
"Oh, that's right!" Italy happily skipped into the room. "I wanted to congratulate you on your song! It was magnifico!"
"Vielen Dank," Germany said sincerely, though he fidgeted where he stood. "I-I was hoping it wasn't too weird…"
"Weird?" Italy idly picked up the empty sugar bowl before he put it back down. "Why would it be weird?"
"Because a young girl sang it first. A-And it…" his face turned red as he spoke. "The song talks about painting toenails, and…blue underwear."
"I don't think that's weird," Italy said. "You meant it when you sang it, right?"
"Eh?" Germany quickly hid his face. "M-Meant it?"
Italy looked confused for a moment. Then…crestfallen. "Then you didn't mean it?"
"W-What do you mean by 'mean it'?"
Italy slowly walked over to Germany, who was slightly hunched over in embarrassment. He leaned forward until his face was inches from Germany's. "The song. Didn't you sing it with meaning? I…" he paused for a moment before he continued. "You pointed to me."
If it was possible, Germany's face turned even darker red. "I-I…"
"You did," Italy said certainly. "I know you did, and so did everyone else."
Germany would've preferred Italy's usual naïveté at that moment. He turned away from him and walked away, wanting some distance. "I…"
"If you were singing to me," Italy said slowly. "I'm not mad."
Germany looked at him over his shoulder, and Italy shrugged. "You've always been my closest friend. We…" he looked pained for a moment. "Things were so brutto between us for such a long time. I-I thought we would never be together again, and I hated not having you there with me." He forced a smile. "So…when I thought you were singing to me, it made me so happy. And I don't even mind that it's a love song. It's just felt…right."
Germany lowered his hand and glanced at Italy over his shoulder. "Do you really mean that?"
Italy shrugged. "Would I say it if I didn't mean it?"
"Oh." Germany managed a little smile. "Thank you, then."
"Naaa, Doitsu." Italy walked over to him, and stood rather close in front of him. "Since you sang that song to me that means you like me right?"
Once again Germany's whole face turned red. "U-UH…"
Italy laughed happily. "Am I right?"
"I, er…" Germany scratched his head and looked away. "I-I don't…hate you."
"Really?" Italy's whole face lit up. "I'm so happy to hear that! Since you showed me how much you like me, I have to return the favor?"
"Eh?" Germany dropped his hand once more. "How?"
"This!" Italy jumped up on top of him, nearly knocking him over, and crushed his mouth over Germany's.
Germany stumbled back a couple of steps, and pressed a hand to the small of Italy's back to keep them both steady. But…he didn't have it in him to push Italy away. He didn't want to, anyways. A warm and tight feeling began to form in his chest, and he curled his fingers into the back of Italy's head, tilting his head very slightly to deepen the kiss. Somehow…all of it seemed worth it. The humiliation of singing such a girly song was gone, because Italy had genuinely enjoyed it. And he'd thought Germany was singing to him
But maybe…Germany almost laughed. Nein. I was singing to him.
Both countries broke apart abruptly and turned to see a stagehand frozen in the doorway, his face pale and full of embarrassment. "I'm so sorry! B-But I was looking for you! The scores have been tabulated and you're needed onstage, Germany!"
Italy smiled, and slapped a hand on his shoulder. "Good luck."
"Danke." Despite being embarrassed, Germany couldn't stop smiling. "I just have to find Aniki…"
"It is time! The scores have been calculated!"
The participating countries were all marched onto the stage, where they stood shoulder-to-shoulder behind the host for Eurovision. The audience quickly silenced as the host happily came out, waving to the audience. "Hello and welcome back!"
Italy hurried back into his seat, and Romano glared at him. "Where the hell were you?"
"Visiting with Germany!" Italy said proudly. He couldn't stop smiling.
"Why would you want to visit him?"
"This year competition was stiff, but we have a winner!" the host announced. "But before I announce them, I ask that all of you give a round of applause to this year's participants! They all did an amazing job!"
The audience obligingly cheered for several moments. "Now, allow me to announce the top ten best songs for this year!"
A dramatic drum-roll came up as the host pulled out an envelope and enfolded the list. "In tenth place, with one hundred and eight points…is Ukraine!"
"Oh!" Ukraine pressed a hand over her mouth in shock, and her siblings clapped for her enthusiastically. Tears filled her eyes as she stepped forward to the edge of the stage. "Ah…thank y—(BA DUM!)!"
"In ninth place…" the host held the list up. "With one hundred and thirty six points is Georgia!"
Georgia looked enthused by the announcement, and Azerbaijan gave him a hug and a kiss. He took his place next to Ukraine, and he smiled a little when he saw Armenia clapping for him.
"Eight place, with one hundred and forty points, is…Greece!"
"Eh?" Greece looked tired onstage, but he brightened up a little at this announcement. Cuddling a couple of kittens to his chest he stepped forward to stand next to Georgia. He saw Japan clapping for him in the audience, and that brightened his mood even more.
"In seventh, with one hundred and forty-one points is Armenia!"
Armenia looked stunned to have been announced, and he brightened up a little more when Russia enthusiastically clapped for him. He also saw Turkey clap for him, which visibly diminished his mood, but he stepped forward.
"Sixth place! With one hundred and forty-three points…is…Belgium!"
"YEAH!" Netherlands shouted, jumping to his feet and clapping. "Way to go, Belgium!"
"Nee-san!" Luxembourg cheered.
Both unfortunately were dwarfed by Romano's response. "WOO-HOO, YEAH BELGIUM!"
Belgium smiled shyly as she took her place next to Armenia.
"Now for the top five winners!" the host cried. "Fifth, with a final score of one hundred and forty-five points, is Azerbaijan!"
Azerbaijan cheered, and hugged Turkey tightly. Armenia's face fell at this announcement, and darkened as Azerbaijan ran over to hug Georgia. And there was no mistaking the face she made at Armenia when she went to take her place.
"Fourth place, with one hundred and forty-nine points, is Denmark!"
"Skita," Sweden groaned.
Denmark stood very still on the stage for a moment. Then he screamed in a falsetto voice and flailed his hands. Suddenly he grabbed Norway by his collar and kissed him hard on the cheek. Then he ran forward with more surprising enthusiasm, as though he'd won the contest itself. "I did it! MY LOVE SHINED THROUGH!"
"He's happy," Iceland said.
Norway said nothing, but reached up with his sleeve to scrub Denmark's kiss off his cheek.
"Now it's time to announce our top three!" the host went onto the next page. "Third place! With one hundred and sixty-two points…is Romania!"
Wallachia gasped aloud, but it didn't seem like the Romanian siblings were very shocked by their placement. Moldova clapped for his siblings as Transylvania and Wallachia stepped forward.
"Our second place winner, and runner-up, with one hundred and seventy points, is…Turkey!"
Greece gaped in horror, as did Armenia and Cyprus. Azerbaijan shrieked and clapped her hands. Turkey stood still for a moment, before he shouted a victory cry and pumped his fists. As he took his spot he saw Greece's expression. He shrieked with laughter and openly pointed and mocked him. It didn't seem like it mattered to Turkey that he hadn't won, and was just the runner-up; he'd done better than Greece, and that counted more.
Germany swallowed thickly, and saw Italy once more in the audience. The top nine had been announced, and it hadn't been them. That meant nothing, though; they could've gotten twentieth for all they knew.
"Are you all ready?" the host asked the audience. He received cheers in response. "It is time…to announce the winner of the Eurovision Song Contest for 2010! And, with an astonishing two hundred and forty-six points! Truly an amazing score!"
Germany held his breath, and he felt Prussia grab his hand. Most of the countries remaining were in fact very tense over this.
"The winner, of the fifty-fifth annual Eurovision Song Contest for 2010 is…" the host paused dramatically for a very long second. Then, he thrust his fist into the air.
Germany felt a jolt in his body, but he stood transfixed. So did Prussia as everyone around them shrieked with joy, and confetti rained down from the ceiling. Above their heads, a gigantic German flag swept down and hung above them, as to further indicate their victory.
It was Prussia who acted first. "Jaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!" he punched the air several times and suddenly crushed Germany in a tight hug. "West! WEST! We did it, WE DID IT! FICK DICH ÖSTERREICH!"
Italy was jumping up and down in the audience, clapping and cheering. "Doitsu!"
"BOO!" Romano was screaming at the same time. "BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
"Germany won," Poland said sourly. "Pierdol."
The German brothers were ushered forward and paraded all up and down the stage. Prussia basked in the glory as though they'd won the greatest battle on Earth. Germany looked to be in quite a daze, only halfheartedly waving to people.
Backstage, Austria and Hungary were clapping for them. "Looks like you're definitely competing next year!" she cheered.
"…And it looks like Prussia will now never leave me alone," he sighed.
Finally, they took the brothers front and center, where Norway waited with a crystal microphone trophy. The host country looked quite neutral, and didn't seem to care he didn't place in the top ten. The passage of the award was quite simple, but then a real microphone was shoved in Germany's face for a victory speech.
Germany stared out at everyone, feeling the jubilation in his heart. His people were so happy about this victory, as was he. But, he found himself a little tongue-tied. "Uh—"
"We didn't doubt our victory for ONE MINUTE!" Prussia shouted, cutting Germany off. "We knew the minute we got onstage to perform that we would win! AND WE DID! So SCREW YOU, AUSTRIA! WE WON!"
Hungary's face darkened. "Apparently he hasn't noticed just how much you've been helping them!"
"It doesn't matter," Austria said. "This is Prussia, after all. Should we expect anything else?"
They confiscated the microphone afterwards, and a giant television at the back of the stage lit up to reveal all of the final standings.
"…Eleventh?" Russia read. He was smiling, but it seemed like a dark aura surrounded him once more. "I was eleventh."
"Twelfth," France read, shaking his head in disgust. "People have no taste for art."
"Fifteenth?" Spain read, rubbing at his forehead. "Does this include Jimmy Jump's interference, or my serenade of Romano?"
"…Twentieth," Norway read dully.
"I'm nineteenth," Iceland pointed out.
"Twenty-first," Cyprus read. "That's a load of—OW!"
The Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus snuck onstage in the chaos and kicked his brother once more. "You SUCK!"
But it was England was gaping with absolute horror at the screen. "T-Twenty…fifth?" his jaw dropped. "I'm last? I'm DEAD LAST? I only got TEN POINTS?"
Ireland laughed as she walked over to him. "What did I tell you?" she said snidely. "Your song was horrible this year!"
"SHUT UP!" England hollered. "How dare you act so high and mighty? You placed twenty-third! You're not even in the top twenty!"
"…True," Ireland said. "But I still did better than you."
England was left gaping as she walked away.
Still basking in the glow of their victory, Germany and Prussia were greeted with full honors at Eurovision's after-party. The party hall was massive, but it could barely contain all of the guests who were packed inside, getting drunk and dancing sloppily to the Norwegian dance music.
Their boss ran over and kissed them both on the mouth. "Fantastic!" she cheered. "Thank you both so very much for this victory!"
"Y-You're welcome, ma'am," Germany said uneasily. "You were quite keen with the song…"
"Ja, just like I said I was!" she smiled at them but planted her hands on her hips. "And I expect the same next year!"
"Of course!" Prussia yelled. "We will never shame ourselves on our home turf!"
"That's good, because Lena agreed to give us another one of her songs!"
The glee died in both Germany and Prussia immediately and they gaped at their boss. "E-Excuse me?" Germany sputtered.
"Ja, Lena is giving us another song!" their boss confirmed. "And I just know you both will perform it as schön as you did Satellite!"
Prussia slapped Germany on the shoulder. "West…I'm going to go get a beer." Then he ran off.
"Aniki!" Germany hollered, pursuing his brother. "You'd better believe you're doing this with me!"
They left their boss standing there in confusion. "What's wrong with those boys?" she wondered aloud.
The Nordics entered the party hall together. "All right, let's get DRUNK!" Denmark hollered, throwing an arm around Norway. "As your former king who placed higher than ALL OF YOU!" but he only pointed at Sweden with this. "That is an order!"
"Does that mean I can get drunk?" Sealand asked hopefully.
"Absolutely!" Denmark cheered.
"NO!" Sweden and Finland yelled.
Norway threw Denmark's arm off him. "Didn't you invite the kids to the after-party?"
"Greenland and Faroe are here?" Iceland wondered. He looked around the very busy party-hall.
"Yeah, THERE THEY ARE!" Denmark cheered, taking off running. "Greenland! Your bror is here!"
"…How did I put up with this all these years?" Norway grumbled to himself.
But the Nordics and Sealand followed Denmark to a solitary table, where the former King of Scandinavia was crushing a teenage boy in his arms. "Greenland! It's been so long!"
"I'm avoiding you because you won't give me my independence, remember?" Greenland grumbled, shoving Denmark away from him with much difficulty. Though his eyes were strikingly green-blue, his hair was black and his skin was bronze, indicating his Inuit lineage. "Hi, Iceland," he said offhandedly, idly petting Mr. Puffin. "I voted for you."
"Takk," Iceland responded as Norway came forward to brush off the wrinkles in Greenland's shirt caused by Denmark's hug.
"And Faroe!" Denmark rounded on a girl looking to be about twelve years old sitting at the table. He picked her up straight out of the chair and hugged her tightly. "It's so nice to see you!"
"T-Thank you." her pale-purple eyes regarded the other countries as Denmark hugged her, and her face lit up a little when she saw Norway. But, with her eyes and her ash-blonde hair, she easily looked the most like him.
Denmark set her down and ruffled her hair. "This is so incredible, I don't even care I placed fourth! This is an awesome family reunion!"
"I liked the part when you screamed like a girl," Greenland said dully. "Though when you tried to make out with Norge was pretty funny."
"He didn't try to make out with me," Norway said, brushing out Faroe's now uneven hair with his hands. "He was just acting stupid."
"Victory is oh-so sweet!" Denmark cheered.
"But you didn't win anything," Sweden pointed out.
Finland felt a tug on his sleeve. He turned his head and looked down to see a little girl with big blue eyes and silver hair tied up in short, curly pigtails. "Tjena, Mamma."
"Åland!" Finland picked up his child straight into his arms. "Hur mår ni?"
"We picked her up before we got here," Greenland said. "We figured you wanted to see her."
"Yes, thank you!" Finland cuddled her to him. "Kul att ses!"
"Jag är glad!" Åland glanced at Sweden over Finland's shoulder. "Tjena, Pappa!"
"Hej," Sweden said, smiling a little.
Sealand hung onto Hanatamago, who was struggling in his arms to get to Åland. "Why are you guys always so nice to her, but always yell at me?"
"Maybe if you didn't act so reckless we wouldn't yell at you," Sweden muttered.
"Sealand!" Åland was motioning to him now and Finland put her down so she could run over to him. "Brorsan, hur mår ni?" she seemed very pleased to see him, and not at all bothered he'd kept hanging up on her.
"Hur stark som helst," Sealand responded bluntly.
Finland and Sweden gaped at him. "Wow, y-you're learning pretty fast!" Finland said.
Sealand shrugged. "Just a little, piece by piece."
"Try saying something else to her," Sweden said.
"All right." Sealand dramatically cleared his throat as Åland watched him. Then he bellowed out:
"Jär snyggare naken!"
Åland gasped audibly, and Sweden smacked Sealand upside the head. "Don't tell her stuff like that!"
"But that sentence totally applies to me!" Denmark shouted from the table, helping himself to quite a few beers despite the children nearby. "Am I right, Norge?"
"…Idiot," Norway grumbled.
On the other side of the party hall, most of the other countries had gathered together. Prussia was drinking at the bar, getting excessively drunk.
England, who sat beside him, wasn't doing a whole lot better. "Ten points…ten points! This is some mass conspiracy against me!" he started crying into his beer.
"There's no conspiracy," Ireland said, sliding up next to her brother. Behind them, the rest of the former British Empire was listening to a story America was telling. "You just did horribly this year!"
England glared at her. "So says the woman who gave a perfect score to her ex-husband!"
Ireland hissed and drank down her beer. "I didn't give it to him! I would've gladly given myself a perfect score since my song was the only one that gave a damn!"
"And yet you got twenty-third," England pointed out. "It's obviously not worth a damn!"
"Prussia is drinking a lot," Canada said, hugging Mr. Kumajirou to his chest. He didn't seem to notice the argument between England and Ireland. "Is he okay?"
"Who cares?" Hungary said, smiling at Austria. "So, do you know what song you'll be singing for next year?"
"I don't really know," Austria said. "I just lost the bet that stipulated I would join Eurovision. Besides, it's not really my choice so much as it's my boss's choice.
"Oh, Mr. Austria." Liechtenstein was walking by when she heard this. "You'll be competing again next year? That's so exciting!"
"Danke," Austria said, managing a smile.
"Liechtenstein." Switzerland came over and grabbed her arm. "It's getting a little crazy in here, so we'd better go."
"Okay," Liechtenstein said. "But did you hear, Nii-san? Mr. Austria will be competing in Eurovision again next year!"
Switzerland and Austria exchanged an uncomfortable glance. "That's nice." He pulled Liechtenstein away from the table and out of sight.
Hungary laughed to herself. "It's so cute how protective he is of her!"
"I believe he may be embarrassed about his standing this year," Austria said.
It was then that the Romanian siblings entered the hall. Hungary visibly stiffened, but Austria grabbed her arm. "Ignore them," he reminded her. Though, his brow rose when he saw how rosy all three siblings cheeks were. Generally, they had a very pale complexion. They must have gotten something to eat...or someone.
Lithuania was looking over his shoulder suspiciously. Poland finished his beer and looked at him. "What is it, Liet?"
"I…feel like Russia's glaring at me," Lithuania said slowly. "And I don't know why."
Poland looked over to where Russia was sitting. He had three bottles of vodka in front of him, one already empty, but he was sitting there with a dark aura. Belarus, not seeming to care, was cuddling on his arm. The only other person sitting at the table was Armenia, who was calmly drinking a beer and seemingly oblivious to Russia's dark aura.
The dance music switched tracks and Poland stood up. "Well, let's give him something to glare at!"
"Feliks, my nose is starting to hurt again!" Lithuania complained loudly.
"So? Then the dancing will distract you!"
"And then POW!" America shouted, his cheeks flushed from his alcohol consumption. "He fell on his ass and his pants fell down!"
Countries surrounding him shrieked with laughter. Japan sat there quietly, looking like he had a headache. Beside him, Greece had his face against the table. "I lost to Turkey…I lost to Turkey…"
"You did your best, and that's what counts," Japan said. "I thought it was an excellent performance."
"But I lost to Turkey." Greece shook his head into the table, and one of his cats nuzzled his head. "I could bear defeat from anyone, but to lose to Turkey? Again?"
"Well, you actually lost to seven other people," Romano pointed out, gulping down his beer miserably.
"And here's the LOSER!" Turkey announced loudly, coming over to stand behind Greece. He poked the younger man in the back. "I'm not doing too badly in Eurovision, am I? Compared to you youngsters, I'm getting better marks every year! 2007—fourth place! 2008—seventh! 2009—fourth again! And now, 2010, I'm the runner-up! That means next year I will most certainly be the winner!"
"C-Congratulations on getting second place," Japan stammered, though he seemed to mostly say the comment to diffuse the situation.
"Thank you very much, Japan!" Turkey positively grinned at Japan before snarling at Greece. "Did you get so much of a congratulation, brat?"
"Actually, I did congratulate Greece-san, Turkey-san," Japan interjected politely.
Turkey shifted, but continued with a haughty laugh. "But I still did better than you, brat! You'd better keep that in mind next year when I defeat you…AGAIN!"
"Stop talking to him like that!" Cyprus snapped, hurrying over to him. "You may be older, but you're clearly a giant kolotripa!"
Turkey growled in fury. "You ungrateful little…Northern Cyprus!" he shouted. "Your older brother is annoying me!"
"Oh, you mean him?" Cyprus casually swooped down and heaved a hog-tied Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus onto the table. "He was doing plenty of annoying on his own!"
"Is that Northern Cyprus?" Sealand shouted from the other side of the room. "Where's my slingshot? Time for payback!"
"FIR!" Turkey hollered, grabbing Cyprus by his collar. "What have you done to him?"
"Hey, let him go!" Greece snapped, jumping to his feet.
"YOU GUYS AREN'T LISTENING TO MY STORY!" America bellowed out, pulling out a handgun and firing it into the air.
Guns do many things for potentially explosive situations. With this, the fight between the Balkan countries abruptly ceased, and Turkey grabbed the Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus and hurried off to sit back with Azerbaijan and Georgia.
America tucked his gun back into its holster, oblivious to the horrified stares he received. "Now, where was I?"
Luckily for America, most of the partygoers were drunk and so his careless actions didn't cause a stampede.
Germany finally found his brother, but froze in his tracks when he saw how drunk he was. Muttering a few curse words under his breath, he took a seat at Austria's table.
"Doitsu!" Italy cheered, standing up from the nearby table. He ran over to Germany and threw his arms around him. "Congratulations on your win!" he kissed him on the cheek.
"Holy shit, you DID NOT just do that!" Romano shrieked, jumping to his feet.
"I think he did," Spain giggled around his beer. Then he turned to Portugal, who was leaning drunkenly against an even drunker France. "So, what happened then—"
"Nii-san, what's the matter?" Italy asked in confusion, still holding onto Germany's shoulders.
"Why the fuck did you just kiss that kraut-bastard!" Romano stumbled violently out of his chair, ignoring Spain's hand grabbing for his arm. "You don't know where he's been!"
Germany flushed with embarrassment, especially since Romano's voice echoed across the noisy party hall. "I haven't been anywhere."
"That's right, he's right here!" Italy said defensively, hugging him tighter. "And I won't allow you to talk like that about him!"
"Veneziano, I'm already drunk! I don't want anything else to make me puke!" Romano grabbed Italy by the arm and pulled. "Now let him go! You're making an ass out of yourself!"
"You're one to talk," Austria muttered.
"No, I won't let go!" Italy wailed, hanging onto Germany tighter. "I want to be with him!"
Germany felt trapped underneath the two Italians. "Eh—"
"GESÙ CRISTO!" Romano let him go and smacked him hard across the head. "What is the matter with you? Why would you want to be with him? T-This potato-kraut-smelling bastard! Ugh, can you imagine how disgusting it must be to KISS him?"
"I HAVE kissed him!" Italy whined, rubbing at his head. "And he doesn't taste like any of that nasty stuff! He tastes really sweet, like beer and strawberries!"
"Mein GOTT!" Germany groaned, rubbing at his face. "This is NOT how I intended to enjoy my victory!"
"Beer and strawberries?" Hungary echoed playfully. "That sounds pleasant!"
"Better than Prussia," Austria said off-handedly. "He's more like beer and cereal..."
Hungary looked at him for a long moment. "And how do you know what Prussia tastes like?"
Austria froze, and his whole face turned red. "I'd...rather not say..."
"Come on, Romano, let them alone," Spain pleaded, coming over to them. "You can spend some time with m—"
"Go back and hang all over Portugal!" Romano barked at him.
"Que bonito!" Portugal laughed loudly. "Romano é invejoso de mim!"
"More like a little too drunk," France added.
"Why can't you be nice, Nii-san?" Italy demanded. "Germany won Eurovision this year! Prussia and he are the winners! Why are you being so mean?"
Romano snorted with disgust. "He won...so what? His song sucked!"
"OI!" Prussia hollered, stumbling over to them. "We scored seventy-nine more points than Turkey!"
"Seventy-six," Germany corrected sourly.
"Seventy-six more points than Turkey! We kicked ASS! More ass than you." Prussia jabbed a finger at Romano. "Ever could!"
"Gilbert, don't be so antagonistic!" Spain reprimanded him. "We know you won fair and square!"
"If HE'S so great," Prussia slurred. "Then why hasn't he entered since 1997? Why does he have his head buried in the sand for THIRTEEN YEARS?"
"Because idiota here keeps forgetting to enter us!" Romano snapped, jabbing a thumb at Italy. "I give him one task and he can't do it! He keeps forgetting the fucking deadline!"
"Nii-san!" Italy wailed. "I promise! I promise I won't forget the deadline next year!"
Romano shook his head, and waved Spain's hand away again. "No. No, forget it."
"I'm going to take care of it next year!"
"R-Really?" Italy's whole face lit up. "We'll really be entering it next year?"
"Sì, no thanks to YOU!" Romano thumped a hand upon his own chest. "We're entering again next year!"
"Wow, you guys are?" Poland shouted, breaking away from Lithuania to run over to them. "That's incredible!"
"Wow, next year will be a year of comebacks!" Hungary cheered, clapping her hands. "Austria is returning after three years, and Italy is returning after thirteen!"
"Ve, Doitsu!" Italy hugged Germany again. "I'll be entering next year!"
"I-I'm happy for you," Germany stammered.
"And we're totally going to KICK YOUR ASS!" Romano bellowed. "There's no better time than within YOUR borders!"
"HEY!" Prussia yelled. "If anyone's going to be doing some ass-kicking, then it's going to be ME!"
"Wow, are you guys going to act like this next year?" America asked loudly. "Then I'm totally coming to see it again!"
"...I think I'll stay home next year," Japan said quietly.
So…we've reached the end. This has been a real treat to write, and I'm so glad you guys enjoyed reading it. I hope my Swedish got a little better, since I tried relying on dictionaries and the sort rather than translating engines.
As for my sources on historical material here…unfortunately I didn't keep track of a lot of websites I researched, but a lot of the detail here I found was based on historical information I learned in school, and Wikipedia. I know Wikipedia can be edited by just about anyone, but historical relations between countries aren't really spammed so I'll trust its content.
I did plan on posting a list of next year's participating countries, but many of the countries who may or may not be participating are still undecided. But Austria and Italy will be performing next year, and as I write this I do know that Italy is trying to negotiate to get the same immunity as the Big Four, because they've contributed a lot financially to Eurovision in the past. Oh, and Lena will be representing Germany again next year.
Who knows, maybe Himaruya will introduce some of my OCs into the canon and I might have to recon this story, or something. But I will definitely consider doing a Eurovision 2011 fanfic. I definitely would love to write a Romano-Veneziano duet and the possible hi-jinks they would get into onstage. Thanks for reading!