"I just don't hate him as much as I used to."

The simple sentence causes both England and Canada to refrain from taking part in their refreshments and giving a rather surprised look towards America, who has no trouble drinking his coffee as they stare.

The three gather for one of their more casual meetings; a simple chat, some drinks and snacks, etc., etc.. Somewhere along in the conversation Canada inquires after Europe and as England provides the answer, Russia's name pops up which started a topic of it's own. England rants off as only he can and when sniffing out for some sort of agreement from America, he's only shown indifference from the young nation. When asked to elaborate on why such a response, America answers with the aforementioned and thus the reason behind their stares.

"Wait, what?" Canada asks. "When did that happen?"

America lowers his mug with a slight shrug. "I mean, we were pretty chill with each other before all the commie stuff happened and then after, y'know, just no reason keep up on it."

"Your government found some of his spies in your country not that long ago," England reminds him.

"Yeah, and we swapped them for some of our spies." Again, America shrugs. "Same old song and dance, nothing new there."

"I'm sorry," says Canada. "It's just weird hearing you say that. I always thought you hated him."

"I wouldn't say hate, now that I think about it," America tells him. "Sure, McCarthyism made me paranoid as hell, but it might've been more of just a general dislike after that. And anyway, that was like, a hundred years ago."

"I hope that time reference is an exaggeration," England mutters and takes a sip of his beverage.

With that condescending statement, the conversation takes a turn and America's opinion of Russia is completely forgotten.

At least until Canada returns home.

The moment he steps into his own living room, he's greeted by the sight of Prussia sprawled out on the sofa with Gilbird sitting upon his head and Kumajirou lying over his legs. He picks his way through the mess of beer cans and empty popcorn bowls and makes his way to the sofa. Instantly, Kumajirou lifts himself up and promptly asks Canada his identity.

Canada ignores the question in favor of simply lifting the bear up and leans down to give Prussia a quick kiss before settling himself in the same spot the bear kept.

"Is this what you've been doing all day?" Canada asks him.

"Well, I had wanted to spend it groping at a certain little bird," Prussia says, "but he had to go and ditch me to hang out with him lame brothers."

Canada rolls his eyes and reaches over for the remote dangling from Prussia's hands. It's handed over without any hassle.

"So what'd you guys do this time?" Prussia carelessly asks. "Talk about anything interesting?"

Canada shrugs indifferently while flipping through stations. "Random stuff. England told us about everything in Europe for awhile. Oh, I found out America doesn't hate Russia."

"What?"

"Yeah, he hasn't for awhile, apparently."

"When did that happen?"

Again Canada shrugs. "I guess after the Cold War ended, he just got over it."

"Bullshit, you're brother's a woman when it comes to holding grudges." The ex-nation lets out a loud laugh. "That's what it is, the Cold War was just a huge pissy fit and your brother actually wants to bone Russia."

"No, he does not!" Canada exclaims. "Why- Where would you.. What?"

"Why else wouldn't he hate him? I still hate the prick."

"Maybe he just grew up enough to let things go." The 'are you serious' look Prussia gives him makes him sigh and slump slightly. "Whatever, I'm not talking about my brother's love life."

"'Cause you know the awesome me is right," Prussia grins. "Wait until I tell the guys-"

"No! You are not going to tell anyone."

"C'mon, Birdie."

"No, Gilbert, okay. The last thing I need is for Al to come after me with a chainsaw again."

"Over my dead body he will."

"Yeah, you'd already be dead in that scenario." Canada turns towards Prussia, giving him a serious look and everything. "Please, just don't say anything."

"Fine."

"Gilbert, I mean it."

And so Prussia promises not to say a word. And instantly breaks it.

"So America wants to bone Russia."

The wine in France's glass ceases to swirl and Spain's normal smile falters into a confused expression. Prussia is now the sole focus point of their attention.

"It's true," he elaborates. "Heard it from a close contact."

"How close of a contact?" France asks.

"Family close."

"So you heard it from Matthew?" France swirls his wine once more and presses the glass to his lips. "It must be true then."

"Who's Matthew?" Spain asks.

"The nation above America," France tells him. "Eugh…"

"Canada," Prussia supplies.

"Yes, Canada."

"Anyway, I thought it was hilarious," Prussia goes on. "Canada was trying to tell me that I was reading too into it and feed me this story about America just growing up and that's why he claims to not hate Russia…"

Prussia continues in telling his tale, and while France is entirely up for participating fully in his theories on how much America really does want to "bone" Russia, Spain listens for the most part and files away all the information he hears to later share with a certain pair of brothers. He does so the moment he finds them together in their kitchen.

"You'll never guess what I heard."

Romano doesn't bother to turn in his direction as he mutters, "Does it look like I fucking care?"

Italy on the other hand gives his big brother Spain the attention he so craves and inquires after the knowledge he is so willing to share.

"America is in love with Russia," beams the Spaniard.

Italy immediately brightens at the news. "That's wonderful! I can't wait to tell Germany and Japan the good news!"

Evidently enough, Italy is so excited over the report of a new couple breaking out amongst their kind that he races to Germany's house the next day to spread the word.

"Germany~! America and Russia are in love!"

It's the first thing Italy says when barging into the German's home, which has been the biggest shock to strike all those within since he first appeared without pants. It causes Germany to choke on his tea and while Austria is far too aristocratic to act in such an uncouth manner, he does manage to spill a drop or two into his saucer. Oh, how he frowns at the droplets.

"When did that happen?" Germany asks and then retracts the statement. "Nevermind that, I'm in the middle of entertaining Austria."

Italy tilts his head at the scene. "It doesn't look very entertaining."

"Germany, if you would just let him tell his story, it'll be over and done with much quicker," comments Austria.

Knowing that he is completely right, Germany allows Italy to tell them the story of how he's heard and within twenty or so minutes the exuberant nation is out of the home in favor of visiting Japan to relate the news to him. The two go on with their day more or less as it had been before, Italy's story pushed into the back of their minds as just that. A story that has no reason to be relayed on to any others, unless asked after such as Hungary does when asking Austria how his day fared out of courtesy and is given a detail report she listens to half-heartedly.

"…And then Italy came in saying how America and Russia have become involved with each other-"

"Wait, what?"

At least is had been half-heartedly until the sound of two new promising subjects to her voyeuristic tendencies makes itself known.

Austria looked up from the music sheets he had been going over at his desk to Hungary, now looking up from her computer screen and actually paying him more attention than to the sounds of high-pitched uke's squirm against their seme's.

"America and Russia are in a relationship," Austria repeats.

"A sexual one?"

"I-I don't know," he falters. "It's not as if I inquired any further than what Italy readily gave."

Hungary sighs and turns back to the screen, though at this point she's not really even paying attention too much to it. Instead her thoughts are turned to the new relationship development between former rivals and plans to meet with the one person she knows will appreciate the news.

"Oh, that struggle for dominance, can you imagine?"

Hungary sighs dreamily just as a trickle of blood seeps out from her left nostril. Liechtenstein hands her a tissue while stuffing her own nose with one. Hungary accepts it readily and sniffs as she continues to speak.

"They're both stubborn enough to prolong the foreplay just for the sake of being on top," she says. "Really, I can't see either one of them readily bottoming."

Liechtenstein's cheeks flush deeper at the images of the two nations grinding up against each other, bare chests pressed together, hands tangled in hair as mouths attempt to dominate the other…

"Lily," Hungary calls out to her. She even snaps her fingers in front of the other girl's face to bring her back from her fantasy.

Liechtenstein blinks rapidly as her eyes focus once more. "I'm sorry, I was just… imagining."

"We need to get cameras in their homes somehow. I need to know which one cries out when the other slams into him."

"I think Russia would make an adorable bottom," Liechtenstein comments. "I know his reputation, but he has that sweet face. And America does have enough strength to overpower him."

"Hmm, but because he's louder, I think I would like America on the bottom," Hungary argues. "Besides, I think he'd appreciate reliving his cowboy days by taking a good ride every now and then."

The two females shudder at the mental image before having a laugh between them. As disturbing as many would find their preference of conversation, the two are having something along the lines of a bonding moment between girlfriends, hardly thinking of the possibility of and accidental eavesdropper.

Switzerland stands frozen outside of the Liechtenstein's bedroom door, having overheard all of what the two girls inside are still vehemently discussing.

He staggers backwards through the hallway, right until he makes it back to his office where he shuts himself inside and falls into his desk chair. It doesn't take long for his head to meet said desk as he questions where it was he went wrong in taking care of his little sister. She was such an innocent, sweet, innocent girl…

Midway through his self-questioning, his office phone begins to ring, and needing a good distraction, Switzerland answers immediately.

"It's Hong Kong," the other line answers. "I need gunpowder."

Switzerland finds himself a bit speechless at the statement. It takes him a few seconds to respond with, "Gunpowder for what, exactly?"

"A harmless prank."

"Nothing with gunpowder is harmless. And wouldn't you have enough?"

"I thought I did as well, but it looks like I used most of it on the last prank I set off at China's house."

Maybe it's the fact that Switzerland is able to familiarize himself with China, being elder siblings and all. Or maybe it's just because he isn't able to comprehend the behavior of younger siblings nowadays, but for whatever reason it is, Switzerland finds himself unable to stop himself from speaking freely.

"You younger siblings should really think more of us," Switzerland vents. "The last thing any of us deserves is to be pranked or to have to hear how you fantasize about how Russia and America are sleeping with each other."

He drops the phone back into the receiver and buries his head in his arms.

On the other side of the world, Hong Kong presses the 'end' button of the phone and turns back to Korea and Taiwan, neutral expression still plastered on his face.

"America and Russia are having sex," he tells them.

"Right now?" Taiwan asks as Korea starts to laugh.

"I'm not sure right this instant," Hong Kong replies, "But Switzerland was kind enough to share the trauma of what I assume was overhearing his little sister talk about it. Possibly with graphic details."

"So Hungary found someone to squee over all that with," Taiwan says absently. "Good for her."

Korea rises up from his seat, and right when Taiwan asks him where he is going, he simply tells them both that Aniki would get such a kick out of the news and leaves the house. The two merely shrug his excuse off and return to planning their prank.

By the time Korea makes it to China's home, he's in such an excited hurry to see his older brother's reaction to the news that he barges in and starts yelling it out without a second though.

"Aniki!" he shouts. "I just heard Russia and America are having wild monkey sex, da ze~!"

Unfortunately, he cries out all of this before realizing that China had been in the middle of entertaining a guest, and that guest happens to be the Russian himself. Cue awkward silence.

"What was that you said, South Korea?" Russia asks politely enough.

"I heard that rumor, aru," China picks up, saving Korea the embarrassment from having to explain himself. "Japan told me Italy told him that America was saying the two of you were involved in some sort of physical relationship, aru."

"Ah, is that so?" Russia goes on. "If that is the case, I can assure you both that it is not true at all. Though if you will excuse me, China, I am afraid there is some new business I must take care of."

With that, Russia excuses himself from the table and leaves. The moment he's gone from the premises, China rounds on his younger brother.

"This might not end well," he tells him before leaving the front room into another.

Concurring to the prediction, Korea hastily makes it back to his siblings to tell them all of what has transpired under his Aniki's roof. It doesn't take long before the message is passed backwards in the long line of participants in this international game of telephone, and by the time it reaches Canada's ears, it's been manipulated into something along the lines of:

Russia's so pissed off with America for starting rumors, he's going over to beat him senselessly until he's brain dead and possibly rape him with his pipe.

So of course after hearing just why Russia is hell bent on sending his brother well on his way to a premature demise, the first thing Canada does is beat his own lover senseless for blabbing to the entire world in the first place and races out the front door to warn a certain American that just will not pick up his phone.

He continues to call America's house and cell phone and to his dismay, his brother still does not answer. It only causes Canada to fear the worst; he doesn't know when Russia heard the false news he did, he doesn't know if he's already at America's home engaging his brother in the fight of his life. The thought encourages him to travel faster.

The moment he comes up to America's home and spots a vehicle unfamiliar to him parked some ways away, Canada is more than sure that Russia is already inside. He quickly unsnaps his belt buckle and bolts from his car. He races up the steps just in time to hear a voice distinguishably belonging to Alfred cry out followed by the loud thud of something heavy hitting the floor with enough force to shake the windows on the entire ground level.

Canada readily reaches for the doorknob and goes into more of a panic when finding it locked. He throws his weight up against it, breaking it down effectively in one go and barges into Alfred's living room without any hesitation. He has to help his brother! He has to-

"Ah, fuck!.. Harder fuck me harder!"

Canada is paralyzed at the sight of America writhing on his living room floor, stripped of all manner of clothing with his legs wrapped around the waist of an equally nude Russian rutting into him like no tomorrow. Somewhere between America throwing his head back as he reaches his climax and Russia biting down on his exposed neck to muffle a groan when reaching his own, Canada suddenly goes light headed and his entire world tilts over before fading to black.

When he regains consciousness, he's greeted with a blurry up close vision of his brother hovering over him while slapping his cheeks lightly.

"You better have washed your hands before touching me," he mutters.

"Love ya too, bro," America laughs and leans back. He turns to Russia and tells him to give them some time alone and put his pants back on at least.

"I would," he says. "If I knew where they were."

"Just go find something in the bedroom."

Russia leans in to give him a quick kiss before rising up and making his way to the staircase. Canada shuts his eyes before he's able to receive an unintended free show and America does his best to cover up his torso with a shirt missing it's buttons.

The moment Russia's vacant from the room completely, Canada explodes. "What the hell was that just now?"

America blinks his eyes away sheepishly while trying to find the right words. Eventually he clears his throat before starting out slowly with, "When two nations love each other very much-"

"I don't mean that!" Canada exclaims. "Well, I did mean that, sort of. I mean the whole little lovey dovey scene just now."

"Oh…" America trails off. "That just, kinda happened today. Yeah, Russia came over, we started talking and somehow we started making out…"

"But I thought you just barely stopped hating him."

America rubs at the back of his neck and mutters, "Well yeah, but if I'm honest, I was only pissed at him 'cause I still liked him from way back."

Canada's eyes widen at the revelation and he lets his head fall back against the floor, resisting the urge to face palm with all his might.

xxx

Disclaimer: 'Cause I'm out in the club and I'm sippin' that bub and you're not gonna reach my telephone.

-What is this, I don't even...

-And idky this amused me so much, but my spell checker suggested the following to replace Gilbird: Oilbird, Jailbird, Gilberto. Srsly, I was rofl'ing at 2 am. X3

-So originally, I wanted the summary to be something like: "A game of telephone goes horribly right with sexy results", as a sort of homage to The Simpsons, but I wasn't sure how many people would get the reference. That being said, anyone who knows what episode I'm talking about, will have my love forever. Yeah, I'm frickin' Simpsons obsessed. XD

-Does this count as a romantic comedy?