Disclaimer: Hetalia's not mine.

England wondered if he should call Guinness. This, without a doubt, had to go down in history as the most awkward get-together ever

With a little help from the overpriced wet bar, France poured a glass each of wine, vodka, rum, and whiskey. He set the drinks down for everyone, and settled down on the edge of the bed beside England. And he, unlike England, hadn't bothered with redressing; he had simply tied his robe closed. And apparently the humiliation had done nothing for his... condition... seeing as how he kept crossing and recrossing his legs, shifting around awkwardly.

England had pulled his clothes back on, but to his dismay, the damn gelled cowlick remained. Absolutely nothing he did seemed to fix it. And oh god, what if it was like that in the morning, and everyone would see it?

Sitting in the chairs across from them, America was managing to look both amused and embarrassed. And Russia looked... well, Russia looked like he always did.

"So," America said, picking up his drink. "This is nice. Like an Allies reunion! Only without China. But I think he's busy any-"

"America, shut up!" England said, glaring.

"Ah... where is your brother?" France asked in his most conversational tone.

America shrugged. "As soon as we heard you guys and realized what you were doing, he got the hell outta there."

"And you called Russia over," England guessed. "Thanks."

Russia chuckled to himself, and England felt a chill up his spine when he realized the larger nation was looking right at him. "What?"

"Why did you not tell me?"

England scowled. "Tell you what?"

"That you desire to be abused by me."

England sputtered and choked on his drink. France patted him sharply on the back; how nice of him. "I do not!" he managed once he could speak.

"Actions speak louder than words."

England waved his hands around. "That was just role play! Don't you know what role play is?"

Russia nodded. "It is acting out kinky scenes you would like to have happen."

"N-nooo, no it isn't! It's... it's acting out kinky scenes you wouldn't want to have happen, which is why you're acting them out and not actually doing them!"

"That's weird," America said.

France patted England on the back again, more gently. "I'm sure they don't even need to roleplay. Their sex is messed up and kinky enough as it is."

"True," England muttered. "Very true. They make an interesting couple."

Now it was America's turn to sputter, and Russia's eyes widened. "We are not a couple," Russia said, and America firmly nodded his agreement.

France smirked. "What are you, then?"

"Enemies," America said, and this time Russia nodded. "Enemies who fight a lot, and it sometimes leads to hate-filled sex. Why? What do you call what you guys have?"

England gave France a sidelong glance. Ah, that used to be them, back in the day... Good times.

"Variety is the spice of life," France said. "You should try something different for a change. Maybe you should roleplay."

"Roleplay what?" Russia said. "You two?"

England shuddered at the mental image that conjured up. He wasn't sure which was worse: America as France, or Russia as France. "No. Not us."

"A normal couple," France said.

"We're not a couple!"

France ignored them. "Having normal sex."

"That sounds boring!"

"Come on, let me see you kiss each other." France settled back, waiting patiently.

"You are joking," Russia said, as America laughed.

France just shook his head. "If we can pretend to be a psycho couple like you, you can pretend to be happy and mushy."

"We're not a couple!"

"Whatever." France waved away their protests. "Are you trying to tell me you can't do it? I assumed the two of you could do anything..."

"Just because we can doesn't mean we should. Or want to," America said, arms crossed.

"If you can manage to make sweet, tender love, we'll... uh..."

"Oh, a bet, is it?" Russia smirked. "You will bribe us to roleplay for your fantasies?"

America rubbed his chin with a calculating look. "What will you give us?"

England shared a look with France, not really sure. What could they possibly have to offer that those two would want?

"A night with England," France offered generously.

"Okay!" America said.

"Nyet." Russia scowled. "I do not want that."

France ignored the death lasers England really wished were shooting out of his eyes. "Very well then. How about if I cook for you for a week?"

"Okay!" America said.

"Nyet. We can eat French cooking at countless restaurants."

France sighed. "Well tell us what you want."

The pair eyed France, then retreated to a corner of the room to confer. Their whispered negotiations were undecipherable for the most part, aside from the occasional 'no'. At one point they clearly heard Russia's exclamation of "Enough with food already! You can buy your own food!" and a little later, America's "My brother is not a prize!"

Several moments later, they returned to their chairs. Judging by their satisfied expressions, they had reached an agreement. England tried not to shudder.

"I see you have come to an accord." France leaned forward, elbows on his knees and chin resting on folded hands.

"Yeah, sure," America said. "We want you to keep roleplaying us."

England frowned. What the hell? "You like us having sex as you two, huh?"

"I didn't mean sex! And I meant all day tomorrow. Including at the meeting."

France chuckled. "You want us to pretend to be you two in public, hmm?"


England crossed his arms "Absolutely no-"

"You have a deal!" France grinned.

"What?" England glared at him through narrowed eyes. "If they both have to agree to a deal, then we both have to agree. Our humiliation is not worth-"

"I'll make it up to you later." France winked. "All right, boys! Time to uphold your end of the deal!" He rubbed his hands together, looking like a delighted villain. "Kiss. And make it good."

The pair eyed each other, uneasy. Finally, Russia gripped America by the shoulders, slamming him into the back of the chair he sat in. Then he leaned in for a kiss that made France and England both wince. England could have sworn he saw a bit of blood trickle from their mouths.

"That was... a good start," France said. "It definitely needs a lot of work."

Russia pulled back to glare at France.

"You're the one who agreed to a nice round of tender lovemaking! You have to play by my rules. If we are, as Angleterre said, going to humiliate ourselves in public, we want you to put some effort into it."

All three of them were giving France looks. England was wondering just why they had decided to do this to the poor not-couple.

"Try again," France said. "Put your arms around each other, and bring your mouths together gently."

Russia gave America another uneasy glance before slowly, carefully, hesitantly placing his hands on the other nation's hips. Just as reluctant, America rested his hands on Russia's shoulders. They both leaned forward, ever so slowly, lips almost comically puckered. Abruptly, they both turned their faces away, as if they had been playing a game of chicken.

"What the bloody hell is wrong with you two?" England snapped. "Just kiss! Christ!"

America winced. "Right. A hero can handle anything."

"This will go a lot smoother if you don't talk," Russia said pleasantly. The looks on their faces as they eyed each other was reminiscent of a child preparing to take some nasty medicine. America nodded slightly, Russia sighed, and they leaned forward until their lips were touching.

"That's not so bad, is it?" France soothed. "Close your eyes." They did so. "Now, there will be no biting, or tongue fighting, or anything of the sort. You are going to gently caress your tongues together."

The angle of their heads changed slightly as they parted their lips for each other. England licked his dry lips, wondering why the hell something as simple as a kiss could be turning him on. His eyes dropped to the laps of the kissing duo, and... yes. America was turned on as well.

"Maybe we should change spots," France mused, smoothing a hand along the bedspread he was sitting on. "Beds are easier for making love than a couple chairs."

"That didn't stop you that one time," England said.

The two couples (or whatever) changed places. France was enjoying the tame yet strangely erotic show as well—it was pretty obvious when his robe fell open as he sat back down. They instructed Russia and America to pick up where they left off, and they scooted together on the bed and started kissing again. As France directed, Russia (gently) pushed America down toward the pillows, following him down, not breaking the kiss.

"Excellent," France said in a husky voice. "You're doing great. Take each other's shirts off. Nicely. No yanking or ripping."

They paused in their kissing to deal with that. By some miracle, all buttons remained intact as the shirts were removed and tossed aside. England's fingers twitched with a deep-seated urge to pick up after America.

"Ah... perfect." France was practically purring. "Yes, just like that. There is no need to keep the kissing centered solely on the lips. You have necks and chests and nipples and..." His hand fell to his bared lap.

"You're sure enjoying this," America said with a chuckle from beneath Russia. "We aren't even doing anything yet!"

"You're enjoying it, too~" Russia said, smirk audible.

"Well I'm the one being kissed. It's... nice."


"Come on, do what he said, com-"

"No insults," England muttered.

"Oh, right. Sorry!"

Russia moved his mouth, trailing kisses down America's jaw, down his throat. He eyed one of America's nipples with an almost hungry look, and England had an idea he was really wanting to bite it. But Russia played by the rules and gently sucked on it instead, earning a soft gasp from the man beneath him.

"Yes..." France said. "Oh my, yes." Both his and England's eyes fell on Russia's butt, hovering in the air as he knelt over America, and they both had the same idea at once. "Pants off."

"Already?" America said. "You don't believe in foreplay, do you."

"Since when did you believe in foreplay?" England sniffed.

"You can do foreplay while naked," France said with a shrug. "Pants off. No wait!" He stood, not bothering to close his robe. "I'll help!"

"That is not necessary..." Russia tried to scoot away from the French invasion, but when France decided to strip something, it was hard to stop him. He wiggled the pants down, underwear and all, revealing the nicely rounded Russian ass for England to sit back and enjoy the sight of.

Then France reached for the waistband of America's pants, and Russia slapped his hand away. "Yow! What was that for?"

"You're done here." Russia gripped America's pants himself, and slid them down.

"Oh-ho. So that's how it is." Grinning in spite of his loss, France returned to his seat to watch the now-naked duo.

"It is like nothing."

"What now, sensei?" America asked.

And with France directing them, America and Russia continued their foreplay, kissing and licking each other, gently rubbing their cocks together (which everyone in the room seemed to enjoy), and England and France felt themselves (and each other) up as they watched the show.

"Who's going to top?" France asked. "Lube's on the nightstand."

Predictably, two hands shot out to grab the tube, and two sets of lust-filled eyes narrowed.

"Wait wait!" France said. "Do not lose the moment! Russie, you're physically on top right now, so you can be top this time."

"That's not fair!" America said. "You told him to make out on top of me."

"Well you just look so hot on your back. Next time you can switch."

"Next time?" more than one voice said.

"Don't lose the moment! Keep going. Get the lube, man!"

Russia triumphantly snatched the tube up, smirking at America's pouty expression.

"Don't whine, lad," England said. "Won't it be nice to be shagged without being all torn up?"

"I guess..."

Russia proceeded to stretch America with his lubricated fingers. France's instructions were becoming erratic, his voice occasionally cracking like puberty was in effect again.

"What?" Russia looked up, expression confused. "Another finger? Am I stretching him or fisting him?"

"Ah..." France chuckled. "Sorry, I got carried away. No, no, you're good." America visibly sighed in relief.

"Just shut up," England said with a small groan. "Russia, put your dick in him already."

"Slowly and carefully," France added.

"Why does everything have to be so slow and careful?" Russia mused as he positioned himself.

"This has been a little less painful," America said. "It's not bad! Weird, but..."

Russia finally slid into America. Russia and France moaned, England whimpered and stroked himself some more, and America cried out.

"Lovely," France gasped. "Oh, très magnifique."

Russia set up a slow pace to start with, though it was obvious he wanted to just pound into the willing body he had at his mercy. But France corrected him whenever things got too rough for his taste.

England watched them make love, watched Russia increase his speed, watched America writhe and moan. He increased his own speed, pumping his hips into his hand. Out of the corner of his eye he saw France doing the same.

America was as loud as ever, panting and groaning and making other incredibly sexy sounds, rather than the curses he usually directed at his hated lover. Now that he had found a steady but not punishing rhythm, Russia didn't need direction anymore, leaving France free to make his own pleased sounds as he stroked himself.

It was strange. Just the other day, England had watched them throw each other around the room, having the most violent sex he had ever seen, and had thought nothing could be hotter. Yet there he was, watching Russia's ass bob up and down as he thrust into America in what was just plain old vanilla sex. And it was so hot...

America was the first to come. In keeping with the spirit of the occasion, in what must have been a burst of inspiration, he cried out Russia's name rather than loudly screaming. For some reason, that was enough to push England over the edge, and he orgasmed as well with a low moan, trembling. France was soon to follow, and Russia finished last (he had probably won some personal contest in his mind).

The quartet flopped back, boneless, worn out, and sated.

It was some minutes before anyone spoke. "Well..." France said. "Congratulations. You were able to have normal sex!"

"Normal?" America said, sprawled on the bed beside Russia. "You think that was normal? I just had sex under the supervision and instruction of the closest things I have to parents. That was totally hot!"

England coughed, face reddening. "That is beside the point! You... he... Don't say things like that, America!"

America laughed. "Well, all right, it was certainly the most normal sex he and I have ever had. So..."

"You are ready for round two?" France said eagerly, probably remembering the multiple orgasms America had somehow managed before.

"Oh. Well, maybe. We'll see. I was just thinking of your guys' performance tomorrow..."

England grimaced. Damn. He had almost forgotten about that.

"Don't worry!" America continued on, much too cheery. "We'll give you some pointers before unleashing you on the world."

England sighed, tucking himself back into his pants. America better be up for a round two, if this was going to be worth it.

America was. And it was totally worth it.