Warning: SLASH. I got close to a lemon but not quite XD

Disclaimer: I do not own Axis Powers Hetalia, nor the song Tik Tok by the Midnight Beast, which is a parody of the song Tik Tok by Kesha.

Couplings: GerIta, Prustria, Spamano, USCan (but not much), drunk!PruCan, FrUK (maybe?)

It was karaoke night at the Hetalia bar. At that moment, Yao was singing a painful rendition of "Unbreak My Heart". (He probably should have picked "Unbreak My Ears.") Various people were scattered around the stage and the bar, including a certain white-haired Prussian and the brunette Italian that had just approached him.

"Gilbeeert~" called Feliciano in a voice subdued by alcohol.

The Prussian responded eagerly with, "What is it, Feli? You've finally realized how much sexier and more full of awesome I am than West, and have decided to devote all of your attention to me?"

"No," replied Feliciano innocently, "I just wanted to ask you where Doitsu is."

Gilbert facepalmed, and said, "Why?"

"Uh, I need to ask him a question."

"You can ask me," said Gilbert seductively, throwing an arm around Feliciano's shoulder. "What's your issue, fuckbuddy- Oh sorry, I mean buddy."

Feliciano blinked, and then said, "How can you tell if you're drunk?"

Immediately, Gilbert snapped his fingers, a smile rising to his lips. "Easy! Here..." He rummaged around in his pockets, eventually producing a small red box, which he held in front of the Italian's eyes.

"?" Feliciano observed the box. "Uh... raisins? How will this help me, Gil-"

"Just stare at it."

For a few seconds, Italy obliged, taking note of the Sun-Maid girl, and her basket of grapes.

"Okay..." said Gilbert. "So has she taken off her shirt yet?"

"No..." replied a perplexed Feliciano.

Gilbert pocketed the box, laughing. "Then you're not drunk yet." He paused, considering it. "Or you're gay. Come to think of it, that would explain why she's wearing glasses for me..." His face suddenly became extremely dark.

Feliciano backed away slowly, eventually breaking into a run. He stumbled right into the chest of a very, very drunk Spanish man.

Antonio put a strong arm around the Italian, muttering into his ear, "Lovi~no, let's go to the private rooms... I want you right now..."

The Italian 'eep'ed, and then stammered, "Ah-ah-ahhh, I-I-I-I think you might have mis-mistaken me for Lov- for Lovi-"

Antonio looked down, and then released the Italian instantly. "Feliciano! My dear man! Have you seen Romano around anywhere?"

He's acting like nothing happened, thought Feliciano bemusedly. "Um, he's over there..." He pointed to a couch by the corner of the bar, where Turkey had his arm around Lovino, who was upending a bottle of beer.

The Spaniard's face grew the same color that Gilbert's had turned, and he began to mutter, "Some Turkish man's going to die..." storming over to the couch.

Feliciano briefly wondered if he had done the right thing before his eyes fell on Ludwig, sitting on a barstool looking bored.

The Italian walked over to the bar, and said in a more subdued voice than usual, "Ve, Doitsu?"

"Ja?" replied the German.

The Italian hiccupped. "How can you tell if you're drunk?"

"..." Ludwig considered it for a moment. "I don't... know... How do you feel?"

Feliciano swung his left leg over the other man, and then positioned himself so that he was straddling Ludwig. "Like I want to fuck you," he answered honestly.

The Italian expected to be pushed away instantly, like usual. So when a hand was raised right by his face, the brunette winced, and leaned back. Instead of a slap, however, there came a gentle caress down his cheek and along his jawbone.


Ludwig leaned close, cupping Feliciano's chin. With a hand that had somehow appeared in the brunette's hair, he brought their faces together until they were merely one inch apart. He whispered, "No."

"No?" Feliciano was confused. "What do you mean, n-" The Italian was cut off by Ludwig closing the distance between their lips. It felt kind of nice to kiss Ludwig, reflected the Italian. The usually hard-hearted man was gentle as he pressed his lips to the younger's.

And all of a sudden, it felt really nice to kiss Ludwig as a tongue slipped between Feliciano's lips, exploring the inside of his mouth. "Ah-haa," moaned Feliciano, his own tongue reacting. Ludwig seemed incredibly turned on by the sound, and clenched his fist, grasping the brunette's hair. As his fingers held Feliciano's infamous curl tightly, Feliciano moaned more, and shivered a little bit.

Eventually the kiss broke for need of air, and brown eyes stared into blue.

"No," continued Ludwig, his voice a little more breathy than usual, "you may not fuck me."

Feliciano knitted his eyebrows in confusion, and said bewilderedly, "Then why did you- why did we just..."

The German quickly lifted Feliciano up into a bridal-style position, and began to carry him through the crowd. Feliciano became steadily more embarrassed as they got catcalls from a couple people. He stuttered, "D-Doitsu... what are you doing..."

The older man's lips curved upwards into a smirk as he opened the door to a private room, revealing a bed inside.

"You won't be fucking me... because I'm gonna fuck you."

Feliciano suddenly sat up straight in the elder's arms, and said with realization, "Aah! So this is how you can tell if you're drunk! You do things that you usually wouldn't be doing!"

Ludwig's smirk grew. "I'm not drunk."


He pushed the Italian onto the bed, darkly grinning. "You heard me."

In the meantime, Yao was getting off the stage to a round of drunken applause.

"Is there anyone else who'd like to have a go?" asked the nameless announcer.

Alfred climbed onto the stage, a bottle of beer in his hand. He was wearing his bomber jacket and regular blue jeans. Matthew followed him. Matthew was wearing a hoodie with one of the logos for the Vancouver Olympics on it. Gilbert came on stage, wearing a neon purple jacket and dark pants and carrying a skateboard. The Prussian grabbed drunkenly for the microphone, but Alfred snatched it away from him.

"Hey everyone, it's me, the hero! Me and Mattie and Gil are gonna sing a song for y'all. It's gonna be fucking amazing!"

The crowd cheered with laughter. Somewhere in the crowd, Arthur chuckled, alcohol on his breath. "Oh god, he's going to make a bloody fool of himself."

Francis, who was standing beside the Englishman, nodded. "I just hope he does not make fools of us too."

Arthur nodded, his face falling. "He's probably going to, too... Or embarrass Matthew."

"Mon Dieu," muttered Francis.

Up on the stage, Alfred smiled at the audience, and announced, "Aight, so we're going to sing Tik Tok... by the Midnight Beast."

Francis and Arthur eyed each other nervously. This couldn't be good.

The American began to sing into the microphone as music started to blast from speakers somewhere.

"Wake up in the morning feeling like Winehouse. Grab my breezer, I'm out the door, I'm gonna be really loud! 'Cause I don't care who I piss off, yeah, I'm a real big sinner. Sometimes I eat my dessert before my dinner."

Matthew and Gilbert stepped forward and danced beside Alfred.

"Talking odd socks on my toes." "Toes!" repeated Matthew.

"Taking off all my clothes." "Clothes!" Gilbert shrieked.

"Feeling overexposed..." said Alfred, looking down at his chest which he had just flashed to the audience and slowly lowering his shirt, "So I put back all of my clothes back on."

There was a chorus of laughter amongst the audience.

"Flush before I wee- wee!" sang Alfred.

Matthew struck a sexy pose, and sang, "Get arrested daily-ly!"

Gilbert ran over to the Canadian, and pulled the brunette towards him by his collar. The Prussian looked down Matthew's shirt curiously. "Trying to get a peek of some tit-ties..."

Matthew slapped him, much to the amusement of the audience.

The three suddenly all pulled their clothes off to reveal different clothes underneath. Alfred was wearing leather shorts and a white tank top. Matthew had donned white skinny jeans and a neon blue shirt with Suck My Hockey Stick written on it. Gilbert sported only a pair of boxers with the Prussian eagle on them.

Somewhere in the audience, Roderich got a nosebleed.

Alfred grabbed the microphone from Gilbert and sang loudly, "I'm mad, really bad- But don't tell my mum & dad!" In the crowd, Arthur blushed and Francis laughed loudly.

Matthew, having somehow obtained a mike of his own, continued, "Pucker up, kiss my butt! Cause I'm bloody fucking nuts!"

Gilbert added, "Hear the bass, skinny waist, now let's copy pokerface like..."

The three all began to dance in synchronized motion, and sang "Whoa-whoa- whoa-oh! Whoa-whoa- whoa-oh!"

They all sang the second part of the chorus, still dancing. "I'm mad, really bad- But don't tell my mum & dad! Pucker up; kiss a nut, 'cause it sells to be a slut! Hear the bass, skinny waist, now let's copy pokerface like whoa-whoa- whoa-oh! Whoa-whoa- whoa-" "WHOO!" screeched the Prussian, performing a trick on his skateboard and then throwing it to someone in the crowd.

The music changed back from the chorus, and Alfred said in a voice everyone was sure was intended to be seductive, "I stay out till 11 when my curfew is 10."

"Night sweetie!" called Matthew in a girly voice.

"SHUT UP MUM," replied the American, "I'M ON MSN!"

Gilbert sang in the same voice, "Now the girls are lining up because we're pussy sailin', but we punch em in the mouth if they're not-" the music stopped, and the trio screamed to the audience, "SARAH PALIN!" with an added "Fuck yeah!" from Alfred.

Somewhere in the crowd, Ivan Braginski said, "She can see me from her house."

Matthew pushed Alfred to the ground, and sat on top of him, straddling him. The crowd went wild. "Talkin' bout doin' things we'll regret-gret, Menthol cigarette-rette," and as Matthew leaned down to kiss Alfred, Gilbert said creepily, "Butt plugs in his pet-"

Matthew and Alfred shouted, "WHOA!" and backed away from the Prussian.

They quickly recovered however, and Alfred drew his phone, and pretended to sing into it. "Text sex on my Samsung!"

"Not telling dad mum rung-rung!" chorused Matthew.

Gilbert said, smirking to the audience, "Have sex with Roderich!"

The music paused, and Matthew and Alfred gave Gilbert confused looks. Matthew said in a stage whisper, "Alexa Chung!"

Slowly, the white-haired teen smiled to the audience, and shrugged, singing, "Oh wait- he's too much of a dick..."

The entire crowd burst into laughter, and even Roderich could be seen with an unwilling smile on his face.

The music began to play again, and they sang the chorus. In the audience, Elizaveta nudged Roderich. "Hey, what's wrong? You're blushing."

Roderich shook his head, and continued staring at the stage. The Hungarian followed his gaze to the stage, and more specifically, a pair of boxers.

She giggled, and listened to the band again, with a sudden inspiration to write a Prussia/Austria fic with this song when she got home.

The trio was singing, "Hear the bass, skinny waist, now let's copy pokerface like whoa- whoa- oh oh, whoa-whoa oh!"

The music changed suddenly, and the singers all stood perfectly still.

"This is the part where the rap breaks down," said Alfred.

"This is the part where the drums go POW," said Gilbert.

"This is the part where your balls sag down," said Alfred.

"This is the part where your pants go brown," said Gilbert.

Matthew stepped to the front of the stage, and said, his face falling, "This is the part where your dad goes off on a cold Christmas Eve to get some more milk but he never comes back, and seventeen years later you find out that he's had a whole fucking family with some French bitch and he doesn't even know your name anymor-"

Alfred stepped forward, and said loudly, "Dude. Shut the fuck up!"

"Sorry..." muttered Matthew.

In the audience, Francis and Arthur turned to each other and silently promised to each other never to forget Matthew's name again.

The singers burst into song again, and the music swelled. "I'm mad, really bad! But don't tell my mum & dad! Pucker up; kiss my butt, 'cause I'm bloody fucking nuts! Hear the bass, skinny waist! Now let's copy pokerface like whoa-whoa oh-oh! Whoa-whoa, oh-oh! I'm mad, really bad! But don't tell my mum & dad! Pucker up; kiss a nut, 'cause it sells to be a slut! Hear the bass, skinny waist! Now let's copy pokerface like whoa-whoa-oh-oh!"

Alfred raised his beer bottle, upending what was left of it, while Matthew and Gilbert sang quietly in the background, "Just dance!" and "Bad romance!"

The American threw the bottle down, and sang, "Now let's copy pokerface like whoa..."

As the music faded out there wasn't a single person who wasn't clapping.

Gaarin: If you liked it, vote for me! All reviewers will be hand-delivered a bottle of maple syrup, courtesy Canada! Merci!