Yup, this one is a weird one. I don't even know what really happened while writing this myself. It's weird, it's not logical, and it's cheesy (and lemon&lime). So I wish you good luck with this. It's probably my most complicated work, and it could be average or absolutely horrible. I don't know.

Warnings: Yaoi smuttiness, hetero lime (which is definitely not one of my strong points), nyotalia, lack of logic, maybe some horrible grammar here and there.

I want to point out one more thing: When I wrote 'Treacherous books' I chose to write a UKUS because I had such a hard time finding any UKUS fics. Originally I had intended this to be a UKUS as well, but considering the tables have turned and I'm having a hard time to find USUK instead of UKUS these days, I chose to swap and make this a USUK instead. I love doing things different ;)


England was humming happily while he was drawing the symbols on the right places inside the circle of his basement floor. It seemed like America had finally started to believe him about magic and fairies. The lad had come over to ask him – fidgeting nervously all the while – if England did 'fortune telling an' stuff'. He seemed to be interested mainly in one's identity.

England didn't know the exact reasons for America to want to know his 'identity', but the man had seemed a little uneasy with himself lately. It wasn't hard to notice the normally obnoxious hamburger-eating git was suddenly stopping mid-sentence when talking about trivial matters or silently pondering over an unknown question for half an hour.

Even though he didn't know what was going on, England was glad to help. Not often did people come to him to ask him for help in magic.

In fact, this was the first time.

When he finished drawing the symbols in the circle, he looked up. America was still sitting on the little stool next to the wall, staring intently at what England was doing. He quickly averted his eyes when he saw England looking.

England sighed and raised to his feet. He grabbed the right book from the enormous shelf filled with thick bundles without the need to think about it. He would always know which book he needed.

Pages fluttered and the book was set down on the high wooden table. He had never done this spell before, but everything was quite clear. The spells usually pointed out themselves once he started.

"I need you to stand inside the circle now, Alfred." England smiled reassuringly when America jumped.

"What? In the middle? You're not going to do anything weird to me, right?"

"I wasn't planning to," England muttered. "From the middle one step to your right, facing me."

"On that funny square?"

"On that funny square, yes," England sighed. Even if he asked him about magic, America didn't know a thing of it yet.

"And what do I do then?"

"Just be quiet and think of what you want to know. Don't let yourself get distracted, because this spell's result will be completely based on what you're thinking of."

"Will it show who I am?"

"If you think about that, yes."

"How do I think about it when I don't know it yet?"

England sighed again. "Just think of the question. Or think of what you think is the answer."

"You gettin' all confusin' Artie."

"Just do it, twit," England snapped, waving his hand to hurry America to the circle.

As soon as America had positioned himself with a doubtful glance, England flipped the black hood over his head and started the incantation of the spell. The hood helped him focus, and he'd need a lot of help in focusing with America making weird faces in front of him.

That, and he just liked showing off a little to Alfred.

Halfway the spell, he suddenly found himself getting dizzy. His voice faltered a little, but he forced himself to stand straight. He saw that America was standing a little wobbly as well.

Was this supposed to happen? The spell was meant for Alfred, so how come he was getting dizzy himself?

By the time the spell ended, the world around him was spinning. He grabbed onto the table and clenched his fingers around the book to keep standing. He saw America stumbling.


The sudden weight of the book made him tumble forward. He glanced behind in surprise. Where did the bloody table go?

Instead of the stone wall of his basement, he saw the plainly coloured wall of his house, one storey op.

Dropping the heavy book, he hurried to Alfred and steadied the dizzy man on his feet.

"Wow, Artie. What just happened?"

"I don't really know," Arthur glanced around again, confirming they were indeed standing in the hall of his home. Strange as the effects of his spells might be sometimes, just teleporting one storey up wasn't really what he tried to do this time.

He turned around, bending over to lift the book again, but found himself eye to eye with a surprised brown haired woman in a fancy dress. Her face looked awfully familiar.

"Bloody hell…?" Arthur straightened his back, staring at the woman in his house dumbfounded.

"Mon Dieu, I would almost mistake you for a burglar in such suspicious clothes," the woman remarked sarcastically, she turned slightly to call over her shoulder, "Rosa, did you invite two men?"

"What the hell are you talking about," the voice of another woman snapped.

The other woman appeared in the door of the kitchen. She had blond hair in two long pig tails and wore a simple but functional dress. Her glasses slipped a little down her nose as she gaped at Arthur and Alfred for a moment while the other was obviously checking out their bodies with a tiny grin. After several shocked seconds Alfred broke the silence with obnoxious laughter.

"Ahaha! That's is so cool Artie! She looks exactly like you! The only thing she's missing is the eyebrows!"

"Will you bloody well shut it about the eyebrows, you sodding git!" Arthur snapped.

"What the bloody hell are you doing in my house," the pig tailed woman shouted. "Get out!" She grabbed the closest article, which happened to be the phone in England's hall, and threw it at their heads.

"What the hell…" Arthur caught the phone and glared at the woman. "What gives you the right? I'd rather have you leaving my house!"

"You dare to claim this is your house?" She squeaked indignantly and puffed up her chest, clearly angered severely now.

"I've lived here my entire life! Of course this is my house!"

"Then how come we never met, because I've lived here all my life too!"

"He isn't one of your fairies, is he Rosa?"

Both Arthur and the woman – apparently called Rosa – stared at the brown haired woman in disbelief for a moment.

"She really is like you if she sees fairies too, Artie," Alfred nodded wisely, "but considering I can see them, they obviously are real. So the fairy theory can be called off. Instead of shouting at each other, we can also introduce ourselves and try to figure out what's goin' on?" He beamed at them as if not one of them was trespassing.

"Bonne idée!" The brown haired woman said before Rosa could snap again.

"Cool! I'll start then! I'm Alfred F. Jones, and eyebrows here is Arthur Kirkland."

"Kirkland and Jones?" The eyes of both women widened in surprise. "You have family, Rosa?"

"I've never seen that man in my life before," Rosa huffed. "My name is Rosa Kirkland."

"And my name is Françoise Bonnefoy."

"Yeah, I thought you looked familiar the moment I saw you," Arthur muttered, "you have the same last name as that frog."


"You mind if I get a little uneasy, Artie? What is going on? How come they have the same last names as you and Francis and how come they look like you and Francis?"

Arthur opened his mouth, but closed it again as he looked down at the book on the ground. And suddenly realisation hit him.

"Bloody hell. It's because they are the same person as us. They are England and France."

"No freakin' way," Alfred laughed.

"Will you stop laughing you bloody wanker! This is serious! The whole problem here is quite clear. This house belongs to me and to her. I am the same person as she is!" He pointed to the snorting woman. "I'd say this world is an alternative for what our world would be if we were women, but it seems like we are quite similar disregarding gender. You wanted to know who you are? Then all you need to do is find America – who is surely hanging around in your home – and have a nice long chat about yourselves. Meanwhile, I'll be working on reversing this spell, because I will not…" he quickly twisted away "… stay around a female version of that frog and get molested in a new way." He glared at Françoise who pulled back her hand from the point Arthur's backside had been moments ago with a disappointed look on her face.

"What were you trying to do by coming here?" Rosa tilted her head curiously, apparently taking Arthur's words without doubt.

Arthur shrugged, "Alfred wanted to know who he was, so I used the spell that's supposed to show one's identity." Rosa nodded in acknowledgement at the naming of the spell. "I never used it before though. I had expected it would show identity, but apparently it sends us to a place where we can find out ourselves. Everything Alfred and his female counterpart have in common must be part of his identity, right?"

"Sounds very plausible," Rosa nodded, "but I doubt if Emily will understand this explanation. She's not that bright."

"That's the first thing they have in common then," Arthur grinned.

"Hey! That's no fair Arthur!"

Rosa grinned just as wide as Arthur, looking up and down Alfred. "They've got the same over-the-top proportions too. Emily's got a chest so big she can hardly see her toes, he has shoulders that are definitely too large for a normal man. Although I must say his tummy seems a little more filled then Emily's." Alfred sputtered. Rosa's eyes softened. "But he's got the same eyes. Definitely. And did he wet his bed all the time when he was little too?"

Arthur barked a laugh, "yes he did. I don't know how many times I had to wash those sheets."

Alfred turned completely red, "I think it is time to go, Arthur. I thought you said you wanted to hurry up?"

"Yes yes," Arthur smiled. "I think I would have liked chatting a little more with Rosa, though."

"Same goes for me," Françoise winked, "you two came alone? I would love to meet my male self."

"Eww, that's so gross," Alfred laughed nervously, still wanting to get away from two Englands.

"I think Francis shagged weirder things than himself," Arthur muttered, "well, Rosa, sorry for intruding. We'll get out of here as soon as possible." He put down the phone he was still holding. "But you shouldn't throw with that. The last time I dropped it, it started making calls at random."

"That was just Hong Kong playing tricks on you." Alfred grinned uneasily.

"You will return here anyway, don't you," Rosa said.

"What do you mean?"

"You came through here. I doubt you'll find your way back in America."

"You're probably right," Arthur wrinkled his eyebrows.

"Your eyebrows really are huge," the smile of Rosa was less malicious than her voice sounded, "I'll be waiting for your returns, you wankers."

England huffed and grinned. "You'd better have tea and scones ready by then. I don't think I'll be getting any the coming days."

"Stop the lovey-dovey stuff with yourself Artie, it really is gross!"

"Belt up, you bloody git!"

Before they had the chance to leave, a well-aimed phone hit the back of Alfred's head.


"Emily. We've come to see Emily Jones. Emily Jones." Alfred had been muttering the name of the female America ever since they got off the plane. Arthur had the feeling something was really bothering the boy, but he couldn't think of what the problem could be. Still he couldn't bring himself to ask Alfred about it either.

"There we are," Alfred jumped out of the cab the exact moment it stopped moving.

"Come here and pay for the cab, you twit," Arthur shouted, undoing his seat belt.

Alfred darted back, sweeping some money from his wallet into the hands of the cab driver and nervously jumped from one foot to another until Arthur had walked around.

"So eager to see her?"

"Just hurry up Arthur!"

Arthur slapped Alfred's hand away when he started looking for his keys. "Don't you think we'd better ring the doorbell, idiot? I don't want her to shoot us because we broke in."

"Yeah, you're probably right," Alfred smacked the doorbell several times impatiently.

"Please Alfred, calm down," Arthur rubbed his temples with his fingertips.

The door suddenly flew open and a blonde woman appeared, the resemblance to Alfred in her face obvious. She was wearing a miniskirt and a crop top, her hair wavy and held out of her face with two red clips. Arthur's cheeks dusted a slight pink in surprise at the amount of exposed skin.

She swallowed something she was eating and tilted her head. "How can I help ya?"

"Hi!" Alfred beamed. "You must be Emily Jones! My name's Alfred, and I'd like to chat a little with you!"

"Chat? Why?"

"How 'bout I explain myself in private?"

Arthur almost choked on himself in shock. "Will you quit being rude already, you sodding git! That is not the way you approach a lady! You're a bloody hypocrite for criticising me for being nice to Rosa and now asking to be alone with her within a few seconds after you've first met her!"


"You know Rosa?" Emily looked surprised. "Did she send you here?"

"In a way, you could say that," Alfred said doubting.

"Well, no probs! Get in then!" Emily laughed and walked into her house, leaving the door open for the two to follow her.

"Maggie! There's guests!" She nodded to Alfred. "Come along, we can speak over there. Your friend can wait here if he likes."

Arthur found himself left alone in the living room, Alfred quickly following the – indeed very full breasted – girl to where he knew was the usually unused study located.

Who could Maggie be?

"Don't tell even his alien friend is female in this world," he groaned to himself, sitting down on the couch.

He screeched very unmanly when suddenly his pants were grabbed by a menacingly growling polar bear. The surprisingly small bear had a little flower tucked inside the fur of its head, but at the moment the sharp teeth tearing at Arthur's pants were more of a concern.

Only when the polar bear was lifted up a silently shushed Arthur noticed the girl standing in front of him. She had long curling blonde pigtails, her hair clipped out of her face in a similar way Emily had, glasses slipped halfway her nose.

"Of course," Arthur sighed in relief, "how could I forget about you. Again."

"Have we met," the girl asked with a soft surprised voice.

"No. But you must be Canada."

Her violet eyes widened.

"Who are you? And how do you know me?"

"Arthur Kirkland," he tried to smile reassuringly, "and how I recognise you is a bit complicated. But I really never met you. I know your last name is probably Williams, but I wouldn't know your first name. Emily called you Maggie?"

"My name is Marguerite. Are you family of Rosa Kirkland?" Marguerite patted the head of the polar bear when it growled again.

"You want the entire explanation?" Arthur laughed nervously. "You'd better sit down then. I don't know how long it will take for you to understand."

Marguerite sat down tentatively, pouring Arthur a glass from the jug filled with lemonade and ice cubes on the coffee table. "Please tell me. You look exactly like her. I'd swear you were twins if I didn't know better."

Arthur took a deep breath. "Rosa Kirkland and I are the same person. I am England. I come from – what I think is – a parallel universe. All the countries I've met here so far are of the opposite gender as where I come from. That is why I recognised you: you look exactly like Matthew Williams, the Canada I know."

"The one you never forget," Marguerite raised her eyebrows.

Arthur laughed nervously again, "well, no. I forget about him a lot, sorry. But at least I often remember him as well, not all countries can say that!"

Marguerite tilted her head slightly, studying Arthur's face. "You really do look exactly like Rosa. Who is the other you came with?"

"Alfred. He is America."

"And does he resemble Emily?"

"I the few glances I've had of Emily they seem exactly the same."

"So why are you here?"

Arthur chuckled. He started to wonder about that more and more. "Alfred asked me if I could help him find himself with magic. He seems troubled lately. When I tried a spell that was meant to show his identity, we appeared in this world."

"So he speaks to Emily now to find himself?"

"That is the idea, yes."

"I hope it works," Marguerite sighed, "Emily isn't quite herself lately either. I do know what's going on though. I hope they can set things straight."

"You know?" Arthur straightened in his seat. "Then tell me please!"

"You think her problem might be the same as your Alfred's?"

"I think there's quite a chance. We haven't seen one thing different from our world yet, except for gender. Even our personalities seem to match perfectly. I think what's troubling Emily might be exactly the same as Alfred."

"Then I won't tell you." Marguerite smiled kindly.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Emily asked me to tell nobody about it. I'm sure Alfred said the same to this Matthew."

"That is not fair." Arthur refused to pout, but quickly brought his glass to his face to hide the look of disappointment.

Marguerite chuckled – hardly noticeable with a soft voice like hers – and put the small polar bear to the ground. She tapped his behind to send him in the direction of the hall.

"I guess you'll be returning to where you came from once they settled things, Arthur?"

"That is my intention. I haven't had the time to look for the correct reverse spell though."

"So this is a onetime visit? We'll never see you again?"

"Do I sense you disliking me," Arthur asked nervously.

"Not at all." Marguerite stood and walked towards the kitchen, signalling Arthur to follow her. Confused he followed her. She hadn't sounded sarcastic.

"I really like Rosa, you know," she said when he reached her. "I see her as an older sister. Because, like you said, even though she forgets me quite often, in the end she always remembers me too. She is one of the few who are capable of that, just like Emily and Françoise. I really love her for that." Arthur gulped as she walked up to him, standing dangerously close while she straightened her back to look him in the eyes through her eyelashes. "But still, she'll always remain my older sister. That doesn't quite count for you though."

Arthur was standing against the wall by now, Marguerite pressing against him. Even though her clothes were less revealing, he could clearly feel now that she was hiding a chest of equal size as her sister's in that top.

"I think I feel quite attracted to you," she whispered.

"I had the feeling something like that was the case," Arthur squeaked and he pushed her away. "I don't think this is a good idea!"

"Why not? We'll probably never meet again."

"That doesn't justify this!"

She manoeuvred him with his back against the next wall as he tried to escape, pressing her body against his once again. She reached up to gently trail her fingers over his eyebrows. She giggled. "Those eyebrows are huge. I think they're cute."

Arthur felt himself blushing and grabbed her elbows to push her away once again, but she twisted her fingers in his collar to make that impossible.

"I think you are very... handsome." She smiled.

"Well, you are beautiful too, but that's not the point. I would never be able to look the same at Matthew again. In fact, I don't think I'll be able to look the same at him anymore already!"

"Then it doesn't matter, does it?"

"It does!"

"Don't worry, if Matthew is like me he won't be attracted to you like this. He'd probably jump Rosa if he ever met her though," she chuckled.

"The fact that my sweet little Matthew would jump someone like this is already a crumbling of my beliefs!" Arthur squeaked.

She shrugged. "Apologise to him from me. But don't forget who was the first one to raise us."

Her fingers entangled with his hair and she pulled him down in a passionate kiss. Arthur moaned in surprise – really, just surprise! – and was too taken aback for a moment to react. When she started to rub her hips at his crotch and caught one of his wrists to bring his hand up to her well endowed breasts he decided to run for it.

He pushed her away and started to run.

He wasn't fast enough for the well trained hockey player though.

She jumped him from behind, his chest colliding with the floor as she landed on top of him with a loud thump. She managed to roll him over quickly and started ravishing his mouth, while he was still debating whether he could get violent against a girl for such a reason.


Marguerite's face shot up, her cheeks turning a dark colour of shameful red when she spotted her sister in the door of the kitchen.

Arthur pushed softly at her shoulders, deciding against violence towards the girl in front of her possibly protective sister. Marguerite sat up, still straddling Arthur's waist, and he saw a tear rolling over her cheek.

"I'm sorry Emily, I didn't mean to..."

Emily quickly turned around, "Hey, Alfred. Why don't you sit down. Maggie's here to help me with the food, so just relax, 'kay?"

"I don't mind helping."

Emily laughed high and uncomfortably, "but I do! I mean, there's all kinds of embarrassing things here, like tampons and stuff, so just stay there!"

Arthur guessed Alfred had shrugged and done what she said, since she stepped in the kitchen and closed the door behind her, a stern look on her face.

Arthur sighed in relief and glared at Marguerite. "Would you please be so kind to get off me?"

"O-of course," Marguerite quickly stood, stumbling back shyly.

"Maggie, how could you," Emily glared at her sister and grabbed Arthur's hand to pick him up. Arthur gasped as he was completely lifted up in the air with a sharp tug of her arm.

"I- I thought... Well, this would have been the o-only time we'd see them anyway, so I th-thought it wouldn't hurt."

"Did you think that too," she asked with a glare at Arthur.

"No, not at all," he blurted out, "I tried to stop her, really! But I wouldn't hit a girl either!"

"Okay. Then why don't you go sit with Alfred, and Maggie and I will make lunch."

Arthur blinked a few times before he realised she sent him away. "Yes! Yes of course, I'll be sitting in the living room then." He hurried out of the kitchen as fast as he could. His innocent Matthew, not so innocent at all!


Alfred's eyes widened when he saw Arthur coming from the kitchen. "You were helping Maggie with the food?"

"Ah, no... eh, we were more like, eh, chatting in the kitchen."

Alfred sighed in relief, "good."

"How do you mean, 'good'," Arthur snapped, catching the insult towards his cooking.

"Well, I just think it's good you were chatting with Maggie," Alfred grinned cheekily," is she much like Mattie?"

"I certainly hope not," Arthur mumbled, a small pout on his face. He couldn't believe his Matthew would do the same. It just wasn't possible. He would expect something like that from Alfred, but not from Matthew.

Which made him wonder why Emily had covered for him. Not that he wasn't grateful, it would have been too embarrassing if Alfred had seen Marguerite straddling him on the kitchen floor, but he would rather have expected Emily to start laughing.

Alfred snapped his fingers right in front of Arthur's eyes and he startled.

"What are you doing, you twit?"

"Stop spacing out, old man," Alfred laughed. "What's with that blushing face anyway?"

"I'm not blushing," Arthur spat, rubbing his cheeks, making them only redder. To his utter frustration, Alfred kept laughed at him.

"Here's the hotdogs!"

Arthur jumped in his seat at the sudden exclamation from Emily right behind him.

Alfred's face fell. "Hotdogs? Where's the burgers?"

"No burgers here, babe. Hotdogs rule everything." The giant plate filled with dozens of fatty hotdogs landed on the coffee table with a thump.
"Well, that's different," Arthur noted, sniffing in disgust, "although I'm not sure whether it is an improvement."

"No complaining until you've eaten at least ten."

"Bloody hell? I'm not going to stuff ten of those in my mouth!"

"Then I will," Emily grinned mischievously and straddled Arthur's lap with two long creamy thighs, one hotdog in a hand ready to shove down his throat.

Arthur stiffened at the contact with all the naked skin and closed his mouth, struggling against the strong girl who was pressing her half-naked breasts under his chin in her efforts to make him eat the greasy food.

Alfred cheered, earning an angry glare from Arthur.

Emily used that moment to force open his mouth, and stuffing the first hotdog in with a high bell-like laugh.


Arthur felt sick, and he hadn't even boarded the plane.

"Aww, don't look so angry Artie, we were just playing," Alfred nudged his shoulder.

"You bloody shoved six hotdogs dripping with grease down my throat! Of course I'm angry you bloody wanker!" He almost felt his stomach turn from the force of his outburst.

"Just six, that's all. They were quite good, I have to admit, even if they weren't burgers."

Arthur made a noise in disgust. "Let's see if we can get back to Rosa without me throwing up all those six hotdogs. And believe me, I'll make sure they will end in your lap if I do."

"Eww, Artie that's so gross."

"So were the hotdogs."

Alfred laughed cheerily, "you can be such a child Artie."

Arthur sputtered in protest.

"That's our plane Artie!" Alfred quickly interrupted, "sorry, we need to hurry!"

Arthur grumbled, holding his stomach as he followed the obnoxiously laughing American. That obnoxious, annoying, mindless, lovable American.


"Back so soon," Rosa chuckled as she was slightly pushed aside by Arthur storming into her house towards the cellar.

"I'm going to find how we get back as fast as possible. Is that French still over?"

"Bien sûr, mon chéri. You promised to return, so I had to wait for you."

Arthur made a quick turn to avoid Françoise's hands and went in a straight line towards the cellar door.

"I'll have tea ready in half an hour," Rosa called after him, "make sure you're upstairs by then!"

Arthur quickly descended the stairs and went to the book shelve on the right wall. His fingertips gently brushed the covers as he walked past the books, waiting for his fingers to touch the right book.

To his surprise, he didn't recognise the touch of any of the books. He peered at the covers, confirming they were indeed the exact same books he had himself. Then why did they feel so foreign?

He cursed softly and pulled the book he had brought with him while using the spell from his bag. The book felt right.

He touched the copy of Rosa. It was just a book.

He cursed again, a little louder this time. He knew for sure there wasn't a spell to reverse this one in the book he brought. He also knew he had a book that contained a reversal spell that would work on this one. He didn't have a clue which book, nor what page.

"This is the first time in my life I've ever thought a catalogue of my magic books would come in handy," he grumbled, opening the first book and quickly skipping through the pages. All the spells felt dead to him.

After skipping through the third book, a hand reached past him and pulled a red cover from the shelve.

"You'll need this one, love."

Arthur turned and snatched the book from Rosa's hands. "I knew that."

"No you didn't. Now come up for tea. You can start reading all thousand pages of that book trying to find the right spell after tea just as well. Or you can ask me, of course."

"I don't need any help," Arthur grumbled.

"You were looking at them as if they were picture books. I think you can't feel the spells, can you?"

Arthur glared at her.

"I'm right?"

"Yes," Arthur finally snapped. "I can see they are the same as mine, but I can't feel them. They're dead to me. How is that even possible?"

"Maybe you need a woman's mind to read a woman's books. Now will you walk up those stairs yourself or do I have to kick your bloody arse up?"

"That means I'll never understand women, even if they're me," Arthur grumbled angrily, deciding to go to the living room for his own good.

Walking in the room they found Alfred and Françoise glaring at each other from each side of the coffee table, knees slightly bent and ready to run.

"What the hell are you doing," Rosa crossed her arms.

"She tried to molest me!" Alfred cried indignantly.

Arthur and Rosa sighed simultaneously, "if that's all..."

"That was really creepy Artie," Alfred glared.

"Sit down," Rosa snapped before Arthur could answer. Alfred and Françoise promptly sat down, both recognising that tone of voice.

Rosa poured the tea and sat down to sip hers in a pleased silence.

Arthur glared at Alfred and Françoise, who were both pulling faces to their cups of tea. When Françoise caught him glaring a bright smile graced her lips.

"So will you take me with you, if you refuse to bring the male moi here, mon chéri?"

"Of course I won't," Arthur answered, "we've got our hands quite full with just one France."

"I'd rather see something else full with one France."


"Don't tell me you aren't interested in at least a small make-out session with Arthur," Françoise asked Rosa, perplexed.

"Not in the least!" Rosa's face turned several shades of red darker.

"Don't you think he's good-looking? If you don't want him, can I have a taste of those lips?"

"I think you're rather missing the point Françoise," Arthur said coolly, "we simply don't jump someone of the opposite sex just because they're good-looking. Not to mention that here it would be the worst case of narcissism."

"It would not be the worst case of narcissism," Françoise objected, "even if you are the same person, you have different bodies and even different sexes. I think it would be a match made in heaven."

"I don't think Arthur and Rosa are a match made in heaven," Alfred said quickly.

Instead of being relieved by his help, Rosa actually looked offended. "And why would that be, may I ask?"

"That'd be 'cause... Well, just because." Alfred pouted.

"Precisely," Arthur added, shooting a warning glare to Rosa. "I really don't think it is appropriate to even consider this. And that counts for you wanting to meet Francis so badly too," he added for Françoise.

"I have to disagree," Françoise lifted her chin haughtily, "besides, Francis is probably the only one whose skills would not be so poor compared to mine."

"Can't argue with that," Arthur answered shrugging.

Françoise's eyes lit up, "want to change that?"

"I'm not shagging you and I'm most certainly not shagging Francis. And even if I did, I wouldn't come back to give you a summary of the comparison."

"Do I sense you suggesting you'd like to? Honhonhon~"

"Sense whatever you want, but you can wait until forever if you're expecting something," Arthur sipped his tea calmly, ignoring the excited bouncing of Françoise on the couch across him.

"Artie, you're not really planning to...?"

Arthur shot a glare at Alfred. "Idiot. How about you finish your tea instead of taking the wrong things seriously?"

"I'll help you with the books," Rosa said, putting down her empty cup.

"Good," Arthur emptied his cup as well and stood.

"You're not going to leave me alone with her again, are you," a slight tone of alarm was in Alfred's voice.

"As a World Power, I'm sure you can fend her off," Rosa answered dismissively, "now come along Arthur, and let's see if we can get those spells working for you."

"You think I can't use the spells," Arthur asked shocked, following Rosa.

"You said you couldn't feel them. What makes you think you can use spells which you can't even feel?"

"They're the same spells as mine."

"But still you can't feel them." Rosa picked up the book and put it on the table, opening it on the right page straight away.

Arthur knitted his eyebrows together. "If I read it until I recognise the spell, maybe I can do it based on the memories of my own book."

"Maybe," Rosa looked up, emerald green staring in equal emerald green.

"What's wrong," Arthur asked, a little uncomfortable. He had a strange feeling he knew exactly what was wrong, but simply didn't want to know.

"Nothing," Rosa smiled tentatively, "read the spell now, if you think that's going to help."

"I'll call you if it doesn't work."

"I'll stay."

Arthur started to feel even more uncomfortable and he stared at Rosa. "What about Alfred and Françoise?"

"He can keep her off him."

"Alfred wouldn't hurt a lady."

"He thinks Françoise is a lady," Rosa raised an eyebrow.

"He's still innocent!" Arthur answered protectively.

"But you are not," Rosa stepped forward, their faces only the few inches they differed in height apart.

"You didn't really let Françoise's words affect you, did you?"

"Didn't you?"

A moment of silence. "I did."

Rosa pushed forward slowly, pressing her lips against Arthur's questioningly.

A shiver went through Arthur's body and he raised a hand to tangle his fingers in her long hair. Actually she was quite beautiful. She didn't have the eyebrows, and she had all features a woman needed to be absolutely pretty. Her personality was intriguing. And her lips even more.

Her hands slipped around his neck and their bodies pressed into each other, cheeks burning as hot as their lips. The warm and moist softness kissing him made Arthur feel a little dizzy. He had never had a kiss like this before. He felt Rosa shuddering underneath his hands and he stroked her cheek with his thumb. Tilting their heads slightly, they deepened the kiss, slipping their tongues in each other's mouth simultaneously. The warmth was overwhelming. She tasted delicious, of tea and lemon and scones and something female Arthur would have never expected even from her.

They pulled back from the kiss as slow as they started it. Arthur stared in her eyes. Seeing his own.

"I think that will settle the curiosity," Rosa said silently, a slight smile gracing her lips.

Arthur nodded. "No offence, but I don't really have deeper feelings for you."

"It won't be a surprise if I say the same goes for me," Rosa laughed truly now, "but it certainly was enlightening!"

Arthur furrowed his eyebrows, "I'm not completely sure if this makes me happy though."

"We have a long life. Long enough to find out whether this can make us happy or not. Now get on with this spell and use what you learned."

Arthur grinned and cupped her cheek once more. "Thank you for your help, Rosa."

"No problem, Arthur. I'll be checking on Alfred now."

"Get Françoise off him if she's on him."

"First thing, love."


It took him about an hour to recognise the spell, ban all he had read out of his head and draw the patterns needed on the floor using just his memory. When he went up to pick up Alfred he found the three in the kitchen.

"I'm ready with my preparations."

"Déja?" Françoise pouted.

"It took me an hour," Arthur scowled, "can't call that fast."

Françoise huffed, "you arrived yesterday, you left soon after to return less than two hours ago. And now you're leaving again. I haven't been able to talk to you at all. Alfred is joli, but I have a lot more history with l'Angleterre than with l'Amerique. I would have loved talking to you."

"Well, I am very sorry, but still I want to leave as soon as possible. I hadn't warned my friends I would be away for a while, so they're probably starving to death by now."

"They can take care of themselves," Rosa said.

"Only if you tell them beforehand. They are very stubborn little creatures."

"True, true," Rosa admitted.

"Don't tell me this is about your fairies," Françoise groaned. Alfred scowled.

"I you don't like it, don't bother yourself with it," Arthur said indignantly, "Now, Alfred, if you'd please?"

"I'm ready," Alfred stood, "thank you for your kindness Rosa. I've been feeling very welcome." Arthur's eyes widened in surprise at the formality. "I really think you should go and visit Emily soon. She's got something to tell ya."

"Really now," Rosa raised an eyebrow curiously.

"Really really," Alfred grinned, nodding, "see ya later, ladies!"

"One tiny kiss?" pouted Françoise.

"No," Arthur waved his hand dismissively and added, "goodbye, Rosa, Françoise."

"Bye, Arthur. And good luck." Rosa winked deviously.

"What's that 'good luck' thing about," Alfred asked quickly as soon as they closed the cellar door behind them.

"Nothing really," Arthur shrugged, "we talked a little. We found something about ourselves. Did you find out what you wanted to know?"


Arthur raised an eyebrow curiously, tilting his head to the side.

"I'll tell ya 'bout it when we're back in your place, 'kay?"

Arthur smiled, "that's quite alright. Now, if you could assume the same position as last time please?"

Alfred quickly moved to stand in the circle again.

"And now one step back."

"Huh? Not the same, then?"

"This is a different spell, to reverse the previous. It's bound to be different."

"Oookay, you're the one who should know."

"Do you mean you don't trust me?"

America laughed nervously, "well, last time didn't go exactly as planned either, right?"

"It worked didn't it?" Arthur snapped.

"That's true," the other agreed slowly.

"Now shut up and let me do my work," England grumbled. He slipped his cape around his shoulders and lifted his hood. He shot the American one more glare before slipping the hood low enough to overshadow his eyes. He held his book close to him as he started to murmur the spell, gaining volume at each word. Soon he noticed the dizziness taking him over again. He clamped the book even closer, trying to keep his footage. He just hoped America wouldn't fall over.

At his last set of words, he looked up, distinguishing the swaying form of the American. Ready to step forward to support him, he finished the spell and blacked out.


When England opened his eyes, he looked straight into sparkling blue with slipped down glasses.

"Whoa!" He startled, pressing himself back in surprise. He was on the couch?

He quickly shot a glance to the side to confirm he was indeed lying on his couch.

"Artie, are you okay?" America put a hand on his forehead in concern.

"Yes. Yes I'm fine. I mean, what happened?" For a single moment he feared everything had been a dream.

"You suddenly blacked out, dude. The moment I came to ya we were in the hall again, like the time before. I looked around, but I couldn't find Rosa or Françoise. And there's only guy's stuff in the shower, so I guess we're back home."

England sighed in relief, he was not going insane. "I'm sorry for blacking out like that. It was probably too soon after the last spell. How long have I been out?"

"Five, maybe ten minutes. Ya sure y'alright?"

"Yes yes, don't worry. Let's make a cup of tea, and then you can tell me all about what you found out there, hm?" England quickly pushed himself up and tried to shift his legs of the couch before he was stopped.

America's one hand held his leg, the other hand was raised to England's shoulder to push him back down."


America leaned over, his face closing in to England's. "You want to know what I found out?"

England trembled. What was with that husky tone of voice? What the hell was he doing?

"Emily and I talked about our feelings. 'Cause, ya know, I was feeling more 'nd more attracted to a certain someone, but I just couldn't know if it was right, right?"

"You mean you're in love with someone?" England tried to scoot back a little more, pressing himself into the couch to gain more distance from America. It couldn't possibly be America had wanted to go there to make sure of exactly the same thing he and Rosa concluded together?

"Yep, I'm totally head over heels in fact. But to know that, I first needed to confirm if I were gay."

England gasped as America licked up his throat and he tried to push at his shoulders weakly.

"That was easily confirmed. So all I needed to do was ask Emily who she was attracted to. You wanna guess her answer?"

America lifted his hand to gently stroke England's cheek. England stared at him wide-eyed, but he couldn't find anything but sincerity in those gentle blue eyes.

Gentle blue.

It couldn't be!

"I'm in love with you Arthur."

England shrieked and gave America a genuine shove at his shoulders. America tumbled backwards and England took his chance to run.

Too fast. Definitely too fast. Rosa and he had only just found out about their own feelings towards America. He wasn't ready yet.

Only halfway up the stairs he realised he had no idea where he was running to.

And that America had already practically caught him.

What the hell. Who would care anyway?

When he reached his bedroom door, instead of fleeing inside he turned around to face America storming after him. America tackled him and they landed on the floor with a loud thud, England's breath being knocked out of his body.

America clung to him like a scared child. England felt himself becoming calm.

"Please don't run away from me, Arthur," America said in a tiny voice.

"S- sorry," England mumbled as he tried to catch his breath.

"Even if you don't like me that way, please don't hate me. I love you Arthur!"

"Shush, don't cry. I'm sorry I ran. I guess I panicked."

"But not anymore?" America looked up to his face with a hopeful expression.

"No, I stopped panicking. You were just... You were just a little too fast. You see, I didn't even know about my own feelings towards you at all before I spoke to Rosa."

America blinked a few times, allowing an awkward silence to ensue. England blushed and looked away.

"Wait, you're sayin' ya have feelings for me too?"

"Obviously, you git!" England smacked America's head and tried to struggle out of his grip again.

"Really Artie?" America beamed at him like a puppy to his owner holding a treat.

"Don't make me say it again!"

"I'm so happy you love me back!" America snuggled tightly into England's chest.

England wheezed and hit America's back to let him go and breathe. "Let. Go!"

"Sorry Artie, my enthusiasm," America shrugged and smirked. He moved up to the Brit's face.

"You're like a child, sometimes," England grumbled.

"But not always." The American leaned down and his lips ghosted over England's.

England gasped and his entire body shuddered in delight. He'd kissed two women the past 24 hours, but neither had brought about a reaction like America. He loved it.

England pressed up, moulding his lips around the American's. America shivered and wove his fingers in England's hair, gently massaging the soft lips underneath him with his. He moved to look down for a second – giving England a short but beautiful view on his flushed face and pink moist lips – before attacking again with a little more vigour.

England licked at the American's lips, wanting to take this a step further as soon as possible. America chuckled and opened his mouth, lapping with his tongue at England's.

England could feel the hot tongue explore all sides of his mouth, while fingers made quick work of his shirt. He moaned loudly.

America let go of his lips and breathed heavily against his face. "Arthur... Arthur."

"Maybe we should take this about 10 meters to the right, love," England whispered.

America glanced to the right to see what England meant.

"That would be my bed, love," England added helpfully.

America immediately came to action. He raised himself onto his knees, pulling England with him. Chuckling, England wrapped his legs around America's waist, latching his mouth securely on America's neck.

"Arthurrr..." America moaned. He still managed to get to his feet and stumble through the door, kicking it closed behind him. He went straight for the bed and flopped down on top of England. The force made England let go, leaving a nice red spot behind on America's neck. America took that as his chance to start kissing along England's jaw down towards the right nipple. The quick fingers found their way to his fly this time.

He only made a brief stop at that nipple to bite it lightly and swirl his tongue around it once, and continued his path further down.

England sucked in his breath with a loud gasp when suddenly his pants and boxers were pulled down and his entire length was engulfed in a hot mouth in one go. He whimpered at America swallowing and looking up through his eyelashes naughtily.

America started to bob his head up and down, and England moaned, both at the wonderful sensation and the sight. Fluids from him and the American spread themselves on red flushed cheeks and the taller man made a keening sound. The Brit bucked up in need, tears falling from his eyes in pleasure.

"Alfred, please... It's too much," he gasped.

America let go with a soft pop, watching England through half lidded eyes. "You wanna stop?"

"Hell no," England spat out, a bit too fast.

America smirked. "Good."

He gripped both of England's legs and lifted them up high, diving in between.

"What are you doing," England shrieked embarrassed.

He felt that devious tongue trailing from his tip, down to his backside. He moaned involuntarily, and tried to push away America's head. He couldn't find the strength to push seriously, and thus America was not impressed.

The tongue lapped around his hole, and found his way in after a few spirals.

England was not quite sure what he felt. It was warm, it was weird, but it was also America between his legs. And whether he had realised his feelings for the man late or not, America between his legs was good.

He moaned again and whimpered, tugging on the taller man's hair softly.

Suddenly America moved up again, trailing his tongue all over England's body. He gently kissed his cheek and then his nose. England shuddered at the look in the darkened blue eyes.

"You don't happen to have anythin' like lube around, do ya?"

England turned beet red at the question. "Well, errh... I ehh..."

"Please, Arthur?" America kissed his cheek again.

"I-I think the last one I bought is long expired by now, s-sorry..."

America pouted, "I'm not sure whether that makes me happy or disappointed, Artie. Probably both."

"I can't help it," England looked away, pouting.

"Well, we'll just have to do it the old-fashioned way, right?" America smirked and wriggled his fingers in front of the smaller man's face.

England shot him a glare before taking the fingers in his mouth. He took hold of America's wrist to keep the hand steady and swirled his tongue around the fingers, gently sucking them one by one. America trembled and moaned.

This time England smirked and he licked each finger from base to tip, wrapping his tongue around it along the way just to tease the American. He lapped at the tips once more before releasing his hand and allowing America to bring it down to his entrance.

"This may hurt at first," America whispered softly.

"My lube may be expired, but that doesn't mean I've never done this before," England said blushing.

"Sorry," America chuckled. He gently inserted the first finger. England pulled him down in a new searing kiss, distracting himself from the strangeness in his backside. He felt a second finger penetrate and the two fingers made scissor like movements. He pressed his chest up against America's and tangled his hands in blond hair, pushing the ever standing strand of hair in the front back from tickling his face. The third finger slipped in and the fingers stretched him a little more before leaving him open and empty.

He whimpered, bucking up against the taller man on top of him.

"I love ya, Artie."

England quickly rubbed the tears from his eyes and pecked America's lips once more. "I love you too Alfred. But don't get too cheesy on me now, and take care of that down there first, please?"

"You're the one making too-long sentences," America grumbled. He placed his tip against England's entrance and slowly began pushing in.

England gasped and clamped his hands down in America's hair, cringing from pain.


"Just keep going, idiot."

"But I don't wanna hurt you."

"Didn't I tell you to stop being cheesy? Ah!" England groaned when America pushed in completely.

America pressed their lips together.

"Move," moaned England.

America started to rock his hips carefully. His eyes clenched shut, as if he were trying hard to keep himself from pounding into England like a madman.

"Yesss, Alfred," England hissed, arching his back.

America gained speed, spurred on by England's wanton sounds.

"Just a bit more..." England was sure he could hear America mutter something, but he had just lost the coherency to make out the message. He pressed against America, bucking his hips in time, massaging his fingers through his hair.

He positively cried out when America hit that certain place inside him. He could see a smirk through the tears in his eyes, and he gave a weak smile back before crying out again as America started pounding in that spot over and over again.

"Alfreeeed," England dragged the other's name out in a long moan.

The longer it took, the more ragged their breaths began, the more desperate both their moans started to sound. America took a hold of England's trembling length and started to pump it in time with his thrusts, savouring the keening sound England let out.

"Alfred, I-I won't l-last much l-longer," England moaned out, trying to slow the enthusiastic American down a bit.

"Doesn't matter, me neither," he whispered back, "won't ya come for me, Artie?"

England opened his eyes wide, staring through the watery tears into beautiful blue and arched his back strongly. His breath faltered for a moment, a high pitched moan leaving his opened mouth as he came hard, releasing large ribbons of sticky white on America's and his chest.

"Artie," America groaned. He pushed in one, two, three more times before he moaned deeply and bit England's neck, spurting all he had inside of England.

He dropped himself next to England and they continued panting together, trying to catch their breaths.

"Hey Artie?" America asked after a while.

"Yes, love?"

"I love ya."

"You said that already, Alfred."

"You didn't say it back."

England sighed and smiled, leaning over to press a short kiss on America's lips. "I love you too, Alfred."

I do hope someone out there enjoyed this... I LOVE reviews! (as long as they're formulated in a nice and/or helpful way, and that does not include flames) Please review to help me improve my writing ^^