Arthur sighed into his beer, taking another swig. Why did he always go drinking after these bloody World Conferences? It's not like it ever did anything for him but make him depressed. He sighed again and motioned the bartender over, gesturing to his half-empty glass for a refill.

He tried to think clearly, but his mind was hazy from the alcohol (this had been his 5th glass), and all he could picture was a face—a blurry, blond, sexy face adorned with a pair of glasses. He banged his head down on the counter a couple of times, until he felt better. Get out of my head, you git. It's bad enough that I have to see your face every day for two more weeks, without my having to see it when I'm alone.

An hour and three more beers later, Arthur found himself on a stage, drunkenly belting out Taylor Swift's We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together into a microphone. By God, I sound amazing! he told himself as the song came to an end.

There were only a few people left in the bar at this time, and, seeing as no one else was making a move toward the mic, he decided to sing another song.

Staggering toward the karaoke machine, he perused the available songs for a few minutes before his eyes alighted on a particular title. He giggled a bit as he read it, and he tapped the button to get it started. It was perfect, really, the perfect song for how he was feeling at the moment.

The music came on, and the patrons all glanced warily up at him, clutching their drinks and hoping against hope that the small British man wasn't going to start in on a Selena Gomez or Justin Bieber song (again).

To their surprise, the song started up with a soft guitar, and it was most certainly not Teeny-bopper music (to their immense relief). They watched as the man began to sing, off-key and with an obvious English accent.

"Well I got in my car and went down to the bar
To relax from a full workin' day
And while drinkin' my beer, I happened to hear
This New York banker type say

That this country's all wrong and that we don't belong
In affairs that are so far away
And so I pushed back my chair
And I stood up right there
And made sure the whole bar heard me say

I'm Totally Gay for America
I'm Totally Gay for the US of A
From the East to the West
To the North to South

I'd gladly bend down and take Florida in my mouth.
I'd tongue kiss Mount Rushmore
And drop my pants to my waist
Then take the Washington Monument all the way to its base

There ain't a lot of things that make me feel this way
But this country of mine
Makes me totally gay…"

Arthur poured his heart and soul into the song, fully aware that he was finally able to voice his true feelings aloud, for others to hear end understand. His voice was a bit slurred, and he sang a little too loudly, but did he care? Not for one bloody mo'! He would sing out his feelings for America, for Alfred F. Jones, for as long as he bloody well felt like it!

Or until the song cut off as he was still caterwauling the last line. "This country of mine makes me totally gaaaaaaaaay!"

The customers all began to drunkenly applaud and call out to him, but he ignored them, paid for his drink(s), and left, heading back to his hotel room down the road.

He hadn't noticed the figure in the back of the room, eyeing him throughout the song with a video camera pointed in his direction.



Blast it all, I can't believe I'm late for the meeting! See what happens when you drink alcohol, you bloody waste of space! Arthur chided himself as he raced down the hall to the conference room, his tie unknotted and draped loosely about his shoulders. He whipped the door open to find the other nations in a small group in the center of the room, snickering over something.

"I apologize for my tardiness, all. I accidentally slept through my alarm clock." He placed his briefcase in the chair designated as his and approached the group.

Feliciano turned suddenly and grinned broadly at him. "Ve~! Mr. England, I didn't know you had such a good singing voice!" he exclaimed, and Arthur could have sworn that he saw flowers floating out of the strange man's head.

"What are you talking about?" Why would Feliciano bring that up?

Most of the other nations turned to face him now, their expressions ranging from smug to embarrassed. "Well, well, well," said France, smirking. "If it isn't notre petit monsieur 'Gay for Amérique!' Onhonhonhonhon~!"

Arthur reddened. "Wh-what are you talking about, you bloody frog?"

"Kesesesese~!" Prussia stood and showed gestured to his laptop. Arthur looked to it and suddenly choked, coughing and pounding on his chest. Onscreen was a picture of himself, onstage, singing karaoke at the bar last night.

"Th-that doesn't prove anything!" he shouted, forgetting that he hadn't technically been accused of anything yet.

Prussia cocked an eyebrow and smirked. "The awesome me doesn't just take still shots, Artie!" he pressed "Play," and the video started up again.

"… I wanna hug Uncle Sam

Caress his hair with my hand

And let him know that everything is okay"

"Sh-shut that off right now! Turn it off, you wankers!"

His pleas went unnoticed.

"Maybe give him a quick peck at the nape of his neck

And rub his shoulders 'til his cares went away

Trace the curves of his thighs…"

Oh, bloody hell, I'll be a laughing stock for the rest of time because of this! And—oh, God! Alfred has seen this, hasn't he? Oh, God, what will—calm down, Arthur. You were just singing karaoke! That's nothing incriminating! Maybe you can even pass it off like it was…selected for you! Yes, you had no choice! It was

"Wassup, guys?" The door slammed open again as the obnoxious Alfred F. Jones strolled in. "Sorry I'm late, but a hero's gotta do what a hero's gotta do, am I right?"

"Oh, Amérique!" France stood and draped an arm across Alfred's shoulder, pulling him toward the computer. "We have something to show you, mon ami!"

"Oh, really? What is it? Does it have to do with superheroes? Or hamburgers?" The American seemed a little too enthusiastic about the prospect.

"NO!" Arthur launched himself at the pair, grabbing onto his arm and tugging him in the opposite direction. "It's nothing he wants to see, France! Trust me, Alf—America, you'd be better off just ignoring the whole thing!"

"Non, non! I insist, mon ami, you will most certainly enjoy it if you watch!"

Arthur and Francis began a violent tug-of-war with the man, the Frenchman determined to embarrass the hell out of Eyebrows, and the Brit determined to avoid that by any means possible! It did occur to him more than once, however, that this was as close to Alfred as he'd been in a few years. He could feel the American's arm through the sleeve of his bomber jacket, and—damn, has been working out? His biceps are so

" 'Cause I'm Totally Gay for America

I'm Totally Gay for the US of A…"

Oh, good God, someone had hit the play button, and now the song was playing again, and Alfred was watching! Arthur released his arm with a groan and sank to the floor, throwing his arms over his head in defeat.

"I know we could never get married

But he'd never ask me anyway

Cause it would undermine the family

I know that's what he'd say

But we could keep it a secret

And continue on that way

And I'd be faithful and loyal 'til he threw me away

There ain't a lot of things that make me feel this way

But this country of mine

Makes me totally gaaaaaaay~!"

The song ended as it had before, with Arthur's voice continuing a few moments longer than the music, his face flushed and mouth hanging half-open.

The room was silent for a moment, as the nations absorbed this; then, suddenly, Alfred burst out laughing beside him. "Oh, man!" he said. "That was AWESOME, Iggy!"

Arthur glanced up at him, confused. Wasn't he upset at him for singing such a song in public? Wasn't he going to tease him about being "totally gay for the U S of A"?

Alfred laughed again. "Dude, you've got to sing that at my Christmas party this year! It would be hilarious!"

"…So, you're not going to poke fun at me?"

"Nah, why would I do that? Oh, but hey, I do have a favor to ask of you…" smirking, he leaned down to Arthur's ear and whispered, conspiratorially, "How would you like to wetten Florida's dry season?"

"You bloody GIT!"


AN: Hurrrr! So, how did you enjoy my first Hetalia fic? XD

I have a confession to make…the whole reason I wrote this stupid fic was so I could have Iggy sing "Totally Gay for America." (as if that wasn't obvious, but STILL.)

(And no, I have no idea why that song would be on a karaoke machine in a bar in whatever country they're in. But it IS, which makes it AWESOME.)

I was inspired after watching (many) fan-made videos on YouTube, a few of which had Arthur singing part of the song to America…it seems as though there were no fanfics of it, though, so I figured, "What the hey!" and WROTE ONE.

In, like, twenty minutes.

So, yeah.


(Oh, and by the way, that "Wettening Florida's dry season" line is actually from a roleplay I participated in…yeah. Um. ANYWAY.)

notre petit monsieur: French for "Our little mister"

Amérique: America

mon ami: My friend