I woke up and immediately wished I were dead. My head was killing me. Literally bloody killing me. It was like there was dragon in my skull, thrashing its tail, scratching with its sharp claws, breathing fire to melt my brain and scorch my skull, determined to kill me from the inside out.

Oooooooohhhh...

Fuck, I am never drinking again. I couldn't even remember drinking, but I only ever felt like this after I had. What happened last night? Ung...that's right, I was fighting with France again and then I went to the pub and...and did France follow me? I...oooohh my head...

There was something else, I'm sure. Something between then and getting home, something between getting home and sleeping I...I think there was a women but...why do my arse and hips hurt?

Even the light of the world was offensive to me, making the pain intensify. "For fuck's sake..." Why does this happened to me? I lay back against the pillows and was shocked by the softness of them, my pillows weren't like this. Maybe I was more than hung over...

I opened my eyes just a crack, my headache now almost bearable. Come to think of it, these sheets are lovely and silky, far too luxurious and unnecessary for my taste and that's what bothered me. This, was not my bed.

So, the absolutely invincible British gentlemen had pulled a fine women~? I smiled softly to myself. This kind of thing hadn't happened to me since my punk days. Oh well, maybe it wasn't so bad, although I wish I remembered the sex. Cautiously and without turning my head to look (as this would throw the hangover dragon into a raging fit) I moved my left hand sideways along the inside of the covers, over a damp and sticky feeling sheet. Oops, I'd apologize to her for that, must have came early. I felt the warm skin of another and ran my fingers tenderly onto her forearm. Hm, that's quite a thick forearm for a woman, a little hairy too...

My heart started to quicken a little. Feeling just a little perverted, I slid my hand onto her toned flat stomach. Up or down? It was the only way to check. She was breathing quite steadily, stomach rather than chest rising and falling. Okay England, upwards. I ran my hand quickly onto her chest. No. Not a her. This chest was flat, and mildly hairy. This chest was a mans. A mans.

I withdrew my hand like it had been bitten. A man? This can't be happening. What the bloody Hell happened last night? I had to see who this was. I turned my head and slowly opened my eyes. Oh fucking Hell no. No, not him, any country but him, any but him.

Bloody France.

My heart thundered in my chest and I began to sweat lightly in panic. No. No, we didn't. I wouldn't. Especially not with that bloody frog. I was one step off hyperventilation, not even caring about my hangover anymore. Bastard, he must have taken advantage of me when I had gotten drunk! I peeked under the covers. Yes, both naked. Bastard!

France moved beside me, mumbling lightly in French. I watched in horror as his blue eyes slowly opened. I immediately frowned, ready to give him a piece of my mind. "Hmm~? Quoi?" He turned to look at me. I expected him to grin at me pervertedly, be his usually over-confident self. But instead he looked at me, frowned and then yelped.

"Non! What are you doing in my bed?!"

"What indeed you perverted bastard!" I growled, almost moaning out load at the pain in my head and lower regions. "Taking advantage of me when I'm drunk! Have you no shame frog?"

"I don't know what you are talking about." He pouted. Then peeked under the covers. "Mon Dieu! W-we...we..."

It was then that I realised he wasn't just having me on. He couldn't remember what we had clearly done either. "Yes...I'm afraid so..."

France made a noise of disgust in his throat and trembled in the shame of it. I blushed hard. Surely I wasn't that bad in bed? I mean the frog humps anything with a pulse and yet draws the limit at me? Putting on a steely front I scoffed back. "Well you're not that hot a lover either frog, I've had better."

"Liar! I am a fantastic lover!" He growled.

"Whatever. I'm going home." I swung my legs out of bed and slowly sat up. My head roared with pain but that was half the problem. My arse and hips shot pain into me and I fell back down.

"Serves you right." France laughed at me and got up, he pulled on a conveniently placed robe and stuck his nose in the air. "You can stay there in your own filth. I am going to shower."

"Bastard! Coward!" I yelled at him, close to tears from the pain of my body and the frog's cruelty. "How can you just leave me here?! It's half your fault I can't get up!"

"Then I'll half not help you!" And with that he was gone. Wine drinking bastard.

I forced my gathering tears to dry. British gentlemen do not cry. Slowly, I faded off into a dream.

"France I love you..."

"Huh? You mean that~? Oh Angleterre I love you too!" He sobs into me, holding me close. I felt so good, just with him holding me in the doorway of the pub, my head fuzzy from alcohol.

"Please France, please?"

"But you are drunk!" France laughs as I pull him down onto me by his scarf.

"So are you! You reek of drink!" I laugh back, we stare up at each other, drunk and happy. I've never been able to properly express my feelings until now. Our lips meet. It's hot and passionate and just so right...he slips his tongue past my lips and I let him in readily. He explores my mouth expertly and I shiver when he brushes that clever tongue against mine. Hm France...

"Ah! Ah! There!" I clutch the sheets in both hands, swimming in the pleasure of our rough and passionate love making.

"Ung...Angleterre, I've waited so long for this~!" He moans and quickens his pace, hitting my prostate harder this time. I grind my hips back against him and he moans loader. "Oui Angleterre! Do that more!"

I can't breathe, it feel so good, so right, amazing, just amazing. "France I love you!"

–

I woke up from my daze with tears streaming down my cheeks. The door to the room opens slowly. "B-britain?"

"Yes..." I quickly try to dry my tears as France crosses the room to me. I never realised how beautiful he was before now.

"I remember what happened..." He says, sitting beside me.

"Me too."

"I meant it you know...I do love you but I thought...I thought you hated me, so I never told you. Plus, it was kind of thrilling to fight with you." He looks down at me with a tenderness I have not seen him use for me since I was a very small young country.

" I understand." I say quietly, almost unable to meet his face. "Listen France, maybe this isn't so bad, maybe we can make it wor- "

I was cut off by his sweet soft lips. Bloody frog, always interrupting me. But this time, I really didn't care.