"What the hell is this guy's problem?"

This was the question running through America's head as he sat in front of the television. Never before had he seen such a vulgar display, in public or private. Of course, times were changing in his country, and this was just one of many signs of the things to come. He expected that before long there would be much worse to deal with. But at this particular moment in time, the young man on the screen swishing his hips side-to-side was enough of a shock to hold him over.

America, or Alfred F. Jones to his friends, had made it a point to keep his country's ethics and morals out of the gutter. And for a long time, he had succeeded. Yeah, there were some exceptions that had slid past his radar, but those things were kept to one's self, and out of the eyes and ears of children.

This boy on the television was one of those things, it would seem. Elvis Presley was his name. His popularity was due to his music of choice, something that sounded like a tune out of a backwoods bootleg joint that was being called rock and roll, accompanied by his baby-faced looks and vulgar displays that were obviously sexual in nature. And he wasn't the only one who thought so, if one was to judge the situation by the many letters flooding the FBI declaring him "a threat to national security", after he autographed a girl's thigh a couple of months before hand. Yes, this was a problem, and a definite threat to the purity of the young American's mind.

Alfred made his decision right then and there. He had to do something about this Presley guy. Immediately!

The next day Alfred set out on his self-appointed campaign. By the end of the week he had drove his government nearly to the breaking point with his fits. Yes, they saw where he was coming from. No, they could not justify assassinating the performer without having just cause to do so. No, they would not take CBS off the air, nor would they force them to change their program line-up to nothing but religious specials. Yes, they could work on integrating subliminal messaging into the shows, but it would take a bit of time to do so. He would just have to be patient.

That word wasn't in the American dictionary according to Alfred. Enraged at the almost passive stance his people were taking, he took it upon himself to come up with a solution. Another week passed, and with it the transformation of America's living room from the new-age 50's look to a warzone of maps, graphs, plot charts, and weaponry.

And this is the scene Arthur Kirkland, better known as England, was drug into the following week. He had protested the choice made by the other countries to send him to find America, who had missed the last world meeting. Why in the bloody hell was it his responsibility to keep track of him?! He did have a brother just north of him. Why not send Canada instead? But as usual, no one had thought of the poor boy, so the task had fallen to him.

Stepping up to the door of Alfred's country home, he jabbed the doorbell, and stood somewhat impatiently waiting for a response. Only a moment later, and after what sounded like Alfred falling over half the furniture in the house, the door was snatched open.

"Arthur! Just the guy I need on the case! Come in, quick!"

"What the- HEY! Let me go, you stupid git! You'll pull my bloody arm off!"

Alfred ignored him, and dragged the elder nation inside, depositing him on the living room couch.

"Man, I am so glad you came." Alfred sat down in an armchair across from Arthur, flashing his devil-may-care smile at the ruffled Brit.

Arthur glared back, unfazed by the Hollywood charm radiating from him. "Boy, I did NOT teach you to treat your house guests in such a manner! You ought to be ashamed of yourself!" He sniffed at him in disdain, and turned his head away to focus his gaze outside. "And mentioning shaming actions, where were you last Thursday?! You missed the meeting!"

Alfred rolled his eyes, and leaned back in his chair, propping his feet on the coffee table. "Dude, seriously, there are much more important things to discuss at the moment than Korea and Russia. America's innocence is at stake!"

A bushy eyebrow disappeared behind golden bangs. He really didn't just hear what he thought he heard did he? "What?"

"Yeah dude! You see, there was this guy…" Alfred proceeded to explain the dire situation at hand, nearly in tears by the end of his tirade, having flung himself from his seat to pile up on Arthur's legs during the middle of it. "… I mean, who the hell gets on stage and jiggles their junk around like that?!"

Arthur was, needless to say, unimpressed. Even though his country was conservative in its own right, it definitely wasn't a puritan state. Every proper British gentleman enjoyed an occasional dive into things of the naughty sort. Quite frankly, he found himself relieved.

"What's so wrong with it? It's about time someone livened up the scene. I mean, really Alfred, every time I make a trip over here I feel like I'm attending church. And it's not like you and your precious country are complete innocents." He stroked his hair in a consoling manner, hoping he saw reason.

Alfred glared up at him, his cheek pressed against a kneecap. How DARE he call him out on his chastity?! "I'll have you know that I have kept my country and I free of such filth ever since I became independent! I wouldn't lower myself to such demeaning acts like that… that… UGH!" He buried his face in Arthur's lap, the scene from the television program playing over and over in his mind. Those damn hip movements!

The older one sighed heavily. He hadn't been here for ten minutes, and he was already getting a headache. It was times like this that made him wish that he had just drowned the brat when he was younger. "Alfred, get real here for a second, would you? The world is changing, at an alarming rate no less. Perhaps this is what will define the era. A sexual revolution of sorts, more or less."

The look on the young nation's face was similar to what you would expect to see from someone who had just been informed of the massacre of their family and friends.

"God, NO! No no no! I won't let it happen! No way, man!"

"And just why the fuck not, you narrow-minded git?!" He gave Nantucket a harsh tug, earning himself a yelp.

"Because it's bad, that's why!"

"What?!" Now Arthur fixed his gaze on the boy trying to hide in his lap, the conversation becoming more and more unbelievable by the second. "What is so bad about it? It's only natural to be interested in it. At one point or another, most will feel compelled to experience things of that nature. I mean, it's not like you're a virgin or anything. You understand what I'm saying."

"Uhh…" Alfred looked away, a painting hanging on the wall that he had received as a gift from Norman Rockwell suddenly becoming quite interesting.

"Alfred. You do understand me, right?"

Arthur was overwhelmed by a nagging suspicion. One that he desperately tried to deny with all his might.

"Right?"

Alfred focused on the puppy in the picture. He really liked how Mr. Rockwell made his work all cute and innocent looking. Perfect for a nation that put emphasis on wholesome qualities that were not dirty.

"Alfred!"

Yup, that was one cute puppy. No doubt about it.

"Oh… my… God…"

He wondered if he could find a little spotted puppy like that.

"You have GOT to be kidding me!"

Whaley and Tony would adore it!

"You're going on four hundred year's old, for Christ's sake!"

He could teach it all sorts of tricks. He loved it when a dog would shake hands with him. It would definitely be the first trick he taught it.

"Fucking look at me, you idiot!"

Oh lord, why was this happening today, of all days? One of his best kept secrets had been uncovered by his former guardian, of all people! Could things get any worse?

"So help me Alfred, if you do not pay attention to me, I'll snatch Nantucket right off your daft head!" He gave the ahoge another sharp tug.

His defenses up, he suddenly faced Arthur, with a look that was borderline pathetic, yet homicidal. "So, what if I am?! What the fuck does it matter if I've never had sex before!" He stopped there. He had been expecting Arthur to laugh at him, and tease him mercilessly. Instead though, he was met with a sympathetic smile, and a peculiar glint in his friend's eye.

"Then it looks as though we have a busy weekend ahead of us."

Alfred eyed the limey with suspicion. "What do you mean, a busy weekend?"

Arthur's smile grew in wattage, that twinkle sparkling brighter. He began petting his hair again. "Why, we're going to have you bedded properly, poppet. What else would I mean?"

"No."

Said Brit chuckled. "Now now, there's no need to be shy about it."

"I said no."

"You'll love it, trust me! Maybe you'll finally grow up a little, and show some maturity." Arthur was already planning how this would go. He would need to contact Francis, for starters.

"Arthur, I'm not doing this."

A hand waved off the protest. "Shush love, I'm thinking right now." Matthew needed to be in on it to, for moral support.

"No! Hell no! I'm not doing it! And you can't make me!"

The boy's stubborn streak could be curved easily in this instance. And the wise old country had the perfect ammo. "Oh, so I suppose it's alright that your brother is already quite accomplished in the bedroom. Such a shame, that. I always thought you had to be one step ahead of him. But, if you insist on letting him win this, then so be it."

Perfect shot. He sat back and examined his nails, waiting for the information to sink in his dense brain. Any moment now…

Alfred gaped at England, a mix of shock and horror on his face. Shock that his sweet tempered brother had such a reputation, and horror that he was still a virgin while Mattie had done "the deed". The look on his face quickly changed to one of resigned acceptance, with a glint appearing in his own eye. But this glint was one of determination.

Meanwhile, Arthur studied him through his bangs, fighting back the smirk when he saw he had won the argument. Three… two… one…

"Fine, goddammit! I'll do it! But only because I have to beat out Mattie! I mean, seriously, how can I show my face to the world if Canada had screwed more people than I have?! That's unacceptable!"

Nodding, Arthur eased his former charge's head from his lap and stood up, feeling quite satisfied with himself. He may not be the stupid git's guardian anymore, but America was still a child in more ways than one. And he saw it as his job to mend this situation.

"Then we have things to do, and only a short time to do them in. Come, let's go make a pot of tea, and I'll make a few calls. We'll make a weekend to never forget, I promise!"

With that, Arthur strolled out of the living room towards the kitchen, beckoning for Alfred to follow with another flick of his hand. The nation stood as well and followed with reluctance, a voice in his head screaming that he would come to regret this decision. Why had he let Arthur talk him into this?!