America decides to test England's fidelity. Apparently he doesn't care whose reputation he ruins.

Disclaimer: Hetalia's not mine.

America's mirror image stared back at him as he reflected on the advice France had given him earlier. "If you worry about a lover cheating, the best thing to do is find out for sure! I recommend disguising yourself and making advances on him. A costume party is especially useful. Or, if you prefer, I can make advances for you..."

"A disguise, huh?" Well, there were no costume parties planned in the near future. Just boring work and meetings. Many world nations were currently cooped up together in a fancy hotel, making use of its luxurious conference room in the morning. "Now, what to do so he won't recognize me...I can pretend to be some random drunk staying in the hotel!" America plucked a recent purchase off the bed—a long, curly blond wig. He settled it down over his own hair, and returned his gaze to the mirror, striking a pose.

After about five seconds, he snatched it off and tossed it to the ground. "That won't work!" He was too much man to pass for a woman. Now what?

Then a brilliant idea hit him. One that was fool-proof, and England would never see through it! America spent a moment basking in how awesome his ideas were, then he snatched up his next weapon: a hair brush. He ran it through his short blond locks, giving himself a central part and fluffing out the hair. Too short, but it would suffice. The next problem he attacked was his perpetual cowlick. Nantucket did not want to rest flat, no matter how hard he brushed or loudly he yelled at it. In the end, he resorted to bobby pinning it down (the hotel sure did have a lot of amenities!) And then came the final touch. He plucked a long curl from the discarded wig, and pinned that to the top of his head.

"Perfect!" America declared, staring at himself in the mirror once again. "No, wait, something's off..." He removed his hands from his hips, and stopped grinning. That was better. He practiced a shy smile until he felt he got it right.

Disguise taken care of, America flung open the door and ventured out into the richly carpeted hallway. He firmly reminded himself not to strut as he sought England's door number. He was glad, now, that his whining about them not sharing a room had gone ignored. Ah, there it was! Target in sight. America raised a fist, remembered himself at the last minute, and gently tapped on the door.

"I'm coming, hold on..." came from within, a moment before the door cracked open. A green eye peered out, and the door swung open further when he saw who was standing outside. "Ah, America, there you—oh!" England slapped his forehead. "I'm sorry, Canada, I did it again."

"That's okay," America said, voice soft. "Can I come in?"

"Of course. Did you have something you wanted to discuss?"

"Yes. Very much." America stepped past him into the room.

"Shall I brew us some tea?"

America stopped himself from giving a snappy answer. "Yes, please," he said, and didn't even choke on the words.

"Have you seen your brother?"

America's heart beat a little faster. Awww! One of the first things he asked 'Canada' was about him! That was good. "I think he said something about getting some shut-eye."

"This early? I hope he's all right." England joined him on the bed, sitting beside him with a friendly smile and folding his hands on his crossed leg. "So what is it you wanted to discuss?"

"This." America leaned over and pressed his lips firmly against England's. He was relieved when the shorter blond quickly pulled his head away.

"What are you doing?" Emerald eyes had grown enormous.

"You, I hope." Would Canada say something like that? Well, why wouldn't he?

"What?"

"I want you. Now." He leaned in again, and England leaned back, gaping. America reached a hand out to lightly caress the other man's hip and squeeze his thigh.

"You can't be serious! Get off, you git!"

It occurred to America that that was probably all the evidence he needed that his partner would remain loyal. But he was a little caught up in the moment, and took advantage of England's dropped jaw to plunge his tongue into his mouth, hands roaming over the slender but delightful chest. He even temporarily forgot about the entire scenario, feeling a pleasant heat course through him as his British lover returned the kiss.

Hey. Wait a minute... America drew back, feeling alarmed but giving an award-winning smoldering look.

"Y-you really want this?" England gasped.

"Oh god, yes." What? You son of a bitch!

"You're sure?" And England leaned forward and kissed him!

This was not going as planned.

Clothes ended up on the floor, two bodies ended up tangled in the sheets, and some time later America found himself snuggled in a snoozing England's arms and staring at the ceiling.

Most depressing sex ever.

He wiggled away and retrieved his clothes. Now what? He supposed 'Canada' would have to tell America in a moment of guilt, and then he and England could have a nice discussion.

England shivered a little at the lack of extra body heat, and opened his eyes. He found himself alone again. And the guilt hit him like a sack of anvils. What have I done? He rolled out of bed, hands covering his face. Goddammit.

After getting dressed, he padded over to the unused pot of hot water and turned it off. "He's going to tell...I know he is. What got into him? I didn't smell alcohol on his breath...What got into me?"

He had to tell him. It was the only way they could salvage their relationship, right? Better England confess right away, than have him find out from someone else.

Which meant England had to find Canada right now and tell him not to. Maybe he wasn't planning on it! Surely he wasn't feeling guilty, after that little display. But England had to make sure. He tore out of the room, nearly toppling over a hapless bellhop.

Nobody seemed home in Canada's room, so England rushed into the elevator to try downstairs. The conference room had proven to be a popular hangout, maybe he had gone there! England glared at the buttons, as if it were their fault the elevator had not yet reached the right floor. The doors glided open, and he continued on his desperate quest.

England flung open the broad double doors, and there he was! His tunnel vision focused on the bespectacled blond, stuffing a bill into the vending machine and muttering when his money was rejected.

"Canada!" England strode over to him. "We need to talk!"

"England?" The younger nation blinked at him, ceasing his attempts to flatten the bill. "Um, what about?"

"About tonight, of course!"

"What's happening tonight?"

Playing dumb, ha! "I mean what you did! What we did! It was wrong! I'm with America! You can't just barge into my room and demand sex and be all over me!" Canada's jaw dropped. "I don't know what came over you, or what came over me, but we mustn't do it again."

"Wha-"

"And please, please don't tell America..."

"E-Eng-"

"I mean, I'm going to be the one to tell him. And..." England looked around, finally realizing that they weren't alone. Really weren't alone. It seemed as though damn near everyone had been hanging out in there. Funny, despite how many nations were in the room, it was absolutely silent.

Oh shit! Was America among them? England desperately swept his gaze around, but didn't see him. He was too worried about his personal situation to be concerned about potential future embarrassment now that the world knew. He glared back at the gaping, red-faced Canadian. "So that's all I wanted to say." He turned and fled, thick doors closing behind him just as the commotion started.

England's shoulders slumped as he waited for the elevator again. It was time to face the music. He wasn't going to try and sugar coat it, or get drunk and pretend he had been all along and say it was alcohol's fault. He was going to be honest, and hope that they could get past it. America was very forgiving, and he loved both of them, and they had been through worse. A little slip-up in a hotel was nothing compared to fighting wars against each other, right?

But first he made a quick detour, stopping in his room to heat the water back up and have a cup of tea to soothe his nerves. Then it was time to go confess.

He took a deep breath when he reached America's door, straightened his tie, and knocked.

His heart plummeted as soon as the door was jerked open. He knows... America looked pissed. England plunged ahead anyway "Can I come in?"

"I guess."

The atmosphere in the room could have been cut with a knife. England winced as he stepped inside. "So..."

"How could you?"

He winced again. "You know already?"

America rubbed the back of his neck. "Er, yes. Um, he told me."

That was fast. How long had he been asleep? "Look, I'm really sorry, it was a big mistake, he came on strong, and-"

"I thought I could trust you." America pouted. "But the minute someone comes into your room and kisses you, you're ready to hop in the sack with him."

"Please, just-"

"Anyone could have walked in on you two, you didn't even hang up the 'do not disturb sign', what if I'd wanted to-"

"Huh?" England frowned. "Canada was awfully...specific in his confession."

"Er."

Something truly horrible dawned on him. "And aren't those the clothes he was wearing?"

"Uh."

"Did you do what I think you did?"

".....Maybe," America said in a tiny voice.

England rubbed his forehead, anticipating a migraine. "And...why?"

"To see if you would."

"You did notice that I repeatedly said no before you kept insisting, hm?"

"I wanted to make sure...someone else could hit on you just as strongly..."

"That's the stu-" England cut himself off. The blood drained from his face as another realization hit him. "Oh shit."

"I'm still upset, you know." Then America looked up and flinched at the expression he was greeted with. "What?"

"We can talk about this later," England growled.

"We really should talk about it now. It's not good to leave these things bottled up."

"Later, I said!" England gave him a shove toward the door.

"Hey! This is my room!"

"Look, I'm really sorry, and I'll do whatever I can to make it up to you. But first, you go explain to your brother why you made me destroy his reputation in front of the whole bloody world!"

"Uh...crap. Okay."

Left alone in the other man's hotel room, England flopped back on the bed, covering his eyes. You big sodding idiot.

America knocked on his twin's door, then stood back and braced himself for any punches that may come.

Canada, though, was smiling a pleasant smile when he opened the door. "Oh, hello. England was looking for you, I believe."

"Uh, yeah." America hurried inside. "We gotta talk!"

"I thought we might need to." Humming, the northern nation wandered over to sit on the couch, picking up a bundle of paper. He was acting much too calm. That wasn't good. It was always the quiet ones, and they always got really calm and smiley before people around them turned up dead.

America spilled his confession in a rush. "So I pretended to be you and seduced England to see if he'd cheat on me, and he did, but I guess that backfired on you, so I wanted to say I was sorry." He paused to take a breath, bracing himself again for the inevitable explosion. It didn't come. He lowered his defensive arms and scowled. "What are you looking at?"

"Oh, these?" Canada cheerfully held up the thick stack of paper scraps. "Phone numbers."