I don't own Hetalia

Warning: Some serious swears, and implied sexual content.

"Listen, Arthur, I'm not denying your sovereignty, but you've gotta admit that everyone would be better off if you were in the EU!"

"Don't you mean you would be better off?"

The room was quiet for a moment, as England finally came out with what was on everyone's mind.

America fidgeted and one of his hands motioned in midair as he tried to explain himself. "That's not what I meant-"

"Oh, I bloody well know what you meant! You hypocritical idiot! You went on and on for decades about how much you resented my interfering in your country - when I was only trying to help you!"

England slammed his fist down on the wooden table, and at the other end of the room, Cyprus jumped in fright.

He glared into uncomfortable blue eyes, a vein on the side of his head twitching. Then, he calmly flexed his previously tensed hand, closed his eyes and concentrated on controlling his indignation. After a few moments, he reopened his eyes and America flinched at the fury tempered by icy logic in those green orbs.

It wasn't the first time he had ever seen that look, but it had been a great many years since he had been on the receiving end - and it hadn't lost any of its impact.

"I wasn't interfering, it's just my opinion-"

"Just your opinion... bah! You weren't commenting on British foreign policy; you're sticking your ore in on my domestic affairs! How dare you, America, how dare you, after all our history together with issues so similar to this - how dare you! What you do is essentially threaten my people with the 'possibility' of 'weaker relations' and the consequences that would come with that, just because you think you are too important to have to deal with us all separately!"

England gestured to the rest of the nations in the room - who were sitting in the same places they had been when America had announced he was here to speak with the Englishman - who all gave either a nod or a murmur of agreement.

"We all come together in this Union, yes, but that doesn't mean we are of any less value to this world! You, the nation whose people honestly think they will be able to mine an asteroid when they have to hitch a lift to the International Space Station with Russia - you have no money! You, who borrows billions and billions of dollars from China - you honestly think there will be no repercussions? Fool! And last of all, you do absolutely nothing to improve your image abroad - everyone avoids you, and many hate you! You're poor, your government cannot get their act together, you have no concept of budgeting, and last of all, you are probably the most disliked nation on the planet. AND YOU THINK YOU HAVE THE RIGHT TO THREATEN ME?!"

By the time England had finished, he was standing right in America's face, their respective ambassadors standing awkwardly beside one another against the wall to the left of the arguing nations.

America looked lost.

"Arthur, I-"

"Get out of my sight."

When the door closed near silently behind America and his speechless ambassador, England gave a large sigh before collapsing wearily back into his appointed seat.

The poor man sat beside him was quite overwhelmed, but he kept his face impassive as was expected of him. He had been in this job for a year, but today he saw two things that had never happened before. He had never laid eyes on America before, so that was something new. His impression of the man was a relatively impartial one - he looked young, healthy, and strong, much like the country he represented - but the blond seemed to have a strange weakness to England's words. It wasn't something he had expected.

The other thing was England's spectacular loss of control. Of course he had seen his nation angered before, or so he had thought, but never to the extent of what had just occurred. Usually the worst it got was snide comments to other nations in the European Union, along with a withering glare; but this had actually been proper, unadulterated rage.

England held his head in his hands for a few seconds, absorbing the peace as much as he could to balance out the stress, before he stood up once more, and looked every other nation and ambassador in the eye.

"My apologies for that. It won't happen again."

It was as if a dam had been broken, and all the present nations began to speak at once.

"Kesesesesesese! I don't blame you, Britannien! Amerika can sometimes be a di-"

"Bruder! At least attempt to control yourself. It is fine, Brittannien. We understand that sometimes Amerika can be... difficult. Just do not let it happen again."

"I-it is fine, amigo. We all g-get mad sometimes."

"Oi, pomodoro bastardo, how long have you had that cough?"

"N-not long Lovi, don't worry about me-"

"Tell 'im ze truth, mon ami, or I will."

"Bitte, can I have order please?"

"Like, yeah Hiszpania. You should tell someone when you feel ill. It like, totally means they'll come look after you."

"Vaffanculo, Polonia."

"That was like, mean!"

"Maybe you should be quiet, Lenkija."

"Order, bitte."

"Go to hell, Dumitru!"

"Not without you, Erzsébet."

"You shouldn't be so rude to her, Rumänien. That isn't how a lady should be spoken to."

"Go back to your girly piano."

"Don't speak to him like that, idióta!"

"Order!"

"Mon frère, I can't find Luxembourg, have you seen him?"

"Nee."

"I'm over here with Peter, Bella!"

"Ruotsi! We can't do that here! Everyone's watching!"

"N', th'r n't Finland."

"I like European Union meetings. Don't you, Igaunija?"

"Jah. Venemaa isn't around. Do you think you might grow a few centimetres while we're here?"

"Even if I do, he'll just squish me back down again."

"Ve~ Malta, why don't you come sit with us?"

"Uh, alright."

"Yay! Now no one is lonely!"

"Do you think anyone will remember us?"

"No."

"No, Česká republika. We're always forgotten."

"Hahaha! Do you think he'll ever wake up?"

"Kesesesesese!"

"Dinamarca, Prússia?"

"Ja, Portugal?"

"Stop poking Grécia!"

"Dear God, my bloody head. Ireland, do you have any rum on you?"

"Zat isn't a good idea, cher. Alcohol isn't ze answer."

"Even if I had it, you daft sod, I wouldn't be giving it to you."

"Let me guess, alcohol isn't the answer unless it's your bloody wine?"

"Of course."

"Frog!"

"WOULD EVERYONE SHUT UP?!"

In the terrified lack of voices, Greece's hand slipped up and yanked out the pen that was wedged in his ear. He then promptly went back to sleep.

"Danke. Now, let's get back to important issues. Brittannien-"

A groan was heard, and a forehead hit the table.

"Are you in or out?"

"Do you ever wonder what the hell we're doing?"

England swirled the red wine in his half empty glass around contemplatively, before taking another sip. The open fire crackled in the background, and he could see the beginnings of snow hitting the window at the far end of the room. It wouldn't lie, but it was enough to make the two inhabitants of the house need the heat. The Englishman was used to worse, of course, but that didn't mean he had to put up with it.

The room was small, one of the more modest rooms in France's house, and had two armchairs positioned into a semicircle around the hearth. England had joked once that France kept this room just for the two of them - as it was the only room in the house that hadn't been modernised to the point of insanity. When the other blond hadn't replied, England got his answer, and he had never mentioned it again.

There were many things that went unsaid between them, but with how long each of them had lived, sometimes it was better that way.

"I'm not sure I know what you mean, cher." France sat in the other armchair, reaching over to the table in between them and was currently topping up his glass.

"Yes you do. Don't you ever wish things were simpler, like they used to be?"

France took a while to reply, his pale blue eyes gazing at the sculpted roof as he thought about what to say. England would normally have began to get impatient, but there was something in the air tonight, something that made him hesitant to start an verbal battle. He was tired, and didn't have the energy. Peace would reign between them, if only for a few hours.

"Yes and no. It used to be simpler, oui, but it was difficult back then in its own way. Diplomacy was rare, and mostly ridiculed, which was both a good and a bad thing. We knew where we stood in a physical fight, so it was good. One side was ze victor, the other ze loser, and no confusion. 'Owever, 'ow many lives were lost because of our stubbornness?"

He ignored the mumble of 'your stubbornness'.

"We both refused to back down, along with others, and in turn we believed zat ze only way to solve a problem was to fight it out. Think of how many of our children we could have saved if we 'ad turned to diplomacy to fix things."

England couldn't help a chuckle - that he would blame on the wine later.

"Do you really think we could have talked things out?"

France tilted his wine glass to the Englishman in amused acknowledgement. "Good point."

They both turned their heads to look at one another for a moment, and they both broke out into quiet laughter.

"D-Do you imagine us trying to cooperate in the Colonial Era?"

"Indeed. You would probably 'ave bitten my 'ead off."

"Oh, I would have done worse that that."

The laughter continued for a few moments, and soon both men were rendered quiet, each with a reminiscing smile on their face.

England let out a great sigh, before reiterating his question.

"I understand where you are coming from, Arthur, but no, I don't wish to go back to that. I'm glad the rush for colonies is over."

"Oh, don't give me that, you old surrender monkey. What's all this mess in Mali, then? Feeling that old greed running in your veins?"

"Ohonhonhon. I'll give you credit for being bold enough to ask."

"You're not going to tell me, are you?"

"You 'aven't lost any of your touch, 'ave you?"

"Frog."

They didn't speak again for almost an hour, the time simply slipping away under their feet. England refilled his glass at least thrice in that time, France more. Eventually, France got up the courage to ask the question he had promised himself he would ask since the end of the meeting six hours ago. He cleared his throat.

"What 'appened between you and Amérique?"

England turned his head sharply. "Excuse me?"

France waved his hand as if to encourage the Englishman to continue, and raised an eyebrow at the glare he received. England let out a huge puff of air and took a deep mouthful of the wine.

"Nothing, really." England tried to flag it off.

"To repeat what you said earlier, don't give me zat."

England's shoulders slumped, and he finally gave in.

"You really could say nothing, but it's mostly what's been building up. Ever since his huge temper tantrum regarding me 'butting in' on his life - which he has just done to me! - the Revolution and the subsequent Independence Declaration, he's been unmanageable. I'll... admit it, it took me a long while to forgive him for what he did, but ever since I've been doing my utmost to aid him in any way I can. I've tried and I've tried to tell him how to cope, who to avoid, who to trust, and time after time he throws it back in my face - making me out to be the bad one, and doing the exact opposite of what I say. Doesn't he understand that I'm only trying to help him?

"He used to be my little... brother," England winced at the word, "and while he may not think of me that way any more, that doesn't mean I don't care for him. He's an irritating fool, but I want him to succeed - just not at the expense of alienating or bankrupting himself, or more to the point, starting a war he can't finish."

France carefully composed his reply, knowing that he couldn't risk offending the sensitive nation who had just vented out his problems. Angleterre was a very delicate man, although he didn't seem like it, and one had to practise caution if you wanted continued association with him.

"Perhaps... 'ave you considered he may not need your help?"

England scowled, and turned to the man he had thought was on his side.

"What do you mean by that? Look at the messes he's made in the past century-"

"Just 'ear me out, s'il te plait. I did not mean that 'e 'as not made mistakes, as we all 'ave in the past. We all know 'ow much trouble Amérique 'as gotten 'imself into, but 'ave you considered zat 'e just wants to be taken seriously? 'E is a young nation, of course, and 'e 'as not been around as long as we 'ave. 'E 'as not gained the experience we 'ave - but zat will come with time. If zere is one zing about Amérique that I know for certain, it is zat 'e is a very proud man - something 'e inherited from 'is old caretaker, no doubt."

England's halfhearted squawk of protest was soundly ignored.

"'E needs to zink 'e can cope 'imself, without 'elp from anyone else. We both know 'e can be very mature - I'm sure you remember Normandie?"

England gave a single nod.

"We treated 'im like a capable adult, and if my memory is not useless, 'e flourished under it. Almost straight after Allemagne's surrender, we went back to talking to 'im like a child, and so 'e acted like a child. I know it is difficult to face, Arthur, but Amérique 'as become a man. You need to start treating 'im like one."

The moment he finished, France worried that perhaps he had pushed too far, but when he saw the thoughtful, if pained look on England's face, he knew he had gotten his message across.

"But... what if I really do have something to say to him? To help him?"

"Zen offer it as advice. Ze main reason 'e rejects your aid is because you... lecture him. Advise, do not order. It might come across better. Also, instead of discarding 'is ideas, try to... modify them, so zat 'e still 'as an input."

England gazed into France's eyes incredulously, and the Frenchman shifted minutely.

"Quoi?"

"When did you get so bloody wise?"

France sniffed, and turned his head away.

"I 'ave always been wise, you 'ave just been too arrogant to see it."

"No, that's not it. I bet it came with age."

"If zat is the case, zen you should be twice as wise as me. 'Owever, obviously you were dropped on ze head as a child, and ze budding wisdom was replaced by a double 'elping of stupid."

"Smelly monkey!"

"Rosbif."

They both gave small grins.

France placed his empty glass down and stood up dramatically, gesturing to the ceiling.

"Bedtime, Arthur?"

England gave a groan as he pulled himself to his feet, his spine giving rhythmic cracks as he stretched. He then gave a yawn, and scratched the back of his head. France was suddenly struck with how adorable he looked.

"Yes, I'd say so. That meeting tired me out." He moved around the chairs, and walked slowly towards the door, recovering from a slight stumble as he did so.

"Not too much, I 'ope." Almost as if he had a radar, England spun around, his muscles tensed, all the sleep in his eyes blinked away.

He pointed his finger at the smirking Frenchman, and shook it.

"Don't even think about it, froggy. No hanky panky tonight."

"'Anky... panky? I'm afraid I'm not familiar with zis word." He slowly began to stalk towards his chosen victim.

England laughed nervously, and backed away until the doorknob hit his back, he grabbed it and twisted slowly.

"Don't play stupid - although I know that's hard. You know what I meant."

France cocked his head as he kept walking. "Non, I don't zink I did."

The Englishman's eyes widened, and he slowly creaked open the door behind him, shuffling a few steps forward to allow room for it to swing.

"Yes you did."

"Oui, I did."

And with that, England bolted out the door.

It wasn't his best plan, no, but it was the only one he had. He couldn't exactly catch a plane back to Britain at this time of night, since unless there was a plane at the airport right now, he would have to wait for one - and that meant he would still be on French soil, a sitting duck at the airport. There was no one he knew in France who would help him (not that he knew anyone who would stand up to a nation), and none of France's neighbours would help. Belgium would laugh and say she couldn't get in the way of 'true love', Luxembourg was just a child, Germany would tell him to stop being a wuss, Prussia would just laugh and slam the door, Switzerland would sooner shoot him than help him, Spain would save him, then lord it over him until the end of the world, and Italy was more useless than having protection from a wet paper bag.

It most he could do was make it to the bedroom upstairs with the three locks on the door and hope for the best.

He took the stairs two at a time, forcing his sleepy muscles to work overtime as he heard that familiar perverted laugh and the sound of a pursuer behind him. France's house was actually rather big, as the man always insisted that if someone was a guest more than once, they deserved their own room. In total, England, Prussia, Spain, Belgium, Canada, and Veneziano had a room here.

He would go to his own room if that were possible, but his room was right next to France's (by design, probably), and there was only one lock on his door - also, he was pretty sure that France had a spare key for his room (creeper). He couldn't risk it.

Ironically, the room with the three locks used to Russia's room - but that was a long time ago. It didn't matter to England, however he knew even France in his own home would be too terrified to keep a key to Russia's room, so that was his safest bet.

Almost there, just one last long corridor to go!

"You won't get away, mon cher~!"

"Watch me, frog! I'm not in the mood, go away!"

England thought it was frightening how fast France could run if he really wanted to, as two warm arms wrapped themselves around his stomach and he was rugby tackled to the floor. He struggled as the Frenchman rearranged him neatly before standing up and easily swinging England over his shoulder. He walked calmly back to his room with a victorious grin on his face and his prize in hand, ignoring the fists being pummeled into his back.

"Let me go, let me go, let me go!" No matter how much he wriggled, France's grip didn't waver, and as they reached said man's bedroom door, he let himself go limp in defeat.

"Bloody hell, how are you so useless in wars?!"

"Ah, but zat is not ze question to ask, mon lapin!"

France clicked the door shut behind him and tossed England onto the bed, where the shorter man squeaked as he bounced into the air. He recovered quickly and watched France pull off his sweater with - it wasn't anticipation, alright! He was just... for God's sake, okay, he was excited! How did that twat always make him feel like a teenager?

England crossed his arms and tried to look cross.

"Fine, I'll bite; what question should I be asking?"

He squealed in surprise when France leapt on top of him and straddled his waist. Their faces were inches apart, and England had to stop himself from taking a shaky breath - which would completely give him away.

France's mouth pressed itself gently to the corner of his own, and began a sensuous trail towards his ear. When he reached his destination, England felt lightheaded, and his hands were unconscious clutching the man's shirt.

"You should, mon cher," France whispered lusciously into his lover's ear, "ask 'ow I am so skilled at love making."

England felt his heart jump in his chest, and had to deliberately slow his breathing. He was controlled enough for a scoff, which he delivered perfectly.

"Let me be the judge of that, Francis." As if doubting him.

"Oh, please do." A challenge?

"Do your worst." Accepted.

"Don't you mean, my best?" You are going to lose.

"You can try." No I'm not.

"I will." Sure about that?

France attacked England's ear lobe as if he hadn't a moment to waste. Said Englishman gasped in shock and let out a long, unexpected moan that made France's heart rate shoot through the roof and a familiar heat begin to blossom in his stomach.

What broke England out of the wave of passion that had swept him up was the rumbling in France's chest.

"Should I assume zat is your assessment of my skills, Arthur?"

"Fuck you."

"I 'ope you don't mind if I take zat as an invitation."

"So, yes, I apologise Alfred. My original point about hypocrisy still stands, but I shouldn't have lost my temper at you. You're a man now, and I know I've been pretending that isn't true, even after all these years. I hope that you can forgive me, and we can go back to the way we were. I know we are beneficial to each other both economically and politically, and if I'm honest, I don't want to lose you as a friend as we all try to stay afloat in the uncertain future. I guess... that's it."

England looked up from the floor at which he had been staring while delivering his apology, as he was unable to look at the recipient. It wasn't that he was embarrassed, it was more that he wasn't used to saying sorry to anyone, and it was still something that went against his pride, but he would do his best to uphold his image as a gentlemen.

However, what he met, instead of a solemn man gracefully accepting his words, was a cheeky blond with his fist in his mouth, clearly trying to hold back laughter.

England frowned. "What's so funny? Did you hear what I said?"

America nodded quickly, and as England's brow furrowed, an odd raspberry sound came from around the American's fist as a rush of air was forced out through the minimal space.

England was mystified.

"What is so funny, America? I was serious, you know!"

America, seeming to realise that he had to say something, carefully removed his hand, his face suspiciously smooth.

"Yeah, I know, and I appreciate it Iggy-!" America's voice seemed to morph into a high pitched girl's voice at the end of his sentence, and England hopped back a step in astonishment when the younger but taller man bend over at the waist and let out several huge belly laughs.

When he heard France's distinct chuckle from the other side of the room, something in his mind snapped, and subconsciously he prepared for what was to come.

"What is it?!"

America shot up quickly, his face red, tears pouring from his eyes, and pointed at England's neck.

"Is that a hicky?"

"... FRANCIS YOU BASTARD!"

I totally wrote this in about 4 hours! I really pushed myself for this, because the inspiration kept on coming!

It's based on the current affairs, mostly in the EU (Hetalia style!), where the PM David Cameron has promised a referendum on whether Britain stays in the EU. Merkel and Hollande are pushing s to make up our minds and stay - while President Obama has basically threatened the UK that we have to stay in the EU, because America "prefers" us there. It makes their foreign policy simpler, I think.

In my opinion, England would be pretty pissed about it. I know I'm not too happy, and I'm not in parliament! Also got some FrUK in there, just to keep myself happy ;-)

((Dumitru is my name for Romania, and I used Hungary's proper name - Elizabeta is actually Anglicised. If you want to know more about their relationship (my headcanon), check out my story Endurance))

Alrighty, translations (there's quite a lot, so I'm only picking out the ones I don't think people would get):

Pomodoro bastardo - Italian, tomato bastard.

Hiszpania - Polish, Spain.

Vaffanculo, Polonia - Italian, Fuck off, Poland.

Lenkija - Lithuanian, Poland.

Rumänien - German, Romania.

Nee - Dutch, no.

Ruotsi - Finnish, Sweden.

Igaunija - Latvian, Estonia.

Jah. Venemaa - Estonian, Yes. Russia.

Česká republika - Slovak, Czech Republic. ((The two "no"s are Slovakia and Slovenia))

Dinamarca, Prússia - Portuguese, Denmark, Prussia.

Grécia - Portuguese, Greece.

I hope you guys enjoyed this - I had sooooo much fun writing it!

Any questions, just ask! ("Normandie" is Normandy, and if anyone else is a history/Hetalia nerd, they will realise France is referring to the Second World War and the Battle of Normandy, where American soldiers really stepped up to the plate when everyone needed them).

Please, please review! And go check out my other stories, I have other FrUK fics too, and many Historical!Hetalia fics!

Review please!

THIS IS FINISHED, DO NOT ALERT, OR RUSSIA WILL COME TO GET YOU. (^J^) - (LOOK, HE'S ALREADY HERE)