- AMERICA, ENGLAND, CANADA, FRANCE, WORLD: IF YOU WERE GAY, THAT'D BE OKAY

Basically, America's gay, but is too scared/'manly' to admit it, and others, *cough*France*cough* have their suspicions, cue everyone trying to find out the truth, when in reality, Canada knows everything.

'… And so I said that there was no way. I'm the United Kingdom! He can't just come in and try to kidnap my king!'

Arthur is so funny when he is drunk, I decide in one of my less-brilliant moments. It's less brilliant because I'm as pissed as he is, but at least I can keep my mouth shut when I drink.

'Then what?' Matthew is looking across the small booth at Arthur as if his words were sent from god. My stepsibling looks so amazing right now, but that could be the fuzzy haze that clings to my brain, caused by alcohol. He is in his casual clothes, that red hoodie with the bunny pockets, and he is cuddling his bear tightly whilst it is nibbling on some sort of biscuit. The dim light from the ceiling catches the brilliant platinum coloured strands in his otherwise dull blonde hair. His dark blue eyes also shine slightly from behind his glasses, mostly from the unshed tears that arose when he yawned adorably just a moment ago. It reminded me of when we were younger.

This question from my stepbrother only spurs Arthur on more.

'Any way, then he tries to grab my ass!' Arthur roars with laughter at his own words and I squirm uncomfortably. I do not like the idea of gays.

As I think this, I remember.

I am drunk, and cold. And I feel an impossible loneliness, even though I am sitting here, next to the fire at the bar, laughing with Arthur and Matthew and Francis.

'Sorry guys,' I get up after draining my beer. 'I'm not feeling too well anymore.' Arthur just nods, too drunk and off-with-the-pixies to care, and Francis ribs me about having too much to drink. I give the longhaired git a sickly smile.

'I think I might go home too.' Matthew speaks up and Francis jumps about a foot into the air, as if he didn't know that Matt was there.

'I'm fine bro.' I assure the bear-hugging nation, even as I nearly fall into him as we walk across the car park.

'I think I might take you home.' He says as I fall into his arms, unconscious.

When I wake, I am warm and fuzzy. I am in a bed, stripped down to my boxers. It is comfortable to my liquor-addled brain, which is starting to throb.

I can smell bacon and eggs and grease. I think Matthew is cooking. I do not know where this conclusion came from.

I roll over to see the white polar bear cub that Matthew is so fond of. The sight of it makes my heart melt from the cuteness. But it seems too fuzzy.

So does everything else.

I start to panic; small whimpers arising from my throat. 'Mattie?' I call out, wincing. My throat is raw.

I hear a clatter and Matthew appears at the door, in a white, frilly apron that reminds me of the '40's style housewife. He seems briefly irritated before a fond expression overrides his face. At least, I think that's what I see. 'Yeah?'

'I can't see,' I complain.

He sighs and comes closer, sitting on the bed. He takes his glasses off and puts them on me. 'Better?' He asks. I nod. 'Are you hungry?'

This time I shake my head. I am not Hungary. 'I'm America!' I say childishly.

'Silly boy.' He chides, ruffling my hair. The bacon smell is stronger. I look away form him, and I feel lonely again even though I don't know why. Before I realise it, I start to cry.

'Hey now, it's alright.' He unties his apron and drops it on the floor. 'I'm here.' At his reassurance, I deem it necessary to throw my arms around his waist, as if I am afraid that he is lying to me. He gently lays me down again, but I won't let go of him, so he has to lie down with me. 'What's wrong, eh?'

'I feel alone,' I say, too drunk to be able to do anything but be a sheep and answer his questions, 'please don't leave me.'

I feel him gently stroke my cheek and I look up at him. He is very close, and takes his glasses back, reaching over my neck to put them on the bedside table. 'I won't leave, promise.'

I nod, but I am not comforted by his words. 'Arthur said that, when I was little. He didn't come back for years, and I was so angry that I nearly shot him and said that I could handle myself.'

Matt leans closer, tightening his arms around me. His lips are soft and warm against mine, trying to be gentle I think. 'I won't leave you, because I can't.' I am lost to him after that.

'Earth to Alfred!' Arthur's face is too close, and I push him away. He gets too personal when he is drunk. 'You listening?'

'Uh, yeah!' I nod vigorously, and Matthew raises an eyebrow. He knows what I was thinking about. He knows me too well.

'So, back to what I was saying, Alfred, what do you think about gays?' Arthur is staring at me intently, and I look away from him because his gaze is so intense. 'C'mon, answer me! Matt's fine with them, and I am too… so long as they leave me alone, what about you?'

I make some intelligible noise, shifting away from Arthur. I do not like this topic. It is disgusting to think off, and having my old carer this close.

'I uh, I…' I can't think of anything to say. This is too embarrassing, especially considering that my answer would be totally opposite to the other guys'.

I get up and walk off, much to Arthur's amusement. As I walk away, a bright red flush covering my face, Francis walks past me, a fancy looking drink in his hand. I pause by the door just in time to see him pressuring Matt into telling him something, considering that Arthur had officially passed out on the table.

The other nations are whispering when I walk into the next global summit, but the moment they catch sight of me, everyone falls silent. I have not spoken to anyone in a while, because my economy is a bit topsy-turvy right now, and I am trying to stabilize it. That is what I am here for; I need to tell them all how I am going.

When it is my turn, I walk up to the front, feeling an awkwardness that I haven't felt before, probably because everyone has his or her eyes fixed on my face.

'So, everyone!' I grin and turn the projector on, wiggling the mouse of my laptop. The slideshow that I had been working on for the last few months shows up on the screen behind me. 'As you can see here, this time last year, the figures shown were very low, this is because…' I stop because Francis had leant across the table to whisper something to Ivan. The Russian raised an eyebrow in response.

'Do you have something to say, Francis?' I ask placidly.

France sits back and smiles at me languidly. 'I have to wonder, this figure wouldn't be because you banned proposition 8.' (Google it with Obama's name)

I blink once or twice before realising what he was referring to. Then I blush deep red. 'That's totally off the topic!' I exclaim.

'It's allowed in my country,' Sweden speaks up, 'and our economy is going fine.'

Canada smiles faintly, 'C'mon bro, you seem to have a problem with this subject…'

'I don't, it's just that–' I begin, but Francis deems it necessary to but in.

'That you're gay?'

'Wha—no!' I look over at Matthew and he gives me a knowing smirk. He knows I'm lying, he knows how weak I am in private. I know this too. I'm just too vain to admit being gay, and I'm too scared. I don't want to shoulder that kind of thing. If I did, nothing would be the same.

'I… I think I need to finish this presentation,' I stammer, turning back to my laptop. I press the button to go to the next slide, and France stands up, heading towards me. Germany doesn't stop him like he normally would.

'Aww, come on Alfred,' he tells me when I start backing away. 'There's nothing wrong with it…'

I don't hear any more of what he has to say because I run out of the room. I do not notice that France has followed me until he lets himself into the closet that I am hiding in.

'America, you are a grown nation now,' he is too close to me for my liking, and his arms are around my waist. 'Surely you can be adult enough to admit this…' His hands are lower… lower.

'I… I don't know what you're talking about.' I stutter, trying to pull away from him, but I have nowhere to go. He has me trapped against the wall.

'It's perfectly fine to like boys, Alfred.' His tongue, which is warm and moist might I add, traces the line of my ear and I shiver because his hot and heavy breath falls into my ear.

'I don't…' I try to protest, but Francis' hands are undoing the buttons of my pants, this is too close, too personal, and only Matthew can do this to me. I whimper.

'It's alright, there's nothing wrong with being gay,' he has succeeded in unbuttoning my pants, and his hands are reaching inside. I can feel my cotton boxers scratching against my skin.

What France is saying may be true, but to me, it is degrading and wrong. What I have with Matthew is different, and complex.

I pull away even more before throwing myself blindly in the direction of the closet door, and France and I tumble out, me landing on top of him.

I leap up the moment we stop moving and I run all the way home. When I lock the door, I realise that I am shaking, and I feel cold and lonely again. I fumble for my phone and call Matthew.

When he picks up, I have already removed my neat jacket and I have found that bottle of particularly strong alcohol that Ivan gave me sometime last year.

'Hey Alfred,' he sounds like nothing happened earlier. There is the faint sound of a car in the background. I think he might be driving. 'What's up?'

I pull the cork out of the top of the bottle with my teeth and spit it out, resisting the urge to respond with a sarcastic 'the ceiling', instead opting to have a swig of the alcohol. I think it might be vodka.

Well, no matter what it is, it tastes horrible, but my mind is already growing hazy. 'Nyeah.' I reply.

'That bad, huh?' Matthew chuckles. 'Look, I'm nearly home, so I'll come by, alright?' I nod, feeling very immature, and, as if Matthew understands, he hangs up.

I cannot remember when Matthew arrives. I was already too drunk. All I can remember is his warm hands gently levering the bottle from my numb fingers and then his arm around my waist, his hand in the small of my back as he guides me to my room and to my bed.

He helps me undress and then ushers me under the doona. I feel too weak to argue with him when he kicks his shoes off and joins me.

'Your shirt will get crumpled.' I finally tell him, my only means of protest.

'It's already crumpled,' he says with a smile as he removes my glasses, now my already fuzzy vision is worse. 'It's fine. I can use an iron.'

'Mattie,' I begin, but I can't think of what to say next.

'Alfie,' he replies in a slight mock voice of mine. 'It's alright.' He hugs me close and I feel safe. 'We're together again.'

'It hurts.' I whine. He lets me go, as if he thinks that he's hugging me too tightly. I pat my chest, roughly where my heart is. 'Right here, and I feel so empty.'

His hands, although they were warm against my own, are cold to my chest as he unbuttons my shirt and slips his hands inside, right over my heart. 'I'll kiss it better, eh?' He bends his head down to nibble at my shoulder before scooting down to kiss my skin, right where his cold hand was. He then looks up at me, and I think that his eyes are slightly watery.

'Matt…' I tug on his shirt to pull him up so I can see him better. 'I… about earlier…'

'It's alright,' he repeats, 'don't listen to them.' He kisses my nose. 'You don't have to be gay or anything, I'll still love you.'

I don't feel so empty anymore, or alone. I nod slowly, and let him kiss me. Everything feels numb now, and I can't feel his lips. I think the vodka was stronger than I thought. 'I think I love you too Matthew.' I tell him when he lets me go. At first, I think that this is the alcohol talking, but when I wake in the morning, naked and sore, and I see him lying there, only my blue sheets to preserve his modesty, he looks so beautiful, his glasses are askew, and the sun is softly glinting off his hair. I smile softly and shift closer to him because he makes me feel complete.

Maybe Francis is right; it's okay to be gay.

Owari~!

A/N: This is my first published story up here, I'd love it if you guys commented (hint hint) to tell me where I need to improve. Keep in mind, I will change writing styles A LOT and I wrote this a while ago.