Author's Note: I don't own all of this. Credits go to the creator of Hetalia. This story will contain boy love. Don't like it? Shoo. Contains incest. Kinda. Countries and such. Also: Damn you Microsoft Office auto tab. Aslo! Reviews would be loved~ 3

Arthur woke up at eight in the morning, the light from his window flittering through the iridescent window curtains. He pulled back the covers and slowly shuffled out of his bed towards the bathroom.

Standing in front of the sink, he looked at himself in the mirror adjacent. He looked down and tugged on the hot water handle. He soaked his hands and lathered them in soap, rinsing and filling his cupped hands with warm water. After splashing his face with the water, he grabbed a towel on the way downstairs, wiping at his face gently.

Sliding into the kitchen, he grabbed his kettle, filled it with water and set it on the hot pad. He walked out and back to his room, changing into his usual attire.

Going back downstairs, he pulled out his tea cup, tea bag and sugar. As the kettle rang, he pulled it off, pouring the now hot water over the tea bag. Moving to the counter top, he pulled out a scone. It was slightly burnt on the bottom; one of his better ones.

Just before he sat down, the phone rang. His brows furrowed when the caller I.D. read "Alfred F. Jones". He debated picking it up and, in the end, picked it up.

"What, Alfred?" He forced out, "Why would I want to spend my whole Saturday with you?" He paused, sighing deeply, "Alright fine. Where should we meet?" He jotted down the address and sighed again. "Alright. I'll see you at 10." He closed the phone and went back to his tea.

Around 9:50, Arthur set out to his meeting place with Alfred. He was standing outside a generic pub, playing a video game while pushing his golden locks out of his eyes. When he heard Arthur approach, he looked up.

"Hey! You came!" He said, smiling excitedly.

"I told you I would, didn't I?" Arthur mumbled, avoiding eye contact and shoving his hands in his pockets.

"I guess you did. Let's go!" He made a large, swooping motion with his arm, heading towards the pub.

Arthur sighed and moved with him, sitting down and ordering a sandwich. Alfred was the first to speak.

"You should go to this club I visited yesterday." He smirked, "It was awesome."

Arthur scowled and shook his head, "I don't like clubs. You know this."

Alfred thanked the waitress as she set down the food. The pub was almost empty, so service was quick. "Aw. Come on. Jush onsh?" He said, mouth full of food.

Arthur frowned and looked at Alfred, "Fine. What's it called?"

Alfred smiled and pulled a small business card out of his back pocket. "Here."

Arthur flipped it over, reading the name, "Club le club? Aren't they creative."

Alfred chuckled and finished off his food, "It's worth it, bro. Trust me."

Arthur gave him an inquisitive look and slid the card into his pocket, questioning himself.

Later on in the night, after the club had opened, Arthur was in the appropriate wear for clubbing. He had looked around his old punk attire, and pulled something decent together.

Walking there was no problem, getting in looked like it would be tough.

The club was toned down, a flickering open sign hung next to the door that the all too familiar red head was standing in front of.

"Scotland?"

The flaming head snapped up, "Arthur?" he ran over to his ashen haired brother. "I haven't seen you in ages!"

Arthur winced, he had been generally ignoring all four of his brothers. He smiled, "Yeah. It's been a while. Why are you here?"

Scotland chuckled, "I own Club le club."

Arthur smiled, trying not to comment on the creativity of the name, "That's. . . nice."

Scotland smirked, "You know. . . normally my club is for influential people who want to let loose. . but. For my brother, I'll make an exception."

Arthur stuttered for a minute before getting the proper words out, "No. That's okay. . . I'll leave."

Scotland shook his head, "No no! I insist!"

Arthur frowned, it was useless arguing with any of his brothers, so he sighed and nodded, "Fine,"

Scotland smirked triumphantly and led him into the club.

Heavy bass and synthesizers made the club shake lightly. The entire place was lit dimly with pink, purple and light blue lights. The walls were black, reflecting all the light. CEO's and other important business men were ordering drinks, dancing and talking to one another.

Close to the disk jockey's mixer was a stage, three tiered and connected to each other by poles which several males and females were dancing on provocatively in scantily clad clothes.

Arthur blushed lightly at the sight. Scotland simply led him back to the office. It was simple; clean and brightly lit. It was very varying from the club outside of the door. Scotland smiled, "Care for anything?"

"N-No thank you."

"Come on. Here, I'll make you a Treasure Chest; how's that?" Scotland asked, fixing the drink and handing it to Arthur.

Frowning slightly, he nodded, "If you insist." He mumbled, sipping it, then taking a full drink. The concoction hit him like a tidal wave. He could already feel his inhibitions slipping away. He looked drowsily at his brother and smiled, "Tastes good."

Scotland chuckled and nodded, "Good. Good."

Arthur took another drink, it went down better this time. He looked at his brother again and frowned a bit, "Why'd you bring me back here?" His words came out in slurred chunks.

Scotland chuckled and looked at him, "I want to offer you a job."

Arthur frowned, "A job? As what?" He slurred, not sure if he'd like his brother's answer as much as his brother thought he'd like it.

Scotland smirked, "I want you to be one of my dancers here at Club le club."