America rolled first; 1. His smile immediately dropped in to a pout and England and France burst in to hysterical laughter.

England wiped the tears stinging his eyes and was trying to get his breathing under control, unable to look at the blushing ball of moping verging on a tantrum on the floor. "Oh God this might not be so bad after all. Go on France you ask."

"Hmmm, I'll start of easy. Who is the Patron Saint of France?"

France screwed his face up in concentration. "Saint… Camembert?"

France spat out his wine. "Saint Camembert? You think we sainted cheese?!" He slapped America on the back of the head as he reached for the dice and rolled a 4. "Oh no wait, you have to do a forfeit! Ok let me see. Ohhhhh. It is perfect." He rummaged in his picnic basket, retrieving a dinner plate size roll of cheese. "It is Saint Camembert! You must atone for your sins by eating this whole wheel."

"Is that it? Pffft easy man!" He snatched the cheese unwrapping the paper and releasing the stench. England gagged and America threw the cheese across the room like an active grenade. "No way am I eating that!"

France ran after the thrown produce and cradled it. "You stupid piece of American Pie you wouldn't know good food if it slapped you in your burger inhaling face. Now eat it!" France shoved it in his protesting hole, enjoying the pain it was causing his rival.

England was trying to hold back laughter and vomit, as was America with a mouthful of seeping cheese, half motioned half spat for them to continue the game, while slowly chewing his way through to the paper.

"Well then France, let's see how you do with an easy one then. What is the national flower of Wales." England queried.

"Uhhh." France scratched the back of his head. "Well you two are roses no? So, something to do with roses maybe? Merde. Uhh like a carnation?"

"Afraid not."

"Not so easy is it?" Jested America, mouth lined with white cream, he tossed the empty paper aside with a disgusted huff. "So what is it then England? And pass me some wine I need to get his taste out."

"Brace yourselves. Wales' national flower is a leek! Although don't ask him that he will deny it, but Scotland and I know, and it will always be a leek to us."

France spluttered. "A leek? Why did he pick a leek?!"

England picked a bottle of wine from the basket in absence of scotch, one for himself and one he tossed to America. "It was probably the first vegetation he saw, knowing the lazy bugger. Now." England smiled up through dark eyebrows, the shadows hollowing his face. He smiled. "As for your punishment. I think it is only fair for you to equalise with America by eating this." England displayed the tea set, with a single scone standing proud. "Home made of course, and I want you to tell me how much you're enjoying it."

France visibly gulped, all colour fading from his face. "Please don't make me."

America laughed but the thick cheese still coated in this throat caused him to laugh snort and a trickle of cream dribbled out his nose. Which just made him gag more. "Come on dude I had to do it."

"No you were treated to a French delicacy! I can not torture my pretty taste buds like this."

"My scones are delicious thank you very much! And I'd appreciate the generous praise I'm about to receive."

France took a liberal swig from the bottle before forcing his hand to take the cake. A took a hesitant bite.

"Mmmmmm." France forced. "It is so sweet and not dry at all." England narrowed his eyes while France struggled to swallow and take a second bite. "It is so dense…in a good way." One more. "And because they taste like nothing you're not going to get fat on them." He painfully swallowed the mouthful, sticking out his tongue for some gratification if a great achievement.

"Is that what passes as a compliment in France?" England rolled his eyes and then the dice while France swilled wine around his mouth.

4 too. He moved his counter up with France's.

France and America consulted in hushed conversation before repeating together beaming; "Which one of us would you bang?"

"What! I'm not answering that!"

"You have to!"

"NO!"

"Are you going to use your pass?"

England thought for a moment. 'Strategically it is far too premature to use my only pass so early in the game. But how can I possibly answer this? I'm going to have to try and turn them against each other, make them decide for me.' "No, I'll answer it. But you know how indecisive I am…I need some help."

"What do you mean?" France queried.

England folded his hands on his lap, now composed, once again the one in control. "I can't make up my mind, so tell me why I should pick you."

America stepped right up to the plate before France could question the rulebook. "Why would you want to get your freak on with France, when you could have prime cut, all American beef!" He grabbed his crotch like some sort of trophy. "Everything's bigger in America! Go big or go home and baby and I'll get big if you take me home." You could almost hear the flag waving behind him.

England coughed; "Urm ok, very good, and you France?"

France stood and made his way over to England holding his gaze, his hand reached out to his chin, he stooped over the chair, his face mere millimetres from England's. His eyes staring at his lips while England's eyes were getting wider. France leaned in, his lips ghosting over England's almost but not quite brushing together as he whispered on to them.

"I'd make you beg." His eyes snapped up to lock with England, withdrawing from the almost kiss, fingernail dragging up under his chin as he retreated.

England blushed profusely, and tried to turn his gaze away, unfortunately then catching America's attention whose mouth was hanging open.

"What! That's not fair!"

France was walking back to his seat, he flung his arm around the American. "Ah friend, do not feel bad you can't satisfy a lover."

"Who told you that?! I can too satisfy! I'll satisfy the fuck out both of you! England come here!" America lunged towards the horrified Englishman.

"WOAH! No stop! Let's just take a breath here chaps, I've made my choice from your…" England cleared his throat. "…performances. And based solely on that, I'd have to choose…" England grimaced. "…France."

"Oh-hoh-hoh-hoh!"

"Right, moving swiftly on. America your roll."

America rolled with a grumble. 6. And just like that his damaged ego was forgotten. "Ah YES! That's how you do it boys! Right hit me with it. Go!"

"What two animals are featured on the British Passport?"

"Oh I know this! A lion! I WIN!"

"No, two. Two animals, a lion and a?"

"Uhhh a lion and… a… sheep?"

"A sheep?!" England slammed down his wine, disgusted.

"Yeah, I mean you've got so many of them. So it's a sheep right?"

"No you moron! It's a unicorn."

"But you said animal!"

"UNICORNS ARE ANIMALS!"

Ignoring France's background snickering England weighed up appropriate punishments. "Sing the national anthem."

"Is that it? No problem!" America stood fist thumping his chest "OOOOHHH SAYYYY!"

"Not yours." England interrupted. "Mine."

France giggled joining in. "Oui, oui! And in a French accent!"

America looked distraught. "But it's basically treason, I'll be a disgrace to my people!"

England was sneering. "We won't tell anyone. Right France."

"Oui, what happens tonight, stays in this room." He winked.

America closed his eyes and took a deep breath. England drummed in the opening. America sang through gritted teeth. "God zave ar gracious Quiin, long leeve ar noble Quiin. God zave ze Quiiinn!"

France and England jeered: "Louder!"

American grunted but decided if he had to do it, might as well put on a show. His hand on his heart he belted with all his might. "ZEND ER VICTORIOUS! APPY AND GLORIOUS! LONG TO REIGN OVER US!" He leapt up to the window ledge standing with his back to the glass with a completely serious face eyeing his audience. "GOD!" His arms opened wide in proud showmanship. "SAAVVEEEE!" His hands moved from the air to his trousers. "ZEEEEEEE!" He thrust his trousers down revealing American flag boxer shorts and pressed his arse against the window for any poor passers by to witness. "QUUUIIIIINNNNNNNN!"

France applauded hysterically unfazed by the ridiculous portrayal of his accent, while England was torn between being appalled and laughing. "Get down from there at once, do you realise how disrespectful that is if anyone saw you!"

"Hey man, you're the one that told me to do it." America shrugged pulling his trousers back up.

"I never asked you to display your under..." England pinched his eyebrows. "Actually, I'm extremely impressed you knew the words."

"Ah, me too. I don't know even know the words." Added France.

"Unsurprising. In fact it'd be more shocking if you were sober enough to remember your own." England spat his retort before returning his attention back to America.

America rubbed his forehead avoiding the gaze. "Ah, well you know. Just stuck I guess from hanging round here for so long." He tried to move the conversation forward still eluding England's hard inquisitive stare. "Come on Frenchy your move."