Usually, I reserve comments at the end of the fic, but I'd like to start off by thanking each and every person that reviewed last chapter. I didn't expect you guys to actually read my author's note and try to help me out. Thank you so so much and this chapter is dedicated to all of you.

Also, I do in fact have a tumblr, but i'm generally a personal relatable love blog with occassional Supernatural, Merlin, Sherlock and humor. Much more Supernatural, because that's my forever love fandom. lighted-love :)

"I don't understand." England hiccuped, "What's wrong with me?" Obviously there'd have to be something wrong with him for America to keep sleeping around. If there wasn't, then America would just sleep with him and stop putting his dick up other's asses. Bloody hell, he was a good lay, wasn't he? He was good in the sack, not too bad at snogging—what the hell was wrong with him then?

France sighed and rubbed at his face as he scratched on his scruff thoughtfully. "Have you ever considered that it's America who has something wrong with him?"

England blinked up at him, and his grip tightened on his alcohol. Well. "No. Of course not." He grumbled, scowling slightly at his drink. "He's bloody perfect." He muttered and tipped his head back to drink straight from the bottle.

"While mon petit America is a fine specimen of a nation and a human male, he's not perfect." France sniffed derisively. He hummed thoughtfully and tilted his head as he regarded the drunk man hunched over the bar counter.

"What are, ah, the things you wish America didn't do?" France said carefully and England glared at him, before tilting his head back to give the dim lights a dark look.

"Sleep around." He grunted and looked down to briefly meet his friend's eyes, and France nodded. "Yes, you've mentioned this. But aside from that." He prodded gently. England was quiet at that and fiddled with his bottle of Jack. His lips twisted wryfully and he looked away from France.

France stared at the back of his head and sighed. England coughed and giggled slightly. France raised an eyebrow at that and England shook his head, giggles fading bitterly.

"He fucking snores. It keeps me up." He paused, and then looked at France from under his hair. There was a tense silence and France swallowed nervously.

"And he eats everything in my fridge." France stared at England and England giggled again before taking another swig of alcohol.

"He's a slob, and doesn't admit when he's wrong and he doesn't know when to shut up." England added and shrugged good-naturedly. "And he's selfish at times, and sticks his nose into other's business and he's conceited."

"Now, you wouldn't call Amerique perfect then, would you?" France suggested. England frowned, sighing slightly and shrugged again. "I don't know. Bugger off." He grumbled and France rolled his eyes.

"You've got to face the facts, Angleterre." France said simply. He paused, and swallowed apprehensively. England tensed at the intense look France had on his face. His longtime rival yet one of his closest friends looked away quickly. He seemed to be biding his time and thinking of the best way to phrase his question. He rolled his shoulders back, turned his head and then met England's gaze seriously. His next words caused the bottom to drop out of England's stomach.

"Is he worth it?"

xxx

England stared at his cup of tea and spread out his hands to frame the cup and saucer in between them. He pondered over France's words and bit his lip. Was America worth it? Was Alfred worth it?

There was a difference, and this he was very aware of. People fought for the United States of America—People died. Willingly. They let their lives down because of nationalism and patriotism and a love for their country that England has known and felt for centuries. He figures that the love his people feel are more or less the same as the love America's people feel.

And the power the United States had. England shivered. America could destroy the world if he chose to. England's seen the nuclear weapons very few were privy to. He wasn't even supposed to have seen it himself, but America had an obvious soft spot for him and there wasn't a lot that England wasn't trusted with. He knew many American secrets he shouldn't simply because he shared America's bed, house and heart.

And that was simply America's military power. The scariest thing was, America had power over so many people that weren't even American citizens. American media spread far and wide, and the people it reached could stage a revolution against their own land out of misguided information.

But what about Alfred? How many people would give up their lives and fight for an ordinary man unrecognizable among a crowd? How much of a difference would America's words make? Nations weren't allowed to become celebrities. None of them could pursue work in anything but especially not acting or a job that would give them fame or recognition. All of the nations were simply another face, another stranger that didn't matter in everyone's daily lives. As soon as they passed, they were forgotten.

But Arthur loved Alfred. He did. He truly, honestly did. And well, Arthur could look past his faults. That's what love was about, wasn't it? Forgiving. Accepting the good and the bad. Looking past the bad and loving them despite of it. That's what Arthur and England believed at least.

But with every muttered confession that America had somehow ended up in the bed of some other nation, England's resolve to love him as he was cracked. Was America's promiscuity part of him? Unchangeable and uncontrollable, something England couldn't blame him for because it was a result of his country's politics? Or was it a choice, something America simply wanted but could do without?

England would never know, he supposed. Not with what he was about to do.

England's gaze trailed over to his cellphone. He swallowed nervously and then reached out to grab it. Shakily, he went through his contact's list. He stared at the name, thumb hovering in hesitance over it. He shook his head to himself and pressed it resolutely.

He put his phone beside his ear and listened to it ring. He released a breath he'd been holding when the other person picked up.

"Angleterre." France said in surprise. "How are you? Didn't we just see each yesterday?" He asked curiously, slight amusement under his words.

England bit his lip. "I... I need to see you." He said breathlessly and winced slightly at the tone of his voice. France was quiet at that and England clenched his fists in anticipation.

"Oui. Of course. Is tomorrow good?" France said quietly, and England squeezed his eyes shut.

"No. Today. I need to talk to you today. Now." England said urgently and France huffed quietly. "Please?" England added as an afterthought. France chuckled at that.

"Great Britain, saying please?" France teased, no malice at all in his words.

England scowled, "Shut up, bastard."

"But since you asked so nicely," France murmured, "You'll know where to find me."

England's mouth dried up at that, and he swallowed down the nervousness.

"Yes. I'll be there." He replied and hung up without even saying goodbye.

xxx

Spain tapped absentmindedly at Romano's bare waist and Romano sighed contentedly as he woke up sated. He hummed slightly, intent on going back to sleep for another hour.

It was 3 in the afternoon and he had another hour berore his duties caught up to him. Spain kissed his shoulder and Romano hummed as he shuffled backwards on their bed until his back hit Spain's chest. Spain practically purred at that and wrapped a strong muscled arm around Romano's waist.

As Spain's fingers made a trail from his chest down his stomach, Romano slapped his hand away. He kept his eyes closed stubbornly and made a disgruntled noise.

"No." Romano muttered, "It's time for a siesta, I don't want to have sex."

Spain pouted at that and started to pepper kisses on Romano's neck. "Lovi." He whined and Romano rolled his eyes. He turned over to face his lover and Spain smiled at him brilliantly.

"Por favor?" Spain teased, sliding his hand to Romano's hip and played with the band of the thin boxers he was wearing. Romano flushed, hesitance clear on his face. But then the hesitance slipped away and he rolled his eyes.

"We've got an hour." Romano grumbled and Spain gave him a slow smile full of mischievousness. "More than enough time." He purred and Romamo reddened at the implications of his tone.

He pushed Romano down gently until he was straddling the Italian's hips. He leaned forward a bit and brushed his lips over marks on Romano's neck that weren't quite faded yet.

"Te amo." He murmured near Romano's ear and started to kiss his way to Romano's mouth.

"Ti amo." Romano whispered back in reply and smiled into the kiss as Spain's lips finally met his.

They'd have to thank America for this, Spain thought as his hands made their way to Romano's boxers. He pulled away from Romano and smiled at him softly. But of course, Spain would have to go do it alone, because he sure as hell wasn't letting Romano and America be in the same room together.

The sudden urge of possessiveness caused the fire burning low in Spain's gut to heighten. He smirked at the man beneath him and started to press open mouth kisses down his chest to his groin.

He looked up from underneath his eyelashes and Romano met his gaze, lips parted and eyes glazed. He was beautiful.

Spain chuckled slightly. Yeah. He'd definitely have to thank America.

xxx

"So why'd you break up with me in the first place?" Denmark asked Norway curiously as he turned to face him. Norway hummed disinterestedly as he flipped a page on his book.

Denmark rolled his eyes and plucked the book gently from Norway's hands before reaching over Norway's body to place it on the bedside table. Norway watched him, eyebrows raised.

"I was reading that." He said slowly, as if Denmark was an idiot. Denmark glared at him, "Yes, and I was talking to you." He responded and the corner of Norway's lips twitched into a quick smirk.

"Ja." Norway said simply. "I know. The book was more interesting."

Denmark gaped at him and Norway shook his head in amusement before turning on his side and reaching out to pull Denmark closer with his deceptively dainty hands. Denmark went with the motion easily until he was pressed up against his lover.

Norway stared at him and sighed slightly. "My brother and I were talking about couples and nations that felt trapped in relationships."

"I've never—"

"No, shut up, Matthias. People that stayed in relationships not out of love but out of a sense of duty and owing another person." Norway said seriously. Denmark stared at him in confusion and pursed his lips tightly. Norway scowls slightly at the focused look.

"This is especially common with married couples. The longer a couple's been together, the more likely this happens. Once the love fizzles out, what's there to hold them together? Words on paper. Kids. Duty." He said slowly. Denmark nods, even though he still looks clueless. Norway smiles fondly and shake his head.

"Do you see where I'm going with this, Matthias?" He asks and Denmark shrugs before burying his face into Norway's neck.

"You didn't want that to happen to you." He murmured softly. "So you left while it was still good. Before we uh, fell out of love. Or before the 'love fizzles out'." He guessed, hesitance clear in his tone as he tried to hide the words into Norway's neck.

Norway rolls his eyes. "No, idiot. You couldn't be more wrong than that." He said in annoyance and Denmark pouts. "What? Then why?"

"I just," Norways starts, stops then shifts slightly to put a warm hand on Denmark's hip and rub into it with smooth circles. "I didn't want you to feel as if you were obligated to love me. I wanted to give you a chance to leave. I didn't want to hold you down."

Norway paused and then stared intensely at Denmark's hip. His jaw clenched and then he looked up to meet Denmark's gaze and then looked away. "I didn't want you to hold me down either." There was embarrassment and so much shame and guilt at his sheer selfishness that it pained Denmark to look at him.

He should be mad, should be angry that Norway expected them to fall out of love. But he wasn't. He wasn't because Norway was here, right now, despite of that. He was still in Denmark's arms, in his bed, in his life.

Denmark nodded slowly. "So." He said hesitantly and Norway looked up. Denmark smiled at him softly.

"Have you figured it out?"

"Figured what out?"

"That this is the forever kind of love." Denmark said easily and Norway stared at him, eyes wide and taken back. He gaped at Denmark and Denmark simply chuckled before pressing his lips to Norway's slack ones.

Norway pulled away and then shook his head in disbelief.

"You're really something." He said in wonder and then leaned forward to kiss Denmark again.

Denmark smiled into the kiss. He should really thank America for this.

xxx

"So." Prussia said conversationally. Canada looked up from his iPad suspiciously and stared as the nation sat down on Canada's coffee table so he could be in front of him. That tone of voice only meant trouble. He unconsciously shifted closer and burrowed in his comfy fort of cushions and a blanket.

"Have you and America ever had sex?" He asked innocently and Canada almost hacked up a lung. Yep, definitely trouble.

"Gil! You can't just ask something like that out of nowhere!" He berated as he flushed a deep red. Prussia stares at him.

"So that's a yes?" He hazarded a guess and Canada groaned, throwing one of the cushions at his face. Prussia deflected it with his hand and grinned at Canada, "Ouch, darling, I'm just asking."

He glared at him and Prussia laughed before jumping at his lover. Canada fought at first, but then relaxed into the couch with Prussia wrapped around him comfortingly. Well, when Canada said fight, he meant struggle in futility for a few seconds and then lay limp. Yeah. Pretty much.

He pressed his head on Prussia's chest and Prussia tightened his hug around him. Canada sighed contentedly and Prussia kissed the top of his head chastely.

Canada was quiet for a while and Prussia let him be silent. He waited patiently for Canada to speak and Canada shifted slightly in hesitance.

"...yeah." Canada finally admitted. Prussia snorted and couldn't hold back the little giggle that escaped him.

Canada huffed in annoyance and Prussia tried to stifle his laughter in his lover's shoulder. "Sorry?" He said weakly and Canada slapped his hand half-heartedly. Prussia relaxed and sighed in amusement before burying his face in Canada's shoulder.

"I'm very grateful then." Prussia said quietly, his words slightly muffled by cloth and muscle. Canada hummed in reply and the albino's grip tightened around him.

"God bless America," Prussia whispered and Canada rolled his eyes. "For giving me lovely and amazing Canada." He murmured. Canada flushed in appreciation and tipped his head back to kiss Prussia.

xxx

"My, my. What do we have here?" One of his people asked. America looked up, and inwardly categorized the facts that practically jumped at him. Emilia Bueller, 24, part time waitress, studying at the local college.

He smiled at her thinly and then looked back down at his coffee cup and newspaper. He raised a cup, ready to take a drink of amazing, wonderful coffee.

"You look sad." She said and America froze, cup halfway to his mouth.

"Excuse me?" He asked quietly and looked up to meet her gaze. Emilia gave him a slow smile and tilted her head slightly.

"You look sad." She repeated. "Wanna talk about it?"

America stared at her and then laughed abruptly. "Ah, no, it's fine. Just—uh, having problems with my boyfriend." He said and shrugged.

Emilia blinked at that and gaped slightly. America simply raised an eyebrow and Emilia laughed self-consciously.

"Boyfriend." She said musingly, and shot America a look as if she was clarifying.

"Boyfriend." America repeated and nodded his head. He gave her a small smile of amusement and Emilia grinned at him.

"Well, that completely changes everything then, handsome." She said cheerfully and dropped to the seat in front of him. America snorted and shrugged slightly before setting the coffee cup down on the table. He folded his newspaper and then put it away.

His blue eyes peered at her through his glasses and she blushed slightly at the intense scrutiny.

"Changes what? Your plans to flirt?" He asked curiously and Emilia nodded, grinning at him sheepishly.

"Pretty much." She said nonchalantly. America pursed his lips thoughtfully and placed his chin on his hands.

"If you hadn't known, I might have just gone along and went out with you." He said and Emilia's eyebrows raised in surprise.

"You mean, cheat on your boyfriend." She said slowly and America nodded simply.

"Uh, is this because of your problems with him?" She clarified looking utterly confused. America snorted and shook his head.

"No. More like, it is the problem." He paused and then pouted slightly. "He doesn't like me sleeping around."

America huffed, almost childishly and looked at her with beseeching blue eyes. Emilia stared at him and shook her head in amazed bemusement.

"Well, yeah, it's wrong. Cheating is wrong. Infidelity is wrong." She sputtered and America immediately closed off. He leaned away from her and sighed slightly. He crossed his arms over his chest defensively and looked away from her.

"Then he shouldn't have made it seem as if it was okay. He didn't act as if it was a problem. He knew what he was getting into. He didn't say we were exclusive." America grumbled petulantly.

"But why would you need to sleep with other people?" Emilia asked, eyes wide. America blinked at her and Emilia waved a hand, "I mean, you have a ready body. You don't have to work at him or seduce him to get into his bed or to get him into your bed!"

America laughed abruptly and looked up at the ceiling. "Yeah, I suppose. But that's when he's here."

Emilia tilted her head curiously at that and America smiled wryly. "Long distance relationship." He said simply and Emilia's mouth parted in realization.

"Ah. Where does he live?" She asked and America shrugged.

"England." America didn't mention how he was England, because that just opened up a shitload of questions America didn't want to answer. Civilians and all that. National Secrets.

Emilia frowned at that and nodded. "So how often do you see him?"

America hummed thoughtfully. "Every month or so." He said slowly. G8 Meetings, World Meetings, US-UK Meetings. That counted, right?

"We work together?" He continued, and winced slightly at his questioning tone. Emilia's eyes widened and America coughed slightly.

"Um. We see each other during meetings. And then we go out after, and I stay at his or he stays at mine for a few days and then I go back here or he goes back to Londons." America grinned at her. That was a lot. Kind of. They saw each other pretty often, and called each other in between.

"So, do you make plans to see each other on days where there aren't meetings?" She asked curiously. America opened his mouth to reply but then paused.

"Holidays." He said carefully.

"Whag about normal days? To see each other just for the heck of it." Emilia said and laughed slightly.

"Plane tickets are expensive." America said stiffly and defensively. They were, technically, but not for him. For the nations, tickets to any part of the world were basically free. Visiting England was like visiting a neighbor. A neighbor that lived a few hours away, sure, but those hours just didn't matter. Not when they've lived for hundreds of years.

Emilia nodded at that.

"If I had a boyfriend in England and if I was rich, I'd visit him every week." She mused out lout and America laughed. He used to do that, in the first year or so they were together, but things changed and America found it a bother.

"Can I see a picture of him?" She asked, and America nodded. He reached into his pocket for his phone, unlocked it and went to the gallery.

He scrolled a bit before settling on a picture of the two of them a few hours before the meeting.

"Here." He said and handed his phone to her.

"Oh, he's adorable, his eyebrows are like—" She closed her mouth and flushed. America let out a surprised laugh and found himself nodding in agreement,

"He is, isn't he?" He said fondly and smiled slightly as he looked at England's reluctant, shy smile. He'd do quite a lot just to see that smile. England was worth it. He was amazing and one of the best things that's ever happened to him. America couldn't imagine a life without England. Alfred couldn't imagine a life without Arthur.

"Quite a catch." She said simply. "Don't lose him over this."

Also, Mighty Agamemnon, thank you for helping me out with the Spanish hahahah. My native tongue is pretty close but still rather far from Spanish, so I mess up on a few things. I'm working on Spain's dialogue and will be done in a few days probably.

My boyfriend and I are much better now? We had a huge fight over it cause of my jealousy plus him not taking things seriously, but we made up. He bought me like 9 packs of chocolate and gave me a sorry balloon.