Crack, crack, and more crack.

Punk

This was probably one of the weirdest situations Alfred had even experienced. And he had been through some strange things, but watching your uptight British ex-ruler nation thing get his lip pierced was by far the strangest. Seeing anyone get their lip pierced was strange enough, but it was Arthur, Arthur for heaven's sake!

Lip piercing was a lot commoner these days, he frequently saw people with lots of piercings (Arthur actually being one of them, he had several up his ear and on his tongue, too.), and he had wondered why it had suddenly come into fashion. Twenty years ago, that would have been unheard of. Arthur had attempted to explain it to him, he said it was something called punk, and it was for non-conformists who believed in freedom and individualism. Alfred had just said that it was an excuse for the Englishman to wear make-up and do crazy stuff with his hair, to which Arthur had said he wasn't smart enough to embrace and accept other people's ideas.

So to prove Arthur wrong, he had decided to come and watch him get his lip pierced.

"Is that hurting?" He asked, watching with morbid fascination through splayed fingers, yet wincing in pain at the same time. Arthur shot him a glare through black-rimmed eyes, saying "I can't talk at the moment, you bloody git," Alfred rolled his eyes and got back to staring at the little piece of metal being inserted into his lip. He couldn't imagine getting that done himself. It looked too painful. "Looks good, Iggy," He gave a thumbs up once it had finished.

"You're an idiot," He answered, furrowing his eyebrows.

"Does it hurt?" He attempted once again, scrutinizing the little shiny lip-ring. He wasn't bleeding, but still…

"If I got my tongue pierced, I doubt that my lip would hurt," Arthur bit back.

As much as it pained Alfred to admit it, Arthur looked kind of…cool. Very different from his usual attire. He was donning a pair of shiny black…erm skintight pants, accentuating his good…figure (yes, that word would have to do,). His shirt was just about midriff and had tears along the sides. God knows what had caused them (Alfred didn't particularly want to know himself), and he had on these hi-top sneakers, very much like his own Converse. And his face, his face was a different story altogether. Besides the numerous piercings, he had this black stuff on his lips and around his eyes, making them appear larger and greener, and the tips of his blonde hair were now coloured red.

"Do you think it would hurt if I kissed you?" He suggested, winking at Arthur.

"Huh?" Arthur took a step backwards, "Wh-what are you t-talking about?" He glared at Alfred, but he was confused at the question. Alfred didn't want…did he? But he certainly didn't…?

"Well, I'm just wondering if you think the piercing would hurt if I kissed you?" He shrugged his shoulders and shoved his hands in his pockets.

"A-and why do y-you think I would w-want to kiss you?" He stuttered, starting to blush. This was…awkward.

"We-ll," He made the word into two syllables, "I know you've kissed Francis before, and I want you to know that I'm a much better kisser than him."

"Oh, really?" Arthur raised an eyebrow, "And how do you know that?"

"A hero is always a fantastic kisser," He smirked, "He has to be, so he can kiss the damsel in distress. In this situation, that happens to be you."

"I am not a damsel in distress," Arthur sneered, "I am not in distress, for one thing, and I'm not a girl, either."

"You're wearing make-up."

"That's beside the point," He shook his head, "Plus, I'm a better kisser than both of you,"

"Care to test that theory?" Alfred cocked his head to the side, grinning. Arthur seemed to contemplate for a moment, before nodding and pressing his lips hard onto the American's.