Okay, I actually really didn't know what to write for this one.

Thanks for the reviews. I really super like those lots. So more maybe?

All the drinks can be found at , if any of these things sound good to all of you of age. I'm not.

Sassy Mattie.

I DO NOt own Hetalia (pain voice from Hercules)(which I also don't own)


"You come here often?"

"I work here. But you know that. And come here often." Matthew, in his faithful role as bartender hadn't even looked up from deftly adding absinthe and chocolate liqueur, a splash of hazelnut liqueur and creme of cacao to a steel mixer. He shook it skillfully and poured the concoction into 3 shot glasses, handing them off to a trio of shockingly similar but different looking dark hair. The Canadian pushed his blonde hair out of his violet eyes.

"Also, that was a horrible pick up line. Truly." The same albino man who was here almost every night was perched on a slightly unstable barstool in his usual spot. Matthew was starting to think the man might be a bit of an alcoholic.

"I'll have 2 of the 3rd one." A grumpy Italian man interrupted from out of no where. Matthew nodded and accepted the crumpled bills. Citron vodka, melon liqueur , peach liqueur , pineapple juice,peach schnapps, went into a shaker over ice, and Matthew divided the green contents into 2 shot glasses, which he handed to the man.

"I know him." The irritating customer informed the blonde man. "Dating my friend Tonio, but i don't know what he sees in the little bastard." Said little bastard glared at the albino, seemingly German man as he delivered the shot to another man who waved gleefully at the source of Matthew's impending headache.

"Look, are you going to get anything, Mr...?" Honestly, matthew wasn't usually so short with customers, but this one was really getting on his nerves and URGH! He'd just had enough.

"Gilbert Bielschmidt. But you can call me God. I'm not picky." Matthew rolled his eyes. Arthur, Matthew's brothers boyfriend, approached the bar.

"Hello Matthew." He cast a disdainful look at Gilbert. "Hello, Gilbert. You're brother's in the back with Feliciano." So they knew each other.

"When is he not?"

"For once, you're actually right. Matthew, if you don't mind, I'll have number 16." He pushed a few dollars to the bartender. The blonde Canadian raised his eyebrows.

"What'd my brother do now?" He asked, pouring the Irish creme and butterscotch schnapps into a shot glass, swirling the mixture around.

"I'm not sure you want to know." the Brit knocked back the shot he was given and stood up, already swaying. He wasn't very good at holding his liquor. He left, apparently seeking out someone to ease the pain of whatever stupid shit Alfred had done.

"How long you been working here?" Gilbert said abruptly, forcing his way back into the conversation. Matthew groaned loudly, taking another order for 3 cocktails from the before mentioned trio. Rum, orange juice and a chunk of mango that he nearly cut his finger off over, trying to separate it while distracted.

"Why do you want to know, eh?! Because, you're not taking me home tonight, or tomorrow night, or Friday night. Or ever." Matthew growled. The albino raised his eyebrows.

"Who ever said anything about that?" Matthew blinked.

"Can I have a number 4 and a number 2, please?" Tonio, from before asked, leaning over Gilbert's shoulders to deposit the money on the tabletop. "The number 4 is for Lovi. He's not a huge fan of your brother, Gil! Or You. Oh hey, is this the guy-" but a hand was clamped of the over active mouth as Matthew obliviously mixed cold Jaegermeister herbal liqueur and cold peppermint liqueur, handing the icy glass to the hyper Spaniard who ducked away from Gilbert's hand pressed against his mouth.

"Ah thanks! I know Lovi will love it. Then...the number 4?"

"Working on it. " Tabasco sauce and scotch whiskey. Strange combination, stranger name. Matthew slid the shot glass across the slippery bar, some of the strange concoction spilling out.

"Gracias! See you later, mi amigo." The Canadian watched his retreating back.

"Was he drunk?" He asked Gilbert, resorting to speaking to the infuriating man to get information. And company. But mostly information.

"No, he's always like that. Antonio is awesome." The German declared, diggint into his jeans (black, Matthew noticed; they fit him well. Wait. What?! No!) and pulling out a wallet with a black and white eagle on it. He tossed a few bills to the bartender.

"Can I have a number 9? And one number 17, for you though." He asked. Matthew rolled his eyes at the drink name.

"Smooth, but I can't drink at work. " He put handfuls of ice into a highball glass, with vodka and kahula. He skillfully added milk and a splash of Jaegermeister.

"Aww but it's true. Your eyes are kinda purply though." He exchanged the paper money for the drink. It was diluted, and had vodka in it, which he hated on the principle that it was Russian, but still... Not horrible. He downed half of it, feeling the alchol buzzing through his veins. A splatter of crimson colored the bartender's face, although he would refuse to admit it later.

"Um... Thanks. I think. But n-no flirting. I need to work." His protests were weak,and as he mixed up drink after drink, taking pay, accepting tips, Matthew found himself talking back to the 'White German'.

"Really? People dont see you very often? How can they miss you?" Matthew flushed bright red at Gilbert's comment. It was nearly midnight, and Matthew was about to go home, but he lingered behind the bar.

"Well, I mean, we look alike so..." Gilbert rolled his eyes.

"Tell your brother he's hot. Hey Mattie, wanna make me something?"

"I've been making you drinks all evening."

"Nah, make me your favorite. I wanna try it." Matthew raised his eyebrows and pushed back his blonde curls, gnawing on his lips thoughtfully. Then, he grabbed 2 shot glasses and poured rum and butterscotch schnapps into the shaker. The concoction was divided between the glasses, and he downed his easily.

"'Maple Syrup', huh?" Gilbert asked, taking a tiny sip out of the tiny glass.

"Oh, yeah, well... I like maple syrup." Gilbert laughed.

"Evidently." His face took on a mock serious look And he pulled a wad of cash from his wallet. "Sir, I'd like a number 24, please." Matthew glanced at the name and rose his eyebrows, flirting and a tiny bit tipsy.

"'Canadian kiss'?"

"As many as $10 can buy."

"Oh, I don't think that'll be nessecary." Matthew smirked, and leaned over the counter, locking lips with the albino customer. Gilbert moaned low in delight, and deepened the kiss, grabbing Matthew's uniform and pulling him nearer. A few seconds later they broke.

"And people say alcohol is bad." Gilbert whined, leaning forward for another number 24.


TO BE CLEAR: alcohol in moderation is not bad. I don't agree with Gilberts everyday bar trips, I just think he'd do it.

ARTHUR ORDERED: Cowboy C*cksucker (after a fight with America, I feel this would appeal to him.)

LOVINO ORDERED: Fear the Turtle, (For Antonio) and Dead Nazi (because he hates Ludwig)

ANTONIO ORDERED: Sexaholic. (He is, in my opinion)

GILBERT ORDERED: White German, (fitting) and Blue eyed Blonde (for Matthew, who turned it down)