I apologize for my lateness... I took a couple days so I could mourn South Park properly. I'm in the "Acceptance" stage now, but it still sucks ass TT_TT. Goodness. I feel like I'm getting divorced or something. I'm a stupid panda.

So this is me trying to get back on the horse. It's less funny and awesome. I'm easing back into nerddom. I did try to be a LITTLE more charitable to Russia. I watched Paint it White and felt I was a total bitch to him. I'm gonna stay bitchy at France, though. Just FYI.

WARNING: Contains USUK pre-kink. Gosh, this chapter itself would make an excellent smut fic if I wasn't loyal to the T rating here.

If I owned Hetalia, America would totally save the world, like, every episode forever and be a total hero and defeat evil and shit.

America's turn!

"Wh-what the hell?"

"How did he..."

"There's no way..."

The nations looked in disbelief at the bound and half-naked Russia. He smiled innocently at them.

"I like him a lot," Russia repeated. A tiny trickle of blood strolled down his chest from one of the scratches.

England looked at America, panicky. "You git... how could you let yourself get on China's bad side?"

America paled.

"Da," Russia smiled. "America? Truth or dare?"

America laughed nervously. "Nice try, dude. You're tied up, I'm totally not afraid of you."

Russia smiled sweetly. He looked in the direction of the kitchen, where China was humming and ignoring a persistent France, and chuckled. With a slight twist of his wrist, the scarf trap untied itself and fell lightly across Russia's shoulders.

"In Soviet Russia," Russia explained sweetly to the terrified nations, "Ass got you."

"Hey, Iggy?" America whispered nervously.

"Yes?"

"What was that?"

"I think it was a failed attempt at scarf humor. 'Ass got' as in 'ascot.'"

"Oh. That's not really funny."

"Ve! I liked it!"

Italy now has ice cream.

"Well, America?"

America gulped. "Er... truth."

Russia tilted his head and held his ankles, his enormous chest curiously motionless despite his having to breathe to stay alive. He hummed slightly for a minute while he pondered.

"Da," Russia said finally. "What is the strangest fantasy you have ever had about England?"

"WHAT?" America shrieked. "Commie bastard! The hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what you think. Kolkolkol..."

America ignored the blood in his face and looked everywhere in the room except in anyone's (especially England's) face. "That's a stupid question. Ask something else."

"No," Russia smiled. "I like this question."

"What makes you think I have weird fantasies about England? That's sick!"

The corners of Russia's lips twitched. "Normal ones, then. Just tell us the least normal."

If America had chanced a glance at England, he'd have noticed the exact shade of red painting his face that America tended to fantasize about. Iggy's throat made a few choked noises that couldn't rightfully be called human. And he was biting his lip.

But America was avoiding England's gaze like Rebecca Black avoids Thursdays. "I'm not answering something so idiotic!"

"Da," Russia said. "Then come into the closet. Come become one with Mother Russia."

America trembled in anger and confusion. Had England chanced a look at America (because he was studying a small scuff in the closet door and was thus too busy to look,) he'd have bitten his lip clean off. The poor idiot had no idea what to do. His brain was simply not equipped to handle both his pride and his general well-being. He usually asked England to help him out with advanced diplomacy like this, but, like we said, England was very busy right now, thankyouverymuch.

So America's eyes merely filled with tears of frustration and he trembled. It was bloody adorable.

Russia tilted his head again at the silence. "Well? Are you coming in?"

America felt a timid hand on his arm. He turned and looked, mortified, at Lithuania.

Lithuania smiled softly at his former and favorite boss. "It isn't that big a deal, Alfred. Whatever it is, it has to be better than going into the closet with Russia."

"Why does everyone think I have a thing for the old man?" It was meant as a joke, but it would take a real idiot not to hear the pleading note in his voice.

America did not hear the pleading note in his own voice and blushed, hoping no one else did.

England tried to protest being called an old man, but he knew that if he opened his mouth, unforgivable noises would come out. So he protested in his mind instead.

"I am waiting," Russia grinned, licking a little of his own blood off his fingers.

America stole a panicked glance at England, who was glaring at his fingernails and pretending not to pay attention.

"Er... Triple Dog Dare?"

"All in favor?" Germany asked matter-of-factly. Eight hands went up, desperate to alleviate the awkward tension that choked the room.

"All opposed?" Russia countered. He glared sweetly (a handy trick if you ever learn how) at each nation one by one until they cracked and timidly raised their own hands.

Except Poland. His hand was already up because he was such a sucker for a good drama.

"Ten to eight. Denied," Russia said. "Now choose. Become one with Russia, or divulge your secret."

"It's not my secret!" America yelled. "I don't have a secret like that!"

"But of course you do," Russia said. " We are not blind."

England made a weird noise and cleared his throat. "Alfred," he murmured. "Just make something up."

"Da," Russia said. "How will we know?"

America's fingernails dug into his jeans and he glared at Russia's feet. "This is stupid."

"It's this or the closet," Lithuania said comfortingly. "Bad things happen in there. Horrible things."

Poland stroked Lithuania's back apologetically. Lithuania caught his hand and smiled. They kissed lightly.

America swallowed. "F-fine," he said. "I had a f-fantasy about Arthur as a punk. My turn."

"What was he wearing?" Russia said.

"Huh? Punk clothes. My t-"

"What kind of punk clothes?"

"Uh... Green ones?"

"Be more descriptive."

"I don't know, like, the fishnet arm shit and torn up jeans?"

"Any piercings?"

"Um... Tongue and eyebrow."

"Just the two? Pretty poor punk."

"I don't know! Nose? Ears? What do you want from me!"

Russia smiled. "And what did you two do?"

"I don't know! Sex! Right?"

England's lip was white from biting it.

"Oral?" Russia asked. "Anal? Manual?"

America blushed harder and fidgeted with his hands in his lap. "Oral."

"Give or receive?"

"B-both."

"With the tongue ring in?"

"Y-yes."

Poland inexplicably cried out in pain and clutched his ear. The nations looked at him as he mumbled "shut up... shut up... omigawd, shut up..." to himself.

America looked relieved to be interrupted. "Poland? You okay, dude?"

"B-bathroom," he winced. He ran to the bathroom and Lithuania looked angrily after him before pulling out his phone and texting furiously.

"Ve? Lithuania? Is Poland okay?"

Toris sighed and glared at his phone. "I told her no. Why does she have to go behind my back like that?"

Prussia let out a hammered laugh. "Oh mein Gott, she asked you too? That girl has problems!"

"Please stop licking my ear," Canada mumbled.

"Wait," America said. "What's going on?"

"Elizabeta," Germany sighed. "She asked all of us to wear wires tonight. I thought we were in consensus about telling her no." At this he glared at Lithuania.

"I'm sorry," Toris said. "I told him not to."

"Hungary? Why would she want you guys to wear wires?"

Poland came out of the bathroom, rubbing his ear. "Omigawd, I thought I had a broken nail. But it's totally fine!"

"You're a terrible liar, Feliks," Lithuania said.

"What?"

"You idiot!" Germany yelled. "Why would you let Hungary bug you? We all agreed not to!"

"Liz? Like, don't get me wrong, we're total BFFs, but I wouldn't let her bug me."

Germany grabbed the wire out of Poland's ear and shook it in front of his face. "What's this, then?"

"Austria, like, made me an offer I couldn't refuse."

"Austria?"

"Oh, Poland," Lithuania sighed.

"What? He said it was, like, blackmail or something."

Germany pulled the rest of the wire out from Poland's shirt and put the earpiece in his ear. "Roderich, say yes or no. Is Hungary in the room with you?"

Because everyone was focused on Germany and the wire, no one noticed England grab America's wrist and drag him to the bedroom.

"Uh-huh," Germany said. "And does she have a frying pan?

…

"Iggy, wha-"

England slammed America's back against the bedroom door and kissed him, not even bothering to turn on the light.

America squeaked in surprise. England took it the wrong way and pulled away, panicked.

"I-I'm sorry, I thought..."

"No, no, you weren't wrong. But really, what?"

England smiled. "You're not really that thick, are you?"

America blushed and shifted to hide his bulge.

England blushed and laughed awkwardly. "N-no, not that. I mean, are you really that stupid?"

"Well," America said. "Let's pretend I am. How would you explain it to me?"

England placed his hands on America's half bare (from the closet) chest and kissed the place right over his heart. England let his lips linger and he smiled to feel it thud harder and quicker.

"Oh..." America blushed.

"Oh?" England said, worried. "You don't... Oh, fuck. I'm such an idiot."

"N-no!" America panicked as England pulled away. "No! I... I feel the same way!"

"What way?" Arthur snapped.

"I'm... kind of..."

"Yes?"

"You know."

"What?"

"With the hearts and the flowers and all?"

"What?"

"Well, come on," America blushed. "Don't be stupid."

"Let's pretend I am stupid," England said. "How would you explain it to me?"

America pulled England's face to his own and he kissed him. A lot.

England moaned and wrapped his arms around the taller man's neck. He slipped his tongue into Alfred's mouth and jumped, wrapping his legs around Alfred's hips.

Alfred grabbed Arthur's ass and bit his tongue a little in surprise at the unexpected hardness pressing up against his stomach.

England pulled away and sucked on Alfred's neck.

"Well, yeah," America said matter-of-factly as if Arthur wasn't grinding himself into Alfred's body. "Something like that, I think."

"I love you too, git," England said, muffled against America's neck.

"I love you." America smiled and played with the words, loving the taste they left in his mouth. "I do. I love you."

England pulled away from America's neck and looked him in the blue, bespectacled eyes. "We aren't that obvious, are we?"

"Nah. We're subtle like ninjas." America carried England to the bed and laid him down, bracing himself above him, and kissed him gently.

"Mmph. Hold on." Arthur stopped Alfred and pulled something out of his trousers pocket.

He fiddled with his mouth for a bit as America watched impatiently and finally stuck out his tongue.

"Nice," America grinned at the shiny green stud in England's tongue. "How long have you been hiding that from me?"

"The 70's were a little crazy on my side of the pond."

"And the tattoo?"

"Come and find it."

Ah. Feels better to be back on. From now on, this shall be my coping mechanism. That just SCREAMS mental health right there.

R&R. Let me know how I'm doing, what I could be doing better, what you want to see and what you consider TMI. Love forever, ducklings!