A/N: Unlike all the other stories I've written, this one actually has a dedication. When I was younger than this, I read an article about types of leather jackets that said something along the lines of "Pretty boys wear aviator jackets," and I thought, *I want to be a pretty boy, and since then I have become a 'pretty boy'— I am the type to do what he wants, when he wants, and this pandemic has provided a vast, intimidating 'when' that I've utilized to perform all my clownery. As it is, I can understand the phrase is insulting but cannot get rid of the positive connection. I would truly kill to be insulted like this on a regular basis.

Thus, this story is partly inspired and most definitely dedicated to all the nights I spent like a fucking parrot. That certainly was (is) an interesting period of my life.

America was talking about his dental routine in an attempt to boast about being able to afford decent dental care. Russia listened patiently, likely trying to find anything relevant in the conversation. America provided nothing of substance and Russia just chuckled and said, "What a pretty boy."

America was pleased at what he perceived as a compliment, especially coming from Russia, who he wasn't on good terms with. But he didn't want to say 'thanks', so instead he just grinned appreciatively, flashing the aforementioned perfect teeth.

"That wasn't a compliment," Russia told him.

"What was it, then?"

Russia didn't answer. Neither of them were willing to stand down, so they both sat in awkward silence, waiting for the World Meeting to start.

The meeting started twenty minutes later, but America was distracted the entire time. What the hell was 'pretty' supposed to mean except 'pretty'?

...

"Hey, England. Bro, dude." America caught up with him after the meeting. "How would you respond to someone that called you a pretty boy?"

"Did you get called a pretty boy?"

"Yeah."

England stopped walking, turned to stare at America. America shifted uncomfortably for a moment, but did not turn away. "You are a pretty boy," England said. "That's true."

"Thanks! But, what does that mean, dude? I've heard it, but I always thought of it as a compliment."

"Who called you a pretty boy?"

"Russia."

"He's saying you're not a 'real' man," England said.

"What? Really?"

"Probably. Honestly, America, the fact that you can't comprehend that it's not a compliment speaks for itself. If you're being called a pretty boy, then you're being called an effeminate, vain try-hard."

"What? No. Come on, England. No way. Who would call me that? I'm, like, the most powerful nation on the planet. There's no way even Russia would have the balls to insult me like that, right? Right?"

"I just called you that."

"Yeah, but you're my friend," America protested. "That's different. Friends insult each other all the time, right?"

England had stopped inside a cafe, but still America wouldn't stop following him. After several minutes, America asked, "I mean... friends do insult each other, right?"

England took a sip of his tea, shook his head and put it down. "America," he said carefully. "I have something really important to tell you."

"Alright," America laughed. "Should I be nervous?"

"No, it shouldn't be a surprise." England took a deep breath and said, "Are you ready?"

"Mhm."

"Okay. Here goes." England hesitated once again and then said, "We're not friends. I don't know how many times I have to tell you this, but you need to stop following me around."

...

America was still dejected even when he was back in his country. Two nations had the guts to insult him— surely he was losing his edge.

What really bothered America, he thought as he flossed his teeth, was that they had the audacity to insult him. Being called effeminate wasn't as relevant and America didn't care about the insult itself, but it still hurt because it couldn't possibly be true. After all, America wondered as he turned on his Waterpik, how could he possibly be effeminate? He did stereotypically manly stuff! He liked cars and tools and lifting weights, and he was an extremely strong nation. If America was vain, then he had reason to be. But he certainly was not effeminate, and even if he was, none of it would make him less of a 'man'— so why, then, was he being insulted with such implications?

America could not get over being wrongly insulted, not even as he brushed his teeth and used mouthwash, which usually made him feel much better about himself. Somehow, he wasn't even respected enough to be insulted accurately.

At the next World Meeting, Russia again insulted him, this time by calling him a 'lady's man' in response to America telling him about how he'd helped a woman fix her engine earlier that morning. (America brought this up both to prove that he wasn't very effeminate, but also to ensure no serious conversation could occur.) America, who was something close to a religious conservative, took a moment to be uncomfortable before thinking of a way to respond; in the meantime, China, who had been paying attention to their conversation, simply smirked a bit and looked away.

"Ha-ha. I sure am, dude," America said finally, but he could not help being visibly bothered.

...

"What would you do if you, like, weren't respected by other people?" America asked Japan. He sat at his desk with a mirror and tweezers, and tried to both listen to Japan and pluck his eyebrows.

"I guess I would have to live with it."

"Yeah, but like, what would you do? I mean, would you confront them about it? Or just keep on keeping on?"

"It really depends on who isn't respecting me, and how they're failing to do so. Why?"

"'Cause, like, people totally don't respect me, dude."

"How so?"

Japan knew how; everyone knew how. But America still said, "Russia keeps calling me names."

"Like what?"

"He called me a 'pretty boy' the other day. Oh, and England called me that too. And then yesterday, at the meeting, I was telling him about how I fixed a woman's car on the highway and he called me a 'lady's man'."

"And?"

"And I don't like what that insinuates. How dare he," America continued.

"Sure, but that's nothing to be caught up on. That was a little mean, but it wasn't too mean. Surely people have said worse to you?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

"And he didn't hurt you or anything, right? Nothing to start a conflict over."

"Yeah, I guess so," America said again. "I mean, it's not like anyone would have the audacity to directly insult me, right?"

"Right."

"So anyway, yeah. I got my teeth whitened again."

"Oh? How often do you get them whitened?"

"Every two years or so."

"... but you drink coffee every day, no?"

"That's right, dude!"

"So why do you spend the money to get your teeth professionally whitened when you immediately go back to staining them? Do you whiten your teeth every two years?"

"Yep!"

"Are you going to continue whitening your teeth every two years?"

"I sure am."

"Do you plan to die soon?"

"Of course not."

Russia stared at him. America took another sip of his coffee, refusing to break eye contact. After a solid minute of silence, Russia told him, "I did not realize the Americans were so stupid."

"Hey! Not all of us!"

"Sorry. I did not realize you were so stupid."

A/N: There are a lot of ways this could be interpreted, so to clarify this doesn't have any moral standing, it's just [meant to be] humorous. It's not meant to be offensive in any way.

A review would be great. Have a lovely day.