A/N: Stiill catching up with Gilbert's going-ons! (Goings-on? Goings-ons? Ah, let's just get to the chapter already!)

Disclaimer: I own neither Hetalia: Axis Powers nor How I Met Your Mother.

For Alfred's own good, probably!

2016 February 23 (Tuesday)

When Alfred opened the apartment door this morning (he'd spent the night out, so we'd had enough time to set up everything, finish a cake—as in finish EATING it—and then bake another one when Elizabeta found out and kind of sort of got super enraged), we were already inside standing under the banner. He looked inside the room. He looked at us. He look up toward the banner. He looked down back at us. He gave in and ambled over to the couch (that super-comfy couch of theirs? Ja, that one) and, stretching nonchalantly, asked, "So, what is it this time?"

"It's Matthew," we said in unison (with varying levels of deadpan).

"But dude, things are going so well!" Alfred insisted, straightening in his seat. "I mean, we're really getting to know each other and I thought we really clicked, y'know?"

At this, Elizabeta launched forward and yanked him up by the collar of his shirt.

"THEN FREAKING. MAKE. OUT. WITH HIM. ALREADY."

"W-what?" Alfred sputtered, prying his shirt out of Elizabeta's fist and taking a step back. He held his hands up in defense. "Whoa, dude, slow your roll! I thought Matt and I were just friends!"

I snorted. "Al, no one is 'just friends' unless there is absolutely no chance of them sucking face with each other in the next twenty minutes. As for you and 'Matt', you were literally about to make out before you unawesomely gone and went all bye-bye on him!"

Alfred blinked in perplexity. "We were about to . . . ?"

He broke off to shake his head and, staring at us in bewilderment, asked, "Wait, you guys were watching?"

"What do you think?" Elizabeta groaned expasperatedly. "My gaydar reading was off the charts and yet you couldn't. Just. Kiss. Him!"

"Again, I'm pretty sure we're purely platonic, bro!" Alfred protested. He sat back down on the couch and crossed his arms. "And even if you're right, he didn't give me the signal!"

Elizabeta's hands clenched and unclenched like she wanted to strangle him. Or was wishing for her "INTERVENTION" frying pan. "THAT WAS THE SIGNAL."

"And even if it wasn't," I continued for Liz while she seethed, "you don't have to wait for a signal to make out with somebody."

Alfred raised his eyebrows. "Oh really?"

"Ja!" I affirmed. When he still didn't look like he believed me, I rolled my eyes. Then my eyes landed on Roderich.

So, you know, I did what anyone else who wants to win an argument does. They prove their point.

So, you know, I kind of sort of kissed Roderich. And Liz kind of sort of had a nosebleed into a pillow and took pictures. (Seriously, how did she get her phone out so fast? It was only going on for, like, two seconds.)

"See?" I asked, plopping back down next to Alfred on the couch when I was done and unceremoniously (but awesomely, of course) plucking a tissue to wipe away some saliva on my mouth. "No signal!"

His mouth opening and closing, Roderich turned to Elizabeta and immediately apologized, "I'm so sorry you had to see that, it didn't mean anything I'm telling y—"

"Yeah, yeah," Elizabeta waved him off, pulling tissues from the same box I'd taken mine from to dab at her nosebleed. "Now could you two do it again for, like, the next hour, except in front of a video camera?"

"If it's turned off," Roderich deadpanned.

"Dammit."

"You and Roderich? Platonic," said Alfred, gesturing between us. "Let's say I try what you just pulled on Matthew and the same thing happens, except there's no yaoi enthusiast in our midst. What then?"

"There's always a yaoi enthusiast," Elizabeta stated. I'm not sure how I feel about that conspiratorial look that went into her eyes when she said that, but, y'know, it's Liz.

Ignoring her comment, I shrugged, "Hey, it might not work out, but at least I can go to mein awesome bed now knowing that me and him?"

I waved at the space between Roderich and I like Alfred did earlier. "Not going to happen."

Alfred seemed to consider this for a moment, then stood and nodded resolutely, "Alright, dude. Whatever you say."

"Wait, where are you going?" Roderich called as Alfred opened the apartment door.

Pausing in the doorway, Alfred turned around and smiled, "There's something I have to do."

With that, he continued walking out, closing the door behind him. Back in the apartment, Roderich sighed. "That . . . didn't really answer my question."

Elizabeta, meanwhile, ran over to the window and shoved it open. She stuck her head out and shouted, "MAKE ME PROUD, ALFRED. REMEMBER, YAOI FOR THE WIN!"

"You are NOT following me there, Elizabeta!"

She lingered around a little longer before closing the window. "Dammit."

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Carlos Machado: So you CAN have your cake and eat it, too!

Well, your "INTERVENTION" cake at least!

Carlos Machado 2016-02-27

Alfred's back, BUT . . .

2016 February 23 (Tuesday)

The three of us stayed in the apartment cleaning up the "INTERVENTION" decorations until Alfred returned in the afternoon. He greeted us when he came in, but headed to his room before we could ask about how things went. Lame-o. Though he seemed kind of . . . sulky.

Don't worry! I'm still going to make him write a blog post about it tomorrow. Y'know, because I'm awesome like that, kesesese!

Notes on this Chapter:

Gilbert's not insensitive. Just completely and utterly oblivious. *cough*Alfredimsosorry*cough*