An apology is in order here. I am so sorry for the late update. I have been going thru some serious mood and mind fluctuations, and it has hindered me in my writing. I tried to make this a bit long to make up for it. So, here's chapter 5, all 3,500+ words ^^ Note: I have up to chapter 8 planned out, which will be the chapter that shows the poll results, so vote for Alfred's first smexy times, kk?

DISCLAIMER: CHAPTER 2. IT'S THERE. GO READ IT IF YOU WANT. DON'T FEEL LIKE WRITING IT AGAIN.

"Angleterre, it is barely past noon. Isn't it a bit too early to be indulging in hard liquor?"

"Shut it, frog."

"Papa, why would they want me at this meeting? Since when does anyone pay any attention to me to begin with?"

"Ah, I think they want you there to help restrain the three of us in case we go after Egypt for seizing our territory. But I don't think it will be necessary, do you Matthieu?"

"Uhm…"

"Like he can really hold any of us back if we decided to jump that bastard and beat him bloody. HA! I've never heard such drivel." Arthur raised his glass in the air to flag the stewardess. "Madam, another please, and make it a double."

Alfred sat in his seat, gazing out at the blue of the sky and ocean below, keeping to himself. He had tuned out most of his brother's and friend's constant babble before they had boarded their flight. He rolled his eyes when the stewardess, named Anne, came and served England his drink, exchanging the full tumbler for the empty one. He then made a face when Arthur drank half of it in one go. God, scotch was nasty as all hell. How could he do that without puking?

"Angleterre! You will be drunk before we land! Please, show some restraint."

"Fuck off!"

"Guys, please, stop fighting! Hosers…"

The American sighed heavily, a dark cloud settling over him. The last place he wanted to be at was a damn meeting. Especially a meeting where these three would be watching him like a hawk to make sure he didn't try to run… again. And run he had, nearly breaking his leg tripping over a tree root as he tore through the woods by his house.

He had been making a bid for freedom, praying that the others would be too busy to notice his absence. Unfortunately Arthur and Matthew were quite observant, as well as sharing an ability to hear even the softest noise from a long distance. So they had known when he left the house on tiptoe. And they had given chase immediately. He had almost succeeded in escaping, too.

But he should have zigged instead of zagged.

They had drug him back after tying his hands and feet with his and Arthur's pajama tops, thrashing and screaming every cuss word and insult he could think of as they did. Francis had decided to wait on the front porch, and had laughed his ass off when they returned. After a severe tongue lashing from Arthur, a lot of teasing from Francis, and some much-needed comfort from his brother, he had been persuaded to go take his shower and get dressed for their trip. Since then they had flanked him wherever he went.

What he didn't understand was why he couldn't use his super strength against them to get out of this whole thing. He literally had a mind block about using it towards his "family" for any reason other than in fun. But where that block had come from was beyond him. There wasn't a thing to be done about it though, so he just had to suffer through until they were either satisfied, or grew bored with him.

Matthew was attempting to restrain the hand raising the glass to the Brit's lips. "Arthur! No more, okay? You'll be passed out at the conference table."

"Listen to him, Angleterre. We need your mind intact for this. We could have the beginnings of a war on our hands."

"All three of you are buzz kills, honestly! I can handle this and a lot more, alright? Now, stop harassing me and mind your own damn business." He shook Matthew's hand off his wrist, and took another healthy sip of his beloved alcohol.

Alfred looked over to Arthur, and pouted. "But I haven't said anything about you drowning yourself in booze!"

The elder nation gave the younger a pointed look. "You don't have to. After that hissy fit you threw, on top of your current attitude, you could fuck up a wet dream without even trying."

Shaking his head and returning his gaze to out beyond the wing of the plane, Alfred hoped he either went deaf, or fell asleep. Anything would be better than having to listen to those three all the way to Europe.

Matthew, on the other hand, was surprisingly happy with the turn of events. One, someone other than his family had remembered that he existed, and two, he had a plan.

As he had been getting ready earlier back in the states, a thought had occurred to him. Nations, although happy to comingle with their citizens, were often more than a bit uncomfortable with it. The older you were, the more awkward you felt. And this was a point of concern as far as their weekend plans went. No one had thought of the idea that maybe Alfred wouldn't want to fuck a normal human. Especially since the nations felt that their citizens were their children in a way.

So, this meeting had an upside to it. He planned on asking a few select nations to come along for the party. He also had plans to make this trip an extended one. A weekend wouldn't be enough to bring his brother out of his bubble. Hell, for all they knew, it could take years!

But another thought had occurred to him too. A question had been left unasked. A pretty important one, at that. Deciding that now was as good a time as ever to get it out of the way, he flicked his fingers at Alfred to get his attention. He was given an annoyed look.

"What is it, Mattie?"

"Boys or girls?"

Alfred blinked. "What?"

"Boys or girls? Which would you prefer?"

"…Huh?"

Matthew sighed. Of course he wouldn't understand the question.

"I'm asking you which you would rather have sex with. A guy or a girl?"

America just stared at him with a look that clearly showed that not only had he thought about it, but was caught off guard by the question.

The other two had been listening in, and grinned when they realized Alfred was clueless. Oh, now this promised to be interesting.

"Either one is okay, you know. As nations, we aren't tied to the standards and ethics of the human populace. We can have either one as a lover." Matthew patted his brother's knee, urging him to speak up.

Arthur toned down his grin enough to give his former colony an encouraging smile. "You know what you like, not us, so you need to speak up so we don't make a mistake when finding you a bed partner."

Alfred kept staring, his gaze shifting from one to the other, his expression carefully schooled to one of indifference. He had thought about this already, and it worried him that they might judge him on his preferences. Because, to be honest about it, he would much rather have sex with a man than a woman. Not that women didn't interest him, oh no. He just found that the male gender was more appealing, as well as more of a comfort zone for him.

Now, he didn't know for sure if he was gay or not. Being of a homosexual persuasion in that day and time was still considered quite a taboo. But knowing that two out of the three had voiced their support of his decision made his preference for the male gender more bearable. The fact that they might not approve his choice had kept him tossing and turning in bed the night before.

His eyes flicked to Francis, who was grinning still, and who chuckled at the conversation. "Amerique, mon cher, you are not going to be put on the spot for what you have a taste for. Not by us, anyway. And not by any of the others, either. Most, if not all the other nation representatives have a tendency to desire the same sex, if not both. This is the way things are with our kind. So, you can answer Canada's inquiry without fear of ridicule."

All three were alright with it. Oh, thank God for that! He heaved a sigh of relief, and relaxed visibly. Suddenly he was tired, very tired. "Thank you for that. I was worried, to be honest. Because I… I would rather it be a, you know, guy." He blushed then, and turned away from their gazes to study the various cloud formations at eye level.

"Poppet, look at me."

He cringed in his seat, and kept his eyes locked on the window.

"Alfred Jones, look at me, now."

There was a command in that softly spoken voice he couldn't ignore, had never been able to, that made him slowly focus his attention on Arthur. Arthur reached out, and tucked a bit of his hair behind his ears in a gesture that was meant to comfort. "We are your friends. We accept you as you are, just as you accept us for all of our eccentricities. Next time, say something, alright?"

Smiling for the first time since yesterday, Alfred nodded. Matthew smiled as well. Francis hon'd, and flagged down the stewardess known as Anne. "A round for all four of us please."

Two hours later, and they were in West Berlin where the meeting was to take place. The drive to their hotel had taken them by the remains of the former Nazi regime's government buildings, most of which were in utter ruin. They didn't speak as they passed them. It wasn't necessary. They all shared the same feeling of relief that Hitler and his followers were done in and gone, for the most part. No comments were wanted, or needed.

The hotel they were booked for was a small, but lavishly establishment with all the modern amenities they required, plus a few extras, such as room service, and very courteous help. The plan was that they would attend the meeting, stay the night, and then fly out to Florida the next morning. So, they had brought the stuff they would need for their trip south.

According to the note left by Ludwig, otherwise known as Germany, as soon as they were finished setting up their rooms they were to go to the location of the meeting. As they made their way there, attempts were made to keep the British nation calm. For the past few months there had been increased tensions between the British Empire, America, and Egypt as to the construction of the Aswan Dam. Now, with Egypt attempting to seize the canal from their control, Arthur was in a steady fret.

The canal was in the middle of growing hostilities between the two countries. And after an impassioned speech was made by a French veteran the month before against Nasser, the leader of the country, things had only grown worse. In fact, he wasn't surprised by the attempt. But it had to be stopped. That canal was a vital waterway for British oil supplies.

The meeting was only a few hours long, with tensions running high with opposing political parties all gathered around the table. The soviet nation of Russia, or Ivan, had only made things worse with many well-placed remarks made at American involvement in the canal's construction and funding, including one that indicated that America was only in it for the purpose of showing off its money, to keep British and French interests on his side.

It had taken nearly ten minutes before Alfred could be convinced not to strangle him. But now with the meeting over, they had returned to their hotel. Francis decided to take a walk around and tour the reconstruction efforts. Matthew claimed he had a bit of business to attend to, and shut himself up in his and Alfred's room. That left Alfred either out wandering, or crammed up Arthur's ass.

He chose the latter.

"Heeey, I'm hungry!" Blue eyes peeked at Arthur over the edge of the bed.

The older nation gazed downward at those eyes, rolled his own, and went back to reading. "Well then, go and find something."

"But I don't wanna go by myself."

He sighed. "You're a big boy, you'll manage."

There was silence, and then a finger began to poke the bottom of his foot, bare except for his socks. "Please please please please…"

Arthur threw a pillow at him. "I said no, Alfred! Now, either find something to do to keep quiet, or go aggravate someone else!"

"Meanie." This was followed by more grumbles as the American made himself comfortable at the foot of the bed, using it as a back support as he stretched his legs out on the floor. "Why can't you humor me on this? It will only take a few minutes, honest!"

"Because, not only is it too early to be eating anything, I plan on ordering room service later." Arthur peeked over his novel at him. "Why don't you just call them?"

"I don't wanna eat weird German food!"

"Oh, for the love of God." The book was tossed aside in exasperation. "You're not going to give me any peace, are you?"

"Nope!"

"Well, then why don't we order a tea service? I could use a cup, and it usually comes with some biscuits to nibble on." He reached over and grabbed the telephone and dialed the hotel kitchen before the other could protest.

Alfred resumed peeking over the bed, watching Arthur like a hawk. Ever since the end of the Second World War, their relationship had vastly improved. Even if Arthur had began viewing him more as a child than the full grown man he was, and treating him as such, Alfred could only claim to enjoy the attention. So, perhaps in a way he was still child.

Of course, this was a contradiction to some of the more adult feelings Alfred had developed for his former caretaker over the years. Even as a child he had known he felt differently about his "big brother" than one would normally. And as he had grown older and observed the world around him, and the people in it, he had come to realize that he might love him more than just as a good friend.

But that didn't mean he was going to act on the impulses he felt to proclaim his love for the other, oh no. He was content with being friend zoned for the time being.

Hanging up the phone, Arthur turned back to the other, and arched an eyebrow at the eyes peeking at him. Honestly, one would think the boy would sit in a chair instead of sprawling on the floor like an idiot. "Can't you sit somewhere else? There are plenty of places to pick from, you know."

Alfred pouted. "I like it here. Besides, you talk to me more when I'm doing something silly." He stretched his arms out over the bedspread, and rested his chin on the edge so the displeasure could be clearly seen on his face.

The eyebrow arched higher. "You know, if you keep that lip poked out like that, you're going to trip over it." Arthur put his book away in the table beside the bed, resigning himself to the fact that he wasn't going to get any reading done with the git in the room. "At least get on the bed, my god! It's bad manners to sprawl out all about the place."

The other's face brightened up immediately, a silly grin stretching across his face. He couldn't believe his luck! He was quick to scramble up the mattress, and settled on the pillows beside Arthur. Stretching happily, he crossed his arms behind his head and snuggled down to get comfortable. He turned and flashed his grin at England.

England, in return, snorted and made himself more comfortable on his own side of the bed, preparing himself for an onslaught of constant babble courtesy of the young nation next to him.

Meanwhile, Canada was busy speaking on the phone with Arthur's boss, confirming their plans to take an extended vacation. So far, he had called his own boss, as well as Francis'. Everyone had agreed to let their representatives have some extra time to party in Miami. With growing tensions between various nations around the world, they could be in for a rough few years and probably wouldn't get another chance like it for awhile.

"… Yes sir, he should be back by next Friday at the latest."

There was the muted sound of the Prime Minister, a Sir Anthony Eden, speaking from the receiver.

"Alright then. Yes sir, you have a nice weekend too. Bye-bye."

He hung the phone up with a breath of relief. Although Sir Eden was known for being an easy going guy, you never knew what mood the bosses would be in. That left only one person to call, his brother boss, President Eisenhower. Picking up his address book, he flipped through the pages and found the number to the White House. He dialed and waited patiently. On the third ring the operator answered.

"White House Operator switch board. How may I help you?"

"Yes, this is Matthew Williams, the nation of Canada, and I need to speak to the president please." He made a face at the smacking coming from the other side, probably from the woman chewing gum. How rude!

"I'm sorry, but the president isn't in his office at the moment. Could I direct your call to Vice President Nixon?"

Matthew gave a silent cheer, fist pumping the air. What luck! "Yes, that will be fine, thank you."

"One moment please…"

If there was one person who would be more than happy to see his brother away from the office and out of their hair, it would definitely be Nixon. Matthew had met them man a few times in the past. And although he gave off a suspicious air, he was a capable man who fit his office to a T.

A few moments later the sound of the line being picked up was heard, and a nasally voice came through. "This is Nixon, what's the problem?"

Canada held back a snort at the deadpan voice. "Hello Mr. Nixon, this is Canada. Uhm, I was wondering if…"

"If it involves that asshat of a brother of yours being gone for any longer than he already has been, the answer is yes."

He had to laugh at that. "Well, that answers my question, sir. Thank you!"

"Yeah, whatever. Make sure to lose him, wherever it is you're taking him."

Matthew laughed harder. "Yes sir, I'll do my best."

"Good. Have fun." With that, a click announced the end of the call. Hanging the phone up again, the blonde grinned. The guy was suspicious, but you had to love his attitude.

With his first task out of the way, he put his book back in his luggage and headed for Arthur's room, where he was sure to find his brother pestering the poor nation.

~*with France, during what happens at the hotel*~

"Hon hon hon~ Are you sure you wouldn't wish to accompany me back to my hotel room? I could show you my bratwurst?"

SLAP!

Francis sighed, rubbing his burning cheek as the young girl he had been flirting with stalked away cursing in German. What did it take to get one of these women to cave to his charms? He was French! Wasn't that enough? And this particular German girl had been the petite, brunette type too….

Shrugging, the nation continued to walk down the side street he was on, taking in the fresh, new look of the various houses and businesses that had been rebuilt. You had to give these people credit for their industriousness. The architecture was severe, but quite lovely. He loved seeing the positive attitudes of the workers as they went about their various tasks. No wonder Germany could still hold his head high, even after the war and its horrors.

He passed by a café that was situated on a corner, pausing to make sure his way was clear before crossing the street. A moment later, someone came out in a rush, calling out to him.

"Hey, francy-pants! Wait for the awesomeness!"

France groaned, not wanting to acknowledge the silver haired nation that was fast approaching. But he was not one to be rude, so once he made it to the curb on the opposite side of the street; he turned to greet the other. "Hello, Gilbert! Fancy meeting you here~ How are you?"

Gilbert, coming up to the other with a snarky grin on his face, gave the Frenchman a pat on the back. "Doing well, my friend. In fact, you are just the man I wanted to see..."

AN: I'm already working on Chapter 6. Don't forget to go cast your vote in the poll! Oh, and all reviews are saved to be acknowledged at the end of the story, and give the authoress many feels~