Here's Chapter 6, very late, but for good reason. One, I had to get my ancient dinosaur laptop in working condition. And two, I've been duking it out with a plot bunny. I humbly beg forgiveness, and offer up most of a short USUK story and the start on a Kink meme fill I've decided to do to placate the masses ^^;; Run over to my profile and look them up if you have a mind to. The short story is practice for this fic, and the kink meme fic is for the lulz.

VOTING IS STILL OPEN! THIS IS THE NEXT TO LAST CHAPTER TO VOTE BEFORE THE FIRST SMEXY SCENE SET FOR CHAPTER 8! GO VOTE PLZ *grovels*

DISCLAIMER IN CHAPTER 2. AND THAT IS ENOUGH.

*Later on, in a nearby bar*

Francis was beginning to have trouble focusing on his companion, who was rattling on about the latest bit of news concerning his brother and north Italy. He had promised himself that he would only drink a couple glasses of wine, but ended up downing a whole bottle within an hour of his and Gilbert's arrival. At the moment he was about half way through the second one. Of course, the amount of wine he had consumed didn't normally affect him so strongly, but the three shots of Jagermeister the other had forced on him had mixed with his preferred spirits to make him feel quite lightheaded, a light buzzing somewhere in the back of his ears.

"So, the awesome me, being awesome, agreed to leave the house for the day so the two love birds could have some alone time." Gilbert took a long drink of his beer, slamming the empty mug on the bar and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "I mean, really, you would think Ludwig would have been more assertive in asking me for some private time with his lover boy, not stammering and blushing like a lovesick school girl."

"Yes, well you're brother isn't quite so good about expressing himself, is he?" Propping his chin on his wrist, the nation of love sighed deeply. "It is truly a beautiful thing, is it not? Those two, flirting about each other with such timid actions and words. It makes my heart ache for them."

The other made a sound like he was retching, and signaled the bartender to fill his mug once again. "Please, they need to let loose and act more on their baser instincts! If they would go ahead and fuck, they would get over all that mushy crap."

Francis shook his head slowly, motioning to the man serving them to refill his glass as well. "Ah, but those two, it would not be so simple for them to just go with what their hearts tell them. This way is better, I would think."

"Ja, ja, whatever you say." Wiping the ring left by the sweating mug off the counter with a napkin, Gilbert waved off Francis' reasoning. "My way is much more interesting." Turning a bit, he faced the other and grinned. "So, since we're on the subject of people getting laid, how are you and Mr. Prissy Pants getting along? You strike out with him yet again?"

"Please, do not get me started on that subject! It is too much to think about at the moment." Francis took a sip of the dark red liquid in his glass, savoring the heady flavor that flooded his mouth and assaulted his taste buds. He truly appreciated a good vintage of wine. "With all this mess about getting poor Amerique laid, I have barely had time to think about pursuing my lovely Angleterre."

"What?" Gilbert perked up a bit, studying Francis with a curious expression. "Why would you be worried about that dumbass getting laid?"

Francis realized he had let what was supposed to be private and secret information slip past his lips, but at that particular moment his mind was clouded by drink. Sadly, it did not occur to him to divert the subject elsewhere.

"Because, the poor boy has to be freed from his self-imposed chastity!"

Red eyes widened, the owner of them sitting up straighter. "What are you saying, France? You don't mean…?"

The other sighed dramatically, and pressed a hand to his heart in a show of dramatic angst. "Oui, it is true. Our beloved Amerique is untouched, a pure white rose in a garden filled with the deep hues of passionate red!"

Gilbert's jaw dropped. No, there was no fucking way that AMERICA, a world superpower, had managed to live this long without having at least had a blowjob. Or given one, whichever. "I don't believe it. I refuse to believe it! He's too damn good looking to not have attracted someone's attention. Look at the kid!"

"I know! I didn't want to believe it myself at first, but after Angleterre called to fill me in on the situation, I caught the first plane to Alfred's house to be of assistance."

Pale hands waved frantically at him, making him pause in his explanation. "Hold that thought, Francy-pants. I need to make a call. First I have to use the can, but then a call!"

"Oh, who are you going to call?"

"Why, Antonio, of course! He needs to hear this too." Gilbert slid off his stool, and made to rush off. "Stay there! I'll be right back."

As the albino rushed to the bathroom, once more the thought that he shouldn't have shared this tidbit of gossip crossed his mind. And once again, the wine chased it away to replace it other ones.

*at the hotel*

After joining Arthur and Alfred, Matthew had briefed them on what he had done in the other room, earning him words of praise from the elder nation, and a scowl from his brother.

"C'mon Mattie! Damn, does this have to be drug out any more than what it already is?"

Matthew rolled his eyes, and threw a bit of his cookie at him. "Hush up. This will probably take longer than a couple of days. Besides, Mr. Nixon seemed eager to have you out of his hair for awhile."

"Ugh, whatever." Alfred pouted when Arthur plucked the piece of cookie out of his fingers before he could toss it back at him. "I mean, really, will it be the end of the world if I don't find someone to… you know… do it with?"

The simultaneous response of "Yes!" from the other two made him pout even more, his cheeks puffing up in childish indignation. "Screw you guys, seriously!"

Arthur rolled his eyes at the display, and took a sip of his tea. "Let's hope it doesn't come down to that, poppet. I'd rather not have the job of deflowering you, and your brother probably wouldn't, either." Pausing a moment, he peered over the rim of his cup at the Canadian sitting cross-legged between them, positioned near their knees and facing them. "Do you want the job? Or do you want to find another to do it?"

"No! That's just… ugh, gross! He's my brother, for Maple's sake!"

He shrugged and continued to drink his tea. "You never know."

The twin looks of horror and disgust were pointedly ignored. He could remember a different time, long before the boys had been born, when such things between siblings were a more common occurrence than one would think.

Alfred sat his cup on the bedside table and stretched. "Okay, this conversation is getting to be too uncomfortable for my tastes. And I need a nap." He settled down on the pillows beneath him and threw an arm across his eyes. "Wake me up when you have it all figured out, okay?"

"Hey! You're not seriously thinking about sleeping here, are you?" The Brit poked at the American who was already dozing off.

"I'll move… in a bit… gonna rest my eyes a few, 'k?"

Matthew giggled, and Arthur huffed. "Well, I guess he's out for the count." Matthew nodded, and patted his brother's leg.

"Let him sleep awhile. Maybe his mood will improve with some rest." Finding his cup empty, he held it out to Arthur. "More, please?"

Arthur smiled, and went about preparing him more tea. If only some of him would rub off on the other.

*back at the bar*

Francis and Gilbert, by this point in time, were completely wasted. That's how Spain, or Antonio, found them, slumped over the bar and attempting to sing a song that was centuries old, in an ancient tongue that had the bartender eyeing them warily. Shaking his head, he walked up to his friends and clapped both of them on the shoulder, earning two very happy and drunken greetings.

"Hey, there he is! Pull up a chair, and have a drink with us!"

"Yes, do! The wine is quite exquisite~"

Seeing the glare the man serving them leveled in their direction helped make up his mind about the invitation. "Why don't we go and have a drink elsewhere amigos. Then you can tell me all about this wonderful secret Gilbert was going on about over the telephone." He helped them both to their feet, pulling out the money to pay their tab, as well as a generous tip to thank the poor bartender for his troubles. With a hand on their backs, he escorted them outside to his waiting car. Once they were inside, and belts fastened to keep them from sliding off their seats, he pulled away from the curb and into the late evening traffic.

"So, what's this I hear about a weekend party? And where is my invitation?"

Gilbert, who was sprawling in the back seat at an awkward angle (his seat belt kept him from doing so properly), snickered. "Hey, France, tell him. You're going to get a kick out of this, Anty."

Francis nodded slowly, the world swimming and dipping in his field of vision. "Oui, you'll just die when I tell you what has been revealed."

After getting the name of Francis' hotel, and the directions from Gilbert, Antonio sat back and made his way towards their destination while he was filled in on Alfred's state of purity. Afterwards, he took a few minutes to let the information settle in on his brain. Then he busted out laughing.

"I do believe you are trying to play a prank on me, my friend. How in the hell did he manage to stay a virgin this long?" Honestly, it sounded like a line of utter bullshit to him.

Francis rolled his head to stare at him with glazed eyes, an eyebrow arched in a haughty manner. "Have I ever told you a lie, Antonio?"

"Well, now that you mention it…"

"When it comes to something like THIS, Antonio!"

Spain hummed, thinking for a moment. No, if there was one thing the blonde beside him didn't do, it was skimp out on details of a sexually deviant nature. Not that this was sexually deviant. But imagining the cheery blue-eyed boy, with his beautiful looks and winning personality, as a virgin was still pretty damn hard to see, even for him.

"Are you sure about this, you guys?"

Gilbert nodded, although he only had information second-hand via Francis. "It makes sense. He does come from a Puritan background. I can see it being possible, even if he is drop-dead gorgeous and should have been with someone by now."

"I see…" Antonio turned at an intersection and drove down the street that led to the hotel. "Well, if you guys are planning to get him some hot action over the weekend, I want in on it."

Gilbert raised his hand. "I second that motion, your honor!"

The Frenchman moaned softly, trying to make his eyes stop spinning in his head. "You'll have to ask Angleterre and Matthieu first. I have no problem with it, but they might."

Pulling off into a side parking lot next to the hotel, Spain nodded as he parked and pulled the keys from the ignition. "Well then, I will ask him, at once!"

The trio made their way inside and upstairs, other guests of the hotel either laughing to themselves or tutting in disproval at the picture they made, Antonio sandwiched between the two, an arm slung over their shoulders, an arm from each slung across his, as he steered them to the elevator. A couple of minutes later found them outside of Arthur's door, all three knocking loudly.

"What the hell?!" Arthur nearly dropped his teacup at the loud banging coming from the other side of his door. Depositing it on the room service cart by the bed, he stood and made his way to the door, the sounds of drunken laughter meeting his ears and making him groan. Oh God, just what he needed. He opened the door, and was promptly knocked to the floor by the drunken men, the Spaniard still standing in the doorway and grinning like an idiot. Matthew just stared at the scene, wide-eyed, not really knowing what to do at that point. Alfred slept on through the commotion, oblivious to the curses slung at the two drunkards.

"Goddammit, get off of me, you bloody wankers!"

AN: Reminder to go vote. And review, please. Reviews keep Arthur's imaginary friends around to amuse her, and cheer her on as she battles it out with the army of plot bunnies.