Alfred walked the halls lost. He was given strange looks by passers by. Here it was, three in the afternoon, and he was walking around in nothing but his boxers and an unbuttoned dress shirt.

He stumbled almost aimlessly, but only almost. He had somewhere he was going to go, but he couldn't seem to remember. It was his brothers room, wasn't it? Yeah...he was going to bunk with him during this meeting like usual, but when he was ordered to fuck Arthur, they had been assigned together for rooms.

The problem was, he didn't know what room he was in now, but under some twisted sign, he saw Carlos slipping out of a open door, bringing in a tussled head of hair with a single blond curl bouncing for a kiss. If Alfred wasn't so numb, he would have been furious.

Cuba broke the kiss before delivering on last quick peck on the lips, stroking the soft cheek on Matthew's face. He noticed a figure standing beside him, waiting quietly for him to leave and the smell of burgers and sex told him it was America.

He stepped back a bit to get a better look at him. The kid didn't look so good. He was a bit paler than normal and clearly upset. His normal smile gone and replaced with something sour and depressing. He seemed to be alone in the world and wanted nothing more than to be comforted by the only person in the world he could trust. And Carlos realized he was standing in the way of that.

America was staring patiently at his feet, waiting for the man to step aside and for Matthew to let him in, not daring to speak a word about what he knew was happening here. Apparently, Matthew had taken his chance on getting some alone-time with his on and off 'boyfriend' while America was bedding someone else. And its not like he could blame him, he would have done the same thing. And obviously, he did.

But that didn't mean he didn't like the Cuban. Actually, he was surprised he was holding his tongue so well.

Carlos was as well, and he made an effort not to say anything as well. It wasn't needed. They both knew they hated each other. Him for America constantly trying to keep Matthew away from him, and America for having to pick up the pieces when Cuba tended to cheat with others while being devoted to his brother. They seemed to find a common ground now though in the silence and he stepped aside. Matthew peeked his head out curiously and gasped when he saw his brother, instantly pulling back into his room. But he popped back out when he registered how America's appearance seemed to be haggard and broken. He pushed himself out the door, clutching onto the bedsheets he wrapped around his waist tightly.

Alfred didn't move but looked up slightly as Matthew edged closer to him, his hand outstretched slightly. "...Al?" He whispered, "Are you alright?" The American just shook his head and slumped a bit, clutching onto his brother so suddenly in seemed as if he was falling. And maybe he was, he didn't know. All he knew was that Matthew was there, and he couldn't stand without him, not anymore.

"Al! Al, whats wrong?" He choked out, obviously disturbed by his brothers sudden collapse. "Cher, what's wrong?" He cooed quietly, stroking his hair as his brother clung to him with all he had in him at this moment. Matthew's eyes drifted up to Carlos' in a silent plea for him to leave. And he did. With one last, fleeting glance, he turned and walked away.

Alfred muttered something into his bare shoulder and all Matthew could gather was bath. "Yeah...yeah, we can take a bath, Al." He nodded as he tried to heard the other into his room. America was shaking slightly and he seemed to be fighting off tears. Once he was in, he closed the door and America stood before him, waiting quietly as he stared at the floor.

Matthew walked over to him slowly, hands steady but unsure as they slipped the shirt off of his brothers shoulders. The fabric slid off and pooled around his ankles along with the blanket Matthew had dropped moments before, leaving him naked and completely exposed before his twin. America let out a shaky breath and tried to slip out of boxers, Canada's hands trailing over the shaking flesh of Alfred's shoulders.

Once the last piece of clothing between either of them was shucked, Matthew gently grasped the trembling hand before him and led the man to his bathroom. He slipped himself into the basin and Alfred fallowed suit, letting himself lean against his brothers chest from between his legs as the water rose around them. The faucet loud in the silence.

"You know...this was good timing, eh?" Matthew put out in the open, head resting back against the wall. "I was going to jump into the shower right after Carlos left, so I'm glad you showed up when you did or else you might not've gotten any hot water..." He was met with not words, not even a gesture, only Alfred sinking deeper into the water and sliding further down his wet skin.

"Al...I need you to tell me what happened," Matthew whispered, his forehead resting gently on the back of his brothers head. "I can't help you unless you tell me what's wrong."

"Why does it feel so right when you hold me from behind?"

The question was so sudden and random Matthew didn't know how to react. "...Because its geography." He supplied. "Its only natural."

"And yet, here we go, chasing other people..." Matthew could see where this was going. The talk about...THEM...

"Al-"

"You and me...we're MADE for each other! Our land, our borders, everything fits, everything is perfect. We probably have the best relations in the entire world, and yet...I'm not happy. I'm not happy with what I have with you, I want it to be more...but...I don't love you. Not like that anyway...but I should...and it doesn't make any sense to me. None at all. And goddammit if I don't want things I can't have, including you, or any other person I've ever had a relation with that went beyond a good lay in bed. I want...I want..." His voice broke off, the shuddering continued.

"You don't know what you want." Alfred's head bowed, a sign that, even though he already knew he was, Matthew was right. Alfred DIDN'T know what he wanted. He wanted things to work out, but he didn't know how to do that. He wanted things to be simple, but it didn't happen that way. He wanted to just be able to love someone who would never hurt him, but he couldn't. Those were things he WANTED, but obviously not what he needed. Because if they were, wouldn't he already be with Matthew? Wouldn't they already be together and happy? Wouldn't he be able to keep Carlos away and keep Matthew to himself, saving both of them from hurt and heartache?

What he needed was Arthur. As pure and bright as day, as dark and cold as night, he needed the man. He needed him like air. And yet...he didn't want it. He didn't want to love the man. But he did. He didn't want to be so completely enthralled with the Brit, but he was. And it drove him nuts.

The things he wants and needs had a very, twisted, yet defined line between them, and he didn't know which side he belonged on. The one with his brother, where he knew he should always be, or the one with Arthur, one who hurt him and himself, one who didn't want to be anything to anyone. He didn't understand why that was even a question, the obvious, the smart answer was with Matthew, and yet, he knew, deep down, that he belonged with Arthur. But to be able to cross the line, to stray from the painful numbness of being in the limbo, was something he didn't think he was strong enough to do. And he had tried. Oh, god knows he had tried before. If this morning was any indication of it, he had tried with all he had. And yet, all of his efforts were always for nothing. Just another fight, or another crushing blow of betrayal from the pirate. Or a nothing night of trying his damnest to fall for his own twin brother so he wouldn't hurt so much, so MATTHEW wouldn't hurt so much, only for both of them to crawl back to the people who cut them deepest.

"I want to love you Matt...but I can't. I tried...I've tried so fucking hard its not even funny...I've tried to stop loving him, I've tried so-so FUCKING hard, I cry at night because it kills me to even TRY to forget him! And... and I don't know why! Why can't I love you?! Why can't we work?! Its not FAIR! Its not...Its not fair..."

Matthew just stayed silent, listening to Alfred's anguished sobs as the American poured out his frustration and mirth into words of self-loathing and hate. He just hummed a quiet, familiar tune, almost unheard under the pounding of the water and Alfred's retched sobs and wails of despair, rubbing the others shoulders and back as he had curled in on himself.

"If we could choose who we fell in love with, the world would be an entire different place, babe." He said gently, his eyes gazing lazily into the air above his head. "I WISH we could fall in love, I WISH it could be that simple, but its not. I want to be able to love you, but...if we all got what we want, wouldn't we all be part of Russia right now?" he joked lightly. When Alfred only shuddered harder he sighed. Probably not the best thing to say at the moment.

"I messed up. BAD."

"We all mess up."

"No, I mean BAD-big time...I tried to make it something that it wasn't...I-I HURT him, Matt, I HURT him!"

"What'd...what'd you do...?"

"I...I FUCKED him, Matt, I...I FUCKED him. I did it his way, but...I tried to do it mine too. I told him...aaalllll the things I would do to him if he would let me, but I called him..." Alfred took a deep, shuddering breath. "I called him soulless. I...I let him get to me, to humiliate me. I let him...I let him make me the villain."

Romano lent in to gently catch Spain's soft mouth and they kissed deeply and searchingly. Antonio caught the Italian around the waist and drew him against his chest while his right hand played through Lovino's hair. Lovino responded, his arms hands clasping Spain's hips, pulling them towards himself, feeling Antonio erection against his own, gasping during the kiss at the feel of it.

They had only started touching, and yet Lovino found himself at such a pitch of desire. It was almost as painful as pleasant while it was unsatisfied. Spain was maneuvering Lovino towards the Italian's hotel room. He disengaged from the kiss and led Spain to the bedroom hurriedly, the buzz from the bar still rushing through his system. They slammed the door shut before ripping the clothing off, unceremoniously undressing until they were naked before one other again. Lovino was again transfixed by how much he desired the man before him, how much he wanted to drink in his form and he wondered if Spain felt the same.

Spain made the first move towards him and drew Lovino into another passionate kiss, his hands running over Lovi's back, setting it alight with pleasure. Romano's hands dived into the man's hair, massaging the scalp and running his fingers through it, then finding Antonio's jaw line and neck and running his fingers along those, sparking electricity in his own fingertips. Spain was moaning gently into the kiss each time the others fingers touched his skin. Romano found himself excited by these noises, provoking him to touch the man more and more greedily. His hands, like Spain's own mirrored on Lovino's body, were now exploring the Spaniard's sides, stomach and back, at first gently then grasping with more urgency to touch and to feel each other.

The Italian was hungry for sex and any touch seemed to enervate every nerve ending in his body and he felt weak at the knees. Spain had disengaged from kissing and had Lovino almost bent backwards over one strong arm whilst his lips and teeth once again explore Romano's neck and chest. Lovino realized he himself was moaning and hissing through clenched teeth at the deep, searing pleasure these attentions were invoking in him, layering pleasure upon pleasure to his throbbing desire.

The man now lowered Lovino onto his bed, still firmly kissing and nibbling at his neck and chest, occasionally sucking on the skin. It was all he could do to hold on to Spain's hair as he was driven to a frenzy. Lower and lower the Spaniard's head went, exploring Lovino's ribs and stomach and further down. When Antonio began to kiss and nibble the end of Lovino's too hard cock, Romano thought he would just split wide open with pleasure. Then Spain drew his tongue firmly up and down his shaft before taking all of him in his mouth and sucking gently whilst his hands massaged his balls and stroked his opening. Lovino cried out. He had not expected it. He could feel Spain smile against his own cock. Then he moved himself back up over Lovino, his right hand still working against his opening, using his fingers expertly to prepare him; his left hand now cupping the others head close to his own to kiss the Italian passionately once again. Both men were sweating and Lovino's breathing was particularly ragged. It seemed to be taking all his self-control now not to come before he'd even been penetrated and his whole body ached to be entered and possessed fully.

Spain stopped kissing Lovino, and drew himself slightly away as he positioned his own engorged cock with his hand to enter the tight hole. He looked directly into the others honey colored eyes, his own green orbs darkened, pupils dilated with pleasure. There was no doubt in Lovino's mind that he could not now have looked away even if his life depended on it he was so enraptured. The man pushed into him slowly, never taking his eyes from Romaon's own, soft moans escaping from him matched the others.

One hand held Lovino's hip firmly as Spain slowly ground into him, he then firmly held the youngest ones cock and began to stroke it in time. With both of Lovino's hands firmly grasping and kneading Antonio's backside with urgency, each thrust was slow and deep, seemingly designed to tantalize and thrill Romano to the point of madness, Antonio whispering "Lovi" amongst the moans, almost like a mesmeric chant that sent Romano's head spinning. Antonio bent his head into the Italian's ear as he thrust and whispered, "Tell me what you want, amour." Lovino's eyes were beginning to water. So much of his usual reticence had already been cast aside, did the man expect him to beg for release? How had the man managed to keep such iron control of himself? Lovino himself was almost in pain he was so desperate to come and he realized his moans were becoming almost whimpers of helplessness.

Still Antonio continued his slow and deep penetration occasionally adjusting his hips causing Lovi to gasp further, still not quickening, not taking his eyes from him. "Please," Romano almost choked on his own desire, "please you bastard, I need... please I need you to ... faster and harder!"

Antonio's eyes were still fixed on his and a small smile played on his lips, and Lovino thought he heard the man say in the softest voice, "I love you, Lovi."

Surely and certainly, Spain began riding Lovino just harder at first, his grip also tighter. Romano's breath began to hitch. Deep and very hard. The pace began to quicken. Still Antonio's eyes never left Lovino's face. "Tell me, Lovi, tell me."

"Please," was all Lovino could manage, but Spain thrust in faster and harder than ever, each thrust eliciting a grunt from Antonio and wrenching loud hitching breaths from Lovi, who could no longer look at his boss because his eyes rolled back into his head, color bursting in his black vision as his orgasm flooded over him in such powerful waves that he again cried out. Within two thrusts this time, Antonio came too, crying out hoarsely. Lovi looked at Antonio and drank those green eyes deeply, trying to steady his own breath as Spain slowly pumped a couple of time more before lowering himself onto Lovi's chest and calming his own breath, and then kissing him.

The southern half of Italy hated that this had happened, once again. That he had abandoned his reasoning's, to let himself slip and allow himself to fuck his former care taker, but as Spain lay down next to him, and pulled Lovino back into his chest and wrapped his arms around him and kissed his head and neck gently, Lovino knew he would never have been capable of such sexual abandon had he not been drunk. A treacherous part of him wished it could continue so he could explore these extraordinary and liberating sensations more. But then, being allowed to love the other, despite being a nation wasn't a liberty he was ever going to receive. Surely, it was too much to ask.

He wondered what Spain was thinking now, Antonio, who was holding him tight to his body as if he were treasured and who would kiss his head and neck every now and then with affection and caring.

Lovino was tired, but he didn't want the man to leave. He didn't want ghost arms; he wanted these real arms around him, just for the night. They could discuss how this was a mistake, how this shouldn't be happening tomorrow. Their heads would be clear tomorrow, rid of alcohol and lust. "Are you going to stay here with me, Bastard?" he asked quietly.

Spain's arms tightened and he breathed, "Si," into Lovino's ear and nuzzled his hair. "I'll always stay with you, my little tomato."

"You know you can't."

"But I want to." Lovino nodded.

"Of course you want to." He gritted out through clenched teeth. "And ventually, you'll leave me again, to go sleep with my brother, or Prussia, even that wine bastard." His eyes slid shut, not wanting to deal with the tears that began to burn the surface. "We can never be together, Antonio, it hurts too much. We shouldn't..." his voice broke a bit. "We shouldn't even be doing this right now. Its just going to hurt more when you leave, and its going to kill both of us when we see each other with anyone else."

"Why won't you admit it, Lovi?" Spain whispered, his quiet voice protraying the hurt. "Why won't you admit you love me?"

Lovino was silent for a moment, but then, in the shadows of the dark quiet hotel room, the most honest, and truest sentence came out of 'Lovino the Liar's' mouth. "Because when you love something, every time a bit of it goes...you lose a piece of yourself." And you Antonio, he thought to himself, never stay.

((Whelp, there we go. The third chapter! Huzzah! Yeah, its short, but I'll update a new chapter sometime this week. I wanted this chapter to show just how fucked up the personal relations are with other countries, how it hurts to love someone but to never be able to do anything when they go and whore themselves off for money or their country.

I made a head cannon for this story that yes, Matt and Carlos have been together various times, and none of them have worked out because he cheats. He's not a bad guy or anything, but he's not a very trustworthy partner. He'll sleep around because his boss tells him to, or because he can't keep it in his pants. And it hurts Matthew every time, and Carlos and him DO love each other, but it's not a healthy relationship and it only hurts the both of them, and yet...like many of the characters in this story, when you've loved somebody for hundreds of years, its hard to let them go.))