Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.

Still no sex, but hey. There's talking. That's almost as good, right? *cough*

Romano stretched languidly as he walked down the street. Damn he felt good. The sun was shining (a rare occurrence in England), the air was fresh and clear, and even the chirping and twittering of the birds in the trees wasn't irritating him as usual. He'd had the best night's sleep in he didn't know how long. He'd woken in America's arms, his own head on the blond's chest, his arm wrapped around the other's waist, leg draped over his hips, feeling completely and utterly relaxed. He felt too good to even muster up the customary panic- yeah, sure, England would probably kill him if he ever found out, along with half a dozen other nations, but he really didn't give a damn right now. So he may have potentially triggered World War III in America's bed, so what? The sex was great, the sleep was great and dammit, he just felt great.

Plus- he gloated victoriously, executing a little step-spin-hip snap dance move of celebration- he'd scored the virginity of a world power. Oh yeah. South Italy had been first, dammit. England and countless others had been chasing that ass since America had hit puberty, but Romano had been the first to plunder those virgin shores. Fuck yeah. Not surprising, really, if you thought about it- America always did want the best of everything, after all. And when it came to lovers, leather, and fast cars, you couldn't do better than Italian.

To be honest, he had to admit he was a little surprised England hadn't managed it. He'd thought the brow-bastard would've been a shoe-in. Everyone was sure those two were at it like rabbits, what with how the Brit was always nagging at the American like an angry fishwife. He acted like they were already married. Though if he hadn't managed to score America's ass in the centuries he'd been around the younger nation, then it was his own damn fault. No wonder the island nation was such a bitter old goat. Damn. He almost felt sorry for the sexually-frustrated bastard. Or might have if he wasn't too busy gloating. Haha, world- South Italy scored the winning goal! Suck on that, you bastards. He wished he could rub it in their faces. But, he wanted to live, so...oh well. He'd just savour his victory privately. He just hoped the blond idiot would be able to keep his mouth shut.

He caught sight of his brother about to enter the building where the meeting was being held, along with the potato-bastard. "Hey!" he shouted. They turned, and he jogged to catch up, grabbing his brother's arm and dragging him inside. "I'm taking Feliciano, potato bastard." He informed Germany, shouting over his shoulder as they left, "And stay away from my brother, jerk!"

"Ve~, that wasn't very nice, Romano~." Feliciano scolded. "And where are you taking me?" He asked, as his brother pulled him into a utility closet. Romano closed the door behind them, and turned around, slapping a hand over his brother's mouth.

"You cannot tell anyone what I'm about to tell you. Got it, idiot?"

Felciano nodded, eyes wide.

"No-one. Not Germany, not Japan, and especially not France. Or England. Nobody, understand?"

The younger Italy peeled his brother's hand from his mouth. "Oh God, who did you kill?"

"What? No! No, nothing like that."

Feliciano visibily relaxed. "Then what's going on? Are we stealing the gelato again?" he asked, curiously.

"I'm going to tell you, but first you need to promise you won't tell anyone, okay, bastard?"

North Italy nodded eagerly. "I promise, Romano~!"

"Swear. You can't tell anyone, this is important."

The younger raised his hand, anxious and excited now. "I swear! I won't tell anyone, ve~!"

"Good." Romano nodded, satisfied, and exhaled. He looked around to make sure no-one was hiding in the closet with them, and leaned forward, to whisper in his brother's ear. "I scored America's virginity last night."

His brother, who had leaned forward eagerly, leaned back again, brows furrowed in confusion. "America's a virgin? Ve~, but I thought, England?"

"Nope." Romano gloated, crossing his arms and puffing out his chest. "He never did. And neither did America. Until last night."

"No." Felciano gasped, covering his mouth with both hands, eyes wide in shocked disbelief.

"Yes." Grinned Romano, gratified by his brother's response. "All me, baby. South Italy sailed those virgin seas and rode that sweet ass into submission. I got there first! Me, Romano! Haha!"

His brother gasped again, clapping his hands together and bouncing excitedly. "Romano that's wonderful! This is amazing! I can't believe it!" He hugged Romano tightly."You and America! I'm so happy! You'll make the cutest couple! I can't wait to tell Germany!" he squealed, releasing Romano and darting for the door.

"No!" Romano tackled his brother to the floor, sitting on his chest and covering his mouth. "You can't tell anybody! You promised! England would kill me! And we're not together." He added. "It was just a one-night stand."

Feliciano frowned, reaching up to peel his brother's hands away again. "What? Does America know?"

"Of course, dammit! I told him, after."

North Italy's frown deepened. "You told him after? After you took his virginity, you told him it was a one-night thing?"

Romano folded his arms defensively, and looked away. "I-it wasn't like that, idiot. I didn't know he was a virgin at first, dammit."

His brother sighed. "Ve~, maybe you'd better start at the beginning."

"Yeah, alright, dammit." Romano agreed, scrambling off of his brother to sit on the floor. Feliciano pushed himself up to sit across from him.

Romano summed up the events of the previous night (leaving out some of the more...intimate details), His brother listened carefully, with the occasional nod or "Ve~.'" to show that he understood.

"A solid glass ball? Really?" He asked, after a few moments of silent contemplation when Romano had finished.

"Yep. Powder."

"Ve~." His brother shook his head, impressed. "You're right. Grandpa Rome would be proud."

"I know, right? Too bad the old bastard's dead." Romano replied, wrapping his arms around his knees. "Only thing I've ever done that he would be proud of, and it's another nation."

"Ve~, you know he loved you, too, Romano." Feliciano responded, frowning sadly. Romano just snorted.

"So..." Feliciano continued after a moment. "What was it like?" He asked eagerly, leaning in conspiratorially.

"What was what like, bastard?" Romano asked, avoiding his brother's gaze with a blush. Feliciano rolled his eyes, exasperated.

"Ve~, you know. Come on. It's America. You have to share something." He said, nudging his brother's shoulder insistently. The corner of Romano's mouth turned up.

"Honestly?"

"Honestly."

"Amazing." Romano groaned, head falling back. "Tight, responsive, eager, and damn he learns fast. He picked things up like that." He snapped his fingers. "And so damn sweet. And honest..." he trailed off, lost in thoughts of trusting blue eyes, soft lips, a warm, yielding nation underneath him, wrapped around him...

"Romano, you're smiling." Feliciano observed in amazement. "Really smiling! I haven't seen you smile like that in forever~!"

"W-what?" Romano blushed, shaken from his reverie. "N-no I'm not! Shut up!"

"Ve~, you smiled!" Feliciano beamed, throwing his arms around his brother's shoulders. "You did!" His eyes widened in realization. "You like him!"

"G-get off me!" Romano barked, shoving his brother away. "No I don't!"

"Yes you do! You like America!"

"I do not!"

"You dooo~!" Feliciano grinned, tackling his brother.

"Don't!" Romano argued, wrestling his brother to the floor, pinning his shoulders down."I don't like him, okay? The sex was just...really good. That's it, dammit. It didn't mean anything, okay? Just sex, idiot."

Feliano sighed. "Ve~, okay. You don't like him."

"Damn right." Romano nodded, releasing his brother. Feliciano sat up, brushing off his clothes. "Okay. So it didn't mean anything to you." he said, settling back down next to his brother. "But, are you sure it didn't mean anything to America?"

"What? No. Why would it?" Romano asked dismissively, brushing the dirt off his knees. "I told him it didn't, and he was cool with it."

"Romano." Feliciano replied exasperatedly. "It was his virginity. That's a pretty big deal."

Romano hesitated. "Well...he's American. You know what they're like. It probably doesn't mean the same thing to him. Hell, he was probably the only virgin left in America."

"Maybe." Feliciano said doubtfully.

"He was totally fine with it, dammit. It was just sex, okay? Really good sex, but just sex."

"Ve~, okay, Romano. If you say so." Feliciano agreed reluctantly.

"Damn right."

"But..." Feliciano started, hesitantly. "but, if it was just sex, why you? Why last night?"

"What are you talking about, idiot?" Romano asked. He crossed his arms, eyes narrowing. "And what's wrong with me, dammit?"

"Nothing's wrong with you, Romano~. That's not what I meant." Feliciano shifted. "Ve~, its just...I don't know, strange, don't you think?" He glanced at his brother, who just frowned, not seeing his point. He pursed his lips, searching for words. "Ve~, it's true America's young, but he's still been 'old enough' for like, a couple centuries, now, right? He must have had plenty of opportunities to lose his virginity?" Seeing his brother considering this, he continued, "I mean, we've all had fantasies about him from time to time. Even Germany's thought about it. And you know England's been interested forever. France helped raise him. Then there's Russia, and Japan, and who knows how many others. Even I've hit on him a few times, ve~. Somebody's had to have tried by now, right? So...why was he still a virgin?"

Romano frowned. That was...a damn good question, actually. He shifted uncomfortably. "H-how am I supposed to know, bastard? It's not like we talked about it. Hell, I didn't even know he was a virgin until after, dammit."

"Yeah, but...don't you think it's a little strange? Why you, and why last night? There has to be a reason, ve~."

"No there doesn't, dammit. It's not like he was saving himself for 'the one' or anything, alright? He probably just...didn't...I don't know why, okay? But it doesn't mean it means anything. Maybe he was just ready, alright, dammit?"

"Ve~, maybe." Feliciano conceded doubtfully.

"Definitely." Romano stated, definitively. "Just sex, dammit."

Feliciano fidgeted with the hem of his jacket. "What if it wasn't?"

"What?"

"Well, what if America feels differently?" His brother asked, insistent. "I mean, Romano- it was his virginity."

Romano pinched the bridge of his nose, frustrated. "I know, Feliciano, I took it. I fucked him into the bed, it was great, it was his first time, and I didn't know, dammit. Alright? I didn't know."

North Italy blinked, a little taken aback by his brother's tone. "...does it bother you? That you didn't know?"

The muscles in Romano's jaw flexed, and he stared at his hands. "A little." he confessed."I mean." he stopped, and exhaled, twisting his fingers idly, "Dammit. I don't know. I probably would have done things a little differently, if I had known. Maybe. Dammit, it's...I mean, it was his first time. I would have...I don't know, dammit. Maybe I wouldn't have done it at all." He rubbed his face, frustrated. "I don't know, dammit."

"Oh, Romano." Feliciano sighed, wrapping his arms around his brother, resting his head on the other's shoulder.

Romano leaned against his brother, swallowing the rising guilt. "He said it was okay, though. That I didn't do anything wrong. He, uh...he said I was considerate." He confessed, quietly. His hand slipped into his pocket, his voice dropping to a whisper. "He said I didn't do anything wrong."

"Of course you didn't, ve~" Feliciano assured, pressing a kiss to his brother's temple. "You're very sweet. You're one of the most considerate people I know~, Romano."

"Get off me, idiot." Romano growled, slapping a hand over his brother's face and pushing him off, blushing. "You don't know what you're talking about, dammit. I am not'sweet'. Ever." He settled back with his arms around his legs again, adding, "And it didn't mean anything."

"Ve~." Feliciano smiled, leaning back against his brother, who huffed, but didn't protest. "Would it be so bad, Romano?" He asked, after another few moments.

"What, idiot?"

"You know. If...if it meant something. I mean," he hastened to add, as his brother's jaw started to clench, "I want to see you happy, Romano. And, well, America seems like a nice guy. Would it really be so bad?"

Romano scowled, shoulders hunching. "Yes, it would, dammit. That's the last thing I need, some lovesick moron following me around thinking we're 'destined to be' or some stupid shit like that. It didn't mean anything. It was just sex. And besides," he added, toying with the cuff of his sleeve, twisting the material, "you know I don't believe in love, Feli."

"Ve~." Feliciano sighed, resting his chin on his brother's shoulder. "I know, Lovi. I know. But you'll be kind to him, if he does? You'll let him down gently?"

"I'll tell him the truth, dammit. That's the kindest thing I could do. But it won't be an issue. He doesn't, okay? It didn't mean anything to him, either. It was just sex. We enjoyed it, and it's over, and that's it, dammit. He knows that, and he's fine with it."

"If you say so." Feliciano agreed.

"I do, dammit."

"Alright, ve~." Feliciano sat up and stretched. "We should probably get to the meeting, now~." Romano nodded, and they helped each other up. As they reached the door, Feliciano grinned, bumping his brother's shoulder with his own. "Still, ve~. America. Way to go, Romano!"

"Haha, damn right." Smirked Romano, and opened the door. "And remember," he reminded as they left the closet. "You can't tell anybody, dammit!"

"Ve~, I won't! I promise!" Feliciano reassured him, bouncing down the hall. "I'm going to find Germany. I'll see you in the meeting room, ve~!"

"Righ-ahh!" Romano jumped as an arm closed around his neck from behind.

"Heyyy South Italyyy!" Prussia greeted, pulling the Italian back against himself. "Question for ya!"

"Get off me, asshole!" Romano growled, shoving his hand in Prussia's face, simultaniously relieved that it wasn't England and irritated as hell at the East German nation. "You're paying my dry-cleaning bill for last night, jerkoff." He added, brushing the taint of Prussia off his clothes.

"Yeah, whatever." Prussia waved dismissively, and grinned. "More importantly, have you seen America anywhere?"

Oh shit. "Why would I have seen America?" He asked, covering his nervousness by pretending to be occupied with straightening out the wrinkles in his clothes.

"Just thought you might have seen him, South! He usually gets here pretty early." Prussia answered, looking around as if America would spontaneously materialize out of thin air.

"Yeah, well, I haven't, dammit. So get out of my face and go bother someone else." Romano huffed, relieved. So Prussia didn't know anything. He was safe, yet.

"Aw, don't be like that, Roma! I can't help it if you can't handle my awesome self. And you'll never guess what these awesome ears happened to overhear." Prussia smirked, throwing his arm around Romano's shoulders again and leaning in conspiratorially. "England and America aren't together!"

"Why should I care, jackass?" Romano asked sharply, leaning away, trepidation rising again.

Prussia raised an eyebrow incredulously. "Are you kidding? You know what that means- America's available. That ass is up for grabs. And the awesome me is gonna get a peice of the action, if you know what I mean. Those vital regions are gonna belong to Prussia by the end of the day. I'm gonna make him beg for mercy." He winked, and groped the struggling Italian. "Wanna join, South? There's enough of my awesome self to go around."

"Get the fuck off me, asshole!" Romano snarled, slamming his head back into the other's face and turning to kick him in the stomach when he staggered back. "I don't give a shit what you do, you damn pervert, but leave me out of it!"

"You say that, South, but you know you want it." Prussia leered, rubbing his stomach where he'd been kicked, and reached for Romano's curl. "It doesn't take much, does it? You're such a little whore."

"Don't touch me, asshole!" Romano screamed, slapping Prussia's hand away and ducking out of reach. "Just stay the fuck away!" Hyperventilating, he plastered himself against the wall, snarling, ready to run.

"Whatever, South. I've got other fish to fry, anyway." Prussia gestured dismissively, grinning. "If you don't want it, I'm sure America will. Just gotta find the idiot." He waved as he trotted off. "Lemme know when you change your mind~. Got a pair of handcuffs with your name on 'em, South!"

"Don't hold your breath, asshole!" Romano called after him, pushing himself off of the wall. He shook himself and shuddered. Sometimes Prussia was okay, but sometimes he got like...this. When there was something or someone to conquer or to get competitive over, he reverted to his old ways- raze, loot, ravage, take what you want without mercy or quarter. And if France, Spain, Hungary or Germany weren't around to keep him in line at those times, well, it was best to steer clear until it all blew over. Luckily he wasn't the subject of the East German's focus, this time. His stomach twisted a little when he thought of who was. His hand slipped into his pocket, closing around the small silk bag inside which held the glass dust from the night before. America could take care of himself, he reassured himself. He'd be fine, right? He pushed down the rising uneasiness. It wasn't any of his business, anyway. He didn't have anything to do with it.

He took a deep breath and exhaled, pulling his hand from his pocket, running it through his hair. He'd better get to the conference room. Feliciano would be waiting, and he needed to warn him that Prussia was on the prowl.

Several hours earlier, England and France (both nursing hangovers) watched in bemusement as America breezed into the breakroom with a stack of files, humming. "Hmmhm, hmmm~, God shed his grace on thee,~" he sang, pouring himself a cup and bouncing lightly on his toes. He turned, tossing the files on the table and pulling out a chair, spinning it with a little flourish before sitting down. Two sets of eyebrows raised. "Good morning~!" he greeted them cheerfully. "It's an awesome morning, isn't it?"

"What the bloody hell are you so cheerful about?" England grumbled, dropping his aching head in his hands.

America grinned, taking a sip of his coffee and opening his files. "Do I have to have a reason? Haven't you ever just woken up and just felt amazing? Sometimes you just know it's going to be an awesome day!"

England lifted his head to stare at him blearily. "You're insane. You've finally cracked. France, America's gone bonkers. Completely 'round the bend. Better warn the others before the madness spreads."

France, whose mouth had slowly dropped open during this whole exchange, gasped. "You got laid!" he said with an incredulous smile.

America laughed, and England sputtered furiously. "What? Don't be ridiculous, you damned frog! Who would sleep with this idiot?"

"That's right- I'm going to die bitter and alone like you, old man~!" America laughed, leaning across the table to poke England's cheek with his pen. The Brit slapped it away, blushing and fuming.

"Get that out of my face, you bloody git! I am not bitter and alone! I just have standards! Unlike some people." He sneered at France, crossing his arms.

"Ohh~, did you go home with someone else last night, France?" America asked France, raising an eyebrow. He nodded, lips pursed in pseudo-understanding. "I see, I see- that's why Iggy's in such a bad mood."

France grinned, throwing his arms around England's neck. "Is that what's got your panties in a twist, Angleterre? If you wanted my company that badly you had only to ask~! Let's slip into the closet right now and I'll make it up to you~."

"Get off of me, you bloody ass! Don't say things like that, you pervert!" England fumed, blushing. He glanced surreptitiously at America, and shoved France off. "People will get the wrong idea!"

"You should take him up on that offer, Iggy!" America teased, grinning."Maybe getting laid would pull that stick out of your ass."

"I, I, you idiot! I do not need to get laid! And certainly not with the frog!" The Briton slammed his hand on the table, leaning forward. "Watch your bloody language!" He huffed, and flushed, adding, "Besides, if I were to be interested in...that...sort of thing, I, I...it'd have to be somebody...special..." He averted his eyes, blushing deeper.

America spluttered into his coffee. "Wha-, ha! Hahaha, England, you really are old-fashioned! That's so stupid! You can't wait forever for things that'll never happen! No wonder you're such an old stick! Damn, you're more hopeless than I thought! Haha, that's hilarious!" He laughed, pounding the table. "Oh, oh, man."

He stood and went around the table to throw an arm around England's shoulder, leaning in with a sharp grin. "Since you don't have any friends, I'll give you some advice- don't waste your time waiting for the impossible, Iggy. Someone like you should take what you can get, you know? Or you really will die alone~." He chuckled, poking England's cheek for emphasis.

England paled, his jaw going slack, as he turned big, hurt eyes on America. "Wha-...yo-...why..."

"Haha!" America laughed, stepping back, arms spread. "You see, I knew this day would be great. No matter what happens from here on, I just have to remember the look on your face right now and it'll give me a reason to laugh."

England flushed again, from hurt this time, and he took a deep breath, tears spilling down his cheeks. "America, you...you, why would you say such things, I..." He choked on a sob, fists clenching at his sides.

"Just waking you up to the truth, old man." America smiled, leaning down so they were face-to-face. "Time to wake up and smell the coffee, Iggy. Being stuck with you is a fate worse than death, right? I should know. Better trap some poor bastard while you can. You're not getting any younger, you know!" He smiled wider, cocking his head and sending the trembling nation a wink.

A resounding slap echoed off the walls as England's hand met America's face with force. "America, you IDIOT!" England yelled, fleeing the room.

The blond nation stood for a moment in silence, eyes closed, head still turned from the force of the blow. Eventually he sighed, lifting a hand to touch the spot where he was struck. That was going to leave a mark.

"That was not well done, mon chou." France said softly. America exhaled again, running a hand through his hair.

"I know." He admitted, "And I'm sorry. I'll talk to him later. Apologize. I just," He gestured, frustrated. "couldn't deal with that right now. Not after... Not today, you know? I overreacted." He sighed again, plopping down in his seat and looking at the door the British nation had exited through. "I shouldn't have pushed him. It's just, I'm tired of waiting for him to pull his head out of his ass, and open his eyes." He turned to France, gesturing to the door. "Aren't you?"

"Ahh~." France sighed, resting his chin in his hand. His eyes were understanding and sympathetic. "I've been waiting for so long already, America. When you get to be my age, ten years, fifty, a hundred, makes little difference."

"I don't want to wait that long, France. But still," he added, toying with his coffee cup, "I'm sorry I riled him up. I don't mean to make things difficult for you."

"Eh, don't worry about it." France waved dismissively. "It will give me a chance to settle him down later. When he's calmed a little."

America huffed in wry amusement, flipping open his files. "If you say so. Just try to spare me the details. I hear you two far too often as it is."

"Mm~, speaking of which..." France began with a slow grin, leaning forward slightly, waggling his eyebrows.

America glanced up from his paperwork, and rolled his eyes, flipping a page. "Spare me your vivid imagination, France. Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar."

"You can have a lot of fun with a good cigar, mon cheri. Just ask Angleterre."

"Yaaah, I don't want to know, don't want to know!" America yelped, slapping his hands over his ears."I'm working, working, doing my paperwork, I can't heaaarr youuuu~!"

France faked a pout. "Ahh~, you're such a prude. That is definitely England's influence. You should be more like your brother, he knows how to have a good time. There's a boy I can be proud of!"

America shook his head, scribbling furiously at his work. "Can't hear you, can't hear you. And don't talk about Mattie like that." He added.

"It is nothing that you don't already know, America. Do not pretend you're so very innocent."

America frowned. "It's not that, it's just, ew. It's bad enough having to act like I can't hear you guys all the time, or Mattie and his partners. I'd prefer not to have to think or talk about it when I don't absolutely have to. I'd really rather just focus on my work and enjoy my day. Please." He shuddered. "Besides, with you guys around I lost most of my innocence a long time ago."

"Hohoho, so true. Very well. My apologies, non?" France smirked, leaning back in his seat, clearly unapologetic. "And last night my dear America lost the last of that precious innocence, did he not?"

"Let it go~." America sang, pretending to be absorbed in his work.

"Almost three centuries and the insistently resistant America finally surrenders to the sweet siren song of desire? I think not. Details, my dear boy. Whom, when, where, how? Are you in love? Am I going to be meeting your mystery paramour? Should we prepare for England's inevitable meltdown?"

"No, no, no, and no. In that order." The other responded, signing off a report with a flourish.

"You must tell." France insisted. "Something, anything. I will not rest until I find out."

America huffed in amusement. "Prepare to spend the rest of your life awake, then." He answered, leaning his chin in his hand as he read, and pondered, "I wonder, would a nation go crazy from lack of sleep? I dunno, I hear you start to hallucinate. Might be interesting to find out."

"Ooh, you are impossible." France huffed. "You know it's only a matter of time. One way or the other I will ferret out this mystery. If not from you, then from someone else. Your secret lover is sure to talk, if you won't."

America only smiled.

"Surely it would be best to tell me everything now? Before the story becomes too wild, non? France will look after you, my dear. Before things get out of hand, as they surely will. I can make sure the others don't spread too many crazy rumours." France prodded, coaxingly.

America snorted. "By spreading insane rumours of your own, sure."

France frowned, drumming his fingers on the table. "You do me an injustice, America. You are too cruel!"

"I'm realistic." America corrected, setting aside one file and starting on another. "I may be young, but I'm not stupid, France."

"Bah." France pouted. "Why are you being so difficult? Love should be shared!"

"A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell." America answered, sipping his coffee.

"Ah, so there is something to tell!" France exclamed, delighted. "And since when were you a gentleman?"

"A hero is always a gentleman." America defended."Look, just let it go, alright? I'm not going to tell. It's nobody's business. And even if I wanted to, he asked me not to."

"So it was a he!" France pounced on the information, gleeful. He tapped his chin, thinking. "Now, who has been close to my little America in the last few days? Hmm..."

America sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Look, France, please. Let it go, okay? It isn't what you think. It wasn't supposed to happen, and it won't happen again. I don't regret it, but that's all there is to it, okay? Not love, not romance, just...an encounter. That's it."

France pouted a little. "But it was your virginity, mon chouchou. It should have been special. Romantic! Your first experience, with your first love! Is that not why you waited so long? What you were holding out for? I wish to know which special man swayed my little America's firm resolve."

America gave him an incredulous look. "What? Holding ou- no. I wasn't- no, just no. Why would you think that?"

France blinked at him, and shrugged a shoulder. "You, with your grandiose dreams and ideals and obsession with heroes and happy endings, we just assumed you were waiting for a happy ending of your own."

"'We'? 'We' who?"

"Myself, your brother, England. I believe we're the only ones who know you're untouched. Well, were." he corrected. "Of course, England always hoped he would be the one..."

"Pffft." America shook his head. "Wait, so you guys talked about my sex life? Why?"

"Well," France tilted his head, considering. "It is...unusual, for a nation to remain a virgin for as long as yourself. At the very least their purity would be lost through force, if nothing else. But you, who are so strong, have had little to worry about in that regard. Nevertheless, for so many centuries you have been grown, and not even a glance at those around you. We were...concerned."

"Oh." America blinked. "That makes sense, I guess."

"Indeed." France agreed. After a few moments of watching the younger nation perusing his work, he prompted. "So?"

"So what?" America idly responded, tapping his pen on the tabletop.

France exhaled, exasperated. "So if it was not for true love, why did you refrain from engaging in sexual activity?"

America glanced up at him, and back down at his paperwork. Then his brows furrowed, and he frowned, sitting back in his seat. "You know," He said, stroking his chin. "That's...a good question. I've never really thought about it." He shrugged, unconcerned. "I've always been busy with work and stuff. Haven't really had time for anything else."

France narrowed his eyes. "Surely you jest. That can not be the reason. Almost three centuries and you haven't had time for a little fuck?"

America rolled his eyes. "Jeez, when you put it that way. Seriously, France, I don't know. I really haven't thought about it." He picked up his pen, opening up another file. "I just haven't been interested, I guess."

"And last night, you found an interest?"

"Well, kind of, I guess. I mean, it's not like I planned it out. It just sort of happened. One minute I was standing there and then, bam!" He answered, turning over a page.

"'Bam'?" France frowned. "America. Please tell me it was consensual. You weren't forced into anything, were you?"

America gave him a dry look. "Of course it was consensual. You said it yourself, it's not like I have to worry about that. I can take care of myself."

France shook his head. He knew better than the young nation that there were always ways. Coercion took many forms, of which physical force was only one. "No-one is invincible, America. Not even you."

"Well, it wasn't like that. It was..." He paused, remembering the previous night, and blushed, a slow smile curling the corners of his mouth. "It was...nice." His eyes were distant, and he leaned on his elbow, lost in reminiscence. "Very...nice."

France relaxed, observing the other's demeanor. "You're glowing, mon chou. Are you sure it isn't love?"

"Pssht, no." America dismissed, coming out of his reverie. He returned to his paperwork. "Just a one-time thing. Nice, but that's all."

"And you will not be seeing him again?"

"Nope." America answered. "He made that pretty clear."

"He did?"

"Yep."

"And you're not bothered by this? He took your virginity and left? That's it?"

"No, why should I be? It's not like I expected anything. And it's not like he just 'took' it, it was consensual, remember? You could say I 'gave' it, if you're going to look at it that way. And it's not like I can blame him."

"What do you mean?"

America sighed, and put down his pen, looking straight at France. "France. Look at me. I'm the United States of America. Even I don't want to deal with half the shit that comes along with that, especially on an international scale. Anyone I become involved with would be subjected to constant scrutiny and who knows what else, just by being associated with me. Not only that, but can you imagine what England would do if he thought I might be involved with someone else? He's bad enough as it is." He smiled wryly. "I could go on, but do I really need to?"

"No, no." France held up a hand. "You've made your point. Admirably. Very well. If you are satisfied, then I suppose I have no reason to object. I still want details, but I can respect your promise. That doesn't mean I won't try to find out, though."

"Mm, I suppose it'd be impossible to stop you from trying." America shook his head. "Just try to keep it a secret for now, okay? For England's sake, if nothing else."

"Ahhh~, you had to bring him into this, didn't you? That's not fair. Yes, I will keep your secret. For now." France pouted. "Though I may let it slip to your brother." He added, thoughtfully. "He deserves to know."

"If you do, don't tell me. I want to be able to claim plausible deniability." America answered, already absorbed in his work once more. He didn't really mind if Canada knew; his brother, at least, knew how to keep a secret.

"Then I shall be off. I have things to do, people to do, eyebrows to soothe!" France announced, standing and draping his jacket over one arm with a flourish.

"Shouldn't that be 'people to see'?" America inquired, setting aside another file.

"All innocence is not lost, after all~!" France winked, heading for the door. As he opened it, he turned. "Shall I give England your love?"

"Hell no. Don't encourage him, France. He needs to figure things out." America answered, rolling his eyes again. "I'll see you at the meeting."

"Ah, my dear, now who asks for the impossible? The sun rises and sets, the rivers flow to the sea, and England refuses to admit that he is not involved romantically with America, and never will be." France sighed resignedly to himself, closing the door behind him. He slid his jacket on and made his way to the meeting room, never realizing Prussia stood just around the corner behind him, eyes wide, having heard his parting words.

AN: Still more to come, believe you me. This section was just getting long, so I split it in half so you guys had something to read while I worked on the next bit. Especially since I'm not sure if I'll have time to write much before the weekend's over. Boo. The next part should clear up some questions you might have about things going on in this chapter. And, you know, possibly earn it's rating.

Yes, he is singing 'America the Beautiful'. Wouldn't you?