Oooh... I skipped a number.

Warning: Angst, weapons.

Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN HETALIA. I have fun manipulating their characters, though

Then There Were Four

Francis stood there, shaking as the other two men glared at him, fingers on the triggers of their guns. His hands were trembling, but that didn't stop him from snatching the gun from his bag and aiming it at them. He was so anxious that he paid no heed to the identities of his attackers.

That was, until one of them lowered his weapon and began to scrutinize his face from afar. "Frog?"

Francis was so shocked at first, that he didn't know what to say. There was only one voice that held such an arrogant and nagging tone… he knew it quite well. "A-Angleterre?"

"France," came another voice, and the other man returned his gun to its holster at his side and scurried up to him, placing his hands on Francis's shoulders, smiling broadly. "Hey, man! Long time, no see!"

"America?" Francis felt like someone had just kicked him in the stomach… which, in truth, wasn't just from his great surprise. "How are you here—together?"

"I just got here from England." Arthur replied. "You took a flight as well?"

"I almost didn't, honestly." Francis sighed ruefully. "I only wish I could have convinced my boss to come with me…"

"We all wish that—" Arthur began.

"… but at least I know you're okay, mon belle Angleterre!" And he surged forward, pouncing on Arthur and planting him with kisses. Arthur shouted and kicked at Francis, finally managing to clock him in the jaw. Francis recoiled with a hurt look. "It does not comfort you to know that I'm alive as well?"

"On the contrary," Arthur sniffed, dusting himself off. "It makes me wish I brought that chastity belt that I bought for you…"

"Oh, don't say things like that, mon ami." Francis pouted, then smirked. "Besides, you would be forever hated and condemned by the world if you prevented me from making lo—"

"—Oookay!" Alfred cut in, standing between the two men and throwing his arms around each of their shoulders. It wasn't like Alfred was a prude, but it was sort of weird seeing Francis trying to pick Arthur up, especially after an incident when a much younger Alfred had accidentally walked in on them preparing to get it on. He was still scarred—by the scene he saw or the awkward sex talk he'd received from Arthur afterward, he didn't know. "Isn't this nice, we're here, together, just how it used to be?"

"Not if you count 'used to be' as us fighting over you." Arthur growled, folding his arms.

Francis sighed. "Oui, but the only one missing is mon petit lapin. Have you heard from Mathieu lately?"

"Mattie, huh?" Alfred thought for a moment. "The last time I had any contact with him was three months ago."

Arthur turned on him. "He's your brother and you haven't spoken with him in three months?"

Alfred put his hands up in an attempt to defend himself. "Whoa, chill out, Igs. It hasn't exactly been a picnic over here. I had to deal with angry citizens and bounty hunters and the phone lines were cut off a few weeks ago." Then he added with a smirk. "Besides, we had sex our last meeting, so it was pretty memorable."

Arthur's shocked look made him laugh. "How long have you two been having—relations—such as these?"

"My question exactly, Amerique." Francis commented. "But I don't mind hearing the details too."

"France! Could you stop being a pervert for once?"

"I seriously doubt that, mon cher. My reputation forbids it."

"Anywho…" Alfred continued. "Let's just say it's been ongoing—though casual, it's an open relationship—and that I'm really worried. I just wish I could have found the time to see or speak to him. I hope he's okay."

Francis sighed dreamily. "Oh, how romantic~"

"You disgust me," Arthur snarled. "They're brothers."

Francis grinned at him. "Which makes it forbidden love!"

"Perhaps I should start calling you 'Toad'."

"Oh, come on, Angleterre." Francis groaned. "Do you honestly think that other nations that are siblings haven't had sex with each other before?"

"No… but I do think that you have."

"Au contraire, chéri," Francis gave his signature charming smile. "I haven't managed to snag you yet."

"And you never will." Arthur flashed back, making Francis pout.

"Not even with the world ending? Before we die, won't you take pity on me and let me make lo—"

"Okay!" Alfred (aka the cockblock) cut in yet again. "Now, right, down to business. Francis, you'll need to help us since you have a gun. You see, I was trying to take a flight out of here before Iggy suddenly came on a helicopter and we both fell asleep and then we heard this mega loud gunshot—"

"Long story short, we need you to help us defend this terminal from rebels determined to kill us off." Arthur finished for him with agitation. "So, are you up for it?"

Francis sighed, leaning against the wall wearily. "Well, I guess I have no choice. When will they be arriving?"

"10 tomorrow morning,"

Francis stiffened, worsening his already strained back. "Great,"

"So," Alfred urged excitedly. "Is that a 'yes'?"

"Oui," Francis said regretfully. "I will help."

"All right!" Alfred jumped and let out an echoing whoop… which made Arthur pull his ear sharply.

"But only on one condition." Francis added with a smirk, eyes wandering longingly to Arthur.

Arthur took a moment to glare at him. "If you imply that I must have sex with you, don't waste your breath."

Francis pouted. "You're no fun, Angleterre."

"That's not the first time I've heard that, so that insult won't faze me, sorry." Arthur retorted.

"That's right," Alfred cut in proudly. "I told him that first."

"Shut it, git, before I hack your ears off. You wouldn't need them anyway, considering you're deaf as a pole."

Alfred was about to retort, but footsteps approaching made them all freeze. Arthur could feel the hairs stand on the back of his neck. They all reached for their guns, aiming them in the direction of the sound.

A meek blonde man paused in the middle of the terminal at the sight of the three armed men, dropping his bag abruptly and putting his hands up. "Don't shoot! Wait… Al?"

"Mattie," Alfred pocketed his weapon and rushed forward to meet him. They both hugged for a long while. Francis sighed dreamily beside Arthur, causing the Briton to punch him in the shoulder.

"Damn, you worried me sick." Alfred admitted quietly so the others couldn't hear him. He didn't like the idea of being ridiculed as a worthless sap for the remaining few days he might be alive.

Matthew blushed, trying to not get teary-eyed. He'd already lost Cuba, so seeing that his brother was still alive was more than a blessing. "You don't have to, you know."

"It's already hardwired into my brain, bro, can't help that." Alfred replied with a smile. "So… how the hell did you manage to get down here anyway?" By now Francis and Arthur had joined them, forcing Alfred to return to his usual, herolike self.

Matthew slipped a rifle out from his pack and motioned to it. "You're really asking a seasoned hunter that?"

Alfred smirked. "I thought that old tradition of yours had worn out."

Matthew scoffed. "Not even a little. And my survival skills are far better than you know." Then he added with a sneer. "At least I can survive from what I shoot or gather instead of relying on fastfood all the time."

Alfred crossed his arms and defied childishly, "I do not! Since when did you expect was the last time there was a McDonald's open around here? Not for a few months, I'll tell you that."

Matthew rolled his eyes. "Whatever. I'm just glad to see you."

"It's good to see you too, Canada." Arthur stepped forward to pat him on the back.

Francis followed shortly after, giving him a hug. "Oh, mon lapin, I thought you were dead. I should have contacted you the moment the riots broke out. Je suis désolé."

"Tu n'as pas besoin de s'excuser, Papa." Matthew reassured. "Je suis bien."

"Of course you are, Mathieu. I raised you, after all." Francis grinned.

After a short moment of silence—in which Francis and Matthew gazed at each other in adoration and Alfred proceeded to try to figure out what the hell was just exchanged—Arthur snorted, "What kind of compliment was that, Frog?"

Francis stared at him in disbelief. "You… know what we said?"

Arthur looked insulted. "What, did you think I was as thick as America? Of course I did, you git!"

"Since when have you known French?" Alfred gawked.

"Ever since France and I were rivals," Arthur retorted. "I needed to know how to insult him in his own language and after that, I just figured I'd learn the whole thing."

"How much more do we not know about you?" Alfred asked curiously.

Arthur smirked. "Quite a bit, actually, but I'm not willing to reveal all of my secrets." He smirked slyly.

"Uh…" Alfred began seriously, putting an hand on his shoulder. "If you're implying your 'secret' about your hallucinations, we already know."

Arthur slapped his hand away, growling, "They're not hallucinations, git! They're real, live magical beings!"

Alfred rolled his eyes. "Sure, man, you keep believing that."

"So," Francis asked quickly, preventing Arthur from retorting. "How many other languages do you know?"

"Well," Arthur began, ticking them off on his fingers. "There's Anglo-Saxon, though I doubt that really counts seeing as it was one of the first variations of English. Gaelic, Welsh, French, Latin, Spanish, German, Italian, Russian, Hungarian, Portuguese, Dutch, Mandarin Chinese, Japanese, Turkish, Hebrew, Arabic, Farsi, Greek, and Hindi. I also know a few hieroglyphics and Sanskrit as well as some basic criteria of Nordic and Slavic languages. But I'm striving to learn more."

They all looked at him in shock, mouths agape.

"Is it even possible for someone to know so much?" Alfred asked in amazement.

Arthur grinned with pride. "Well, heheh, only for those with special minds."

Alfred thought for a moment. "You're not talking about your hallucinations again, are you?"

"No!"

"Why do you feel the need to, though?" Francis asked curiously.

Arthur folded his arms. "Because, unlike the lot of you, I actually prefer being knowledgeable."

"Don't get such a big head, ami." Francis accused haughtily.

"I have a big head—?"

"Guys!" Matthew shouted in his meek voice, surprisingly silencing them. "Quiet. Do you hear that?"

They all listened for a moment and then Alfred groaned, "Not another plane!"

"This is good," Arthur said.

"Good? Are you okay, Artie?"

"Of course I am!" Arthur snapped. "But seeing as Francis and I were directed to this airport—and this particular terminal, at that—don't you suspect the possibility that more nations are headed to this very spot?"

They all looked at each other, smiles erupting on their faces as they came to the realization.

"Ya know, Iggy," Alfred said with a laugh. "you're smarter than we thought."

Arthur smiled. "Why thank you Alf—" He paused as he took in what the other man just said, then rounded on him, shouting, "Shut your mouth, you impertinent brat! I'll have you know that mocking my intelligence is a very stupid and dangerous thing to—!"

Guns cocking caught their attention

Translations:

Je suis désolé-I am sorry

Tu n'as pas besoin de s'excuser-You do not need to apologize

Je suis bien-I am well

A Word From the Writer: Yes, I made England a brainiac. Why? Because he's awesome like that.

And I left you with a cliffhanger, haha! Oh, I'm evil. Who do you think they will be? Post your guess.

!Attention! Prussia Cottontail is posted on my AO3 account since the mods took it down here. There's a link at the top of my profile if you want to read it.

Cheers.