De-anon from the kink meme. England really wants to know about America's relationship with Canada. He probably shouldn't have brought that up... Various FACE pairings.

Rather suggestive dialogue in the first chapter. Sex in the second chapter. I... don't normally write erotica so I'm kinda nervous posting this here. And if that's not your thing, the first chapter works as a stand-alone one-shot. That's how it was originally written, anyway. XD

Disclaimer: Hetalia's not mine.

This happened every time they got a little drunk. Once they got to the stage where they were nice and relaxed, inhibitions lowered—but before they got to the stage where the next thing they were aware of was a splitting headache and a brand new tattoo on their ass—the conversation swung that way.

Former lovers.

"Come on, tell me what France was like!" America said with a cheeky grin, setting his drink aside.

"You should know," England muttered.

"It's not the same! We fucked on good terms! Tell me about the hate sex."

England rolled his eyes. "Once again, you should know, Mr. Cold-War-Sexual-Tension."

"Completely different."

"Well start a war with France and sleep with him. I'm not telling." England took another swig.

"For someone who's slept with everyone over the centuries, you sure are a prude."

It was part of being a nation. Humans couldn't even make it through their short lifetimes with one partner, how could immortals? But for the past fifty years or so, England had been exclusively with America—as everyone but them had known would happen. And considering their longevity and nature, they weren't jealous of each others' former exploits. Not usually. Not too much, anyway. Okay, so it kind of alarmed him how a nation as young as America had gotten around so quickly, but... ah well.

So that had become their routine. A few drinks, then gossip and tease and ask about their past conquests. And it always ended the same way. England waited for America to finish another drink, then dove into the question he always asked, the question America somehow managed to skillfully avoid every single time. "What about Canada?" He still had no idea if the twins had ever experimented together. After the first time it had come up and America had deftly changed the subject (with sex), England had grown curious. Especially when the question was avoided every time after that.

It wasn't as if it were taboo. They weren't human. Gender and blood relation weren't considered important barriers.

So why wouldn't he answer? A simple yes or no was all it would take to quench the fires of morbid curiosity.

"What about Canada?" America grinned. "He doesn't hate France either, I'm sure their sex wasn't hate sex. Isn't, that is. Aren't they together now?"

"I mean you!"

"Me?" Cerulean eyes blinked owlishly at him from behind lenses.

"You and Canada!" England tapped America's chest. "Why don't you want to answer that? Just say yes or no."

"And why do you want to know so bad?" With a chuckle, America reached for another beer.

"Probably because when you refuse to answer, it makes me want to know why even more. Does it embarrass you because he's your twin brother? Seriously, America, we aren't humans."

"Of course I'm not embarrassed," America scoffed.

"So? Have you?"

"You stress over the strangest things!" America scooted closer, running a hand along England's thigh.

"I will not be distracted with sex again!" England swatted the hand away. "You are going to answer me for once. And if you don't, I will ask Canada. And France."

America gave him a wounded look. That damned kick puppy dog expression that worked so bloody well, damn him. England refused to back down, and finally America looked away, chewing on his lower lip. "You won't like it."

"Tell me anyway." What could he possibly say that would upset England? Sleeping with Canada would hardly be worse than some of his other escapades.

"No, seriously, you won't like it."

"Fine. I'm all ready to be upset. Now tell."

"Ah..." America shrugged slightly, refusing to look at England. "Yeah. We did it a couple times. Long time ago."

England waited for the horrendous revelation. It didn't happen. "And?"

America finally peered over at him. "You do... remember about us, right? Our connection?"

Ah yes. Their weird twin thing. Of course England remembered. They could feel things the other felt, physical or emotional sensations, and the closer they were the stronger the feeling. It was not always a good thing. He still shuddered at the memory of witnessing them both collapsing with mirrored screams of pain during their little family breakfast on 9/11—he had had to turn to the news to even figure out which one had been hurt. The War of 1812 had been especially terrifying, knowing what they were doing to each other. To themselves.

So yes. He remembered. But what did...

Oh.

Oh.

Why had he never thought about it that way before? "You can feel each other during...!"

"Right." America ran a hand through his hair, chuckling. "It was intense, to say the least."

England licked his lips, trying to imagine... double the sex, all at once. He couldn't.

"And it was only a couple times," America continued, smile once again gracing his features as he remembered, "but apparently we always come in unison. Can you imagine, two orgasms simultaneously?"

Oh...

"And it wasn't even just the shared sensations!" Apparently, now that he was finally opening up, he really wanted to spill everything. "It was just... the whole thing was too perfect! It's like his dick was tailor-made to fit me just perfectly. Like puzzle pieces. Better than that, even!"

England blinked. "Wait, he-"

"Every part of our body fit together just right! I felt complete with him inside me."

Okay, England was starting to understand the whole "you won't like it" thing. "I see."

"So we stopped," America said, fidgeting uncomfortably. "I mean, for one thing, it was almost too much to handle. You know? And for another... well, if we kept that up we'd never be able to enjoy sex with anyone else. I mean... you know..." He trailed off with a sheepish laugh.

"I see."

"I told you you wouldn't like it!"

England ran a hand down his face. "Yes, you did. And I don't. I suppose being told I'll never be the best sex you ever had is a bit of a blow to the ego, but I'll survive."

"Really? You're okay? Good."

But that wasn't the end of it. And, it turned out, that wasn't even the worst part. Later that night, limbs tangled together in the twisted sheets, they were on the verge of sleep when America brought it up again.

"That's not the only reason we stopped."

"Mm?" England's eyes drifted open. "Who?"

"Me and Canada. It wasn't just the sex."

"Oh."

"We knew... we knew that with us, it would be forever."

"What?"

"Everyone else..." America trailed a hand down England's side. "All nations move from partner to partner. It's just the way things are. But he and I aren't like that. We couldn't be like that. If we got together, it could only be forever. We weren't ready for that then, when we were young. And since then... well..."

England stiffened in America's arms, though the sleepy nation didn't seem to notice. America finally drifted off, but sleep had completely fled England.

America went home the next day, and England was left to his less than pleasant thoughts. Being told someone else—someone totally (probably) inexperienced!—was his best time ever, that England could get over. America enjoyed their lovemaking, so what if it wasn't as mind blowing as freaky twin double-sex?

But the other part... that bothered him. A lot.

It haunted him.

"I just want the person I love to be happy" was probably an unrealistic sentiment. After all, people (and nations) were selfish creatures.

But England was starting to think along that route. He couldn't live with himself, clinging to a relationship he knew wouldn't last anyway, when America could truly be happy elsewhere.

It was almost a week before he finally picked up the phone and dialed. "It's me, you wine-sucking creep. … Ha! Want to try saying that to my face? … Actually, I was wondering if you wanted to get dinner or something later... Yes, I know you're seeing somebody... Yes, I know I'm seeing somebody. That's what I wanted to talk about... No, not a foursome!"

America rested his face on the bar, beside his nearly empty mug.

Life sucked. Why did life hate him?

Dammit, this wasn't faaair. England had practically forced that information out of him! He was a little fuzzy on just how many details he had given, but... He had warned England! How dare he take it so personally!

Somebody dropped into the stool beside him, and America was about to grumble something about giving him some space when another face hit the bar. America felt a wave of sadness that wasn't his own, and he turned to face mirror image blue eyes.

"Life sucks," Canada said.

"That's what I was just thinking! I know, right?" The sadness held the same twinge of heartache as his own. "France?"

"Yeah... England?"

"Yup."

America suddenly felt a harsh blow of guilt, and Canada winced.

"What did you do?"

"Nothing..." England must have told France what America had said. He had single-handedly ruined everyone's relationships! And of course, with the two of them, 'nothing' meant 'obviously you know it's not nothing, but please don't keep asking'. "What did France say?"

Canada finally waved toward the busy bartender. "That there was somebody better out there for me."

America jerked away from the bar, gaping at his brother. "He really said that?"

Canada's suspicion grew more palpable as he sat back up. "Yes."

"Ah..." America gave a helpless laugh. "I told England about us. That's what happened."

His twin's eyes widened. "What, you think they're..."

"Trying to push us together."

"I suppose that would be the logical conclusion if you told them about us."

America's smile finally returned. Canada was feeling the same things he was—longing, hope, some additional emotions neither of them really understood. "What do you think?"

"We knew it would happen eventually." Canada stared down at the bar, shooing the agitated bartender away. "Are we ready for this?"

"I've tried to forget." America toyed with his mug, rolling it between his hands. "Well, not forget, but you know."

"I know."

"They've all been good. But they weren't..."

"I know."

They couldn't fight it. It was inevitable. Always had been.

They closed in as one, lips connecting as neatly as their border, arms winding around each other in an attempt to pull their bodies closer than was physically possible. America tasted Canada, tasted himself through his brother.

"Forever," he murmured against Canada's lips after they had parted briefly.

"Of course."

They kissed again. And for the first time, it felt like all the puzzle pieces of their lives had finally been put all together.

Yay for my first kink meme de-anon!

… I just realized how much funnier this would make the part where America super-strength-wallops Canada in the crotch with a baseball. XD