A/N: Many of the events of this chapter occurred because of requests from fans. You wanted humor, you wanted intimacy, you wanted more Matthew and a bit more Francis… you got it.

The finale. Enjoy.

January 1st

4:53 p.m.

"I hereby call this meeting dismissed!" Ludwig proclaimed, normally neatly-combed hair slightly disheveled as he struggled to be heard above the bumbling noises of the other countries. Throwing his papers up in exasperated defeat, the German stood from his spot in the chair and strode out the door, soon followed by the other nations of the world. Before long, the only remaining beings in the room were the ever arguing Alfred and Arthur, as well as a certain Canadian fellow. Francis leaned against the doorframe, impatiently awaiting the arrival of Matthew to his side.

"See? I went to the doctor the other day, and I weighed in at ten pounds less, just like you said!" Alfred snickered, punching a fist rather flamboyantly in the air in success. Victory was his against the Briton, yet again.

Arthur just stared dumbfounded at the sheet of paper in his hands. Admittedly, although the corner was wrinkled and there was a coffee stain along the bottom edge, the papers checked out just as the American had said. Finally, he crumpled the paper and gritted his teeth in humiliation, emerald eyes blazing. "Fine, then. What is it you want?"

"Hmm…" Alfred began, turning to his brother. "What do you think, Mattie?"

"W-Well, I'm not entirely sure. I mean, we don't exactly have the same priorities, Alfred…" Matthew's face lit up suddenly as he fingered around in his bag. "Oh! I almost forgot. I brought you a slice of homemade pie, to thank you for the help with the resolution. Both Francis and I thank you."

The Canadian withdrew a container from the sack, removing the lid and sliding the apple pie slice onto a paper plate. "I knew how much you liked apple pie, so I thought I would bring you a piece, since I ate the rest back at home…"

"Hmph. Apple pie originated in England…" Arthur murmured under his breath in a very Korea-esque fashion.

"Apple pie might have been invented in England," Alfred said, thanking Matthew before returning his attention to the Englishman. "But Americans perfected it."

Matthew coughed into his fist, waving a cheery goodbye before taking off, running out the door with Francis directly behind him. The last thing the Canadian wanted was to get involved in any more spats exchanged between the two.

"Perfected it? I don't think anyone from the United States can perfect anything… well, except maybe obesity." Ouch. That stung.

Not that Alfred took any notice of such a cruel remark. He just removed a plastic fork from his pocket (did he carry one with him at all times?) and stabbed rather mercilessly at the point of the slice, indulging in the sweet scents brought to his nostrils from the delightful dessert. "We were the first to nearly perfect space travel. We also perfected the hamburger, and the light bulb, and-"

"Oh, shut up. I'm sure American-style apple pie is no better than any English dessert." Arthur crossed his arms, eyeing the slice of the treat with sudden desire. He honestly hadn't eaten apple pie in… well, what was probably fifty years, at least. To say that it made his mouth salivate and his stomach groan in food-lust was an understatement.

Alfred took notice of such glances and flashed the Brit a wide grin. "Want a bite?" Before awaiting a reply of any sort, he cut into the pie and stuck the bite on the end of the fork, offering it out to his companion.

"Of course not, you idiot. Why would I want something American to ruin my tastes? The farther away I am from that filth, the better off my stomach will be." Arthur's pride swelled up inside of him, a fault of his that never seemed to die down.

The American said nothing, but continued to smile as he shoved the fork forward, pie bite and all, into the Englishman's mouth, something done by the older nation to the younger nation many times before. Arthur grumbled in protest, but accepted the bite regardless and scraped the pie from the end of the fork with his teeth to roll loosely in his mouth. He chewed briefly, secretly indulging in the blend of sharp cinnamon and tart apples. The buttery crust melted wondrously in his mouth as he swallowed the food down, sighing softly in contention at his finally-silent stomach.

"Er… not bad," he said with a grunt, tugging uncomfortably at the collar of his shirt.

"Oh come on, Iggy. I saw that look on your face!" Alfred placed the remainder of the pie on the table beside them, whirling around to face his acquaintance once more. "You liked that more than you've been letting on."

"Hurry up and decide what you want for your reward," Arthur said, a bit squeamish about the mischievous gleam in the American's azure eyes.

"Don't change the subject! But… all the same, I should decide what I want, shouldn't I?" Alfred bit his lip, deeply concentrating with what little mind power her contained. "Hrm… I don't know. I probably should have thought this through before I came here, huh?"

"You think?"

"What would you have asked from me, had I lost?" Alfred asked, genuinely confused.

Arthur could sense his cheeks reddening by the second. "W-Well, I wasn't entirely sure either, but… I did have something in mind, but it's completely unorthodox, and-"

"Oh, come on, Iggy! Just spit it out, already!"

The Brit said nothing, biting his lip in turn as a deeper embarrassment clouded his mind. Indeed, he had had something in mind, but how on earth was he to explain his actions and reasoning to this naïve nation? It was absolutely absurd! "Um…" He was at an honest loss for words. The two stood in the meeting room, completely unresponsive.

At long last, after what seemed like an eternity, Alfred snatched Arthur by the wrist, whirling him around to face him. Arthur cast him a flabbergasted look, though not one of rejection, as the American brought their bodies closely together as he had done a few times before. Usually this implied that he wanted to be affectionate, but was either too bashful or too lazy to actually do anything. In fact, most of the time it meant he was too lazy. Yet, this time, the Briton found it hard to read his former colony's expression, as it was a look he had yet to see on Alfred's face. Finally, Alfred sighed and smiled again, face inching nearer Arthur's as a comparably thinner eyebrow was raised in question. "You've really let your guard down over the years, you know that?"

Arthur said nothing, a bit puzzled at such a statement, though he assumed that Alfred was referring to the fact that the Englishman had long given up on trying to push the American away. He shifted his eyes warily left and right, almost anticipating a hidden camera or for another nation to burst from the walls, before resting his forehead gently against Alfred's chin, taking comfort in the embrace. Being two separate countries who bickered on a regular basis, finding time for affection had become near impossible, so he cherished moments such as these where there was peace and nothing more. "What are you implying?"

"I'm implying that the doctor's note was a phony."

Arthur's mouth dropped agape, eyes widening in a dumbstruck daze. Under normal circumstances, he would have beaten the younger nation senselessly; however, in the current situation, he found too much comfort in the current position and decided to let it slide… almost. "You know, that means that you owe me a favor, now."

"And you still haven't told me what you wanted, yet." Alfred grinned, if not somewhat slyly.

The Brit looked away for the briefest moment before once again gazing up into those pools of blue hidden behind thin-rimmed spectacles. "I think you can figure that out on your own." He raised his head slightly, brushing his lips mockingly against Alfred's.

"W-wait, what are you-"

Some enthralling force from within drove Arthur to madness. Something from his soul had possessed him to do what he had done, he was sure of it. But, in the heat of the moment, Arthur had, indeed, pressed his lips against the younger nation's in a full, passion-infused kiss. Alfred stood perplexed for a brief moment, but eventually just grinned against his former guardian's mouth and returned the favor, head tilting slightly to increase the pleasure it transmitted through his body. The Briton enveloped his arms around Alfred's neck, rhythmically moving his lips in turn with his lover's. Ever-so-reluctantly, the older nation flicked out his tongue, lightly running it against the corner of Alfred's mouth, but instantly regretted the decision as his pulse increased, sending a jolt downward to spread throughout his whole form.

Alfred inhaled sharply in surprise, pulling back about a millimeter, just enough to whisper, "I thought you were against this in public?"

"We're not in public, you moron…" Arthur replied, closing the gap between them yet again. Unwillingly, he withdrew his tongue from his mouth again, determination swelling within, though found himself instead meeting Alfred's own tongue mid-way. By this point, the pie had been virtually forgotten, and now sat alone beside Arthur's figure, which had managed to make its way upon the table as Alfred towered over his sitting form, finally gaining victory over the Brit's mouth and claiming the tongue inside for his own. Exchanged between the two was the familiar flavor of apples, possibly Macintosh, and the comforting taste of cinnamon accompanied by the doughy savor of the crust.

Arthur pulled away again after a moment of bliss, eyebrows furrowed in slight irritation. "And what makes you the man in this relationship?"

Alfred smiled, resting his head on the shorter nation's shoulder. "I'm the hero. And the hero's always supposed to come out on top."

Upon those spoken words, a single flash flickered from the doorframe, which had mistakenly been left wide open, and who would Alfred and Arthur find to be standing there but Matthew, holding an old-fashioned camera with a guilty look plastered on his face. American and Englishman instantly scooted away from each other, Arthur ready to murder and Alfred ready to reclaim his apple pie, nearly oblivious to what harm could come from a single photo.

"Matthew… Matthew Williams!" Arthur shouted, storming after the Canadian in incredulity. "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?!"

"F-F-Francis gave me another resolution for this year…" Matthew stuttered, retreating in fear for his own life. "I didn't mean anything by it, really!" With that, he fled down the hall, much quicker than the Brit had anticipated. Arthur turned back to Alfred for a brief moment.

"We'll discuss this "on top" thing later, idiotic git."

********

Ah, so things would never truly settle down between them. Matthew and Francis would eventually end their partnership in toiling with the lives of others (most of the time). Alfred and Arthur would continue bickering for the majority of their lives, and their secret would remain exactly that to most of the nations of the world. Only on special occasions would they visit from time to time again, and usually quarrel about many controversial topics before behaving in an affectionate manner. Following this was generally more arguing before the guest would huff and leave, but not without saying goodbye the proper way.

"Whatever, I can't take your constant blabbering about nonsense any longer. We'll discuss this at the next G8 meeting," Arthur had said once, arms crossed as he made his way to the open front door of the Jones estate.

Alfred approached him, clasping him on the shoulder. "Right, then. Just remember what I said; a hero will save our world from global warming someday, I just know it!"

"That's absurd…" Arthur muttered, brushing away the American's hand stubbornly before leaning up for a chaste kiss, lacking in the passion and intimacy of the lip-locking earlier in the day. "We'll just see about that."

"What, is that a bet you're trying to make?"

"Hm?" Arthur would just smile and shake his head in disapproval. "Well, if you really want to make one. We'll see how global warming affects us in the end."

"And…? What are you expecting from me if I lose… which won't happen."

"I guess we'll just have to wait and see, then." Arthur smirked devilishly before exiting out the door and waving to Alfred, who stood in the doorway to see his former guardian off.

"Heh. An eye for an eye…?"

Arthur would then shake his head once more, responding in the way that all of their deals seemed to end. Five simple words, though they stood for so much more.

"…A pound for a pound."

The End

A/N: Completion!

I would like to thank everyone who has followed me through my first attempted (as well as my first completed) sequel to any story of mine. Love you all to death! w

Satisfying enough? Detestable? Let me know your inside thoughts through review!