Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia

Another MapleTea oneshot for you. No, this doesn't have a real plot of any sorts. Yes, it's more smut-based. And yes, this is really my first straight-forward MapleTea lemon. Yay.

I'm simply bored, and I figured I might as well shove in at least one little story before school starts. :T

By the rating of these story, you should already guess the warnings. If you're not too fond of heterosexual couples in Hetalia fanfictions (the utter blasphemy!), then I suggest you kindly take your exit. The door is out on your left, not too hard to miss if you really look.

Enjoy

The night before, Madeline wouldn't have expected to woke up in such a way; Arthur sensually grinding up against her backside, his hands roaming wherever they could, dipping into her sides and thighs, and doing everything he could to get her face red.

Yet, this was most definitely happening.

After a prolonged moment of staying still, allowing everything to process through her head, Madeline finally reacted by springing up into a sitting position, nearly falling out of the bed in the process, and attempted to demand on what the British nation was doing. She could only come out with a few "W-what"s.

Arthur smirked up at her, seemingly unfazed. "I have a bit of a problem here, poppet..." He tilted his body to show her what the prominent problem was. "And I was hoping you could help me out, luv."

With a small squeak of embarrassment, Maddie turned on her heel, trying to force her stuttery words out of her mouth. "N-not right now A-Arthur, I-I need to - busy - today - I-I'll go get breakfast ready!"

With that, she fled from the room.

Arthur stared after her, his smirk dropping into a disappointed frown.

There was the small sounds of paws padding across the floor and Kumarie soon hopped up into the bed, curling herself into the corner. She looked up at Arthur. "Dont worry, it's good. I don't like when it's noisy anyways."

Biting back the urge to skin the little bear, England shuffled out of the bed and to the bathroom, to take his third cold shower of the week.

"I've been having just a spot of trouble," Arthur mumbled, trying to appear indifferent as he nonchalantly leaned back into the seat, placing his interlaced fingers on his lap. Frankly, it made him seem more like he was meeting with a therapist or something of the sort. "It has to do with Madeline."

"And you were quite smart to come to me first, angleterre."

"Say something besides anything that can help me, frog, and I will murder you."

"Right." Francis placed the back of his hand over his mouth, to mask over a small smile. "Now, will you be so kind to tell me what the problem is?"

Arthur sunk down in his seat, for once forgetting to keep his the posture right of gentlemen like himself. It was a risk going to Francis, of all places, for any help of any kind. But this particular problem of his had something to do with his lover, and despite what most believed, not every piece of advice France spewed out ended with the phrase, "and this is how you'll get them into bed."

Then again, and unfortunately for the Brit, his problem kind of pertained to that.

At the moment, the two were seated in Francis' living room, the before mentioned nation practically splayed across his couch, looking to Arthur with such a smug look that the Brit was beginning to, more and more, regret coming to him for help.

"Well," England went on, peering back and forth as he tried to get the words out, "I...have a feeling that Madeline is no longer interested in me."

"In what way?"

"Well..."

"I'm going to go ahead and guess it's in a sexual way." Francis waved a nonchalant hand towards Arthur's head. "I honestly can't blame her for feeling that way. Your eyebrows are enough to turn off even the most sex-hungry being. Hell, they're even capable of turning me off, which is really saying something."

"It's not that - I mean it's not my eyebrows - stop talking about them like that!" Arthur huffed indignantly, colour pooling into his cheeks. "I guess I should have said that I feel she's not interested me in that way, period."

"Have you two not done anything like that yet? Surely you must have...you've been together for a few months now, I believe."

"Yes, we have been but...well...no...Not that I haven't tried - she always...rejects me...for anything that's not snogging."

Francis twitched a bit, the tight-lipped expression on his face telling Arthur that he was obviously holding back laughter . "Then it's probably just because she's shy. You know mon chou. It takes forever to get to her do something of the smallest affection, and she becomes flustered by even the smallest hug. Unless..." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "You want to maybe slip her a mild aphrodisiac? Or something like that?"

England glowered at the flamboyant nation. "No. That will feel like I'm forcing her to get into this, and I don't want to do that."

"D'accord, if you say so." Playing absently with the cuff of his sleeves, Francis glanced towards the window. "How about this, then? Alfred is holding an party, right? For that holiday of his."

"Halloween."

"Right. And they dress up in costumes for it, non? We could get you into something eye-appealing." The French nation paused. "Well, maybe. But if we can, then perhaps Madeline will find herself more physically attracted to you...then again, what am I saying? That would be impossible to do; even your waiter outfit would have her fleeing."

The answer came in the form of a pillow being thrown at his face.

"What are you going to wear?" Maddie inquired curiously to her lover, peering up at him from over her Timmies mug. "To Alfred's party."

Arthur took a sip of his tea before answering ( he had become rather used to the tea of Canada's most loved food establishment, and had to admit it wasn't too bad; even though this was technically made by Maddie). He hadn't even been sure he was gong in the first place. "I'm...not entirely sure, luv. How about you?"

"I'm not sure either," the Canadian admitted, settling her mug down to stir its contents with a tiny spoon. "Alfred wants to take me out to find something. He keeps hinting at a polar bear, though. Or something with an animal" She greeted this with a small eye roll.

England raised one impressive eyebrow. "Polar bear?"

"Oui. But not the kind that a child would wear - the whole, mascot-looking thing - but..." A light blush formed onto her cheeks. "The more embarrassing kind of costume, I suppose."

The image of it struck Arthur with sudden force: the little bear ears propped up on her head, the little puff ball of a tail, play paws and, perhaps, a short and white (and obviously translucent) baby doll dress...Oh bloody hell.

He came out of the image to find that Madeline was staring at him, concern eminent on her face.

"A-are you alright? You've suddenly gone rather red...and you're beginning to breath hard."

"Everything's just smashing," the red-faced Brit squeaked out from a mouth that felt like it was filled with cotton. He cleared his throat. "Now, if you'll excuse me - I need to go take a shower."

"Dress up as a pirate."

"What?"

England stared uncertainly at the American sitting across from him, silently wondering if the gluttonous man had finally gone around the bend.

"For my awesome party, duh." Alfred rolled his eyes. "That will guarantee for you to get a little something something."

"What in the bloody hell are you talking about?"

"You don't need to hide it from me, brah. Francis told me all about it. I hate the idea of you doing that to my little sister, but it's not too fun annoying you when you're already well annoyed."

Well. Of course Francis did so. Arthur rolled his hands into tight fists, seething at the brim. "Alright then. Why do you think I should dress up as a pirate?"

America grinned. "Chicks love it now-a-days. Ever since my very awesome Disney movie, with your kind of awesome but admittedly a hunk of a dreamboat actor, pirates have boosted up on the attractive scale. Girls absolutely love the thought of them."

"Pirates were not the attractive bunch," Arthur deadpanned. "Scurvy, covered with filth, bugs, holes -"

"Yeah, I know," Alfred said, waving the Brit's words away. "But can't you pretend to be a Johnny Depp kind of pirate? I bet Maddie will love that."

"How do you know that?"

"Because all women love Johnny Depp." Hilariously enough, Alfred bore a completely serious expression as he said this. "And I won't put Maddie above being fangirly at times. Granted, I've never seen her fangirl over anything other than hockey players, but..." He shrugged.

Arthur glared at him for a moment, before sighing in defeat. "Fine. I don't think it would hurt to at least give it a try...though I honestly doubt that it will work."

"Believe me, it will," Alfred piped up, dismissing Arthur's words with another wave of his hand. "You know that you can trust me on this."

For obvious reasons, it was going to be just a bit difficult trusting him on this.

October 31st rolled around more quickly then expected.

It had been extremely chilly in Canada's home, so, for once, Arthur was happy to be at America's house. It was still a bit cool, but not uncomfortably so.

Arthur had fled to his home to get the outfit, promising to meet Madeline at the party. He was still unsure about how the effect of his pirate outfit (not a costume, mind you - he still had many outfits from his pirates days, including a few that still were in very good condition).

At the same time he wondered what Maddie's outfit would be; not that the Brit mulled over it for a long while. He didn't want to risk having to dunk his body into another tub of freezing water.

Upon entering Alfred's house, Arthur realized it was going to be a bit difficult to find his lover.

Not being the most humble nation out there, America's material home was a gigantic one. Nation's were scattered here and there. Even those who don't celebrate the holiday, and those who don't celebrate it by dressing up like so, were present, most likely forced to come.

Russia was the most noticeable of everyone in the room. As tall and menacing as always, made out by the aura he put out, he wore tattered clothes, held a (mercifully) fake machete, and bore a strangely morbid, blank and white mask. Arthur scarcely remembered the outfit from one of America's horror films. How he managed to convince Ivan to dress up as do was beyond the Brit.

Pushing his way silently through the countries, Arthur soon enough came across Madeline, sitting on a couch beside Prussia. Prussia wore a less than imaginative costume; a hoodie and jeans. Granted, the hoodie had a skeletal pattern, with two, limp horns popping out from the top of the hood, but he really could have done better.

Maddie was what Arthur supposed was a female version of the Mad Hatter. A proper, collared shirt and vest, a short, plaid skirt with stockings, the askewed top hat...it was no polar bear outfit, but, for some reason, it still made him a tad hot under the collar.

Canada spotted him after a moment, pausing in her conversation with Prussia.

She didn't speak at first. Instead, she simply stared, eyes widening as blood pooled into her cheeks.

Interesting. Very interesting.

Perhaps Alfred was onto something.

I don't feel like writing the rest into one chapter.

So, if I feel like I've gotten enough reviews, I might make this into a two-shot. If so, the rest of the next chapter will 95% lemon. c: