The Foxtrot- England.

"But I already know how to dance!" Australia groaned, shoulders drooping in disdain at the whole ridiculous idea. England scoffed, crossing the large empty ballroom towards the large, brass gramophone that sat proudly in its corner.

"You mean that absolute dribble where you paint yourself up and jump around like a wild animal to appease the grass? I would hardly call that 'dancing' Australia." He quipped over his shoulder. "No, I'm talking about 'real' dancing."

"That is 'real' dancing!" Aus grumbled annoyedly, crossing his tanned arms over his chest. "And it's called 'Corroboree', we dance to interact with the Dreamtime- not the grass."

"Mmhmm..." England responded slowly, running his hand over the old music machine, he wasn't really listening. That annoyed the Aussie- dad never listened when he spoke about his own dying culture.

"Besides." Australia continued a bit louder, uncrossing his arms. "I've never had to learn to dance before."

England picked an old cover from the vast selection on a nearby shelf, dusting it off. "That was because you were a young child, a colony and nobody expected you too." He stated pointedly, pulling out the vinyl record to place it onto the turntable gently. "But now, you are an independent Nation and these kind of formalities will be expected of you at the up and coming Ball- and all Formal events in the future." He explained firmly as he began winding the old gramophone's large side handle.

Australia was no longer that small, wide eyed, disobedient, reckless child that clung to his pant leg; he had grown up.

Into a disobedient, reckless young man. Who needed to learn to dance correctly.

Personally England blamed himself for never taking the time from his busy day to day schedule to teach any of his Colonies the proper English way to dance.

That wasn't quite true, he had taught America.

Then he had left.

"Well, why isn't that bloody Kiwi here learning too?" Australia fired back, his voice childishly annoyed at the whole ridiculous situation. England fought back an eye roll as he placed the long needle onto the now spinning record. The gramophone seemed to make a few loud, crackling protests before finally producing a torrent of rhythmic, upbeat classical music from its large brass speaker.

"Your brother is currently busy on 'super top secret spy stuff, chill dad it's cool.'" England quoted with his fingers in the air sarcastically as he crossed the large room to rejoin his older son, fast-ish music now flowing clearly through the air around them. "I suspect he is just avoiding me. But fear not, I will be teaching New Zealand just the same as I am teaching you- I can't have him running around in his undies pulling horrid faces at guests and dancing around in paint." England shivered at the memories.

"It's called the Haka." Australia stated in understanding as England pulled up in front of him. This time the Brit couldn't help but roll his eyes.

"It's called embarrassing. Now, what I am going to teach you is called the 'Foxtrot'." England wasted not time in collecting one of Australia's large, calloused hands in his own smaller one and holding it professionally. "You are slightly taller then me, so I'm going to have you lead. Place your other hand on my upper back."

Australia groaned but did as he was instructed, drawing them uncomfortably close as England placed his other hand onto his sons shoulder.

Gah this was lame.

"Start with your feet together- excellent. Now I want you to take two moderate steps forward, and try not to step on my feet!" He instructed firmly as Australia's head fell to stare at his own feet, taking two careful, slightly uneven steps forward just like instructed. England glided gracefully backwards with him, his back and head slightly arched outward for presentation, a compliment to his sons's awkward footwork.

"Now, step sidewards and forward with your left foot and close your feet once more."

Australia wobbled slightly but did as instructed, his eyes never leaving his own shoes- brow creased with concentration. England followed swiftly with him as they moved, playing his own roll perfectly all the while teaching another.

Things were going well so far, that was surprising.

"You're doing remarkably well. Now, we take two steps back, but on the opposite feet- I guide this part, so just glide past my feet like I have been doing around you." The blond instructed quickly.

Wait, what?

The Brit began walking them backwards instantly, not giving Australia's brain time to register his instructions. With two extremely awkward miniature steps back, Australia found himself gripping England's hand tighter then before; almost falling onto his own ass. This was much more difficult then just dancing around in paint.

And not nearly as much fun.

The Brit ignored the awkward blunder and just focused on finishing the steps. Australia was doing well, all things considered. The man had very little rhythm but he could fix that.

"Then you lead me through yet another sidewards turn, but in the other direction, and we repeat the process. Simple." England instructed as the upbeat classical tune of the music had them slowly performing each step. "But it is much faster then this and far less...wobbly." He added, staring at the top of his son's head as they repeated every step together slowly, Aus's eyes never leaving his feet, his tongue hanging out slightly as he concentrated.

He was kinda proud of himself, yes this was stupid and dumb. But he was doing it!

The two repeated the steps over and over until England had enough confidence in the other man to quicken their snail-like pace.

"Now, stop looking at your feet and look me in the eyes! A gentleman must be completely in grossed with their partner but also maintain his perfect grace and be aware of others dancing around him. You are the guide and the host!"

How was he meant to be all those things at once!? That's impossible! He would need eyes on the back of his head!

Australia gulped but raised his head to level his eyes with the other man. It was a struggle at first, flying blind and with the added extra speed Australia would fall out of sync with the music and proceed to mix up their footwork, causing England to have his poor feet stomped upon by the bigger man.

"Oops...sorry mate."

And they would start from the top.

Stomp.

"Oops..."

From the top.

Stomp.

"My bad, sorry."

...from the top!

Stomp.

"Shit..."

FROM THE TOP!

Needless to say, it was going to be a long afternoon indeed.

In the end, after hours of stop and repeat actions they had finally achieved some small semblance of actual dancing. England had to restart the record more then a few times and his feet where in complete agony, but he had done it!...kinda. He still had to work on Australia's presentation, not to mention the lad looks like a bloody stunned cod with that intense, awkward concentration on his face. But that would come with practice.

A lot of practice.

"Well done my boy, you can now sort of Foxtrot!" The British Nation congratulated as he crossed the large space and took the needle off the spinning record, plunging the empty room into sudden silence. "It may be one of the more simplistic variations of English Ballroom Dance- but at least you can now perform it!" He took the record off the turntable and placed it into its case gently.

Australia groaned. That was meant to be simplistic? That was a bloody nightmare! He felt like he could forget all the steps already, not to mention it was hard to move freely or comfortably in military clothes- let along a fancy dress military suit needed for the ball.

"That sucked." He complained, crossing his arms. He felt like he had just wasted far too many hours of his life learning something he'll never really need to use more then once. He could be out in the bush with Bruce (his Koala) right now chasing roos or tackling crocs! You know, having fun!

"Oh, perk up lad!" England stated, placing the covered record back into the shelf. "This dance is the easiest compared to the others you'll learn."

What?

Wait...others?

He'll have to learn!?

What!? NO!

"What!? Why do I have to learn more!?" Australia's eyes where wide with disbelief. "Isn't one enough!?" He demanded and England laughed, walking back over slowly to his distressed son.

"Of course not! My boy, the Foxtrot is an English dance. To fit into this world and not appear a complete savage, you must learn many different dances from all around the world." He explained, watching the taller man's shoulders droop, his face become blank. Was he going into shock?

"But...I..."

"At almost every World Ball you will be required to partake in traditional dance with many a different Nation. So you will need to learn to move the way they do as to not offend." He explained to his open mouthed son. Seriously, was he in shock?

The Aussie seemed to take a small moment to process this information before he blinked and shut his mouth, expression becoming fairly annoyed.

That's not fair! This was bloody rubbish!

"No way! Get stuffed!" Australia finally bellowed. "I can barely dance with you without stepping on ya! How am I supposed to learn a whole bunch more bloody dance moves!?" He was seriously panicking now, the World Ball wasn't that far away at all! Like only a few months away! How many dances did he have to learn? Like 500!?

Up until now, he hadn't even been aware he had to know ANY types of dance, now he suddenly needed to be an expert! Not fair!

"Screw that, I'm not gonna go to the stupid bloody Ball!" He decided and England frowned at him, eyebrows serious.

"You have to go Australia, if you don't you're looking at some very upset and insulted Nations- maybe even war." He was firm in his words, it wasn't a choice.

Well this sucks.

"Do you know all the dances?" Aus questioned slowly, running a hand through his brown hair.

"Of course, I'm much older then you."

"Can you teach me the important ones then?" He asked, his face suddenly hopeful.

England shook his head and that hopeful expression plummeted into panic once again.

"It's best you learn the dances the way I did, from the Nations that created them. If you would like, I can make a few phone calls and set up a few lessons." The Brit offered to his distressed son. "I'm sure all will be more then happy to share some of their own culture, as barbaric as some are, with you." He placed a hand on the taller mans shoulder supportively.

It was really England's fault if he was being completely honest, he had completely neglected this side of their education when his Colonies had been growing up. Now it seemed, it was a little late. But to be fair, Australia had shot up like a damn weed; maturing a lot quicker then he had expected.

Australia was silent in his response, so England squeezed his shoulder lovingly. He would take that as a 'Yes please Father, I would very much appreciate dance lessons.'

Good.

"I'll make the calls tonight." He assured his son who was not looking ok.

This was impossible! Seriously impossible.

Goodbye freedom, adventure and fun.

"Hey, cheer up- New Zealand is in the same boat as you."

And then a smile pulled at the edges of Australia's lips at that statement. That's right! That Kiwi was also just as much up shit creek as he was! That made him feel a little better! A little.

Because now, Australia could turn this tortures turn of events into something a lot more bearable. A lot more fun.

A competition!

And Aussie's hated to lose!

...

It begins! I just like the idea of Australia being just the most uncultured swine when it came to dancing and parties! Like, he's super great and into different sports and stuff, but just sucks bananas at getting his groove on!

What Nation do you want to see teach him next!?

I personally am looking forward to Spain and Germany...:)