A/N:

I wrote this on the ride down to meet my family in Indiana (TWELVE FUCKIN' HOURS, thanks Chicago, thanks), nutty pack of savages, they are. Wish me luck in keeping my sanity and limbs. This is for Canada ('cause he's my babe… can a male be a female's babe? I DON'T GIVE A SHIT.)

Warning: language, smut, PrussiaxCanada, hinted AlfredxArthur, bad literature, and gayness (but how can you have Hetalia without gayness? Pfft.)

Hetalia is not mine, but this piece of shit it. Thank you, much love to you and your grandparents.

HAPPY CANADA DAY AND (EVENTUALLY) AMERICA'S INDEPENCE DAY.

Matthew really hadn't wanted to come, he'd actually had other plans. He was going to stay home and enjoy his first night off in a long, long while. He had planned a nice, quiet dinner at home in front of the television with the oh-so talented and sarcastic Gregory House.

But no. His brother just had to show up at his door at nine-thirty and immediately destroy all of his plans. Matthew ended up being stuffed into some too tight jeans and an equally tight black shirt (which he managed to hide by grabbing a sweatshirt off the coat rack as Alfred, his brother, dragged him out the door. Both pieces of apparel belonged to Alfred, Matthew wouldn't ever need such clothing).

So, here he was, leaning back against the wall, frown on his face and palms sweating nervously as he was much more of an introvert. His brother had gone off to get drinks with his little British boy toy a while ago and Matthew was getting a little impatient. Well, Matthew shouldn't call the man that, as him and Alfred hadn't declared themselves in a relationship (even though everyone knew). Actually… he shouldn't call the man that, period.

"Here, bro." A opened Bud Light was shoved under his nose.

"Asshole, you drag me here, get me some good beer. None of that pansy, 'blue pop' shit." Matthew glared at Alfred, who was grinning like an idiot, one hand behind his back.

"You don't think I know you?" Alfred giggled- yes, giggled. He brought the other hand (that was previously behind his back) up.

Matthew snatched the much more manly beer from him and rose an eyebrow at the Bud Light. "Why'd you even get that, eh?"

"I actually stole it from Arthur, who got it from some college kids who apparently like to pick on foreigners." Alfred huffed and crossed his arms, mumbling, "Damn, fuckers thought they could mess with my British man had another thing coming. Probably jealous of that accent…."

Matthew sighed heavily and took a gulp from his drink. Looking his brother sternly in the eye, he asked, "What'd you do to them, Alfred?"

"Just took them out back and talked to them about being nice and tolerant to people." He smiled innocently as Matthew imagined a pile of knocked out men behind the bar.

"You're one fucked up man, Charlie Brown."

"Oh, indeed," Arthur had strolled over, holding two drinks, one for himself and the other he passed to Alfred. Matthew couldn't help but notice that his spiked blonde hair looked a bit ruffled. "Cheers?"

"Cheers," Matthew and Alfred said in unison, raising their drinks and touching the necks of theirs to each one before taking a good swig.

"Ach!" Arthur gagged.

Alfred and Matthew looked at each other with their eyebrows raised, before turning to watch Arthur choke on his.

"What'd the hell you get?" Alfred snickered.

"S-same thing as you guys!" Matthew took Arthur's drink from him, allowing him to run off to the bathroom to wash it down.

"Wimp," Alfred chuckled as him and Matthew simultaneously leant against the wall.

"That was pretty sad," Matthew tried to suppress the chuckle bubbling in his throat.

Alfred groaned as after ten minutes of waiting, Arthur had yet to come back. "I'm gonna go get the idiot before he falls into the toilet head first. You gonna be okay here, Mattie?"

"Yeah, of course. Go make sure he's okay." Matthew lifted his glass up in a sort of wave. "You know where I'll be."

Alfred nodded and began walking away, calling a quick "don't talk to strangers" over his shoulder.

And as soon as Alfred was out of sight, Matthew felt a tap on his shoulder.

His head was fuzzy and disoriented, from both the alcohol and the arousal. The silver haired, red-eyed man that brought him home looked up at Matthew through dark lashes as he continued planting soft kisses up from his stomach. He began nipping on Matthew's neck, coaxing soft noises from the blonde.

He felt so stupid. Going home with a stranger? A mutually drunk stranger? A mutually drunk male stranger? But the things the man was doing to Matthew felt way too good to stop. He hadn't felt this kind of sensation in a long time. He hadn't ever given himself this completely into another person- into pleasure. Matthew blamed it on the liquor.

The things the man did with his lips and tongue- he hadn't even yet touched anywhere below Matthew's navel and he was already panting and making noises he didn't even know he could. Matthew blamed this on the liquor, also.

"My name's Gilbert, and yours, pretty boy?" Gilbert brought them face-to-face as he rid Matthew of his boxers (having already removed his own mere seconds before).

"M-Matthew." He managed between breaths. Gilbert captured his mouth and nibbled at Matthew's bottom lip. Matthew kissed back enthusiastically and wound his fingers into the hairs at the nape of Gilbert's neck. Gilbert ground their hips together, making Matthew moan and pull away from Gilbert's lips. Matthew lived the way the man smirked at him every time he was about o do something that was going to blow his mind.

"You ever been bottom, Matthew?" His name sounded so beautiful as it rolled off of the other's tongue and slipped between the two amazing lips. Gilbert purred excitedly as Matthew panted out a "no". "What about a man? You ever been with a man, pretty boy?"

"Never."

Then, as if the word had been the secret codeword to unlocking a world Matthew hadn't ever vaguely thought of dreaming of.

Three fingers were placed at his lips and Gilbert said, "Suck." Matthew did as he was told, and once the fingers were good and lathered, Gilbert pulled them back and purred "Do you know what two men do in bed?" into Matthew's neck.

"Kind of."

"Well, I'm going to blow your mind, babe." And with that said, Matthew was pushed back onto the bed and his legs pushed wide apart. "Relax, it'll hurt at first, but once I get in there, it'll feel amazing. Trust me." Matthew's heart pace quickened as his mind caught up with what was going on. Oh God. He began to panic, but as Gilbert leaned forward and pressed kisses down from his lips to his neck, his chest, and all the way down towards his thighs, skipping over his arousal completely.

Matthew whimpered as the first finger was inserted. He brought his hands up to cover his face as the second one entered. (For some reason, he was okay at the moment with having sex with a stranger, but not with having the stranger see the little tears beginning to form and fall from his eyelids.)

A kiss to his lips made Matthew move one hand to view Gilbert, who eyes were glazed over, but there was some sort of strong determination behind them (as odd as that sounded in Matthew's mind, it was true). Then Matthew got it. This man was taking the time to prepare him slowly so that Matthew would be able to enjoy it too, instead of just allowing his cock to take the lead and dive in there before Matthew was fully used to the feeling.

"Thank you," Matthew whispered and Gilbert began spreading his fingers, stretching and massaging from the inside.

He leaned in and kissed the tears away. "Just let me see your face, pretty baby."

God, Matthew wished that the same Gilbert would be there in the morning.

He groaned as he woke up in the middle of the night (or at possibly early, early morning), head pounding and every part of his body sore.

Matthew did a quick once over of himself to figure out just where he was and why, cause after a night of drinking with Alfred, this is always important. So, here he lay, on his back, in a bed he didn't recognize, with a scent not familiar to him, and with an odd sense of satisfaction.

It took him a moment to recollect last night's adventures, but when he did, he wasn't horrified. He wasn't shocked, scared, disgusted, or anything of the sort. Matthew felt, instead, insanely light. Yes, despite the pain throbbing in… well, everywhere.

A small snore to his right alerted Matthew to the presence keeping his side warm. The snore was followed by a deep sigh, resulting in the tickling of Matthew's neck. He squirmed slightly as a reaction before turning his head to view the sleeping person next to him.

Gilbert. With his strange hair color (that seemed so fitting on him) and his way-too-long-to-be-normal lashes. He had his right arm curled around Matthew's midsection (which was were Matthew found his left hand resting, its fingers intertwined with Gilbert's), his left hand was somewhere in Matthew's hair, his left leg still against Matthew's right, and his right leg had wound itself around Matthew's left leg. As for Gilbert's head, it was snuggled securely into the place between Matthew's shoulder and neck.

Who knew he was such a cuddler? Matthew would've thought that a different position (more him with his back curled perfectly into Gilbert's front and Gilbert's arms around his stomach) would've made much more sense, but this was comfortable and he sure as hell wasn't going to change it. But, with Gilbert like this, Matthew couldn't help but imagine Gilbert below him instead of how it actually went last night.

If only he could lay there forever, Matthew mused giddily, moving his right hand to maneuver under the older man and settle itself in the small of his back.

Oh, shit, what about Alfred and his boy t- Arthur? The only things Matthew remembered before the sex was somehow making it to the back seat of a cab, swapping spit with Gilbert all the way to his apartment, and being yelled at by the cabbie in a very thick accent. Sadly, Matthew didn't remember how the hell Gilbert managed to pick him up, or how they even met.

Matthew strained to remember, vaguely recollecting some very bad pick-up lines and some very, very sweet sweet talking.

And in an apartment not very far away, Alfred was nursing a very drunk Arthur and wondering just where in the hell Matthew had run off to.

The Dreaded A/N:

Ohohohoho- shoot me. I interrupted smut so I could rant about the MOST FUCKING ADORABLE CUDDLING EVARRR. Yeah… I'll stop embarrassing myself and continue with my end-of-the-story rant. So, not much M, but there is a little bit, so I felt it deserved that title. If for any reason at all you see fit to yelling at me about how much I suck at writing sex- I will have you know this story is actually something I started writing around… what, April 1? It was going to be a big "APRIL FOOLS, FOOL" joke and… yeah. I READ SO MUCH SMUT TO PERFECT THIS DAMN BITCH BACK THEN. But, I failed. WOOHOO.

Excuse my language and HAPPY BIRFDAY, CANADA (AND AMERICA… I GUESS), I LOVE YOU (BOTH). Seriously. I wanna have your babies. Yeah, y'know, just have 'em popping up like daisies.

(NEVER MIND THIS NEXT SHIT, SOMEONE ALREADY GOT IT, WOOHOO!) OHOHOHO, EXTRA: Tell me what song I referred to in those last… two(?) sentences, and I give you a free request… or some shit. Pfft, just PM or whatever if you think you won. I'M DOING THIS BECAUSE I LOVE YOU SWEET FANFICTION…-ERS.