A/N: Ok I recommend listening to the song "Centerfold" by The J. Geils Band before or while reading this...because then it makes more sense.

Also I have a poll on my profile asking who you think should be the next country who sees this issues centerfold. If you are an anon then review and tell me your opinion or if you have an idea about how a country might act review or message me.

Disclaimer: No own hetalia or the song and band

Warning: This story will most likely have masturbation in it. So you are warned. Also...I can not believe France did not par take in anything sexual stimulating in this chapter... Surprise! Beware this contains m/m..well feelings..maybe relations in future but only time will tell.

Read at 3/4 view please

Pale fingers twisted into the edges of the magazine as the french man held it open to the center of the issue. Sapphire blue eyes peeked over the top of the magazine and had to stop himself from flinching when he saw the stores clerk was looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

Francis shifted his weight onto his left leg, and let his gaze down one more time at the fairly large picture before snapping the magazine shut and striding with renewed confidence to the front counter to the greasy man. He wrinkled his nose when he reached the counter at the smell of stale sweat that practically poured from the man.

The french nation laid the issue softly on the counter and pulled out his wallet to flash his id at the man, who sighed and rung the price which stared lazily at the french man in the dark store. Pulling out the proper payment he set it on the counter, grabbed his newly acquired prize and left the store calling out to keep the change as he pushed the door open, and shivered at how the cold swam around him and embraced him as suddenly as he stepped out into the city.

Francis tucked his coat around the delicate pages and pulled up his collar to fend of the chill. He strode confidently around corners and through streets, passing his people and recalling their names as his eyes met theirs. He frowned slightly as he saw women...no children, he corrected himself, standing on corners and against buildings in scant clothing. They flashed skin where ever they could hoping someone would take them home to a warm bed for the night.

He fingered his wallet in his coat pocket, pulling out his id but leaving the credit cards remaining in the smooth leather that hugged the thick plastic. He walked lazily passed the group, and right when he got to where he was sure they would find it first, he pushed the wallet swiftly out of his pocket.

As soon as he heard the small 'thwump' he picked up his pace and sharply turned the next corner, continuing onwards to his upscale hotel room ignoring the voices of his children as they called from him to stop.

France huffed a short puff of cold air out of his nose as he settled into the plush leather seats of the taxi he had halted once he walked further into the city. Smoothing his hands over his coat, he silently felt up the magazine to make sure it was still securely cradled against his abdomen. Giving the decent sized mound a pat, he leaned over the seat to tell the driver the address.

Receiving a nod, he slumped back into the warm leather and closed his eyes. He could have sworn he had his eyes closed for only a second before a well callused hand was prodding him awake.

"Monsieur, we have arrived." The man called, grumbling something about having to hurry home under his breath.

France blinked wearily at the man and stifled his yawn before handing the taxi driver a wad of cash.

"M-monsieur! This is too much!" The driver called, only to receive a shrug.

"Get your son something nice for his birthday this weekend." He called over his shoulder with a small smile; leaving the man to stare listlessly at the blond nations retreating back.

After what seemed like hours, France finally reached his apartment door. Pulling out his key card he slid it through the slot and shouldered the door open. The tired nation toed off his shoes by the door, and stumbled with all the grace the country of L'Amour still maintained with a half way functioning body.

Francis slumped his shoulders and slid out of his coat leaving it to pool on the wooden floor of the hallway; choosing to leave it there in favor of drifting to his room. Once there, he shimmed out of his well ironed trousers and his deep maroon shirt; which left the nation completely nude.

Crawling into the warm satin sheets, he stretched his tight muscles out and shivered as he heard his vertebrea snap loudly back into place. He shifted on his side and leaned over to his night stand, running his fingers over the shiny cover before flipping it directly to the center once more.

"Oh Mon dieu~" France breathed out feeling the tall tale prickle across his flesh at the picture of the person posing so...

sensually.

He ran his finger tip over the smooth tan legs that were coiled in deep royal blue ribbons, and groaned lightly at the teasing curve of tight ass that was not hidden by the flow of silk that seem to flow with the man's body. It caressed tanned abs, teased dusky nipples, and outlined that beautifully thick cock.

"Oh Amérique..what have you gotten your self into?" Francis shivered for an entirely different reason than the cold, as his eyes ran over the flexing biceps of the man. His finger continued its journey, and soon the well manicured finger nail tapped lightly over soft peach lips where it then slid to flushed cheeks that complemented the man's baby blues.

The tired nation, panted and tried to will away his erection as he curled his toes into the duvet. He shifted once more to his other side giving one last longing glance to the magazine before pulled the chain hanging from the bedside lamp, submerging himself in calming darkness hoping it would 'calm' his problem and allow him to drift off to sleep so he would be well rested for tomorrows world meeting.

"Mon Ange est la page centrale~" France sang sleepily to himself, as he curled comfortably in his bed, and smiled happily once sleep finally came to claim him.