Many thanks as always to my wonderful beta Moonclaimed.

I own nothing.

Alfred suddenly realized just how naked he was and pulled the blankets up higher. Why was he with Belarus? Did they..? No, there was no way. But why else wouldn't he be wearing any clothes? He really wished he could remember what happened last night.

"Belarus? What's going on?" At least she had a dress on. It didn't cover much, but it covered something.

"Don't tell me you don't remember?" She slowly approached the bed, sitting down on the edge next to America, who clenched the blanket a little tighter.

The blond swallowed, hard. "Belarus… what did we do last night?"

She leaned in and placed a hand on his chest before speaking, voice full of lust. "Why Alfred, we made sweet, sweet love last night. The best you've ever had, you said."

"WHAT?!" Oh man, Ivan was going to kill him. "You can't be serious!"

Belarus leaned in, her lips an inch away from his. "No," she pouted, pulling away. "You got drunk last night and made it your mission to make sure your 'baby sister' got home safe."

America blinked. That sounded like him. "But then why am I naked?"

Belarus shrugged. "You were very tired and practically passed out as soon as we walked through the doors. I ask you to stay the night."

America's eyes widened. "You told me my suit would get wrinkled if I slept in it."

She nodded. "You took it off. And then took everything else off. And went to sleep." Not the night she had planned for the two of them.

"Oh god. Belarus, I am so, so sorry."

"Alfred, I've seen it all." She gave him a knowing look. "I think that puts us on first name basis, da?"

America blushed and let out an embarrassed chuckle. "Y-yeah, you're probably right. Besides, you're going to be my sister, right,Natalia?"

Belarus frowned. "I guess."

"Hey, I know you care about Ivan, but like I said, he'll still have plenty of time for you." Belarus didn't look any happier. "But that's not it, is it?" America might not know what Belarus really wanted, but even he could tell something was bothering her, and for once it wasn't Russia on her mind.

She looked away from him. "Alfred… I don't want to be your little sister."

"Oh." America was silent for a moment. "Listen, if you don't like me, that's fine. We can just keep things the way they are. That's cool."

She shook her head. "You misunderstand me." She looked at him suddenly, gaze intense. "I want to be your wife."

…

…

"Huh?" America really hadn't expected that. "Natalia, I'm flattered, but I'm marrying Ivan tomorrow."

She nodded. "Yes. I know."

"Then you understand why I can't marry you?" His tone was sincere; he felt bad turning her down.

"No. You still do not understand."

He really didn't. "I'm marrying Ivan. What else is there to understand?"

She shook her head. "No," she answered, taking his hand. "You are marrying Ivan and me."

"Uhhh…." America blanked. "Does Ivan know about this? He, uh, didn't mention that part to me."

"Ivan was to be mine. But you seem fit for the position of my beloved husband as well. Therefore, you will both be mine," she stated simply.

"Listen, Natalia. I'm flattered. Really, I am. But I…" Shit, how was he supposed to do this? "I love Ivan. I just don't feel that way about you. Hell, I barely even know you. So, I'm sorry, but I can't marry you."

Belarus narrowed her eyes. "I see."

"Yeah, I'm really sorry. But we can still-"

"We will go on a date at once. I will make you love me."

"What?" Alfred gaped, then shook his head wildly. "No, Natalia, that's not what I-"

"Put your clothes back on." She paused. "Or don't, if that's what it takes."

"NO! No, clothes are definitely a good idea…" But she was staring at him expectantly. "Um, Nat? I can't really change with you watching me," he blushed.

"As I've already informed you, I've seen it all." Her response was devoid of emotion.

"That's, uh. Yeah. No. I can't do it with you watching. It's just… wrong."

Belarus blinked. "Yes, I suppose we cannot jump right to that part. Very well. I will wait outside." She exited the room before America could protest more.

"Geez, what have I gotten myself into?" he asked the empty room before hunting for his discarded suit.

America had just finished changing when his phone rang. Ivan. Thank god. He'll talk some sense into his sister. Sure, he always runs from her, but he's not actually afraid of her, right?

"Hey Ivan, I'm glad you called-"

"Alfred, we're still getting married, da?" His voice sounded oddly concerned.

"What? Of course we are, dude! Why would you think we weren't?"

"You were spending a lot of time with my sister last night, and now you do not show for our engagement photos. I thought maybe the two of you…"

"Oh shit, the photos! Ivan, I am so, so sorry! I crashed at Belarus' last night and she-"

"You spent the night with Natalia?" Was that an edge of unease in Russia's voice?

"Yeah, I didn't mean to, like it wasn't planned or anything, but the bed was right there, so…"

"Alfred, are you almost ready to go on our date?" Belarus called through the door.

"I think maybe we should not be getting married," Ivan interrupted quietly.

"What? Why?" America panicked, not believing what he was hearing.

"I want to marry you because I love you, da? You are not feeling the same. We should not be getting married."

"What? Ivan, bro, you know I love you," he protested.

"And yet you go on date with Natalia."

"No, I-"

"Goodbye, Alfred."

"Ivan, wait!" America cried, but the Russian had already hung up the phone. "Shit, this can't be happening…"

"Alfred, is everything okay?" Belarus asked, opening the door.

"You!" he shouted, spinning and pointing at her. "You need to call your brother right now and explain that we are not dating and we will never be dating!" the blond demanded.

"But that would be lie. We go on date now, yes?"

"No! No, we will not go on date now. We will not go on date ever. I love Ivan, Natalia, not you," America responded firmly.

Belarus glared daggers at him. "What's the matter? Do I not please you? Why do you refuse?"

"Because I just want to marry Ivan! And now because of this whole mess, he's called off the wedding. So no, you do not please me."

"I see," she said, frowning. "It is because big brother called off the wedding." She nodded to herself. "Very well. I will fix." She paused. "After date."

"Nuh-uh. Haven't you been listening? There will be no date. You will fix now."

"Nyet. You will date first, then realize Natalia is good choice too, and marry both of us. Come." She took his hand and began to walk towards the door. She didn't make it two steps before she was unable to move further; America was holding his ground.

"No," he repeated forcefully, which if the sudden possessive glint in her eye was anything to go by, wasn't helping his cause. Apparently Belarus liked assertive men. He shook the thought off and said, "I'm not going anywhere until you call him."

Belarus blushed at the power the young nation was exerting. Everything he did just made her want him more. "Fine. I call first," she relented, pulling out her phone. They were getting nowhere at this point. She'd try her luck again when he wasn't in such an aggressive mood.

She quickly dialed, frowning when it rolled to voicemail. Why did he never answer her calls? "Brother? It's Natalia. I did not sleep with Alfred, so you will still become one with us."

"No, just me," America insisted.

"Us," Belarus repeated before hanging up. "We date now, yes?"

"No, I go to my photoshoot in the park. You stay here."

Belarus narrowed her eyes. "Nyet, I come too." She walked to the door.

"You know what? I don't even care anymore. Come if you want, but it'll just be Ivan and me in the pictures." America left the room and was saved from Belarus' rebuttal with another phone call. He grimaced before answering. "Hey Romano…. How's it going?"

"How's it going? How's it going? Che cazzo you sleep with that commie bastard's sister and you ask how it's going? It's going fucking swell!" America held the phone away from his ear as he made his way to the parking lot. "Feli and I spent hours planning the perfect wedding and then replanning it after everything fell apart last night just for you to blow it! Feli's inconsolable – even the damn potato fucker can't calm him. I've never been so disappointed in you, Alfredo." That probably shouldn't have hurt as much as it did.

"Listen, it was just a big misunderstanding, okay?" he said, getting into his car – alone, thank god – and buckling himself in. "Belarus already called Russia to explain. I'm on my way to the shoot now. I'll be there in five. The wedding is still on." At least, he hoped it was.

"You'd better be telling the truth," Romano snapped before disconnecting.

"Hey, Mattie!" Prussia called, jogging over to the bench his boyfriend was sitting on just outside the hotel, overlooking a lake. "Sorry I'm late! Russia's apparently having second thoughts and Italy's having a meltdown so Bruder asked me to take care of a few things for him."

"It's fine, I just – wait, what?" It hadn't even been five seconds and already the conversation he had planned had been derailed. "Does Al know? He can't be okay with this."

"Ja, Romano was just screaming at him on the phone. The whole park knows."

"I wonder what happened." Canada mused, furrowing his brow his brow. "Ivan seemed pretty into him."

Prussia frowned, tiling his head. "Yeah, now that you mention it, it really only makes sense if Mini-me did something stupid like hit on someone else."

"Oh no," Canada paled. "Maple, Al, tell me you didn't…"

Prussia blinked, suddenly focused. "What do you know?"

"Alfie got really drunk last night. Like, really drunk. And Belarus has her eye on him. And they kind of, um, left together?"

Prussia gaped at the blond for a minute. "Wait, you're not saying… Belarus and Mini-me?!"

"No!" Canada shook his head fervently. "No, Al would never do that to Ivan. The idiot probably thought he was doing the right thing, making sure she got home alright or something. He just didn't realize how it looked, her clinging to him like she was."

"Damn…" Prussia ran a hand through his hair. "So what do we do?"

"Us? Nothing," Canada answered. "No way I'm getting in the middle of that. I'm sure Al will run crying to Ivan and it'll all be sorted out." He cleared his throat. "Besides, I wanted to talk to you about something else." A light blush tinted his cheeks.

"Hm? What's got you so nervous all of a sudden, birdie?"

Canada sighed. "It wasn't supposed to go like this. It was supposed to be nice and romantic and then Al had to mess up again, and-"

"Mattie," Prussia said, placing his hand lightly on top of Canada's to focus him.

"You still live with Germany."

Prussia blinked. Well that was a jump. "Uh, yeah? I mean, where else would I go? It's not like I have a government to provide me house anymore."

"Right. You don't really have a home." That was not how he meant to say that. You'd think France would have taught him better.

The albino frowned. "Geez, Mattie, way to rub it in."

"I love you, Gil. And I don't want you to be so far away all the time. I want to be your home." He reached into his pocket, pulled a small item out, and placed it gently in his boyfriend's hand. "So, say you'll move in with me?"

Prussia looked at Canada with wide eyes then at the key in his hand before looking back up. "Mattie…" he breathed.

"You don't have to decide now. It's a big step, I know, so just think about what you wa-mm!"

Prussia interrupted the blond's nervous speech with a passionate kiss, pulling away after a moment to answer him huskily. "I know exactly what I want."

It was around ten in the morning when every nation got a group text from France.

France: Arthur and I are engaged!

Hungary: You'd better not be pulling my leg again. You remember what happened last time

England: He's telling the truth. Beyond my better judgement I have decided to marry the fool.

Germany: Thank gott. Maybe now we can actually be productive at meetings.

America: It's about fucking time.

Japan: Seriously, I was beginning to think it would never happen.

Canada: Right? Al and I have been trying so hard to get them together for the past century.

America: This means the two of you will stop eye-fucking every time you come over, right?

England: We do not "eye fuck!"

America: Yeah you do

Canada: Yeah you do

France: Yes we do

Spain: Congrats mi amigo!

Hungary: All of my fantasies are becoming a reality :3

Switzerland: Who won the bet?

England: What bet?

Austria: Hold on. Let me check the tables.

England: WHAT BET?

Romano: For when you and that fucker would finally get hitched.

England: What? That's entirely improper! How could you bet on something as private as our love life?

Prussia: Easily.

Austria: The winner is France.

Austria: …That seems a little suspect.

France: Oui, mais it was Arthur who proposed, not me. So it's legal.

England: FRANCIS? YOU BET ON OUR ENGAGEMENT?!

France: It was only a matter of time, mon cher.

The text ended with an embarrassingly large number of concurrences.

"Ivan?" It was ten thirty by the time America came barreling into the nearby park where the photoshoot was supposed to take place. He stopped to catch his breath when he made it to Romano. "'mano, where's Ivan?"

"Fuck if I know! You were supposed to be here fifteen minutes ago!" Romano shouted.

"I know; I'm sorry. There was traffic. I got here as fast as I could," America apologized.

"Yeah right. I could have made it in five," the Italian scoffed.

"Yeah, well, I value my life. But seriously, where is he?" America glanced around the park quick but couldn't spot his fiancé.

"I already told you, I don't know! He came over and told us the wedding was off and then just fucking left." Fled might have been more accurate. Turns out Romano was very protective of America and started cursing at him; he never thought he'd have the courage for something like that, but it was for his little West Italy.

"He left the park?" America was crestfallen.

Romano frowned, thinking. He had been too focused threatening the mafia on his ass and hadn't really payed attention to where he went. "No, I think he went further in. You'd better fucking fix this; I had to send Feli back to the hotel with fucking Germany he was so upset."

"Don't worry, Romano. The hero always saves the day." He shot him a false smile before running further into the park, the wooded section. He wasn't feeling particularly heroic. Hell, he wasn't feeling much of anything besides panic at this point. Losing Russia was not something he wanted to contemplate.

He was too busy looking for his lover to notice anyone else in the park, and let out a yelp as someone grabbed his arm and pushed him up against a tree.

"Hallo, Alfred."

"Wha- Belarus? Oh not this again…" he moaned. "Can we please do this later? I really need to find Ivan."

"No, we go on promised date now. That was agreement."

"No, agreement was that you call Ivan and tell him it's all a big understanding and then leave us alone," America insisted, pressing back into the tree to put as much distance between them as he could.

"After you go on date and fall in love with me," she countered.

"Nat, man, you gotta let this go. You're a, uh, nice girl and all, but I'm marrying Ivan like literally tomorrow. I hope." He shook his head. "But really. Stop."

Belarus frowned. "You think I look like man?" She leaned in to whisper in his ear. "Maybe I show you I am not man."

America turned bright red and pushed her back a step. "Stop now. Please, just stop. You're really starting to freak me out a little, and not in a good way, either." His eyes darted around the trees, but no one seemed to be around.

"No. We date. And you become one with me." She took his wrist in a firm grip and started to walk away. "Come."

"Nat, listen to me. I don't want to become one with you. I just want to marry Ivan so will you please just let go!"

She turned to face him and considered. "Fine. No date." She leaned in so her lips were inches away from his and began to unbutton his jacket. "Just become one with me then."

"Whoa! Hey! That is not what I said!"

A hand grabbed Belarus' wrist and pulled her away from America.

"Excuse me, little sister, but what do you think you are doing to Alfred?" Ivan smiled at her even though every instinct in his body was telling him to get away from her as fast as possible.

America let out a sigh of relief. "Ivan! Man, am I glad to see you."

"Big Brother! It's good you are here. Now both of you can become one with me."

"Yeah, still not really feeling that," America said, clutching his jacket closed.

"Natalia, Alfred and I will be going now please."

Belarus stamped her foot. "Nyet! Not until you become one with me!"

Russia looked from her to America a few times, deciding what to do. Then a hard look entered his eyes, and America felt a flash of pride run through his chest. He couldn't believe it. Was Russia finally going to stand up to the sister he always ran from (and with good reason, apparently)?

With one final look at his sister, Ivan made his move. He took a quick step around her, threw America over his shoulders, and took a page from the Italies' book: fleeing as fast as he could.

Belarus shouted gave chase for a few minutes before letting them get away; she'd see them at the altar tomorrow.

After a few more minutes of running just to be safe, Russia set America down on a bench in a gazebo and caught his breath.

"Ivan?" America prompted after a moment.

"Hm?"

"Your sister needs help."

Russia laughed. "Now you see why I always run."

"Yeah, I'll keep that in mind. Thanks for the save back there."

"I have been where you were many times. Not fun." He paused, collecting his thoughts. "You did not sleep with Natalia, did you?" It wasn't a question.

"Hell no," America denied. "Bitch be crazy."

"But you stayed the night with her."

"Yeah, but not like that. I was making sure she got home safe. But I was really tired and there was a bed right there, so…" He shrugged. "In hindsight it was dumb, but I was super drunk so it seemed like a good idea at the time."

Russia was silent for a moment. "So you do not want to date other people?"

"What? Dude, no! I love you. I don't want to date anyone else. I don't want to marry anyone else. That's why I was looking for you. I want to marry you, Ivan Braginski. No one else. Why else would I have proposed?"

Russia bit his lip. "Alfred…"

"So yeah. Say you'll still marry me."

Russia shook his head. "Nyet. I cannot."

America's heart plummeted. "Wh-what? Why? Do you not… like me anymore?"

"Nyet, I do. I love you very much and that is why I cannot."

America frowned. Maybe his English was rusty? "I don't follow. You know love and marriage go together, right?"

Russia's smile turned sad. "I cannot because you never proposed."

"Huh?" America startled. Well, there went his McDonalds for the rest of his life. "What are you talking about? You said…"

"Da. I lied. Oops."

"So… you don't want to get married?"

"Nyet, I do. But only if you want to. I do not want you to marry me under false assumption," Russia explained.

The blond was thoroughly lost now. "Then why lie about it at all?"

Russia blushed. "Was selfish. I wanted to marry you, but did not think you would propose soon."

"Huh? Why would you think that?"

"When I said I wanted to see you more you built tunnel connecting houses instead of giving key or asking me to move in," Russia said.

"Believe me, I'd love for you to move in, but we both have lots of work to do. I couldn't ask you to give up on that for me. So I dug a tunnel so you could come visit whenever you wanted. Who needs a key when you're already in the place, right? Besides, I, uh, knew I didn't propose to you," he admitted bashfully. "I just wanted to marry you, too.

"But," he said, standing up and stretching, "if we're going to do this, I guess we should do it right. So, Ivan Braginski," he started dropping to one knee, "will you do me the honor for marrying me tomorrow?"

Russia smiled brightly. "I thought you'd never ask."

"Good news, Romano!" America cheered as he walked over hand-in-hand with Russia. "We're all good to get married tomorrow. It's not too late for those pics, right?"

"Thank fucking god. Now maybe Feli will stop crying." Romano waved over the photographer. "He's all yours."

"Awesome, so there's this great gazebos in a ways…" America started to lead the man into the park.

Romano grabbed the photographer's arm and spoke quietly so only he could hear. "Make sure you charge the extra time to Alfred Jones. Mother of the bride or not I'm not paying because this idiota fucked up."