FOR THE LOVE OF PASTA, READ THE DAMN WARNING!
IT IS THERE FOR A REASON…..

Warning: Some of these stories(not all) in the coming chapters will contain Yaoi. Yaoi is boy x boy love, man meat on man meat, all wieners-no buns. If you are not into that, do not read or complain. You have been fairly warned.

…
If you are driving the short bus and still don't get it, Yaoi=Gay.

This story and Axis Powers Hetalia depicts people and persons as the direct personification of that nation/country, so if this concept bothers you, this might not be the right story for you, especially if you are unable to mentally grasp that these nations are centuries years old despite their outward appearance.

All people, persons, nations, and whatever represented in these stories are of legal age. No minors of any kind are depicted in these stories by the author, personal perception(s) of the reader(s) aside. Keep walking pedobears, nothing for you here.

It boils down to this-
IF YOU DON'T LIKE, DON'T READ. IT'S THAT FREAKING SIMPLE!

"FACEPALM"…FOR THE LOVE OF DOITSU AND BEER…..
I have nothing against any characters/states/nations of Hetalia. I understand that everyone has their favorite characters/pairing. I know I do. If you don't like how a character(s) is portrayed, please don't be a hater about it. If you think the writing is shit(I don't know what you expect-it already states I'm a hack on my profile), then write your own damn story about the nations. It is a lot easier to critic that create. Please keep that in mind. And once again-
IF YOU DON'T LIKE IT, DON'T READ! NOT A HARD CONCEPT!

Enjoy. 3

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APH What Happens In World Meeting, Stays In World Meetings.

"Nations…or more accurately the human shaped personification of nations have been around since the dawn of history and even maybe before that. They are the combined essence of both the land within their borders, and the people and animals that inhabit it and though they may look like the average Joe, they're not. You always have to remember that and be on your guard. Are you listening, soldier?!"

The grizzled veteran turned on his heel quickly to glare the last bit of his tirade at the new recruit who reflectively straightened his back. As his rectum instinctively clenched shut under that hardened razor like gaze, the newbie had to admit that the old man was pretty good. The World Meeting liaison manger and event coordinator looked like he had been walking the halls of hell for a very long time and enjoying every minute of it. Despite the fact that both men were dressed neatly in dark, plain suits, it would be quite easy to envision them bristled with weapons and covered in war paint.

"Sir! Yes, sir!", The new meat snapped out with practiced ease and a salute though he kept steady eye contact with his new commander. "I have already read the briefing, sir!"

"Relax your asshole, Agent. This is the official 'Talk' that all new aids get before I send them out into the field. You have to be aware of what you are dealing with. I won't lose good men on my watch because some fucking pencil pusher decides to sugar coat what 'They' are.", the veteran smirked, the expression dry and worn, " And I'm not 'sir'. You're not in the army any more ,son, so save that shit for someone who gives a damn. You've been shipped to loony bin. Congratu-Fucking-lation. I'm the Warden.". the old man grinned a skull's cold expression, his teeth yellowed from a lifetime habit of chain smoking and endless cups of bad coffee. The new agent nodded sharply but continued to stand at attention. Some inborn instinct told him not to relax around the Warden.

"Now those asshats at the UN will tell you that those 'things' in there are the avatars and representatives of their particular nation.", the Warden said, thumbing toward a set of rather impressive doors. The men stood in the hall outside one of the largest meeting rooms of the official World Meeting headquarters. The new agent knew from his briefing that there was such an establishment in every county, built and secured solely for the purpose of the countries meeting together in person to confer upon world matters and bridge cultural gaps. The real reason behind this or what was even discussed had not been made clear to the agent. The decorated soldier turned agent had worked hard his entire military career for this type of assignment and longed to know the secrets that lay beyond that thin barrier of wood and metal. Aids for the World Meeting to help and assist nations were only chosen from the best and the brightest of every country's armed forces.

The agent left off his internal monologue to pay attention to the Warden as the hardened man began talking again after an overly long dramatic(and completely unnecessary) pause. "They're killers, plain and simple. Remember that.", the Warden spit out the words as if they were bitter.

"They have been worshiped as gods, led armies as generals, and have acted as mercenaries, pirates, and conquerors all in the name of their respective country. They have no loyalty to any human except for the one douchbag sitting at the top of the shitpile. For some unknown reason, they are compelled to listen to the leader of a nation though whether or not they'll follow those orders is not absolute. They're immortal, at least compared to the rest of us meatbags. They can take a point blank shot to the head and spit the bullet back at you. They are all strong, so don't piss them off and don't engage them physically, especially America. He's a few French fries short of a Happy Meal but he can toss a Buick over his shoulder like it were made of paper so don't get into any pissing contests with him. Fucking loose cannons in my opinion but that's worth jackshit around here. I'm just here to keep them contained.", the Warden snarled though the agent thought it was more to himself than actually at him.

"Contained, sir, Warden?", the agent hazarded a question. Though part of the job was to be a gopher for the nation he was assigned to, an agent of the World Meeting was expected to be able to repel terrorists and any other threat that popped up in a moment's notice. There was nothing in the briefing about containing the nation's themselves though. "Are they a threat to the general populace?".

"What?! Who said that?! No, of course not!", the Warden snapped, "Shut your hole until I'm done talking, new meat, or I'll assign your cherry ass to Russia!". Despite having endured several brutal campaigns and assignment that would have reduced others soldiers into a puddles of post traumatic stress, the agent dry swallowed hard. Part of the briefing was memorizing the personality profiles of every nation to better understand and secure their needs. Russia's dossier had been…..colorful.

"Sir-Warden, sir! Understood!", the agent nodded quickly as he glanced around the room to locate something to distract the irate man and possibly save his life. "But should we be discussing this here? In front of him?". The agent pointed to a preteen sitting a couch near them. Noticing the men paying attention to him, the small blue eyed blonde waved at them as he sipped at his soda.

"I'm a nation.", the tween supplied helpfully. The agent recognized him as Sealand, recalling the dossier on him which admittedly had been quite slim especially when compared to the hefty bulk of the other nations' files. The agent recalled to mind that Sealand's human name was Peter Kirkland and he was affiliated with England or Arthur Kirkland though the child nation lived with Sweden aka Berwald Oxenstierna and Finland aka Tino Väinämöinen, after being bought off of Ebay by the Swedish nation.

The Warden dismissed Sealand with a withering glance and raised an eyebrow of impending doom. "Agent, if you are not going to take this assignment seriously, I'll have you resigned. Quit wasting my damn time."

The agent winced, the expression deepening as Sealand spoke again, the micro nation excited having been finally acknowledged by someone. "But I am a nation!", he chirped as he started to stand up.

"Sealand you move your butt an inch off of that couch and I'll get England out here faster than you can spit!", the Warden snapped at the young nation before leaning into agent for some limited privacy. "Never talk or gesture to Sealand! You are forbidden to engage even if he tries speaking with you directly. I am already wasting precious time and resources by assigning an aid to him.". Both men watched as Sealand pouted, the preteen slumping into his spot on the couch under threat of England. He perked up when his aid brought him another soda.

"But isn't he a na….", the agent started to say to have a callused hand slapped over his mouth, the Warden striking fast as snake. The old man grabbed the agent by his collar, leaning them in even further as they turned away from the micro nation.

"You keep that crazy talk to yourself!", the Warden growled low, "No rust bucket of a sea fort is going to be considered a real nation on my watch. You are not to let him into the meeting or bother the others. I found out you do and I'll have your nuts in a jar and I'm not talking metaphorically. You got it?". The agent nodded quickly becoming very aware of the knife that was being pressed up against his ball sack. If the agent were being honest(and he would be at this particular moment), he would have to admit the old man was good, very good. His own military training had made the young agent a skilled sniper, a demolitions expert, and a master of hand to hand combat.

The Warden was put all that to shame in less than a second.

"Now that we understand each other and you've had 'the Talk', let's get down to brass tacks and talk about your assignment.", the Warden said, releasing the agent. He made his knife disappear like smoke, the agent unable to track his movements. The younger man was left wondering what other weapons the Warden had hidden upon his person.

"I'm assigning you to America.", the Warden told him, "Don't let your guard down just because he's your country, noob. Jones is pretty easy to manage. Get the kid his coffee, candy, hamburgers and shakes when he wants them, which is going to be often, and you'll be good in his book. Don't, under any circumstance, intervene if England and him start to argue. You're a gloried gopher, not a marriage counselor."

"What?", the agent blinked in surprise.

"I'm guessing the inept bastards didn't put that little tidbit in the briefing either, did they?", the Warden chuckled like two stones being ground together, the noise sounded more harsh than friendly, "Nations have relationships with one another and even get married. Sometimes it's political and sometimes it ain't. In America and England's case, it's both. You are allowed to help England's aids if a situation comes up. Here's a freebie for you though, new meat. Do not make 'Special Relationship' jokes around them if you want to keep your job or your head attached to the rest of you. England doesn't take to kindly to them and is still damn good with a sword.".

"Sir, yes sir.", the agent said out of habit causing the Warden to roll his eyes.

"You'll get over that shit soon enough.", the Warden snorted in disgusted amusement as he flung the doors open to reveal the nations. The men promptly dove to the floor and took cover at the sound of gunfire. The agent began to draw his own weapon to be waved off by the Warden.

"Untwist your thong, noob. That's just Switzerland.", the Warden chuckled, "He's why Kevlar is mandatory.".

The agent got up again to get a clearer view of a large circular table. All around it, a sort of controlled chaos festered, like an infection feeding off of a wound. The agent had never seen anything like it before.

"By the way, nobody is allowed to disagree with me."

"Let big brother show you how…"

"….Z Z Z Z…Homer….."

"Like cut it out! I'll apply the Poland rule!"

"Britannia Fork!"

"Nobody want my snacks-aru!"

"Are they free?"

"EVERYONE SHUT UP!"

"…..you look like you're ready to murder someone."

"PASTA!"

Staring around the room dumbfounded, the agent looked to the Warden for a sign, a reassurance, a word, or even a mere nod to let him know if this sort of thing was normal or not. The Warden looked on like a man who stared into the depths of oblivion on a regular basis and enjoyed the view.

"Welcome to hell."

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After the main meeting….
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Two nations speed walked down a hallway, both of them intent on beating the other to their mutual destination which was Germany's office. Neither of them though wanted to break into an all out run. America was a hero and thus couldn't break the rules. England was a gentleman and it would been gauche of him to do so, especially after reprimanding America so many times about running in the halls. America had longer strides being the taller of the two but England had a quicker pace so both were shoulder to shoulder.

"I'm surprised that you are not knackered yet.", England teased, poking America in the side with his proposal.

"If you're looking for the six pack baby, it's in the front. Boo Yaw!", America smirked, "And I'll knacker you all you want when I'm done talking with Germany.".

"How alluring. I love it when you misuse my slang, almost as much as I enjoy your continuous abuse of the Queen's English.", England groaned, picking up his pace. He was just two steps short of a run. To his ire, England noticed America matching him.

"I love to watch you scamper.", America grinned, hoping to throw the English nation off his pace. England only glared at him in return, keeping his footwork steady.

"Sod off, you fat git. I do not scamper. I am not some woodland creature mucking about for your amusement.", England snapped. With that the former empire did a mental 'fuck all' in his head as he broke out into a run, putting hell to leather.

"Hey! That's cheating!", America yelled after him.

"Says the miserable loser.", England shouted over his shoulder.

"I called dibs on Germany first!", America growled. Damn was England fast though. The old man was ahead of him now and keeping his lead. "Must be all that damn soccer.", America muttered.

"For the billionth time, it is called football! You are the only one in the world who calls it soccer, you daft git!", England pointed out and would continue to do so until the bitter end. "And you are not allowed to call dibs.".

"Why!?", America wailed, doing his best to catch up.

"Because I called it first and my proposal about European economics is far more important than your tripe about robots or alien or whatever ridiculous notion is in your head at the moment.", England grinned, Germany's door in sight and he was well in the lead.

"So, age before beauty then. I can dig it.", America smirked, knowing that would be enough to make England falter.

"Piss off, you cheeky bugger.", England snapped as America's predication came true, the English nation pausing mid-step out of old habit to confront the American. England recovered quickly but it was enough for America to catch up.

With a shout of triumph, England still reached the door first, his hand landing on Germany's doorknob. It was immediately covered by America's own a second later. A struggle ensued, both nations unwilling to let the other enter the room first. With the combined strength of England and America, Germany's office door popped right out of its frame in a spray of broken metal from its lock and hinges.

Ever the gentleman, England would have apologized first and even America for that matter if he were given half a chance but both nations were struck speechless. The other two nations who occupied the office were as well but for different reasons.

Italy was laid out on his belly over the German's wide desk, the surface of which had been completely cleared off. In the place of the usual office equipment and papers was a selection of vibrators, cockrings, and other toys made of metal, well within a hand's reach. Most of the petite nation's torso was obscured by the amount of bondage tape that was wrapped around it, the flexible vinyl gleaming dully in the lamplight. Italy was ball gagged and blind, drool coating the gag wetly so that it ran down his chin and pooled on the desk. Germany stood behind him, dressed in a full leather body suit with mask and hood. It had zippers that could be pulled closed over the eye and mouth holes. It made America instantly think about the Gimp from Pulp Fiction. Much like the movie, sodomy was taking place though it was on pause mid stroke upon the other nation's arrival and sudden loss of door.

A long tense moment drew itself out as both pairs of nations evaluated the situation at hand, some more so than others. Italy could only really look up blindly. His usual 'Ve~?' was muffled by the gag.

"Sorry about that, old chap. We can see that you are busy so we will come back later.", England said with a polite cough, managing to maintain a perfectly level tone and even milder expression. America just gaped like a fish, his jaw having met the floor a while back.

Turning smartly on his heel to leave, England had to double back when he realized that he was alone in this course of action. Taking the door from America's slack hand, England fitted it back into place the best he could. He then grabbed America by his tie to lead the other back down the hall.

The two nations walked slowly back, each lost in his own thoughts. It was beginning to worry England though. He was far too used to a noisy American. Silence from America was just ominous in a way.

"Darling, are you alright?", England asked, reaching over to pat the other nation's arm. America blinked back to the present with a look of surprise at England's concern.

"Yeah, babe. I'm peachy. Just thinking.", Alfred reassured him with a signature grin.

"Is it about Italy and Germany?", England didn't really want to have this conversation. He felt that other nation's business was their own.

"Kinda.", America answered hesitantly, rubbing the back of his neck. To England's surprise, his former colony looked more embarrassed than anything.

"Well, tell us then, love.", England said, "I promise not to have a go at you, no matter how ridiculous it is.".

"Wow, that's reassuring.", America rolled his eyes, "I was wondering where Italy got those metallic blue nipple clamps.".

"I do not like nipple clamps. You know that.", England huffed, a touch disappointed.

"Who said they were for you?", America mused, arching a brow at the English nation who was suddenly frozen to a spot of floor at the thought of a certain blue eyed blonde wearing said nipple clamps and nothing much else. Both nations came to a mutual decision at the same time, America and England bee lining back toward Germany's office.

"You think they're about done?", America asked, jogging to keep up with England's quick pace.

"If not, they can not be much longer. Italy is about to drown in his own drool and I know for a fact that Germany has an appointment with France in about twenty minutes. You know how much of a neat freak Germany is. He would give himself plenty of time to clean up and do a proper job of it.", England nodded, doing some quick calculations of time in his head.

"What do you think their safe word is?", America wondered out loud.

"Don't get yourself winded up about it, love. Expect for you, no one else would think to use 'stripes and teeth'."

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A little bit later…..
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"Where are we going?", Lithuania asked nervously as he let himself be led out of meeting room and down hallways by Poland.

"I am so totally horny.", Poland told the brunette, opening random doors to peek into them.

"That's nice. You still haven't answered my question though.", Lithuania sighed, the nation not surprised by his lover's announcement.

"Obviously, I am like looking for a place for us to do it. Duh.", Poland rolled his large green eyes expansively at the other nation.

"Why don't we just go back to the hotel then?", Lithuania asked as another room was rejected for whatever reason.

"Cause I want to screw you in a closet. That would be so scandalous!", Poland grinned, "Like seriously, why is it so hard to find one when I like totally need it?"

"But I don't want to have sex in a closet.", Lithuania protested. It was all for naught. Poland ignored him, the blonde nation quite intent on his mission in life at the moment.

"Finally! There's one!", Poland pulled the other nation along toward it. Both of them paused though upon hearing noises coming from behind the door.

"Damn it. Someone's already using it.", Poland pouted, pressing his ear up to the door to listen in.

"Poland! Don't do that!", Lithuania whispered, the brunette blushing for the closet's occupants.

"Gawd, you are such a spaz. What are they going to do? Stop fucking each other and come out?", Poland giggled, waving the Lithuanian's fears off. "It sound's like France but I don't recognize the guy."

"There's a shocker.", Lithuania sighed, giving in to temptation as he listened in as well. It only took him a second to place the other nation. "That's Estonia!"

"ZOMG! That is like so juicy!", Poland laughed. Both the blonde and the brunette about fell into the closet as France opened the door. He leaned up against the frame to leer at them.

"Unless you want to join us in our l'amour, I must ask you leave. You are making my sweet little Baltic bun nervous.", France cooed, stroking the petals of his vital region's rose.

"Like ew.", Poland gagged, making a face at the French nation's nakeness, "You are totally too hairy. Word of advice-Manscape. Learn it, live it, love it."

"S-sorry!", Lithuania said quickly as he pulled Poland after him down the hall. The two nations soon enough came to another door.

"You open it this time.", Poland ordered, flipping his hair with a careless gesture.

"Why do I have to? I don't even want to do this!", Lithuania argued, looking very put out about the whole ordeal.

"Quit being such a downer and open the damn door.", Poland snapped, putting his hands on his hips. Sighing, Lithuania opened the door. He promptly slammed it shut and took off running. Poland stared after him for a second before following after him.

"Like what are you doing? What was in there?", Poland gasped out when they had come to a stop far, far away from that particular closet.

"Russia.", Lithuania said in a trembling voice, the nation still pale from his chance encounter.

"Good reason to go totally wiggin. Who was he with?", Poland asked, fanning himself with his hands.

"He wasn't with anyone.", Lithuania shivered. He was sweating buckets but feeling chills all at the same time.

"So Russia was just standing in a closet all by himself?", Poland clarified. Lithuania nodded, looking back over his shoulder in trepidation.

"Ok, wicked creepy.", Poland admitted. He grimaced to himself that Lithuania was more than unlikely now to put out. "Tell you what, babe. We'll try one more closet and if that's a total bummer we'll go back to the hotel room. Deal?".

"Promise?", Lithuania whimpered. He couldn't take much more of this.

"I totally promise. I mean like seriously, what are the odds?", Poland laughed, "We'll try this one and it will be so schway.". Poland paused the closet door, listening in on it. Satisfied, he opened the door.

"Do you bloody mind! Occupied!"

Poland and Lithuania gaped at the occupants of the small room. England was completely naked from the waist down with his legs wrapped tightly around America's torso. On the other hand, America was still mostly clothed his only bare piece of anatomy conveniently hidden deep within England. The blue eyed blonde was easily supporting England entire body weight with his considerable strength.

"Close the sodding damn door! The cheek of some nations, I swear…..", England snapped, turning to face America again, and jolt him back into action. "And you! What are you waiting for? A sign from God?! Get on with it!". Poland slammed the door shut on them.

"Hotel?", Lithuania asked hopefully.

"Hotel.", Poland nodded.

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Meanwhile…..
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Romano entered the hotel room and was practically bowled over by the smell of it alone, the air soiled with the thick musk of sex with hints of sweat, alcohol, and spunk. With effort, Romano swallowed down the bile that threatened to rise up from his stomach. He almost let it out upon seeing a pair of what must of have been underwear at some point in time sticking to the wall. As he watched in horror, it peeled off on its own accord with a wet sound to hit the floor as a sodden mess.

The place, for lack of a better word, was trashed. Curtains hung on by their threads, paintings were tilted at ugly angles or were knocked off of the wall completely, and every flat surface had been obviously cleared in haste to make room for activities of the naked kind. Clothing was thrown anywhere and everywhere with shirts draped over lamps and more than one shoe in the toilet. The staff of the hotel would have to declare the bathroom a lost cause at best and a biohazard at worst.

Walking further into the room, Romano took a moment to study a rather large hole in the wall. He was amazed that security hadn't been called. He found what, or more accurately who, he had been looking for on the bed which was a mess of limbs hanging off of the sides, busted pillows, and stained sheets. Spain slept half in, half out of the covers, using someone's ass as his pillow. Knowing he would get to all the other nations later, Romano didn't hesitate. He backhanded the Spaniard awake.

"L-Lovi? What are you doing here?", Spain stammered into consciousness. He was quite used to Romano's type of affection by now. In his opinion, Romano's backhand was more effective than a cup of coffee and without all the caffeine addiction.

"How exactly are you going to explain all this to me, you dumb bastard?", Romano asked, crossing his arms over his thin chest. He managed to keep himself in control instead of going straight for Spain's throat.

"It's not my fault, Lovi! I swear!", Spain mentally did cartwheels trying to think of an appropriate excuse.

"It's not your fault? What? You fell and landed on some dick? How is it not your fault? Enlighten me, fucker.", Romano said, giving himself points for keeping his tone fairly civil.

"Ummmm….It's not really cheating. It was only Gilbo and Francis and….", Spain started to explain, but was cut short by a flailing Italian.

"Only?!", Romano screeched as he gave into impulse and went for Spain's throat.

"It doesn't count!", Spain said quickly, curling up into a defensive ball much like his beloved turtles.

"Chigi! How doesn't it count!?", Romano snapped, giving Spain's backside a swift kick.

"I bottomed!", Spain wailed as he was knocked off of the bed.

"So I get to kill the nation who topped and then you. I can live with that!", Romano yelled down at him. Grabbing the covers of the nearest lump to him, Romano pulled them back to reveal a woozy French nation who groaned in hungover filled pain.

"It was you!", Romano shrieked, his shrill voice like an ice pick to France's brain.

"Non, non, non. It was not moi.", Francis groaned, feeling around the bed until he found a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, not caring whose they were.

"You! YOU didn't top.", Romano said in disbelief.

"Non. I know it iz hard to believe but I am giver of l'amour, not just a taker.", Francis managed a smirk as he lit a cigarette.

Glaring at the French nation, Romano stripped the bed of its other sheet. Underneath was an albino nation, Prussia still bodily curled around a pillow.

"What?!", Prussia snapped, not even bothering to open his eyes. He did bite the pillow to growl into it, making Romano step back in alarm.

"It was you then, potato bastard!", Romano accused as he pointed a shaking finger at the Prussian. He jumped when Prussia sat up to glare hot crimson at him. The Prussian only did this long enough though to steal France's cigarette.

"What are you yelling about? What time is it?", Prussia yawned, wincing from the action. He focused on breathing in some nicotine to lull his migraine into a more manageable headache.

"You topped!", Romano found his voice again to yell but at a safe distance…and armed with a lamp.

"Nein. Sorry sunshine. It wasn't me either. Now put that down before you break it. Oh and while you're at it, fuck off.", Prussia sighed, flopping back down on the bed. He promptly went back to sleep, France rescuing his cigarette with a grumble of curses. It was only then that Romano noticed that one more body was in the bed with the Bad Friend Trio, completely hidden from view. Romano wondered briefly how he could have missed it. A nation who had just topped all three members of the nefarious trio. It almost didn't seem possible,

Romano broke out into a cold sweat as he edged toward the bed, a trembling hand reaching out to uncover the seme of all semes. It had to be a powerful nation. It might even be Russia. That thought alone had Romano almost running out of the hotel room.

Taking a deep breathe to calm his nerves, Romano tore off the sheets from the last nation. A blue eyed blonde blinked back sleepily at him, the nation still wearing his glasses though they were askew from sleep and several rounds of vigorous sex.

"America!?", Romano gasped.

"No. I'm Canada."

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Elsewhere…..
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The new aid for the World Meeting sat on the ground clutching his head, mumbling to himself. "It's all just an orgy. One big fucking orgy. They get absolutely nothing done….."

The Warden shook his head in a mixture of pity and contempt before moving on. He looked on toward the nations who had began to assemble again for the day for another round of pointless arguments. The Warden grinned, the expression a little too wide to be considered sane.

"I love the smell of sex in the morning. Smells like victory."