(A/N: I originally did this for the Hetalia kink meme, because the prompt was "Canada and America roleplaying England and France." I just couldn't resist! Ah, and the title apparently means foreplay in French, though I got it off a translator.)


"C'mon Mattie, Papa walked in on us ONE time, you don't have to be so paranoid about it," America huffed from his spot on the bed. He was leaning back against the headboard, clad in an oversized t-shirt and sweats, watching his brother check all the doors and windows.

"It was embarrassing," Canada muttered darkly as he unlocked and locked his bedroom door for the millionth time. He was dressed a bit less sloppy in his maple leaf pajamas. "I couldn't look him in the eye for months."

America snorted. "At least it wasn't Dad. Can you imagine what he'd say?" He paused for a moment before attempting an English accent. "Honestly America, your technique is terrible, it must be your first time." Long ago he had spoken like that regularly, but it didn't come so easily anymore.

A strangled sort of laugh came from Canada, as if the joke had caught him off guard. "He would not say that," he giggled as he took a seat on the bed. "He would probably be horrified. In any case, it would be better than France's reaction."

"Wasn't it something like, 'Sacre blu Mathieu, you 'ave grown!'"

Canada couldn't control the laughter that suddenly bubbled up from his throat. His breath came in short bursts as he doubled over, leaning on America as he helplessly shook with mirth. "Oh G-god...Al that was bad," he breathed as his brother frowned.

"Hey! It wasn't that bad, and didn't he say that?" It only caused Canada to dissolve into more frantic giggles. America kept his offended expression a moment longer before he finally smiled, unable to keep a straight face when his brother was laughing so hard. He slid an arm around Canada and the other leaned into him further.

"He didn't say anything like that," Canada said, after he had calmed down. "But I'd rather not relive that moment, thank you very much."

"Fair enough. We 'ave ozer things to do, no?" America said as he climbed into Canada's lap, facing him. The other nation looked ready to laugh again, as he was biting his lip furiously when he wrapped his arms around America's neck.

"Please tell me you're not going to do that the whole time."

"You do not find eet sexy?" America asked breathily, leaning in close so their lips were nearly touching. Canada snorted, burying his head into America's shoulder as he tried not to have another laughing fit.

"No, it's actually a little creepy. Well very creepy if you're going to be France. Should I call you Papa? Ugh." He grimaced. "Well at least I grew out of calling him that, unlike some people..." America shoved him back so hard he nearly hit the headboard.

"Hey! I don't do it to his face!" He crossed his arms indignantly, pointedly ignoring Canada's glares. "You be Dad then. Is that less creepy?"

"...No. But well... Al that's so wrong... Fine." There was no way he could resist the look his brother was giving him. Once that guy got an idea in his head nothing stopped him. "I could probably pull off France more easily though. That accent of yours is atrocious."

"I want to be France! It's no fun if you're really good at talking like him."

Canada wanted to point out that it would probably be a lot more fun if they did not have sex with ridiculous accents, but he held his tongue. "You don't even know the first thing about French."

America rolled his eyes in response. "Course I do! Voulez vous coucher avec moi ce soir."

"Somehow I knew you were going to say that." His pronunciation wasn't bad actually, but Canada knew it was only because he had listened to that song countless times.

"Whatever, it's your turn, try it."

"Fine... um... you're a bloody frog," he tried, leaning forward and wrapping his arms around America's neck once more.

"Come on Mattie, a little more feeling! Act like you hate me but really just want to get in my pants!" America paused for a moment and shuddered. "Ugh, totally creepy that I know exactly how they do it. I walked in on them more than once as a kid."

"I did too," Canada admitted. "Which is why I'm not sure I'll be very good at this..."

"Nah, you'll do great!" There was a moment of awkward silence as they stared at each other, both wondering exactly how they were supposed to start.

"Well... we should probably fight about something right?" Canada suggested. "They were always so noisy."

"Ohh, good idea!" A thoughtful expression crossed America's face, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth as he mulled it over. "Arthur, you are always so quick to get eet over with. I weesh you would be more gentle with me," he purred, tracing a bit of Canada's exposed collarbone.

That odd expression appeared on the Canadian's face again. The corners of his lips twitched as he tried to contain a smile. "O-oh shut up you wanker... I know you just like the physical part." Hesitantly, he slapped America's hand away, attempting to arrange his face into something resembling anger.

"But I am ze country of romance!" America cried, pushing his brother back into the bed and straddling his hips. Canada gave a little noise of surprise as he hit the mattress.

"Git, stop that!" Canada growled, surprising America. He really hadn't been expecting his usually sweet and meek brother to act like that. It just made him want to try harder at being France.

When America stopped to think about it, France was actually the harder role for him to play. It took him a moment to think of exactly how he should respond. Maybe he was taking it a little too seriously, but he wanted to get it right. Finally, he decided the best response was a kiss.

The kiss was actually a bit clumsy. America was trying his best not to fall, as he had leaned in a bit too quick, and Canada was torn between returning it and pushing away. It was when America added tongue that he was shoved back. Unrelenting, he swooped back down to kiss Canada's neck.

A soft moan escaped Canada's lips as he reached for America's hair. Fingers tangled in the blonde locks, tugging gently here and there. The kisses were gentle and lingering, fitting of the 'country of romance.' Canada's grip on America's hair tightened as the kisses became more frenzied. They began moving up to his jaw, getting close to his lips then going the other direction again.

He practically ripped out hair when one of America's hands found it's way to his inner thigh. It wandered up and down, teasing the sensitive skin underneath the flannel of his pajamas.

"Stop messing around and take off your bloody pants."

It was America's turn to laugh. "Oh God, Dad WOULD say that!" he snorted, collapsing on to of his brother.

"Al!" Canada squeaked, turning bright red as he scrambled to get into a position where America was not crushing his nether regions.

"Sorry, sorry," he brayed, laughter still getting the best of him. "I just can't take you seriously when you're acting like that."

"I t-told you I should have been France," Canada muttered as he wiggled out from under his brother. The two lay side by side, America still laughing and Canada panting.

When his laughter had died away, America said, "I think that would have been even funnier." A grin stole across his lips as he imagined Canada as a raging pervert. "Geeze I don't know how they don't laugh. It's ridiculous." Then again... he imagined Canada whispering dirty things in his ear, in French.

"I bet... it's because they really love each other," Canada said a bit shyly, which caused America to make a face.

"Eww gross Mattie!" He mimed gagging rather exaggeratedly. "Don't ever say that again. I can't imagine them loving each other."

"Why not?" Canada slid his hand into his brother's and closed his eyes. "I think it's... sweet?"

"So gay Mattie... So gay," America huffed, curling his fingers around the other nation's. "I can handle walking in on them having some sort of abusive sex, but I think I would freak out if I ever walked in on them being.. sweet."

"Well I wouldn't go so far as to say they ever are nice to each other," Canada said softly. "But I mean the way they look at each other..."

America stuck out his tongue. "Ugh, please stop. You're ruining my image of them."

In an instant Canada was on top of him, pinning him hard on the bed. "You like it better like this?" he asked in a low french accent. It was much better than America's of course.

"Of course," America growled, grabbing for Canada's collar. Their lips crashed together when he pulled his brother down into a rough kiss.

They became a tangle of arms and legs as they floundered on the bed, frantically trying to get each other's clothes off while trying to keep their own on. It was America who finally succeeded in unbuttoning Canada's flannel shirt.

"A bit pale there frog," America breathed, hovering over Canada and running a hand down his chest. "Been spending your time wanking in the basement, have you?"

"If I was I was thinking about you." America felt his mouth go dry and mind blank out. He was fairly sure nothing more sexy had ever come out of his brother's mouth. He didn't even resist as Canada gently pushed him back and took off his shirt.

"And you Arthur, you are getting chubby." His hands slid down along the slight curve of America's belly.

"Hey! Time out! Low blow Mattie, low blow!"

"You can say I'm pale but I can't say you're fat?"

"Exactly!"

Canada rolled his eyes. "I'm just being in character. You're the one who wanted to do this in the first place."

"I didn't know you were going to insult me like that," America pouted, moving to cover his stomach with his arms.

"That's what they do... all the time." A long sigh escaped Canada's lips as he let himself fall back into the mattress. "I'm sorry Al, come here." He patted the spot next to him.

Slowly, America untangled his legs and climbed off the nation beneath him before lying down next to him. Canada drew him into his arms and pulled him against his chest. America tucked his head under blonde's chin and closed his eyes.

"Listen, you're not fat, okay?" It was a sore point, and Canada knew it. Though he sort of resented being called pale, he didn't expect an apology.

"... I kind of am, I know," America breathed against Canada's shoulder. "I guess I'm not good at being criticized by you. Wonder how they do it..." He paused, opening his eyes and grinning. "Don't say it's 'cause they love each other."

"Well... That's the only reason I can think of," Canada replied, running a hand through his brother's hair. "And they've been insulting each other for so long that it's probably a turn on."

America snorted, bringing his arms to rest on Canada's back. "Well I don't like it."

"We don't have to do anything tonight, Al. We can just go to bed."

"Mmm, as long as we can have McDonald's for breakfast."


"Maaaattie, phone," America moaned, pulling the covers over his head. It was eight in the morning, way too early for him to be answering phones.

"Phone's on your side," came Canada's voice from under a pile of blankets. "And it's your house."

With tremendous effort, America untangled himself from his brother and sat up, yawning loudly. "I hope it's your boss," he muttered darkly, ripping the phone from it's stand on the end table.

"'Allo, zis is Fraunce. I am very busy ravishing a certain Englishman."

Canada sat bolt upright at the return of America's accent. "Al, no! Please tell me it's not my boss!" Not that his boss would be calling America's house at eight in the morning... but his brain was not fully awake yet.

America yanked the phone away from his ear as the person on the other end exploded. As the angry voice filled the room, Canada went white as a sheet.

It was England.

"AMERICA WHAT THE BLOODY HELL ARE YOU ON ABOUT?"

Canada snatched the phone away from the mortified American. "E-england! Ah it was just a j-joke, ahaha. Eh? N-no, of course he didn't know it was you... He would have never..."

It seemed America had regained the use of his arms, as he took the phone back from Canada. "So tell me England, exactly how much do you love France? Me and Mattie have been..."

The rest of his sentence was drown out by angry shouting from the other end of the line.