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Sometimes, America thought idly, sometimes he wondered if the most ‘Special’ thing about their Relationship (with a capital R) was that he was the only country in the world England hadn’t fucked.
It was an idle musing, something more likely to make him smirk to himself than to make him feel down. (Even if the smirk did have a bit of a bitter edge to it). To remain a virgin was his own choice; he knew very well that if he’d wanted to, he could have had a tumble in the sheets with England. The older Nation made his interest obvious enough whenever he was sloshed out of his mind - that is, about once every two weeks. Of course it would have meant more if England had ever been even half-sober when he smiled invitingly at America, but America knew the potential had been there.
He’d always been interested in England, since before he even knew what that funny tingly feeling in his pants was. But that was all it was - interest. He wasn’t so stupid to let himself depend on England again - it wasn’t love, not again, no - once burned, twice shy and all that! It was just lust. It was!
And that lust had not been enough to overcome the years of absence, the taxes, the off-hand condescension, had it - and it had not been enough to deafen America to the siren call of freedom, liberty, not enough to deafen America to the cries of his people, the words of his Fathers...
His Fathers. His Father - George Washington. “This flag bows to no earthly king,” but America would have bowed, would have knelt, would have made Washington his king, he would have worshipped at the man’s feet if Washington had let him. But Washington had said no, and made the kings of the earth wonder at him.
“What will he do after the war?” England’s own George, King George III, had asked - when told Washington planned to return to his farm, he’d replied, “If he does that, he will be the greatest man in the world.” To this day, America thought of it as the truest statement any of England’s kings had ever made.
But Washington hadn’t wanted to be king; he hadn’t even wanted to be president, not really. America knew that, but he’d needed Washington, had begged him for the first term and begged even harder for the second term, but Washington had refused the third time. America had actually gone away and cried after that; sobbed like the little boy he’d gone to war to prove he was not. His father was abandoning him - was leaving him alone! Just like England ---
But Washington didn’t mean it like that, America understood later. He loved America. He’d seen America not as a sniveling little colony, nor an upstart doomed to fail, nor as a patch of land that he could use for his own gain - he’d seen...he didn’t know, exactly, to this day - but he’d seen something in America, something great and beautiful, and he’d believed in America, and - and he made America want to believe too.
So when he’d told America that he shouldn’t let his purity be sullied by another country, America listened. America had throttled the urgent clamoring of his rapidly-maturing body, had played dumb to France’s seductions, had made a list of ways to distract Prussia (most involving firearms and/or the usage thereof to kill things) and had found several new and creative excuses to avoid being alone with Spain for any period of time. (It was easier when he’d had another growth spurt during the war and stopped looking so childish.)
And most of all, and most importantly, and the one thing Washington had been most concerned about: America had sworn to never go to bed with England.
And through all the years, all the wars and the times of peace, his rises and his falls, through shifting alliances and those head-spinning bouts of madness that beset Nations occasionally (perhaps constantly? Perhaps they were all mad, all the time, and it just became... obvious sometimes) - and he’d betrayed Washington and what he’d stood for a hundred times over, and he’d proven Washington’s faith right a hundred times over, but in that one thing, that one promise - that one vow he’d made as Alfred F. Jones (he’d taken John Paul Jones’ name - but he’d have taken Washington’s if the man would have let him, if Washington hadn’t feared that it would smack too much of favoritism and the kind of devotion to one man that he’d been trying to train America out of. So Alfred had taken John Paul’s name, and had named his capital for his Father instead.) - to his father, not as America to a leader - this personal oath, he’d kept.
And it had been hard sometimes, (hah! Hard.) but hell, it was a lot easier now. For one thing, the world seemed to have taken the hint. He couldn’t remember the last time someone sober had made a pass at him. He didn’t know what they thought - that he was too stupid to understand sex, that the Puritans had permanently turned him into a prude, that he was already taken, that he was gay/straight/asexual/too young to be interested ...but whatever, it was all to the good.
For another, there was that constant and completely justified fear that whatever country he did, hypothetically, have carnal relationships with would laugh themselves sick at his complete lack of bedroom skills. Especially if his purely hypothetical bed-partner was thoroughly experienced on every type of debauchery the world had to offer, had partaken of the delights of every continent on the globe...On the off-chance that they didn’t, for sure they’d spill to someone else and then those Nations would laugh themselves sick, after telling everyone else of course. The Nations of the world were never more efficient and dedicated than when they were spreading rumors about each other.
So, as the years went on, and the chances that sleeping with someone would end well went down, and the chances that he could find porn enough to keep him and his right hand happy went up, well...
America the Eternal Virgin. Kinda had a ring to it, right? If he tried very hard, he could even bring himself to honestly believe it, sometimes.
America sighed, laughed a little at himself, and shut down the computer, where watching a porno involving a British actress with really magnificent breasts had set off the whole rambling train of thought. And he had even forgotten to jerk off. Oh well, there’d be time enough, after this weird, hastily-called meeting of the G8 was over. They said they wanted to discuss ways to repair the economy. A little self-love would be just the pick-me-up he’d need after that. Too bad Mattie wasn’t coming along, he might have been able to bum a ride...
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Author’s Notes
- “This flag dips to no earthly king” - the flagbearer/captain of the 1908 US Olympic team refused to salute the king and queen of England, and America jumped all over that and made it official policy. Granted, the captain was of Irish descent, so in Hetalia terms it may not have been Al’s idea, but Ireland-tan whispering in the captain’s ear and Al subsequently deciding it was pure awesome.
- “Greatest man in the world.” Quote picked off from Wikipedia, but subsequently googled and it seems to have actually happened.
- John Paul Jones - father of the American Navy, ol’ “I Have Not Yet Begun To Fight (Bitches!)”, who adopted the surname “Jones” himself (he wasn’t born JPJ, just plain JP). Added fun fact: he got his first assignment (as the first man awarded the rank of first lieutenant in the Continental Navy) on board the USS Alfred, one of America’s first warships.
- On porn: America produces more pornography than any other country in the world; 6 times as much pornography per citizen (so it’s not just that there are more Americans) than Germany, the next in line. Perhaps it’s because that’s the closest Al comes to getting some?