How was I born, desuyo?

It was that one question. The one question every parent dreaded.
"Papa? Mama? How was I born?"
Poor little Peter had no idea how much trouble this was for his "parents" to answer.
"Ah… Er… Um…" Tino stuttered, while Berwald looked very amused.
"Hm?" Peter was anxious for an answer.
"Um…" Tino paused. "GO ASK YOUR OLDER BROTHER!!" He dashed off, having Berwald follow him, still with an amused expression.
"What was all that about? Fine, I'll just ask jerk-brother!"

Arthur's reaction was no different from Tino's.
"Wh-Wh-Why would you ask such a thing! You're still much too young to know!" The bright red sandy-blond Brit turned away, muttering something unintelligible under his breath.
"Weird… Jerk-brother wouldn't tell me either… Oh! I'll ask America! He'd definitely know, if jerk-brother was embarrassed by it!"

Nope. Alfred was… unusually quiet. When Peter walked up to him, he was, of course, smiling like an idiot and gripping a hamburger. But when Peter asked those dreadful words, Alfred paled and did the impossible.
He dropped his hamburger.
And he continued to stare at Peter, until it became obvious to the small nation that he probably wouldn't tell him either.

Who else was there to ask? Peter considered asking Francis, but he heard that the Frenchman was off with Seychelles, doing… things… So he thought it best not to ask.
Ivan was definitely out. No way would Peter even look at the Russian without screaming and running to Arthur.  Who else was there?
"Man… now I'll never know how I was born, desu-yo…" Suddenly the bush behind Peter (how the hell did a bush get in his room anyway?) rustled, and a young girl with black hair, brown eyes, and glasses popped up. "I know how you were born, Sea-kun!"
Instead of doing the logical thing and calling for Papa Berwald, Peter desperately wanted to know of his origin.
"You do?" He asked, eyes sparkling. "Tell me!"
The girl grinned. It was very similar, Peter noted, to the grin that one Hungarian woman wore when she discussed that thing called "yaoi". Scary…  "All right… It all started when Arthur asked Alfred out to drink…"

"Aw man, you got us kicked out, Iggy!" Alfred muttered, knowing fully well that the drunken Brit on his back wouldn't hear him. He was too busy singing "God save the Queen", after all.
The American sighed. "Well, we're at your house…" It took quite a while for Alfred to get the both of them inside and Arthur in bed, but he managed. He was a hero, was he not?
"You always do that…" Alfred cupped the barely-conscious Briton's cheek with his hand.
"Alfred…" he mumbled.
"Hah? You're awake?"
"A-Alfred…" Arthur pulled himself up and grabbed the collar of Alfred's shirt.
"I-Iggy? What are you…?" His question was answered and Arthur pulled him down for a passionate, needy kiss. "Mmph!"
"I always said I hated you," Arthur quietly whispered, panting for air, "but I really…" He stared Alfred down, though his vision was very blurry.
"A-Alfred… I love you…"
His face was flushed from either the beer or his confession, but at the time, Alfred didn't care. He looked adorable and sexy, and so easy to just take right damn there!
"Arthur… Would you mind if I…?"
Arthur leaned back again, a small smile forming on his lips. "Go right ahead, git."
And thus Alfred proceeded to invade Arthur's vital regions.

Well, the next few weeks were… interesting, to say the least. Thankfully, Arthur's boss agreed to go to the world meeting in his place. Alfred of course got curious, going off to see Arthur and ask him what was wrong. Arthur stayed under his bed sheets, refusing to come out. Actually, Alfred didn't know what was wrong until the day he really met Peter.
Then it all became clear.

After the girl explained what had happened to Peter, she later received lawsuits from Berwald, Tino, Arthur, and even Alfred. The charges, as they put it, were "poisoning young Peter's mind with complete and total lies".
The girl, Breeana, decided it was best to avoid the five and instead ran off to bug Antonio and Lovino.

END