A certain personification of the country of democracy lay on his living room couch. America sighed as he stared at a picture of his dearly beloved. Of course, no one but the idiotic man was aware of the deep love he had for the one in the photo. Sure, several people knew he had a ripe passion for the sweetie, but his true feelings remained hidden behind emotions. Swooning over even this simple picture America began to produce poetry for his greatest love.

"Dear sweet, I have craved you for much too long

Thus I sing to you this song

Of my longing for you

I wish I could hold your warm sides in my hands, and in your ear I would coo

My sweet words of longing for my sweetie

For you I am forever needy

My heart pounds when I pick up your body

You're beautiful, perfect, smooth, and haughty

I feel like we should always be side by side

Through life, each other we will guide

Strong, firm, great for holding

A personality no one will ever try molding

I love your blonde top

The beefy insides you contain make my soul hop

Straight from a pathetic life, for without you

My dearest, I will wilt like a parched flower and end my life of new."

Another country had entered the room and had a slight blush on their cheeks. England, the United Kingdom, or Britain, lived with the American and had come to check up on him. Insane babbling was normal for America but poetry was a new one. Assuming the love poem was meant for him, England stayed silent to let America finish. The American had stopped to take a breath. Once more the verses resumed.

"Heart pounding, mouth drooling, pulse at an all time high

You're just right for this guy

The feelings I have, I know you wouldn't feel the same

I don't want to play this loving game

Oh, how I want to tell you!

To see your face when I wrap my arms 'round to

Pull you into the warmest embrace

After I pull you from your paper case

I will hold you tight

For all the day and all the night

When I place my lips upon your skin

I will not commit any sin

For my love will never die

As long as you stay alive and together will we will lie

Together forever

Longing for anyone else never."

England wiped a few tears from his green eyes. Sniffling quietly, England went over to America and stroked his brown-blonde hair affectionately. America jumped before recognizing his friend's gentle touch. Wiggling around, America was about to give the usual cheerful greeting when he was the sparkling tears in England's emerald eyes.

"Hey Artie, why are you crying?" America asked putting the picture he was holding back into his wallet. "What happened? Did France rape your Scottish Fold again? I'll go get my pistol and we'll—."

"America…that…that poem. Was it meant for me?" The country of England inquired shyly, a red blush creeping around his cheeks to his ears.

"I—uh—how? Artie…," America mumbled, thunderstruck. "You don't even like me that…or do you?" America added with an eyebrow waggle.

"Maybe. But, but only a little, you git!" The smaller nation then looked away, his blush too much to handle.

"A little is enough for me!" America happily cried and picked up England bridal-style.

"What-? Put me down this very instance!" England yelled as he was rushed upstairs.

"OK!" America chirped as he dropped England down on the bed.

Following a rather 'fun filled' night, England found himself snuggled against a strong, one hundred percent American chest at some point in the dead of the night. He proclaimed that America was partially his now and nuzzled closer. America's muscular arm was around the British man's waist. It slowly moved up and down as England slipped into a peaceful sleep with soft breathing. Finally, America awoke in the morning to reveal to sleeping England:

"Artie, I regret nothing. And the poem was a about a hamburger. You don't put an American on a diet for God's sake, Artie. Oh, it's four AM! It's time to get my morning Big Mac!" And with that, America climbed out of bed and drove to his favorite fast food place.