England and Russia both want America. Russia's attempts to copy England's wooing methods leave something to be desired.

Disclaimer: Hetalia's not mine.


"Must you do this?" Canada complained, maliciously swiping the last pizza slice. "Nobody even remembers I exist. I don't need you to come over here and rub in my face that you have two guys pursuing you."

"I'm not rubbing it in your face!" America gave him a look that was the very picture of innocence. "It's something brothers talk about. I'd only rub it in your face if it were a happy situation..." He snuggled back in the couch, grabbing his soda.

Canada sighed. "What's wrong with England?"

"Nothing, nothing. He is the one who raised me, though. I don't know..." America shook his head. "And Russia's... Russia."

"Well, if you're so eager to talk about it. They both sent you flowers, then?"

"Yeah. I got England's a couple days ago, then Russia's the next day. Same exact kind, too."

His northern brother chuckled. "Russia's copying him, then?"

"Maybe... What should I do?"

Canada chewed slowly for a moment, lost in thought. Finally, his eyes brightened, and he said, "Pick Russia."

"What?" America sat straight up, almost spilling his drink. "Are you joking?"

"No. You already have good ties with England. May as well strengthen relations with Russia."

"You're crazy!"

"You asked." Finished eating, Canada wandered off, leaving America alone to reflect on his mournful situation. He liked his current state of bachelorhood. He wasn't sure if he wanted to settle down with anyone in a serious relationship. If he did, did he want it to be with either of them? He had no idea. Life had been a lot simpler just a few days ago, before a bouquet of roses had arrived at his door. Really, roses? England didn't seem like the mushy type. Nor did Russia, but he had probably just witnessed England's order, somehow, and tried the same thing.

"Now this is silly," Canada's voice floated in as his brother returned, carrying a stack of mail he must have just retrieved. "You're having your mail forwarded here? How long were you planning on staying?"

"Oh, no, I just told England I'd be here..." America accepted the envelopes. One from England. One from Russia... "Great."

"Open them up!" Canada plopped back on the couch, watching intently. His eyes sparkled like jewels behind his lenses, full of mirth.

"I thought you didn't care."

"I don't. But it's still entertaining."

America sighed and tore open England's envelope. It contained a store-bought card, saturated in hearts and doves and other typical romantic decorations. He opened it up and stared. The entire inside (and the back, he noted upon flipping it over) was covered in tiny script. An epic poem. He tried valiantly to read it a few times before giving up, head hurting. The language was antique, all 'thee's and 'thou's and America couldn't get from one end of a sentence to the other.

"I must admit." Canada plucked the card away to examine it. "I'm impressed. I had no idea the foul-mouthed pirate could be so eloquent."

"I don't know what the hell he's trying to say!" America dug into the second envelope, dread building in the pit of his stomach. The card was actually rather similar. Not the exact same one, but definitely chosen from the same selection in the store. He opened it up, and let out a relieved sigh when he saw the mercifully short poem. "Let's see. 'Roses are red-"

Canada interrupted with a groan. "Don't tell me he went with that corny old poem."

"Seems so. 'Roses are red, green is the stem. Your eyes are so pretty, I want to eat them.'" He looked up. "That's... that's just..."

"Are you sure he likes you?" His twin's expression grew worried as he took that card, too.

"I think so... It probably would have been a lot worse otherwise."

"I guess the sentiment is kind of sweet," Canada mused. "Maybe you should pick Russia."

"Why would you suggest that again?"

"England probably accepts rejection better..."

America stood, running his hands through his hair. "I'll be in the tub." He headed off to soak his troubles away. Maybe if he just ignored them, they'd leave him alone...

That line of thinking rarely worked, though. The next day, Canada once again brought in two envelopes for his brother along with the rest of the mail. The one from England was quite thin. The one from Russia was alarmingly thick. What had he sent?

"Go on, open it!" Canada almost seemed to be enjoying the situation now. Well, nobody paid attention to him and he lived in a frozen wasteland, what else did he have to do, America thought bitterly.

"I'm opening." England had sent a photo. America's frosty fear melted a bit. "Aww..." It was a picture of the two of them, taken not long ago. They looked happy together. "I remember that."

"That's cute," Canada said. "So what about Russia?"

"I haven't had any photos taken with him..." America set England's picture aside, and opened up the next envelope. It contained a fat stack of pictures. How strange. The top one was of him, standing before a PowerPoint presentation, arms in mid-gesture.

"That's from the last G8 meeting," Canada said. "I remember wondering what you were thinking with that tie."

"So he took a picture of my presentation? That's not the most romantic thing to send me." He flipped that picture to the back, examining the next one. "Me again, sitting down." Then the next. "Me eating. Me leaving. Me getting in the elevator. Me getting something else to eat. Me calling a taxi. Me walking into my hotel. Me showering. Still showering. And another. Me sleeping. Me sleeping again. And another one. And another..." America handed the stack of photos to his brother. "Okay. That's a little weird."

"A little? I'd suggest you call the cops, if that wouldn't spark an international outrage or something." Canada flipped through the pictures, forehead creased. "You might want to hire a bodyguard at the next meeting."

"Maybe so..."


America had actually shown up early for the meeting. As he made himself comfortable in his chair, retrieving his note cards from their home in his briefcase, he idly wondered if he had made a mistake. Coming in late may get him yelled at, but it wouldn't provide any opportunity for creepy stalkers to corner him alone. He cringed in anticipation as footsteps approached, but it wasn't Russia.

"What are you doing here already?" Germany wondered.

"I'm early sometimes." America huddled down in his chair, wanting to hide, as unheroic as that was. But at least now there would be one witness. France filed in next, followed by Italy, and his relief grew.

Then came England. Well, he wasn't the scary one, at least. Though America still wanted to hide under the table when he saw what England was carrying. Judging by the Brit's face, he wasn't any happier to be seen in public with a large heart-shaped box.

"Here." England shoved it unceremoniously into his hands.

"Um, thanks." If it was so embarrassing, why was he doing it?

"I thought this sort of stuff worked on you," England muttered, as if reading his thoughts. "Like in your stupid movies."

He sure knew how to woo a guy. "Thanks. But I'm just not sure..."

Looking annoyed, England stormed off and dropped into his seat.

With a shrug, America peered into the box, and grinned. The chocolates looked pretty good! He decided to find out for sure.

"England gave you a heart?"

America jerked up with a yelp, chocolate dropping back into its box. "R-Russia! Don't do that. Um, yes, he-"

"I shall give you one."

"Did you..." America trailed off, remembering. A certain creepy meeting during the war... "No no, Russia, you don't have to!" But it was too late. It was dropped on the table in front of him with a wet plop. "Ah..." He looked up into Russia's sincere face. "But... don't you need that to live?"

"Your concern touches me, but I will be fine. Please hold onto it." He made his way to his own chair, looking pleased with himself.

"Thanks, Russia." America tried to ignore the large bloody lump in front of him as he gathered his notes together for his inspiring speech on how Autobots could protect them from global warming, volcanoes, oil spills, and Decepticons.


America set the beating heart on his mantle, beside the pair of cards. He stood back to take the scenery in, frowning, tilting his head, shrugging, and even starting to smile a little. Well, he supposed it wasn't too bad. And kind of romantic, in its own creepy way. He glanced down at the pair of boxes he had found waiting for him by his front door. Those two just would not stop! And he just wasn't sure if he felt that way about either of them. He even found himself conflicted about Russia, who was crazy but seemed to mean well... Maybe Canada was right. Maybe he should choose the country he could certainly stand to be on better terms with, who would possibly go batshit insane about being rejected.

On the other hand, England was someone he already cared for. And he, too, seemed to mean well, however grumpy. And his gifts didn't involve stalking or blood.

On the other hand, their gifts seemed to be getting bigger, so if he continued to hold out...

Smiling to himself, America hunkered down to open up his packages. He ripped the brown paper off, and sliced into the tape. From England's box, he pulled out a big floppy rabbit plushie. "How cute!" He hugged the toy. "You are so cute. I'll have to come up with a good name for you! Here, you sit right there on the couch. Let's see who else we've got!" He eagerly tore into the second package, figuring Russia couldn't have screwed up in whatever toy store he had followed England to. "Oh, wow..." He examined the second rabbit toy, eyes widening. Impressive! It was so soft, and so realistic, and... "You used to be alive, didn't you..."


It seemed England had had enough. The letter he had sent requested a meeting, possibly to force him to choose between his suitors. As usual, he had received two. "Dear America," he read from England's letter, "you have captured my heart. Let us meet tonight at seven at..." He trailed off, reading the rest internally.

Russia's letter was worded the same, down to the time and place. There was only one small difference in the opening. "Dear America, I have captured your brother..."


America flung the building's roof door open, hearing them before seeing them. "It's cheating," England was saying. "You can't force him to date you!"

"I'm not forcing anything." Russia's voice was as calm as ever.

America found them facing off near the center of the roof, a helicopter beside them for some reason. Not that 'facing off' was the best way to describe them, England standing on tiptoe to yell at Russia.

"I can come back later," America said, and the combatants froze.

"We weren't doing anything," Russia said, giving England a friendly pat on the head.

"Right..." England scowled up at him, then plastered on a fake smile. "So, America, I know that you-"

"Never mind the speeches and sweet talk." America shook his head. "Like you've given me any choice in the matter. Let Canada go, then let's get this date over with."

Russia grinned at England, who turned away in disgust. "Whatever you want!" He reached into the helicopter and removed the bound and gagged young nation by the scruff of his neck. America blinked in surprise. He'd actually been expecting it to be a bluff...

"Um, are you okay?" he asked his brother. Canada nodded. "Good. Uh, England'll take care of you, I guess." He swallowed as Russia stepped closer.

Russia closed the distance between them, unwinding his scarf for some reason. Then he flung one end around America's neck, loosely connecting them. Before anyone had time to react, Russia leaned in for a kiss. America could practically hear England's eyes roll. To be perfectly honest, though, it wasn't that bad of a kiss.

Russia broke away and touched their foreheads together. "I really do like your eyes."

"Oh god, what have I done..."