Nerro is still doing NaNoWriMo... So this is also unbetaed...

I hope it's alright! Enjoy!

And no... to answer your question: I don't own Hetalia

England heard thumping and the sound of water running from down the hall in America's house. He'd been up for hours because of the time change, tossing and turning.

America couldn't sleep because of the six cups of coffee he'd had to calm his nerves before he went to bed. England, his unrequited crush, was staying in his house after all. He rummaged through the cupboards looking for his favourite coffee mug which he hadn't noticed was left on the dish rack after said six cups.

The older country threw the blankets to the side in surrender and stood up, stretched his arms then proceeded into the kitchen. Upon seeing the former colony he smiled gently, "up a bit late." He commented.

The sandy haired country jumped, banged his head on the cupboard and swore loudly. England scowled at his choice of language but when America turned the anger melted away into a contented look. "Yeah," the younger nation scratched the back of his neck then rubbed the spot he'd hit on the high cupboard. "What about you? Can't sleep?"

America finally spotted his favourite cup; the one with the American flag sprawled around it and picked it up. "Time change," England shrugged taking a seat at a small round table.

"Sorry about that," America apologised half heartedly.

"Well, I don't blame you, git," The British nation informed him with a short chuckle of amusement. He could be pretty damn cute.

"Right, want a drink?"

"Tea, if you have it." He said folding his arms and leaning on the table.

"I don't know how you stand the stuff."

"It takes a sophisticated palate." The American smiled at the insult and pulled out the earl grey tea he had stashed for the rare occasion England spent the night.

"I have an awesome sense of taste," he declared since he had in fact inherited it. "I learnt from the best." He smirked placing the kettle on the stove. England felt a bullet to his heart remembering young America.

"I suppose you did," he boasted, but his tone portrayed misery as opposed to pride. "I taught you a lot of useful things that have gone to waste."

America poured the boiled water into a cup then placed a tea bag in it and added the appropriate amount of milk and sugar. He'd never forgotten how England liked it. "Useful things like what, old man?"

"Respect," England scoffed accepting the tea gratefully. "Table manners, proper English; all wasted on you."

"Please, I made your language better, my table manners are amazing and… I… Nah, I don't respect you." He smiled at England's frown.

"Git."

"But you love me." He didn't deny it. He loved Alfred more then anyone. "Arthur-"

"Thank you," they said simultaneously but the Brit continued. "For the tea." He stared into the cup.

The former colony sat across from the older nation and smiled. "No problem." England looked up and their gazes locked for a long moment before he took a sip. The silence wasn't awkward although it lingered. They had known each other so long that the word 'awkward' didn't exist between them.

"Arthur," America started again gently and England looked at the ashamed nation, "do you still hate me?" He should have known; it was never a good thing when he was addressed by his human name.

England was caught off guard by the blunt question and spluttered before waving his hand, "what brought that on?" He said with a laugh and hoping to lighten the mood.

"I just want to know, I've wanted to ask for a while but… You know how you can only ever have a d&m at night?"

"What on earth is a d and m?"

"Deep and meaningful."

"Ah," England shuffled in his seat nervously then lifted his head and gave a look of adoration similar to the smiles he'd graced young America with. "I was hurt, Alfred, not hateful." He laughed. "One may lead to the other; but to answer your question, no, I don't hate you." He stirred his tea once more then finished it and placed it down on the counter with a 'clack'.

America gave an obnoxiously loud laugh and threw his head back. "That's great man!"

"I suppose…"

"So then if you don't hate me… do you want to go out with me?" England stared at him.

"Uhhhh…" 1.2.3 "ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND! TWAT!"

"Whoa, calm down!" England slammed his hands on the table and America backed up in his chair.

"Why on earth would I want to go out with a hamburger brained, moronic, redneck with no-"

"Because I love you… And since you don't hate me… I just thought-." And there was that look again. That look he'd always mistaken for hatred… No… It was 'hurt' after all. "I love you England."

Both countries were flushed and embarrassed although it was more prominent on England's fair skin. "Are you drunk?"

"On love?"

"Oh stop it!" The Brit shouted. "You're being ridiculous America."

"No, you're just tsundere."

"Who the bloody hell taught you that word?"

"Kiku," damn him. America stood up and came to England's side. England panicked and wanted to stand… run, jump, something! But he sat there, not wanting to show his discomfort or display any intimidation that could later be used against him. Still… He had to suppress a squeak when he felt his chin being lifted. "I love you."

"Don't lie to me." He said firmly. "Just stop." Their eyes met.

"I'm not lying! And I'm not going to stop saying it until you believe me!" He shouted defensively. "I love you! I love you! I love you! I love you! I love you! I love you! I love you! I love you! I love you! I love you! I love you! I love you! I love you!"

"I get it!" England yelled overtop of him and the super power shut his mouth and waited for a reply.

"Well, what about you? Mr. Tsundere?"

The British nation flinched at the nickname then fidgeted with his fingernails and turned away; he could feel America's breath on his cheek and smell the coffee he'd been drinking. "Well, I don't hate you." He repeated not knowing what else to say.

"Then go out with me." This was no longer a question. It was a statement. England turned to find America leaning in. Their lips locked for a short moment before England pulled away.

"That was… Impulsive." He marvelled.

"Sorry," the Superpower said nervously, "don't hate me." He begged.

"Really America, do you think I hate everyone?"

"Yes."

"Well, I don't. I don't hate you. I never hated you. I probably never will hate you. I love y-." The damage was done. A grin spread across America's face faster than fire in a dry field. "Er, wait, I mean-" he was cut off by the younger nation's mouth moulding with his. Ugh, he tasted like coffee. To hell with it! England kissed him back and laced his fingers into the nest of golden hair, drawing the two closer together.

America pulled back despite England's tugs of protest. "Hey Iggy, I think I figured out a way to tire us out." He said standing up to his full height and grinning.

"How- oof!" England was hoisted into the air and over America's shoulders. Somehow he fathomed that treating the Brit like luggage was more romantic than carrying him bridal style. "Stop! Put me down!" He struggled.

The former colony laughed as he paced down the hall. "Trust me; by the time we're done, we'll be dead tired."

"How the hell do you pla- oh…"

It's safe to say that they were both worn out and asleep half an hour later.

Iggy got over his jet lag! :)

Review please!