A/N: This story is rated M for later chapters. Other wise, there really isn't anything triggering or disturbing. Unless of course, the writing turns out to be awful, and the characters are too out of character. It's not my place to decide whether this is a good story or not.

So as it turns out, I ended up posting the first chapter of a romance story on Valentines day. I hope everyone had a lovely time, even if you were single (don't worry about it, I'm single as well, and I'm proud of it :).

Please leave a review, if you'd like.

There wasn't too much time before the meeting would finally begin, and England and America happened to be the only two nation in the conference room. Despite the fact that England was regularly an irascible individual, he was actually feeling more irritable than normal. He was full of it, really. America's presence was not helping, but instead, created more unnecessary tension within the Brit. The mounds of hamburgers the younger of the two would continue to eat, the pungent scent that radiated off of the food, and the disgusting fashion in which the oversized meal was devoured. Only one word could describe the sight; abhorrent. England continued to glare at the so called 'idiot', his thoughts smoldering with rancor, How can anyone not cringe at the sight of this disgusting nation?

As America continued to shove hamburgers down his throat, England snapped, "Haven't you eaten enough already, or does your spoiled stomach still 'need' nourishment?"

America gulped down a burger, and answered with a casual hum, "Nope, I'm still hungry."

England couldn't help but scowl at the statement, "Really? You're still hungry?"

"Yep." Was all America replied with, clearly unaware of whatever ever insults England wanted to stab him with. Now infuriated, England scoffed, "Have you ever thought of maybe, ignoring your hunger pangs for once? Come on America, just admit it. You're the fattest nation on the planet, and you're only going to-"

"I don't care, England."

England felt himself tremble with agonizing levels of rage. The tranquility America seemed to possess, regardless of the indignity being used against him, was just exasperating. All England wanted to do now was brutally destroy America's emotional barriers. After a few moments of desperate thought, he knew exactly what to say, "You're my biggest mistake."

In bemusement, America remarked, "Okay then? Why exactly am I your biggest mistake?"

"Come on America, you ruin everyone's economies. Not only that, but you cease to stay out of other nation's personal conflict. Also, have you ever wondered why it's difficult for you to make friends? It's because you're downright annoying! There's hardly anyone in the world who wants to hang around an idiot that shouts 'I'm the hero!' half of the time! Actually, why am I even blaming myself for this? You were born defective!"

Now wroth, America barked, "How is this suddenly my fault!? Seriously, you were suppose to raise me, but instead you abandoned me for most of my childhood! So yeah, I think my 'immaturity' is your doing. Besides, you're the one starting pointless arguments, so you're just being a hypocrite!"

"I'm being a hypocrite? Is that your best argument?" England smirked, "Well, at least I'm not the one with a failing government. Apparently, you never did smarten up after your 'Great Depression'. Hopefully after another tragic depression, you'll be able to think for once. Maybe even learn to stop taking food for granted."

For some reason, America wasn't able to brush off the comment. He knew better than to care about what England thought of him, but the words just felt so, true. Apparently, England wasn't finished, and the fact that he had just found his ex-colony's weak spot gave him a sense of control. Therefore, continued to rant on with his jeers, "I should've just let France raise you. Yes, you were cute as a child, but now, you're just a burden to me. I regret ever having you as a colony."

America felt his throat tighten at the last comment. When England saw tears develop within America's eyes, he returned his gaze to his paperwork, satisfied. For the first time ever, he had managed to demolish the dense steel that seemed to be the substance of America's emotions. Quite an achievement, if he must say so himself. Didn't he feel any remorse? Well, not at first, but when England witnessed the struggle America was going through just to hide his pain from the other nations as they filed in, he began to feel somewhat, peccant. Yet, for the sake of his stubborn pride, he just brushed the feeling off, and continued to browse through his notes.

Meanwhile, America continued to grip the edge of his seat, bowing his head in shame as more nations continued to glance at him. Nations he was once able to face with ease, but instead, he began to feel his own skin prickle whenever he made eye contact with anyone. All he wanted to do was tear his face off from all of the humiliation. To him, it would've been the equivalent of taking off an embarrassing costume.

By the time every nation was settled in their seat, the meeting began. Unfortunately, America was suppose to share his presentation first, and when he made no move to do so, the other nations began to stare at him expectantly. Bowing his head even more so that blond strands of hair veiled his face, America mumbled, "I have nothing to present."

At this, some nations suppressed a sigh of relief. France however, couldn't help but glance at America with consternation. Even though he knew it wasn't necessarily his place to be concerned whenever America was feeling down; he still had to stifle the urge to coddle his love interest, and of course, he was ashamed of this. Completely and utterly contrite by the fact that he was in love with a nation, when the chances of him being loved back were almost non existent. Then again, how could France resist such a youthful beauty. Those lean muscles that were somewhat prominent against his smooth skin, the strands of sandy hair that flowed as they pleased, and the deep azure orbs that could create the soothing sensation of an ocean for anyone who dared to gaze into them. Not to mention, the jocular personality that did nothing more than compliment the physical manifestation. It was all enough to put a goddess of beauty to shame. Sometimes it made France wonder; how is it that most nation hate America?

Time continued to tick by, but instead of recovering from the encounter with England, America only continued to sulk. The sight, it was becoming too much for France to bear. Every time the young nation curled into himself, every time he tried to maintain his breathing to prevent the tears from fleeing made France's already lonesome heart clench some more. Out of all of the people in the world, his precious America did not deserve to suffer alone.

At last, the meeting was concluded. Of course, almost every nation left as soon as they could. Yet, by the time every nation aside from France and America had evacuated the conference room, America had surprisingly showed no signs of budging. France decided that he would have no more of this, so he approached America, and asked, "Mon cheri, what's wrong?"

America turned away from France, "I'm fine."

A sympathetic smile decorated France's expression, as he tilted America's head, so his that dearest had no choice but to make eye contact with him, "Are you sure?"

Although America was somewhat comforted by the action, he could not help but tear up when he thought of lying to France once more. It would've been pointless to hide the woe anyways, for the older of the two could just simply detect it in his eyes. Instead of trying to coerce the answer out of the already fragile nation, France decided to embrace him. While America received the solace, he began to sob. France began to rub soothing circles around America's back. His voice was just above a whisper, "It's okay Amerique. Just take your time."

While he continued to bawl, America rested his cheek against France's shoulder, allowing himself to absorb the comfort it's owner bounteously provided. Of course, France did not enjoy the idea of witnessing his beloved in such distress, but that did not stop him from savoring the opportunity of comforting America. The younger nation was actually leaning on his shoulder instead of just pushing him away. Which of course, made the moment all the more enjoyable. Perhaps France did in fact, have a chance at winning America's heart. After all, he never really did abhor France. The contemporary aspiration filled France's heart, so he could not help but allow his smile to grow.

Eventually, America's sobs became nothing more than a snivel. France allowed his head to rest fondly on one of America's shoulders, and invited with a hushed tone, "I know of a very nice restaurant not too far from here. Would you like to eat there with me? Who knows? Maybe some food will make you feel better."

"No," America whimpered, his eyes glazed over with fresh tears, "I don't want to eat at a restaurant!"

France backed up enough just to give America a shocked expression, but not too far as to let go of his embrace, "Amerique, why not?"

America turned away from France, and bawled, "I'm just so fat, and I don't deserve to eat!"

France furrowed his eyebrows, and demanded, "Who told you this?"

"It doesn't matter, because it's true!"

"No Amerique," France's tone soften, but was still firm, "Who ever told you that is wrong. Do not starve yourself for this individual. Chances are, they don't even care for your well being."

For some reason France couldn't quite comprehend, the words had only caused America to choke on an abrupt and violent sob. What did he do wrong? After all, he was only trying to help America, and everything seemed to be working out just fine until he invited the younger nation to eat out with him. Then, it hit him. France knew that the question would be risky, but he decided to ask it anyways, "Amerique, was this someone you cared about?"

At first, America seemed reluctant to answer, but it didn't take too long before he began to vent, "England was the one who called me fat, and told me that the Great Depression wasn't enough to put me in my place! He also told me that I'm a burden to him, since I was once his colony! Maybe if I didn't turn out to be such a failure, he would still love me!"

France didn't even bother hiding his shock at this news, but still tried to be reassuring, "I-I'm sure Angleterre didn't mean any of that. Even if it doesn't seem that way. I'll have a talk with him later, but do try to take your mind off of those harsh words."

Now comforted, America allowed himself to rest his head on France's shoulder, and said with a sniff, "Thank you."

"Pas de problème," France allowed himself to smile once more. There was a moment of silence before France finally decided to repeat his earlier request, "Would you like to come with me to that restaurant now?"

For a moment, France thought he could detect a nervous glint within America's cerulean eyes, but ignored it when he received his response, "Of course."

France finally freed America of his embrace, and chirped, "Let's go then! It isn't that far. We could probably walk there in about ten minutes."

America followed France as they made their way towards the restaurant he seemed ever so eager to eat at. By the time they reached their destination, America couldn't help, but notice that the restaurant was a French one. Of course, he figured, he'd choose a French restaurant over any other. Even in the middle of New York. By the time they were both settled at a table, and were freed of the waitress's presence, France inquired, "Aside from what happened today, has there been anything going on with you lately?"

"Not really," America answered, and then added, "I just still don't understand why you want to eat with me. We just don't really hang out that often."

"Exactly," France began to explain, "We do not spend enough time together. I just wanted to form a stronger bond with you is all. There would be nothing wrong with that, non?"

"Yeah but," America started nervously, pausing for a moment to find the right words, "I don't think that would be necessary. Wouldn't it be more appropriate for you to hang out with Canada, or someone you actually know well."

"This is relevant," France tried to defend, "I mean, there have been some rather important times we have spent together in the old days. After all, I did help you gain your independence during the revolutionary-"

France immediately stopped when he noticed the pain that began to flood in the depths of America's eyes. After giving the younger nation an apologetic glance, his eyes instantly grew a sudden interest for the ground under the table. Mon deur, he thought as his confidence began to diminish, how could I be so stupid? To bring up such a sensitive topic. Out in public too! Not only did I hurt Amerique, but I could've given away our identities. The two did not utter a word until they waitress returned with two glasses full of frigid water. By the time she had her writing pad ready, she asked, "Are you guys ready to order?"

France stared expectantly at America. For a moment, America stayed silent before finally saying, "I'm not that hungry."

With a sigh, France said to the waitress, "I guess we'll just have some crescent rolls."

When the waitress left once more, France rested a comforting hand on America's shoulder, "I'm so sorry Amerique. I didn't mean to reopen old wounds."

"It's fine," America insisted, "It wasn't your fault."

It didn't take too long for the crescent rolls to arrive, and as soon as they were set on the table, France picked one up, and began to eat it hungrily. Once he was finished with the first crescent roll, he looked over at America, and noticed that the younger nation showed no interest in the food. France sighed at this, "Amerique, could you at least try to eat one?"

America grabbed one of the crescent rolls, and began to nibble on it. About half way through the pastry, the nibbling was replaced with that of gulps a python could demonstrate. By the time the basket was empty, France hardly even had a chance to eat a second crescent roll. With an affectionate laugh, he asked America, "Are you sure you weren't hungry?"

America answered, "Well, I'm not hungry anymore."

"Figures," France replied before adding, "so I guess it's time for me to pay the bill?"

"Wait," America inquired, "What do you mean by pay the bill? This isn't a date."

"I am aware of that," France started innocently, then asked, "but is there something wrong with buying a meal for mon ami?"

"No, but you hardly ate any of it, so I should pay."

"You're so polite Amerique, but can't I just do you a favor once and awhile?"

America sighed in defeat, "Fine, you can pay for the meal."

Once that conflict was resolved, France payed for the meal, and left the restaurant with America. As they continued to walk down the street, France had come up with yet another request, "Would you like to spend the night at my hotel room? I'd really appreciate your company."

America examined France's pleading expression, becoming even more suspicious of the older nation's sudden obsession for his presence. As strange as the Frenchman was acting, America was actually beginning to consider the offer. He was sick of spending most of his time at home, and the thought of being alone at his house after the conflict he had faced during the meeting was just dreary. After a few moments of thought, America finally answered, "Sure."

Fortunately, the hotel wasn't far from the restaurant, so America and France were able to walk the short distance in the span of a few minutes. However, in the short period of time, England's harsh words continued to echo in America's head, Hopefully after another tragic depression, you'll be able to think for once. Maybe even learn to stop taking food for granted. I regret ever having you as a colony. By the time the two nations arrived in the hotel room, America sat down on one of the beds, and stared at a wall as he tried to prevent tears from coming. France seemed to be oblivious to the gloomy mood as he asked, "Is there anything you would like to watch on la télé?"

America muttered his reply, "Not really."

France couldn't help but frown when he heard America's voice crack. Sitting down next to the younger nation, he inquired, "Are you thinking about what Angleterre told you again?"

"I should be over it by now," America explained, "but it still hurts."

"As I've said before," France advised, "It's unlikely that Angleterre thinks such things of you. He was probably just having a rough morning, and had no idea what he was saying."

"It looked like he meant it."

When a sly tear escaped from America's eyes, France embraced him, and assured, "Even if he did mean any of those words, just remember that there is still someone in this world who thinks differently of you."

America buried his face into France's shirt in an attempt to stifle his sobs. As the older nation continued to stroke the hair on the back of his head, America thought angrily to himself, What came over me? How can I be this comfortable with a nation I hardly talk to? France on the other hand continued to patiently comfort the other. At that moment, he didn't care if America was even crying over something as ridiculous as a gold fish dying. All that mattered to him was that the younger nation was once again, seeking his comfort. Receiving such trust in the first place was a rare commodity, and France was desperate to win over America's heart.

By the time the sobbing finally died down, America was leaning against France with his eyes half open. France wiped the remaining tears from America's face, and stated, "I think you should get some rest now."

America mumbled his protest, "But it's still noon."

France glanced at the clock to discover that it was four twenty-eight, then decided to correct America, "It's almost four thirty in the evening."

"That's still too early."

France sighed, and began to gently tuck America into the bed. Much to his surprise, the younger nation didn't protest. Either he was too tired to continue the argument, or mesmerized by the comfort France had provided. Since America was half asleep anyways, France decided that it would be safe to go under the covers and snuggle with him. When France noticed that America was still forcing himself to stay awake, he explained with a persuasive tone, "You had a rough day, Amerique, and you're finished with all of your work. Just sleep now."

When America finally drifted into a deep sleep, France continued to admire the young nation's peaceful features. By the time he was able to find his voice, after being amazed by such a beautiful youth, he whispered to the sleeping America, "Perhaps one day you will love me back, mon mignon."