Chapter One

One day, England was searching around America's home, feeling a bit anxious, but having a good idea in mind. He finally found America's room, and opened the door. He was immediately greeted by a terrible smell, almost addictive, and noticed that the room was dark.

"Hey, America, I was wondering if—" England stopped, coughing, choking on the fumes. "Ugh, what is this horrible smell?"

America, lying slumped against the wall, curled up, looked up at England, wearing bellbottoms that were fashionable at the time, as well as a tie-dye shirt with brown vest. On his head, he wore an American flag bandana, but it couldn't cover his blonde curl. He had a sleepy look in his eyes, and held a joint in his hands. He blew out some smoke, giggling a bit, and raised an eyebrow lazily.

"Hey, what's up, Iggy?" he said, laughing a bit.

England looked at him in disgust, realizing what the smell was. He walked in, holding his breath, and as soon as he reached the window, England pulled apart the curtains and threw open the window. America immediately shied away from the incoming light, squinting.

"Ahhhh! The light!" America screamed.

England finally took a breath as fresh air rushed in, then glanced back at America, still disgusted.

"America, what do you think you're doing?" England asked.

America giggled again, taking another pull on the joint in his hands.

"Hey!" America shouted. He paused, looking a little disoriented. "I'm an adult, okay? You can't order me around! You got that?" Just then, America lost his balance and fell onto his side, giggling again.

England shook his head, going over to America. He helped him up, propping him up against the wall again.

"America, what the bloody hell is wrong with you?" England chastised, shaking him a bit.

"Come on, England, lighten up… Hey, I have an idea!" America said.

England let him go, waving off the fumes of the still smoking joint.

"And what could that possibly be?"

America paused again, then jumped forward while England was still on the ground, and shoved the joint into his face, making him cough and splutter.

"Get high with me," America said, starting to laugh crazily.

England tried to push him away, but America persisted, looking dreamy.

"England…" America started, as he was being pushed away. England looked at him, only half paying attention, starting to get annoyed that his plans for a romantic night were ruined.

"What?" he asked impatiently. America immediately rushed forward, so that he was in England's face, pushing him onto the ground.

"Kiss me," America said, leaning forward, only inches away from England's face, now.

England looked at America, confused.

"America, what are you… What?" England said, blushing deeply at this request, now unsure what to say. England stared at him, and while he remained speechless, America finally leaned forward and kissed him.

England's face immediately went completely red, and he could feel his blood pounding in his ears. The anger and embarrassment he had been feeling just moments before immediately washed away, and he melted under the kiss. There was still some partial disgust, but it was a miniscule feeling compared to his underlying love for America.

A few moments later, America pulled away, still with a dreamy look in his eyes, but it was no longer the effect of being high. Instead, it was a combination of the two, his cheeks also a deep red from love. England looked at him, blinked, then smiled a bit.

"Um… America?"

America rubbed noses with England, blushing still.

"Mmhmm?"

"Kiss me again," England said softly, loving the nose rubbing.

America's eyes widened a bit, then he closed them and kissed England one more time. A few moments in, he kissed him a bit harder, lovingly, cuddling passionately. There was still the smell of smoke in the air, but England ignored it for the moment, just holding America close to him.

Finally, several moments later, America pulled away, though reluctantly. England nuzzled his cheek, missing the feel of being so close, wondering why America pulled away already.

"Hey, England…?" America asked quietly.

"Mmhmm…"

"…I'm hungry…"

England pulled back and looked at him, and America's stomach grumbled, right on cue.

"Uh… Do you want me to cook something for you?" England asked.

America grimaced, sticking out his tongue in disgust.

"Er, no thanks… I still feel kinda high, but I'm not about to eat somethin' you cook… I think I'll go find something to eat…" he said, slowly getting off of England.

England watched him go dejectedly, his anger coming back.

"My food doesn't taste that bad…does it?"

England got up off the floor, dusting himself off, the smell of the joint still lingering in the air. He coughed a bit, watching America stumble out the door into the hallway. He followed, waving away the fumes, and went to eat some food with America, hearing and feeling his stomach growl.