DISCLAIMER: I do not own Hetalia or any of its characters. This fanfiction is rated T for Britain's fussy rambling and a heaping serving of ripe, boyish attitude. One shot, Britain's POV. UKxUS. Read & Review if you want.
Let the hate-fluff commence.
I hate you, Alfred. Did you know that? I hate you with every fiber, with every ounce of my being. There is no word in this world that can fully describe the unrelenting animosity that I feel towards you. Despise. Loathe. Detest. All of these synonyms for hate that could never even begin to dictate my hatred towards you. I hate your stunning, blue eyes, and your obnoxious, contagious laughter. Your overall happy-go-lucky and positive attitude disgusts me to no end, and just looking at you tends to piss me off at times. I hate the way that ridiculous cowlick of yours sticks out of your head like a sore thumb, and how your honest smile brightens even the most gloomiest of my days. I can't stand it when you talk with your mouth full of food, and how you expect everyone to understand what you're saying between swallows of burgers, or apple pie, or whatever other rubbish you Americans eat on a daily basis. Your lack of consideration for others is beyond incomprehensible, and from the way you constantly boss everyone around, I'm surprised that you haven't engaged yourself in another one of your pointless wars, yet again. Your diet is to say the least, atrocious, and even if you were able to somehow burn off all those calories from that greasy, unappetizing food, I'm expecting you to be diagnosed with diabetes any day now. Your hero complex is not only annoying, but exceedingly tiresome as well. I hate how even though you continue to irritate me day in and day out, I can't help but to try and understand as to why I put myself through all of these never ending headaches that always seem to accompany you and your unannounced visits…
Oh, for God's sake - - just look at you. How dare you place your disgusting, cruddy work boots on my beautiful, hand-polished oak coffee table like that? That antique is older than you are, and twice as distinguished. What were you, raised in a barn? And don't slurp your tea, Alfred! Augh, and you're getting crumbs all over the loveseat… For the love of the Queen, I taught you better than that!
I hate how easily distracted you become when I'm talking to you. Honestly, I don't believe you pay attention to half of the things I say. That's just like you - - in one ear and out the other. Dimwit. …America? Are you sleeping?! I'll have you know that I was in the middle of a very important lecture on etiquette. Something that you obviously know very little about, despite your exceptional upbringing. I've always wanted the very best for you, Alfred, you know that. I just wish you would uphold and demonstrate the appropriate mannerisms that a leader of your stature should possess. Really now - - all of that potential, and nothing to show for it. You could accomplish so much more; more than I could ever hope to imagine for myself. All you need is some discipline and the proper motivation to do well. Perhaps someone to look up to for guidance…
Sigh...
You really are troublesome, aren't you …?
Often I forget just how quiet you're actually capable of being until that ever-running gob of yours finally shuts. I hate how your mop of sandy-blonde hair shines like golden straw when you nap in the sunshine; how innocent and peaceful your face appears when you're dozing. I hate the soft, even breathing through your slightly parted lips and those obnoxiously thick crescents of your closed lashes resting upon your smooth cheeks as you dream of God knows what. Just what exactly is going on in that helium-filled head of yours, Alfred? I think I've given up on trying to understand you. I've painstakingly learned that it's much easier to just go along with your asinine antics than to waste my breath objecting otherwise, despite my stubborn pride. God help us all...
Hn ...? Well then, look who's decided to wake up. Pardon? No, I was not watching you sleep, if you must know! Get that idiotic grin off of your face. What's that now? Lunch? Absolutely not. We had afternoon tea shortly before you fell into one of your self-proclaimed "power naps". Don't look at me like that with those kicked-puppy dog eyes of yours. That sort of performance might work on the other countries, but I assure you that I - - I don't care what you had at France's! Well then order a pizza, fine with me! No, I won't go "half-sies"! Leave me out of it.
Now if you don't mind, I'm going to finish going over the papers I was reading before you so rudely barged into my home and distracted me with your shenanigans. Believe it or not, some of us actually have pressing responsibilities to attend to. We don't all have the luxury of dropping in on other people's schedules uninvited and causing a rumpus. No, I will not play video games with you. Quit pulling on my sleeve like that, it's a repugnant show of behavior and I won't tolerate it. Alfred, I said bugger off! Oh, how I hate your childish demeanor, and the fact that you seem to find playfulness in every single aspect of daily life. Do you really believe that the world is that simple and uncomplicated? What am I thinking. Of course you do. God forbid you take the issues and duties that follow with being a nation seriously for once.
Oh, what is it now, you git? Can't you see that I'm attempting to ignore you? I hate how my name rolls beautifully off your tongue when you address me, or when your cerulean gaze lingers on my own emerald one for more than a few moments... I hate how flustered I become when you're so unintentionally cute, or when you insist me calling me one of your irritating and unnecessary pet names. Idiot. We're fully-grown men, not children!
America... Stop staring into my soul with your unfathomable and penetrating crystal-blue eyes. Please. If you continue to burden me with your gaze, I ... I might falter. Your eyes might permeate the thick shell of this resilient, outward appearance I've worked so hard to preserve over the years, and see through to the wavering weakness I exhibit when I fall victim to your stare. I have an appearance to maintain, Goddamn it. If only you knew what your look did to me, you wouldn't torture me with it the way you do. You can be so carelessly cruel... Damn you Alfred, and damn these problematic feelings that I have no control over. Damn them and you both straight to hell. It isn't right! Oh, I still want it, of course, but that's beside the point. There's no crime in yearning for a window of open opportunity, but I'm in no position to wish for that sort of thing. I don't even want the aspiration of possible reciprocated feelings from you. I don't deserve them...
...What?! Don't be ridiculous, I just have something caught in the corner of my eye, is all. Yes, I'm sure, it's nothing, so drop it! Don't you have somewhere else to be at this moment?!
I hate you America. But above all, I hate myself for loving you in this way. More than you could ever possibly realize.