Valentine's Day. What a sickeningly putrid display of affection. Arthur scoffed to himself. It wasn't even for love. More like a petty excuse to shove your temporary obsessions in other people's faces like you're better than them for having someone with an obligation to like and be nice to you.
"England!" Scotland called as he entered his brother's office with Northern Ireland under his arm. "Where's your Valentine's date, little brother? Don't you have one?" he teased mockingly.
England growled and his fist clenched over the papers on his table. "Not now, brother."
"Oh, you really don't have one, do you?" the older brother continued. "Now, that's just sad. Even I got our beloved brother Ireland to agree to be my Valentine. Could it be that no one really cares about you, England? No one likes the cold-hearted ruler of the United Kingdom."
"Scotland," N. Ireland hissed, elbowing his brother in the ribs. "Just give it to him, and let's go. Today's Valentine's Day for God's sakes. Just leave him be for one day."
Scotland paused to stare at N. Ireland for a long minute as they had a battle of wills. England was stunned. Ireland always agreed with Scotland. Always. And now he was showing England mercy? Was today opposite day too?
Scotland broke down before N. Ireland and sighed, tossing a bouquet of red roses and small parcel on England's desk. "Here, that dunce America sent your mail to me again."
England watched as they left warily. Once the door was closed, and the sounds their footsteps faded, he leaned forward to pull a small envelope from out from under the package's strings. Inside there was a small note.
Dear England,
Canada mentioned that he thought you were without a Valentine so I thought I'd send you a little something so that hopefully you're not too lonely today. Besides, even stuffy older brothers like you deserve a little love on Valentine's Day.
Love, America
Touched, England struggled to keep his mouth straight as he unwrapped the bundle to find a box of tea and a second note: "You'll have to settle for some of China's tea from one of his many towns around here. We don't have much tea of our own, only imported blends. I think I remember you having a liking for this particular one."
England chuckled, noting that he'd had a distinct dislike for this blend, but deciding to use it anyway. It was a gift from America, he justified, the bloody git.
He set the box in his desk drawer before taking the roses in hand and bringing them to his nose. He inhale deeply and a smile graced his face.
Maybe Valentine's Day wasn't as bad after all.
AN: Obviously I don't own anything. This is my first time writing Hetalia fanfiction, so I hope I did them justice. Please review, but no flaming!