It was that time of the year again.

Canada had had his small birthday party a few days ago. The only reason that England remembered that was that it was the warning the dreaded day would come.

America's rubbing the fact that he won the war and became an adult. More or less. "The bloody fool still acts like a child," England grumbled to himself. He was fixing up a cup of tea. It was only about eleven o'clock in the morning. He still had thirteen hours before this whole mess was over. He sat down in his arm chair in the living room, curtains drawn, letting the sunlight into his house. It was hot, but he much preferred the natural light…

He was settling down, closing his eyes. Perhaps a nap would make this day go by quicker… He heard his doorbell chime. With a groan, he set aside his cup of tea, and pushed himself up. He headed over to the door. "What is it?" He demanded, opening up the door.

There to greet him was an entourage of people. The ones at the front were France, Spain, and an outline. Did someone bring a ghost? England stared at the group blankly for no more than half a second before France pushed himself in. "Well, I assume you have everything ready, England." He cooed.

"Ready for what?" England sputtered as the nations filed into his house, pushing their way through by Spain's coaxing.

"For America's birthday, but of course!" France was checking the decoration in the front room, semi-approving, semi-reproachful. He turned back to England. "Did you forget?"

England's thick eyebrows twitched. "I know his birthday is today, but what are you and every other nation in the world doing at my house?" He seethed. He could hear the crashing and rattling throughout his house, the commotion being caused by everyone touching and rearranging his stuff. He was SURE he heard something fall and smash into a thousand pieces.

France raised his eyebrows. "Mon ami, we decided to hold a surprise birthday party for him at your house! Since it was going to be raining all day at poor America's, and he couldn't light he beloved fireworks."

England snorted. "Let him light them inside his house for all I care. Now, gather up everyone at get out!" He grabbed France's shoulders and tried to push him out the door.

The frog had spread his arms and legs so he was wedge between England and the door. "Ah! No-no-no-no! You must not do this!" He croaked.

"No, but—" England backed up a few steps to have France relax a bit, "I want to!" And England kicked France in the back, making the man cry and fall outside of his door. He closed it and locked it.

"England!" France started to pound on the door. "Open up this instant!"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I think I hear the kettle calling."

France was calling England a slew of refined, but still mean names, as he trotted off down the hallway. One down, however many more there were in his house to go.

He needed to get all of them out without letting France back in.

Somehow.

England rounded into his living room. The curtains were closed, his beautifully arrange furniture pushed to the side, and his cup of tea was no longer in sight. The others were putting up tacky banners and decorations. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" England barked.

"Getting ready for the party!" Spain was happily sticking something up—was that tinsel? It wasn't even close to Christmas!

"Just get out of my house!" England ripped off a banner that said "Happy Birthday Birthday Boy" in English.

He was going to rip off a few others, but Spain told Germany to restrain him.

England was fuming badly now. "Why must this part be at my house?" He demanded sourly.

"Well, you were the one to suggest it." A quiet voice said.

England stopped, and looked around. "Who said that?"

There was a nervous chuckle in the voice. "Remember, a few days ago at my birthday? America left early, lamenting that he couldn't have his big birthday bash because of the rain… You said 'We should throw him a party ourselves.'"

Oh. It was Canada. However it still looked like a lot of other people were confused about the voice. However, "I did no such thing!"

"Oh, but you did!" A voice rang out. France was coming through the window! He quickly straightened out his clothes. "After a few drinks, you were chattering away saying how sorry you were—"

"Shut up!" England felt his face growing red. He didn't remember this, but he didn't like it.

"That poor America—"

"France, go back through that window—"

"And said we should all throw him a party, and offered up your own place." Francis had a smirk.

"If I was drunk then it does not count!" He seethed. He tried to kick France, but he was too far away, and Germany was still holding him back by the arms.

France tutted. "Well, too bad. It's underway, and I have sent Russia to go get the fellow."

England blinked. "They hate each other."

France nodded. "Ah, but also Russia's the only one who can handle him, too. Though I 'ave asked for minimal bruising." He was quite proud of himself.

England scowled. "If you're so interested in this, do it at your own house."

France laughed. "Non. You also offere up your rooms to stay in for the night. I do not 'ave that kind of space."

"I did what?" England was dumb founded.

France looked over. "Germany, will you be a kind sir and put England under guard until the festivities start?"

England couldn't see the expression on the study man's face, but he shifted uncomfortably. He had mixed feelings about this.

"Don't do it Germany! This is my house, and my word is law here!" England quipped.

The strength of Germany's grip got tighter. "You did agree, England. A man does not go back on his word." He responded gruffly.

"I WAS DRUNK!"

"That does not matter." Germany decided, and dragged off the fuming England.

After a few hours of sitting in his bedroom, England was getting quiet annoyed. He was pacing, and staring up and down at his room. "I can't tell what they are doing to my poor house!" He fumed. There was this strange smell now, something he had never smelled in his house before. Well, at least not in a long time—That was good food. It was France's food. He despised France, but it didn't make his food any less delicious.

There was also clattering.

England had tried to get out of his room twice, and Germany was there both times. He tried to listen when the larger man would walk away for a bathroom break, and nothing. Did the big man have a large bladder? Or did he just never have to go to the bathroom in the first place? England was more than agitated after being imprisoned in his own house! He started to pull his bed sheets off of his bed. He could hear a large commotion downstairs. He looked at the clock. Two thirty-eight. He tied his sheets together, giving them tough tugs and tied it to the leg of his heavy four poster bed. He opened the window. There was talking outside his room. He tossed the sheets outside of the window, grabbed the first rung and started to slowly lower himself out of the window.

The door to his bedroom opened. "England, it's time to go back," France started, and then was cut off by a yelp. "Germany!" He called.

"YOU CAN'T CATCH ME!" England bellowed and suddenly dropped five feet down the sheets with a yelp. He hung onto them, legs wrapped around it and was supported by a few of the knots he had put in the sheets for extra precaution.

Next thing he knew, he was being pulled back up into his room. He was shaking a bit, but he was yelling. "No! You do not come into my house, bar me, and then stop my escape!" He chirped.

France was breathing deeply, clearly being more than a little startled by England's escape attempt. Germany had grabbed England and dragged him back into the room. "I was going to tell you-!" France had to take a deep breath in. "America is now 'ere. Now, go downstairs."

England glared. "No."

France had on his polite smile. "Now England, America's the guest of honor, and since this is at your house—"

"Without my allowance."

"—You are ze host." France wiggled his finger. "I will drag you down there myself if I have to."

After about twenty minutes or so, Germany dragged both France and England back downstairs. They were both battered, and fuming, but they were more or less presentable.

Downstairs was the same party as before, with the addition of Russia and America. Ivan was off to the side, only watching with interest, but there was some sort of flicker in his eyes. England decided to ignore him for now.

However, America was the center of attention. He was in the middle of the living room, wearing a black tank top, jeans shorts, and his dog tags. He didn't have the decency to take off his shoes. England frowned. No-one had their shoes off besides him.

America was talking to everyone he could, chattering on, making comments, and was at the moment England came into view, was talking to Japan. The small Asian nation was listening politely, and England couldn't tell if he was interested, or if America was just being a bother…

He made eye contact with Japan, and Japan smiled. "Ah, England-san."

That made America whip around. There was a huge grin on his face. "Ohh! England! Dude!" In less than half a second, America was next to England. "I didn't know you were throwing me a party!" He mushed England's golden hair.

England frowned and ducked. "I didn't want to, you git!" He pushed America away, or tried to. The younger man wouldn't move.

America just laughed. "But you still did. That's A-OK in my book!" He grinned at England.

England felt a rush of annoyance. This little brat!

And America hopped off to go chat with someone else. This time he was flirting a bit with Hungary, which made Austria (Even though they were divorced) jealous.

France was speaking to Russia. England went just close enough to get a little snippet of their conversation.

"…Was easy enough. Found him, and put cloth bag over his head." Russia was speaking.

"Such a simple way! He didn't struggle?"

Ivan hummed. "Did at first. Kneed me in face." Ivan laughed quietly, maliciously. "Might have tied ropes little tight after that."

England frowned. He looked over towards America… He seemed alright. They were talking about getting him here, right? England scooted a bit closer. He could check to see if America had some sort of markings with ropes on himself…

"Mi amigos! We have some great food! Come and get the first section!" He called.

"Awe yeah! Food!" America was the first in line, being treated special because he was the birthday boy.

"Is something the matter?"

England jumped. He breathed out. "Oh, it's only you." He muttered. Canada had somehow gotten beside him without his notice. He shook his head. "It's nothing." He said.

Canada's eyebrows knit. He nodded. "Okay, but if there's something bothering you, you can tell me." He muttered quietly.

England smiled. He patted Canada's head. "Even as a child you were sweet." He muttered.

Canada's face turned pink, but he smiled. "Don't forget." He said quietly, and went to join the line.

England sighed. "This is going to be a long day." He muttered.

Thankfully there was tea as well as coffee at the small feast. Yes, there were rope marks on America's wrists, but they were hardly visible. England couldn't feel sorry for him though after a while. He kept going on and on about things he has done, what he has seen, making plans to go visit people's houses without their consent.

He was too full of himself.

England wanted the little kid America back. The kind, sweet child that would frighten as soon as something out of the ordinary would happen. He missed those days.

He really did miss them. Now he got this young, rash man instead.

That made his mood sour.

It was now seven o'clock.

America and the others were drinking.

Italy had pulled Japan into the little group with Germany, happily chatting away about old times.

France was flirting with Belgium now, but Belgium was easily brushing off his advances.

China was making plans with the Philippines, and Russia was watching them with that creepy smile on his face.

And then there was America, with Spain and talking about exciting adventures. America was now wearing this stupid paper hat on his head that said "Burger King" on it. Where the bloody hell did that come from?

Everything about this night was making him irritated. "I just wanted to take a nap." He grumbled. He wanted this day to pass by.

He didn't need this bloody party! He wasn't even really the host!

England looked up. Belgium was now talking with Spain. America and France had disappeared. He snorted. "Good riddance." He hopped they stayed gone, but had the feeling that something he really didn't want to happen was about to happen.

"HEY EVERYBODY!" America's booming voice came out. "Let's go outside and light us some fire works!" There he was, stupid crown and all, holding up several bags of explosives…

"We got plenty of beautiful ones!" France cooed.

America grinned. "Lots of day-time ones too! We can start! Everybody, grab your beers!"

England was planning on as soon as they went outside to lock the door.

America swung around to England. He put an arm over his shoulder, weighting America down with the large bags of fireworks. "Come on, Iggy! You've been boring all day!" America poked England's cheek. "Come on and play!"

England tried to push the alcohol breathed America away from himself. "I do not wish to play with your silly fireworks." He growled.

"But come ooooon! You can play magician with the sparklers!" America grined.

England's eyebrows knit, annoyance getting worse. "I don't play, there IS such a thing as magic!"

America took his arms off of England. He waved around the bags of fireworks in a mystic fashion, saying, "I am a magician! Here to magish for you! Aren't you glad I'm not a wizard?" America winked at England.

England just stood there, staring with cow like eyes at the younger man.

America poked England on the nose. "…Dude, are you broken?"

"You are drunk. Go to bed."

America snorted. "Oh hell no! Things are just getting good! No hamburgers, but we got a buttload of fireworks! Come on Iggy, it's my birthday!"

England shook his head. "No it's not." And then he started to walk off. He would go to his room. He wouldn't be able to lock everyone out, but he just needed to get away from this drunk man. This drunk, uncute man who wished to blow himself up.

"Iggy! Come on!" He grabbed England's wrist. "We could get you some smoke bombs so you can act like a ninja—"

England twisted his wrist out of America's grip. "YOU ARE NOT A KID ANYMORE! THIS DAY IS THE ANNIVERSARY OF THE DAY YOU TRULY PROVED THAT, AND YET YOU ARE IN MY HOUSE, MAKING DEMANDS LIKE A WHINY LITTLE BRAT!"

America startled backwards. He was so taken aback by England's sudden outburst.

The smaller man pointed at him, right in the chest, poking it repeatedly. "You are a selfish brat. I can't believe that I ever had you as a little brother." He seethed. He was poking harder. "Now you are here, in my house, at a party that I didn't even want to have, making demands of ME." He hissed. "GO OUTSIDE AND LIGHT YOUR DAMN FIREWORKS. JUST MAKE SURE YOU BURNN YOUR BLOODY ARSE OFF."

England turned around and stormed off.

America was standing there, dumb founded.

The other nations were quiet.

After a while, America started to laugh. "It looks like Iggy's not gonna join us! So, let's go out and have some fun!"

England could hear him down the hall. Damn bastard. He could go curl up in a ball and die for all he cared.

His little brother was gone. England was getting a headache.

He might as well turn in early.

Clouds were starting to roll in, but everyone was outside. America was playing with the fireworks, but what England had yelled at him really got him down. He kept shaking himself, telling himself it was his birthday! Seriously! He should be happy, and not let England ruin his special day! Really. It was special… It was the day that England actually saw him as an adult…

"America-san." Japan was watching America. "Your sparkler went out two minutes ago."

America jumped a bit. "Oh, hey yeah!" He laughed. "Let me get another one."

Japan frowned, before he said anything, he thought, and then was quiet.

Italy was having fun, drawing stuff in the air with the sparklers. He had three. America challenged him and got eight.

Italy didn't care much for the challenge, but America demanded for an audience to say who was better at whatever it was they were doing, and all three judges claimed Italy, even if America tried to play the birthday card.

England was still angry at him, after all these years. America thought he was finally getting over it now that he invited him over to throw him a party…

They had cleared a good spot over a nearby river. They set off one big firework after another. The clouds were now covering the sky, and a rumbling of thunder could be heard. Still, they kept on firing off the fireworks. The last one, America held it up. "Thanks everyone, for this great birthday! I can't hear good anymore, but I wanted to say thanks for this! NOW, LAST ONE!" America set the firework on the ground, lit it, and ran.

Ten seconds later, a white flower burst open in the sky, some of the ends sizzling, and some of the ends bursting into even more flowers.

At the end, everyone clapped. America turned around, and everyone yelled, "Happy birthday America!"

It was a great year.

It really was.

But…

England woke up to the sounds of the bangs. He went over to his window, sleepy eyed, and opened it up. "Ah…" He shielded his eyes. The lights from the fireworks were bright. He sighed, and leaned against the window frame. He watched the fireworks blossom like flowers over the river. "...Bloody git…" He muttered. Still, the fireworks were pretty… Even though they reminded him of America. He should probably apologize. It was America's birthday, after all…

After all the fireworks were done, everyone was tired, and were heading to the rooms. France was showing them all the rooms they'd be staying in. There were enough rooms for those who decided to stay at England's for the night. America went into his assigned room, and dang, he could not get over how amazing some of them where! The one he was in was the main guest bedroom England used. It had high ceilings, huge windows, four poster bed with emerald green sheets… It was a bit stuffy for his tastes, but for a place to sleep, the bed was sure comfortable! He opened up the curtains a bit. They finished just in time. Lightning was starting to strike. America closed the curtains and changed into his PJ pants. It was too hot for a shirt. He was probably going to sleep on top of the bed anyway. He hummed, hearing the rumble outside his window, and hearing his door open and shut. He felt a bit of a shiver. "Hello?" He called. He looked around. Shrugged, thinking it was nothing. He saw something out of the corner of his eye, and stiffened. He shook himself. "Ahh, there's nothing there." He said to himself, and laughed, stretching out his limbs.

He felt fingers brush against his bare back. "America," A voice whispered.

America screamed.

England had just arrived outside of America's room. He got the information from the frog as he was heading towards his own room.

'Are you two going to kiss and make up?'

The way he had said it made England glow bright red. Including even a wink! He hit himself on the head. The matter at hand, he needed to deal with the matter on hand! He reached for the door handle, then hesitated, hand hovering just an inch above it. He backed away. He didn't want to do it. He really didn't want to, but he should. He started to pace outside of America's room, then sighed and decided to head back to his own room—that is until he heard the scream come from America's room.

England burst in. "What's wrong America?"

At first, he was confused. He didn't see America, or anybody.

He heard the whimpering and looked up. America had climbed the bloody curtains! "America! What are you doing up there?" England came closer.

"AHHHH! THE GHOST IS TALKING TO MEEEEEE."

"America, I—"

"AHHHHH! GO AWAY!"

"America, there's nothing here—" A flash of lightning, and America screamed again. Unknown to England, he saw the figure move again across the room. Neither of them noticed the figure slipping out of the room.

"NO GHOST GO AWAY, I'M NOT YUMMY! I'M NOT OLD YET, TAKE IGGY'S! HE'S AN OLD MAN!"

England felt a vein pop. "A-me-ri-caaaaaaa!" England grabbed the curtains and started to shake them roughly. "YOU COME DOWN THIS INSTANT!"

America held on for dear life, and the curtain rod popped out of place. America fell down, and the curtain covered England. The older man started to curse, and America jumped up to run. England tackled him, still covered with the curtain.

"NOOOOO! DON'T TAKE ME TO THE AFTERLIFE!"

"IT'S ME YOU BLOODY FOOL!" England ripped off the curtain to reveal himself.

It took a while longer for England to calm America down sufficiently. They were both sitting on the bed, the curtains shoved off in the corner. The lightning flashed illuminated the room, and even though America didn't want to show it, they were still startling him a bit every time one flashed.

England sighed. "So… You were getting into bed, and all of a sudden, you felt something go down your back, and say your name?"

America nodded.

England laughed.

America turned red. "I wasn't scared! Just startled!"

"You climbed all the way to the top of the curtain!" England said laughing.

"Heroes don't get scared!"

"Oh really now?" England crossed his arms. "Well, then I have no reason to be here, Mr. Hero."

"WAIT!" He got up to leave, but America's hand grabbed the back of his PJ shirt. It was so quick that it caught England off guard. England looked back, and there was a confused, embarrassed America looking up towards him. America was red. He could tell that even in the dark. "Uh," America looked away, curling his face under. "Well, sometimes heroes need someone around too."

"Is that an invitation to stay?"

England didn't get an answer, but America kept on holding onto his shirt, even gripping it tighter.

England rolled his eyes and sighed. "Okay. Fine. Get into bed."

America's whole body straightened up, and America was so relieved it took England off guard. He smiled, covering his mouth. "In, now."

America rolled on top of the covers. England told him to get under, and threatened to leave when America wouldn't follow his instructions.

America and England were soon both under the covers. England was coddling America to sleep.

"I'm not a little kid anymore." He huffed, his eyes half closed.

England chuckled. "You do act like one. Now go to sleep. I'm right here." He patted America's shoulder. He hadn't done anything like this in so long.

America protested a little bit, but closed his eyes. "…I'm glad I came Iggy. Thank you." He muttered, snuggling up on his side into the sheets.

England sighed and smiled. He gently ruffled the young man's hair as he slept.

Maybe not all of the little kid was gone. He still was a bit of a cry baby. Cute and vulnerable. He was glad America kept some of his young charm. He kept on ruffling the young man's hair, gently tugging at it. He used to be an extremely cute kid, but now, he was a handsome young man. England was noticing this as he stared blankly at the young man's face.

England sighed, and scooted down under the covers. He was on his back, and closed his eyes. He felt America snuggle up to him, and hear him whisper, "Stoopid spookie". England held back a chuckle. He turned his head, and decided just this once… "Happy birthday America." He whispered as he leaned in, and kissed America directly on the mouth.

His lips were a little rough, but he felt a nudge back, and felt the young man kissing him back. This startled England enough to make him pull back.

America's cool blue eyes were open. He was smiling up at England. "That's the first time in a long time you said happy birthday to me."

"You bloody fool, go to sleep—" America pulled England back down to him, and kissed him again. Then again, and a final third kiss, lips hovering below his.

"I'm an adult now." America whispered.

England sighed. "And you drank a lot of alcohol." He muttered. He brushed the dark blond locks out of America's face, kissed his forehead. "Do this again in the morning, when you're not as… What's the word…"

"Smashed?"

England rolled his eyes. "Yes. That."

America chuckled. "Okay. As long as you stay here with me until the morning."

"A gentleman doesn't go back on his word." He muttered, in contradiction to earlier…

America smiled. "I'll keep you to it."

England woke up in the morning alone in the bed. He felt a bit of disappointment seeing America wasn't there beside him. There was shuffling on the other side though. He slowly rolled over, and he was suddenly pinned by the wrists and given a sudden strong kiss. England closed his eyes and kissed back.

America broke the kiss, and looked down at England. He grinned. "I'm not a kid anymore."

England rolled his eyes. "But you are still a childish arse."

"Hey!"

England sat up, grabbing the back of America's head, and gave him one last kiss. "Happy birthday America."

America blushed a bit, but chuckled. "Come on. It's breakfast time."

And America hurried England up to get dressed, and hurried downstairs to go get breakfast being prepared by Spain.

America took a hold of England's hand.

England didn't mind.

He wasn't a kid anymore, but he was still America.

Dear lord I have finally wrote this beast out.

This was thought up maybe about three years ago, originally was supposed to be a comic, contained smut, and such like that. Instead it kinda got rearranged to suit a cuter style and be a little more emotional. The first part was still kinda a pain because I don't know where to place people. _

This took me two writing sessions. Yes, this is unedited. The total time it took was about 3 hours. I wanted it out and done. . There is a second part that will explain some things that happened in the first part. I hope to get that done soon, but it's 1:30 in the morning, and I have classes tomorrow. Hope to heck that it'll be done within the month, and it'll probably be maybe a fourth of this one's length.

Anyway, thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed my trip to la-la land!