America felt his senses returning after the night he spent asleep at his desk. As they slowly made their way back into focus, he felt no aches at having slept in an awkward place for such a long time, nor was able to hear his computer's fan working to keep the machine cool. He could not feel his glasses on his face, nor feel them in his hand. What he did feel in is hand - and surrounding his body - were sheets of such a fine quality they gave the illusion of being meant for a king. He could also sense another body in the bed.
America quickly became alert after realizing that yes, there was in fact another body in his bed. He sat upright in the bed, not caring if he woke up the person whose mop of messy blonde hair and bare upper back were the only current things visible. America scanned the bedside table - which, he noted, like much of the rest of the room, was a shade of blue - for any shape resembling his glasses, because for some odd reason his vision was worse than the day before. He picked up the glasses, his vision clearing so that he could make out what his surrounding were. Everything from the ceiling to the curtains was a shade of blue. His bed partner though - who just took in a sharp breath - had rolled over so America could examine his bed buddy's face.
The first thing America noticed was his partner's eyebrows, which was to be expected, as they were one of the most prominent features on his partners' face. The next thing he noticed was the green of his partners eyes, so familiar yet filled with something America had not seen in them, even in his childhood, and he could not put a name on the look. America continued to stare and take in hi partner's face, and with each detail was further stunned. He then realized that they were both naked in the same bed when his partner spoke.
"That was a wonderful evening Alfred."
Of course with that sentence, America's brain had only two functions left: break or play along.
It asked what the hell was wrong with this picture instead.
"Um, England. What are you talking about?"
England took this as a continuation of the night before, and inched his way closer to America.
"I told you last night, My Darling King," England had managed to get his lips right by America's ear and enunciated My Darling King with a certain precision that made America unwillingly shiver. "Now that we're married, call me Arthur."
Then America caught the word. King. The thing he had broken away from when he became independent.
Then America's brain finally broke.
Oh dear...
What have I written...
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