/ I'm alive.! And sane.! My mom asked me if what I was doing was important just before I finished and I replied with "It's important for my sanity!", which it is. Anyway, Enjoy.! /

HEATSTROKE

"Tell me again why I'm here in this blasted hot country of yours," England demanded, his arms crossed and sharp green eyes fixed on Spain, who was picking up two baskets behind his pantry door.

"Because you're going to help me harvest some tomatoes," the brunette replied cheerily. He handed one of the baskets to the blonde, who gingerly took it.

"And tell me again why I agreed to this," he said, following Spain through a long winding path towards his tomato garden. Large red fruits hung from dark green stalks from a distance, and England wondered how long it would take both of them to pick every single one.

"Because we need to rekindle our friendship," Spain replied, his voice even more cheerful, a skip in his step. "Actually I was surprised when you agreed."

"That goes for me too," the blonde grumbled. "And I think I regret it."

"But we haven't started yet!" Spain protested, turning around to face his companion but not stopping. "It's going to be fun, really!"

"Fun," England grumbled. He could not see how harvesting tomatoes in a 40 degree day can be considered fun. Everything around him looked distorted, as if he was looking through water. His shirt was already drenched in sweat, despite the fact that they've only been out for a little more than five minutes. And what irked him more is that his companion didn't seem to be bothered in the slightest.

Spain noticed the blonde's sluggish movements and paused, viridian eyes trailing over his companion. His hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat, shirt already drenched, and his cheeks flushed. As the brunette looked, he thought he even saw England's eyes glazed over.

"Are you alright, amigo?" he asked worriedly. He had meant it when he said that he invited the blonde over to rekindle their friendship, but he thought that perhaps he didn't think it through. England was obviously not used to the weather in his country, if his unfocused eyes and sweaty body are any indication.

England looked at Spain, or at least tried to. He couldn't seem to focus on anything, and his vision is becoming even more distorted as seconds passed. Even as the two nations reached the garden and the tall tomato plants provided shade, he still felt that the temperature was too high.

"Perhaps you should sit for a while," suggested Spain as he frowned, an expression that England thought didn't suit the other nation at all. He should just smile, because his smiles looked better and his eyes flared up with cheerfulness whenever he does.

"M'fine," England slurred. His head started to pound and he could see spots dancing in his vision, but he had to see Spain smile. He had to make the other nation stop worrying. He walked towards one of the tomato plants, frowning as he looked over the bright red fruits. "You have to show me how to do this."

Spain's frown lessened but didn't leave his face. Oblivious as he was, he was sure that the blonde was somehow forcing himself to stand up straight, or even just focus, like he always did. He briefly wondered why the Brit always felt compelled to strain himself, before deciding that he'd show England which tomatoes to pick, fill their baskets, and go home quickly before offering him some iced juice.

The brunette showed England how to pick tomatoes properly so that he won't accidentally squash one in his hand, then described tomatoes that are ripe enough to pick. They filled their baskets in silence, and while it wasn't exactly uncomfortable, it worried the Spaniard. He thought that the lack of conversation somehow had something to do with the Brit's difficulty in keeping his focus.

Spain stared for a while at England's face, taking in the flushed cheeks and hair that clung to his scalp because of sweat. He noted that the Briton was biting his lower lip, and he couldn't help but think that he wanted to kiss the blonde nation. The brunette grinned at the thought of doing so and subjecting himself to England's endless grumbling and probably kicking and punching, but he thought that it would be worth it.

England, meanwhile, felt the Spaniards stares and looked at the other nation through his peripheral vision. His head still swam but he saw the unmistakable grin on the brunettes face and his lips twitched into a smile of satisfaction. Yes, he thought, smiling suited Spain more.

"Spain," he muttered softly, straining his eyes to see if the tomato he was holding was ripe enough before picking it and holding it to his lips. He looked sideways at his companion before closing his eyes and sighing. "Spain," he repeated.

"Inglaterra?" the Spaniard asked. He shifted closer to the blonde nation when he closed his eyes. Worry gripped through him again, and he was relieved when his companion turned to him with sharp green eyes, focused and determined.

"I don't want to rekindle our friendship," England announced.

Spain's stomach dropped. Did he just hear that? But why did England agree to visit his country then? Why did he put up with the heat, followed Spain to his garden and actually helped him pluck tomatoes? Why-

Arms shot out and pulled him towards the blonde and the next thing he knew was that there was a pair of incredibly soft lips on his own. He put his own arms around the other nation's waist, pulling him closer. He could feel the sweat on the Brit's back, the shirt he was wearing clinging on to skin, but Spain still embraced England tighter. He didn't want to let go; the Brit felt right in his arms.

He pulled away for a while to gasp for breath before meeting those rosy lips again, this time for a more passionate kiss. His tongue licked at the other's lower lip, asking for access. His request was granted and he felt England's lips part slightly and he gently pushed his tongue inside the other's mouth. He explored the wet cavern thoroughly, eliciting a few muffled moans from the Brit. He smiled, thinking that he very much liked the sound, before pulling away, both nations with flushed faces and panting.

"I want us to have something more," England breathed before closing the distance between them again in a chaste kiss before he finally gave in to the heat and falling unconscious in the brunette nation's arms.

Spain fumbled to hold the blonde nation up, surprised when England suddenly fell limp. He recovered within a few moments and he shifted the other nation so he was carrying the blonde bridal style. He placed a gentle kiss on the Brit's sweaty forehead and chuckled lightly.

"I think I don't want to rekindle our friendship either," he muttered into the other's ear and he trudged back home, the two baskets full of tomatoes left forgotten on the ground.

/ Aah, SpUK. I need more of this in my life. I hope you enjoyed my first attempt at describing a kiss like that... Please review.! :D /