When I saw this pick-up line on Tumblr, I immediately thought of England and America, idk why. I really like this one though. Enjoy?

England's POV

"And that's it for today, you're all dismissed!" I sighed as America ended the meeting, the other countries slowly filing out the door, looking weary. I had just left the door when I saw America still standing in the empty room, collecting papers.

Huh, that's strange. Usually he's the first to leave... I chose not to think about it much, slipping into the elevator.

We were a floor away from the lobby when I realized I had left my briefcase in the conference room. Crap! Not knowing what to do, I simply began squirming back and forth impatiently, which earned me several strange looks and a raised eyebrow. When the other countries had given their concerned staring and left, I jammed the button to the ninth floor and sighed.

I was heading back to the conference room when I saw America still in the room, collecting papers. Strange… and I swore I had my briefcase when leaving the room…

The other nation finally finished gathering his stuff and began heading towards the door. Puzzled (and the slightest bit relieved) I began to head towards the door as well, knowing America would hold open the door for me, like he always does (It pisses me off, to see him act like a gentleman when he's actually a greedy slob). However, this time wasn't the case.

Bang!The door swung straight into my face. I could feel a knot beginning to grow on my forehead as I clutched it tightly, bent over. I had a furious scolding on the tip of my tongue when America interrupted me, a strange look on his face (everything seemed to be rather strange today, now that I think about it).

"You're actually pretty cute." He said, shoving his hands into his pockets and strolling past me like he had all the time in the world. I had just begun to shout at him when realization struck.

Did he.

Literally.

Just.

Fucking hit on me?

A hand was immediately slapped up to my face, despite the knot I had gained just previously. A blush grew its way into my cheeks. Of course, of fucking course only America would use a pun as a pick-up line. I removed my hands from my face, my head still spinning from America's words.

Boy, it's going to be a long night.

I hung up my jacket onto the coat rack, having just arrived home. My hand brushed across a piece of paper stuck in my pocket. Curious, I pulled it out.

C'mon, that was good, wasn't it?

XXX-XXX-XXXX Call me

~America

For what seemed like the millionth time that night, I facepalmed. I crumpled up the paper, throwing it into the living room, even though I knew I'd be crawling looking for it later. Right now my only thought was this:

Why the fuck am I in love with this idiot?

Gah, for some reason I can't get the image of America smirking while walking away from England, help me plz…

R&R!

~Nii