America stirred in his sleep, feeling himself in a very uncomfortable position. It seemed as though he was lying on something rough and warm. He felt wet, and his back was hot and sticky with sweat. He also vaguely realized that his lungs were burning something fierce. He inhaled sharply, only to receive a mouthful of sand in reward.

"Ugh!" he choked and sat up abruptly, hacking and spitting the offending substance back to the ground. "What...?" He was on a beach. This couldn't be right, he definitely wasn't here a few hours ago. He had been on a boat with England, searching for the island where the Axis countries were rumored to be shipwrecked.

"Oh lovely, you're awake." An annoyed British voice sounded from above, and America squinted up through the sunshine into the face of a very aggravated England. "I suppose you're right proud of yourself."

"Why's that?" America tried in vain to wipe some of the sand from his face, only succeeding in making the matter worse.

England folded his arms and looked off at the ocean. "Well, we found the island."

America brightened. "Really? How?"

"Oh, I don't know." England shrugged and looked back down at him. "Probably due to the fact that you're a blithering idiot!" He gave America a sharp kick in the ribs, earning a grunt of pain in response. "You drove us right into that storm! I told you to wait it out, but no! You had to rush in, headstrong and unthinking as per usual!"

America massaged his ribs and pouted up at him. "What're you talking about?"

England snorted. "How convenient, you don't remember. Well, we were on that boat out looking for the Axis fellows, and you seemed convinced that you had found the coordinates. You wanted to rush straight in but I told you that something didn't feel quite right."

"I remember now!" America cut in. "You told me the fairies said there was gonna be a storm!"

"Yes! I did! And you-"

"Well jeez, that's why I didn't listen! I'm not gonna have your imaginary friends tell me-"

"They're not imaginary!" England interrupted, face flushed. "Anyway, you ignored me and rushed straight into the storm. The boat broke itself to pieces on the rocks and we were tossed out. Bloody miracle that we survived."

"I bet it was cuz of my awesome hero skills," America said confidently.

"No, it was more likely that your gratuitous amounts of body fat allowed you to float," England replied flatly. "We were tossed about but I finally managed to get us here and get all the water out of you. Git." He reached into his pocket. "Somehow your glasses managed to stay on, I haven't the slightest idea how that happened. Here." He handed them to America, slightly scratched but otherwise undamaged.

"Texas!" America exclaimed cheerfully, ramming them back on his face. His sight restored, he was now able to get a clear look at their new prison. It wasn't half-bad, actually. A bit humid, certainly, but otherwise pleasantly warm and tropical. America couldn't help but think it would make a nice vacation spot under other circumstances.

"-And it's probably completely deserted," England was saying. "Ugh, this is terrible. I knew I shouldn't have brought you on this mission. Even France would have had more common sense than to drive straight into a storm." He sat down next to America, huffing irritably. "Why'd I have to end up with you?"

"Hey, look on the bright side!" America said. "At least it can't get any worse!"

England looked at him evenly. "How do you figure?"

"I'm stuck on a deserted island with you. That's just about the worst thing that could happen to anybody!"

England spluttered. "You abhorrent git!" He aimed a punch to America's side, which was easily blocked by the laughing nation.

"Dude, chill. I'm joking." He stood up, still chuckling, and surveyed the beach. "Did anything else survive from the boat?" he asked, shielding his eyes from the sun.

"A few things," England replied, pushing himself up. "Some rope and one of your shirts. I managed to find the radio system, although it's soaked and dented beyond current use. I've got it drying over there." He gestured toward the rock that held the metal contraption.

America nodded in appreciation. "That it?"

"Unfortunately. At least, that's all I could locate from this segment of beach. There might be some more wreckage down the way, but I was afraid to go looking what with you lying there all unconscious."

America put a hand to his heart. "Aww, you do care about me."

England flushed. "Not because I was concerned or anything!" he amended quickly. "I was afraid you'd wake up and inhale the sand, which is unsurprisingly just what you did." He ignored America's indignant squawk. "Now that you're up, we can work on getting ourselves out of here. Go look for something that we can use as food, I'll work on scrapping together some sort of camp."

America made a noncommittal grunt in response and walked off into the trees. Like there's going to be any decent food out here, it's probably all just coconuts and shit! He kicked at a few rocks as he wandered about. Really, this situation wasn't completely undesirable. They still had the radio, which he was sure he could fix once it dried out. They had reached their target, albeit in a different fashion than he had intended. And, contrary to what he had said earlier, it wasn't really all that bad being stuck with England. He much preferred the Brit's company to that of say, France or China. Or Russia, he shuddered, but he didn't dwell too long on that. No, England was definitely the best person to be shipwrecked with. But! he shook his head frantically, Not cuz I wanna be or anything! Just...cuz. He tried to justify it with the fact that England had been in plenty of tough situations and knew how to handle himself.

Yes. Yes, that was definitely it.

America returned a few hours later, arms loaded with coconuts. He carried them over to the makeshift campsite that England had put together. Making a small heap, he turned and spotted him hunched over a fire pit, trying to create a flame by rubbing two sticks together. "Dude," he called, catching the Brit's attention. He held two of the fruits down by his groin. "Check out my nuts."

England rolled his eyes and turned back to the fire. "You're incredibly mature, you know that?"

America grinned and dropped the fruits back into the pile. "At least I'm funny." He wandered over to the pit. "What're you doing?"

"Trying to get a fire going," England replied bitterly. "Can't you tell?"

"No, not really," America cocked his head. "It looks like you're trying to jack it off." Ignoring England's splutter, he kneeled down next to him. "Only cuz you're doing it wrong!" He took England's wrist and set the larger of the two sticks down into the tinder. "You gotta do it like this." He put England's hands around the remaining stick, his own a bit higher, and began to spin it back and forth. Before long, they had created a small flame. America leaned down and blew on it gently, encouraging it to alight onto the moss. It caught, and soon there was a pleasant fire going.

"W-well," England stuttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "Erm...thank you."

"No prob." America grinned and stood. "Now I'm tired, so I'mma take a nap!" He started over towards some palm trees, grabbing up the rope and some leaves.

"What!?" England stood quickly. "No you don't, we have a lot to do before sundown! We still haven't skimmed the shore for more wreckage!"

"Eh," came America's reply. "That sounds like work." He had constructed a hammock out of ropes and leaves and hopped into it. "I say we just wait til the radio dries out, then call for help. Shouldn't be too long, right?" And with that, he promptly went to sleep.

England groaned and stalked off to gather more wood. "Blasted git," he mumbled to himself. "If I rely on him, I'll be stuck here forever!" Once he had obtained a nice armload of logs and sticks, he set to work. "I'll build myself a raft and get out of here now. He can wait for the damn radio to dry."

Though he knew he couldn't leave the idiot behind.

America woke just as the sun began to turn the sky into a pleasant, pinky-orange color. He sat in his cot for a moment, leaning back and enjoying the weather. He had to admit, it really was nice out here, and getting away from the responsibilities of being a nation at war was an added bonus. Maybe he ought to dunk the radio back into the sea, just a little bit. Enough to get it nice and wet and buy himself and England a few more days of relaxation. If anybody needed a rest, it was that guy. Stick's so far up his ass, I bet I couldn't find it if I tried. He blushed furiously at the thought that spawned from that, and decided to push it as far from his mind as possible. No. Just...no. That's gross.

He heard a triumphant laugh and sat up, trying to identify the source. England stood a few yards away, admiring his handiwork on...something.

"Whuzzat?" America called, attempting to get out of the cot without falling on his rear. Failing horribly, he took advantage of the fact that England hadn't been looking and decided to pretend it hadn't happened. He sauntered over to where the Brit stood in front of a giant wooden mat.

"See here!" England said proudly. "Look at what I made, all by myself! What do you think, America? Pretty amazing, huh?"

It...actually was. America's eyes widened. "Wow! That's really cool, England!"

"Yes, well. I-"

"I've always wanted a bed like this!"

"What? No, that's not-" He was cut off as America took a flying leap onto the raft.

"I'm gonna sleep here starting tonight! This is awesome!" He sat up and started bouncing. "Dude, this is great! It's all bouncy and stuff, come on and try it!"

"America! Quit jumping on it!" England demanded. "That's a raft, not your personal inflatable bed!"

"But it's so fun!" He continued to hop around. "Come on! You gotta try it!" He reached out and tugged on England's wrist, pulling him forward onto the wood.

"America, no! It's going to-"

CRACK.

They both scrambled backward as the raft split in two. England stared, dumbfounded, at the corpse of his creation. Hours of working...

"I'm sorry," America ventured. "I didn't mean to-"

"You moron!" England punched his arm. "I told you! You played on it too roughly and now it's broken!"

"I said I was sorry!"

"Sorry doesn't fix the raft, now does it?" England said bitterly. America was uncharacteristically silent. England looked up and saw him staring at the wreck, looking truly remorseful. He sighed. "Ah well. It probably wouldn't have worked anyway, right? Wouldn't have supported our body weight or something. Especially with yours." America was still looking tearfully at the raft, so he patted him on the shoulder. "Let's go eat something, then. You're probably hungry."

America perked up. "You mean we get to have the coconuts?"

England chuckled. "Yes, we get to have the coconuts."

"It looks like a butt."

"I beg your pardon!?" England looked up from trying to crack his fruit open. America was staring thoughtfully at his dinner. "What did you say?"

"I said it looks like a butt." He held up his fruit. "See? This nut is a total ass."

"America..." England shook his head. "It's Coco de Mer. The double coconut."

"I don't care what it is, it looks like a rear end." He cracked it open. "Is it weird that I still wanna eat it?"

England chuckled. "Not at all, they're actually quite delicious." He finally succeeded in prying his open and pulled out a piece of the meat. "Since they're here, we've probably been shipwrecked somewhere on Seychelles."

"So I'm eating Seychelles' nuts?"

England fought the urge to roll his eyes. "That's hardly what you should be worried about right now."

"I'm just sayin'."

England sighed. "Since we're here, we'll probably end up being found by France."

"So?" America chewed. "I thought you wanted to get rescued."

"Yes, but not by him. He'll see us here and his perverted mind will jump to conclusions. He'll most likely make a snide comment about the fact that we're here sharing a camp together."

"That bothers you?" America quirked an eyebrow. "Cuz like, he says stuff like that anyway. But if it bugs you, I can go make camp somewhere else."

"No, no." England waved his hand dismissively. "That won't be necessary. I just dread him being the one to find us. China would at least have the decency to chastise us. I'd rather listen to that than innuendo the entire way home."

America laughed. "France is a perv."

England allowed himself a small smile. "Yes he is, isn't he?"

"And it's just worse cuz of his accent!" America cackled. "Bonjoor, my dick looks like a catfish an' my wimmin never shave zeir legs. Zey are so 'airy!"

England burst into laughter. "No, no, you're not quite doing it right," he giggled. "You have to sound more froggy."

"Ribbit, si vous plait."

For some reason, England found that remark hilarious. He fell onto his back, laughing hysterically as America continued to force out a terrible French accent.

They kept on for a while, having great fun mocking the rest of the Allies (mostly France). England realized he hadn't enjoyed himself so much in years. There was something about America, something in his easy laugh and contagious smile, that put England completely at ease. Dare he say it, he actually enjoyed spending time with the lad. This...this was nice.

"Yes, well!" he coughed abruptly, sobering himself up. "It's late. We should, er...yes. We should get to bed."

America wiped a tear of mirth from his eye. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Bye-bye, ass-nut." He discarded the rest of his coco de mer and followed England back to the campsite.

"I wish we had been able to scavenge some of the blankets," he heard England mutter. "All we have is canvas, but it's still damp. America, I-" he turned and started. "What are you doing!?"

America looked up from unbuttoning his shirt. "You said we had no blankets, right?"

"Well, yes! But that doesn't mean to undress!"

America raised an eyebrow. "Turned on, are you?" He grinned cockily.

"N-no! That's definitely not it...wanker..." England turned red and looked away.

"Well, whatever. I need something as a blanket, right? And I sure as hell ain't taking my pants off."

"Yes, well, I can't imagine that would keep you very warm anyway." He looked back, and to his... relief? Or chagrin? America was wearing a second shirt underneath his first.

"Yep, this'll do!" America made himself a small pit in the sand and covered himself with his shirt.

England followed suit, and the two lay in silence for awhile, America staring at the stars, England pretending to do the same but really just watching the other nation.

"H-hey America," he ventured after some time.

"Yeah?"

"You know...the weather here really is awful. It's hot and humid during the day, but at night...it gets very cold."

America snuggled deeper under his shirt. "I hate to admit, but I have to agree with you there. It's balls cold, I wish I had my jacket. Damn tropical island, pretending it's warm." He made a face.

"Y-yes." England shivered. "C-cold."

America looked at him for a moment, then blushed furiously and laughed. "I'm not gonna do anything about it, if that's what you're thinking!"

England felt his face growing hot. "Of course you won't! Not that I wanted you to anyway! Shut up and go to sleep!" he rolled over so that America couldn't see the deep blush gathering on his face and neck. He stewed in an awkward silence, wondering wherever America got the ridiculous notion that he actually wanted- well...that.

He's an idiot. A blithering idiot that reads into casual comments too much.

He lay there feeling sorry for himself until America's voice startled him.

"Although..."

"Yes?" He was almost afraid to hear what was going to be said next.

"It does get pretty cold out here...maybe we should...y'know. Just to keep warm and stuff."

"That...that sounds like a good idea." Good lord, man! You're acting like a blushing teenage girl!

"Yeah, it does! Just...not cuz I want to or anything! Just, y'know, for the body heat!"

"Certainly! Just for the body heat." England felt himself growing warm again as he turned to face America, whose face was likewise slightly tinged.

"Yeah. So, um..."

"Right." He scooted closer and America held out an arm, tucking it underneath the Brit's back.

"Don't get all excited or nothin'," he interjected again. "Just for body heat."

"We've established this," England snapped. "I'm not 'getting excited,' so don't worry yourself. You sound like you're trying to talk yourself out of it."

"Shut up!" America flushed and turned his face away.

The following silence was long and awkward. England was about to say something until he heard America's soft snores next to him. He let his comment die on his lips and instead let out a sigh. "You're bloody ridiculous, you know that?" he asked softly. "Silly git."

America responded by rolling his face over onto England's shoulder and snoring loudly.

England smiled and rolled his eyes, slowly moving his hand and sliding the glasses off the boy's face. He set them in the sand above them and kissed the younger nation's forehead. "Goodnight, America." With that, he finally dozed off.

He woke up in the middle of the night with a sudden weight on his torso. He looked down and saw America's arm slung over his stomach, pulling him closer. He was spooned against the American, being affectionately crushed by his happy and sleepy embrace.

"...'Murcaa..." he slurred, still half-asleep. "'Murcaa, geroff me." He half-heartedly shoved at America's arm, only succeeding in making the nation pull him closer. This resulted in his face being buried into England's shoulder, breath tickling gently at his neck and earlobe.

England felt himself blush. "Really now? Even when asleep, you're completely impossible." He closed his eyes. "Why do you make me love you?" he whispered.

America hummed cheerfully in his sleep and England smiled.

He didn't attempt to move him off after that.

England woke up again, this time when daylight pierced the sky and the morning was once again hot as hell. He rolled over, covering his face in an attempt to block out the light. Upon doing so, he realized that America was no longer there. He sat up in alarm, looking for him around the campsite. He was nowhere to be found.

A bit concerned (and admittedly, a bit lonely), he called out. "America? America, where are you?"

"Right here!" America's booming voice sounded from around the corner. He ran into view, arms loaded with things that England couldn't quite make out. "Sorry bout that, I was going down the beach and checking for anything else that survived the crash. Check what I found!" He dumped his load onto the sand. "I got some fishing stuff, so we can eat some meat instead of just coconuts!"

"America, that's brilliant! Excellent!"

"I know, right?" America looked proud of himself. "Also, check this!" He pulled up the mangled mini-propeller from the bottom of the boat.

England stared at it. "That's...magnificent?" What the bloody hell do we do with that piece of junk...

"Look though!" America yelled excitedly. "If you spin it like this, it turns the crank and you make a personal fan!" He blew it at himself excitedly, then turned it to England. "Except it's hard so you should do it for me."

"I'm not going to crank the fan for you!" England protested indignantly. "If you're going to be getting the rewards, you should do the work."

"Aww, but England," America grinned. "I get so much more pleasure when you crank it for me." He winked and England turned bright red, spluttering incoherently. America laughed. "It is so fun to do that to you, seriously."

England turned away and said nothing.

"Anyway!" America clapped his hands. "I found something way cooler! Check this shit out!" He bent over and England tried to ignore his bum waggling so temptingly in the air. "I got a lantern and matches! Ta-dah!"

England was shocked enough to forget his embarrassment. "Excellent! This is good, now we'll be able to move around even in the dark!"

"Dude, we could explore the forest!" America said excitedly. "We could be like Daniel Boone!"

"Who?" England asked, confused.

"Nevermind! We'll be adventurers!" America struck a pose and pointed at the forest. "Into the great unknown! After I eat cuz I'm starving." He picked up the fishing poles. "You said we're on Seychelles, right? This chick's got plenty of fish!"

"Yes, I'm sure you could find a suitable fishing spot," England said thoughtfully. "You know, I think while you're doing that, I'll see if I can find a town or something." He took the lantern. "I'll walk the forest and you catch us dinner."

"Oh. Well, okay." America looked slightly disappointed. "Just like, don't die or anything, kay?"

England was stunned at America's sudden concern. "I think I can manage, thanks. But don't tell me you actually care if I get hurt!"

America blushed furiously. "Psh, like I'd give a shit if anything happened to you. I just don't wanna have to rush in and save you if you trip over a stick."

England felt his face growing hot. Scowling, he snatched the matches out of America's hand. "You're a right prat, you know that? God, why do you always have to be so bloody arrogant!?"

"Why are you being so rude all of a sudden?" America glared back. "Sheesh, I just said-"

"I know what you just said! You just proved everything I've ever said about you! You're an insolent chav that only cares about himself! Go on and stuff your stupid face, I'm leaving!" With that, he turned away and stomped into the forest, ignoring America's hurt expression.

"Y-yeah?" America called after him. "Well, you're...you're old!" He slumped weakly. "I just wanted you to be careful..." He started walking toward the coastline sullenly, dragging the fishing pole behind him and creating a line in the sand. "You're stupid, 's what you are. Make me say stuff I don't wanna say." He kicked the sand, perfectly aware that England was no longer in earshot. "Go to say stuff and then you have to go and mess it all up so then I feel weird. Why are you dumb?" He looked back at the forest, pouting slightly. "And so damn cute. I hate you." But he knew he didn't really.

America spent the next hour and a half fishing. He never really had been the best at it, and quickly discovered that it was much harder when actually intending to eat what was caught.

"Damn fish! Let me eat you!" he shouted at the pool. "Why can't you just hop on shore and marinate yourself? That would be so much easier!"

The fish, of course, did no such thing.

America threw his pole into the sand. "I bet you taste like shit anyway." He stomped away, still muttering darkly at his newest arch-nemesis. He felt his gaze drawn back to the forest.

England's been gone an awfully long time...

Not that he cared at all, of course! Just don't wanna have to go rescue him cuz the idiot fell in a hole or something. Yes, he told himself. That was most definitely it.

But...an hour and a half was a long time to be gone for just exploring. What if something had happened? What if he'd fallen off a cliff, or was drowning, or had poked his eye out on a stick, or-

"I'm coming, England!" America shouted suddenly, shooting off into the trees. "Don't worry, the hero's comin' to save you!"

It took a good ten minutes of blundering around and calling, "British guy! Are you dead?" before America started to hear a familiar voice.

"-he just...frustrates me, you know?" it was saying. "I try to be kind and just when I start to think that maybe he actually cares, he goes and says something stupid and upsets me again. I want to keep my temper, I really do! But he...I just...he's America. He doesn't understand."

He's talking about me? America ducked behind a bush and peered curiously through the leaves. England was in front of him, sitting on a log and addressing the air beside him.

"Yes, I know," England replied to the clearing. "But my point still stands. He only thinks about himself, and it's right irritating!"

America felt his ears grow hot. He came out to save England from any of the terrible demises America had envisioned, and the ungrateful bastard was going to diss him behind his back? To imaginary things, no less? He'd be damned if that was going to happen. America started to stand, fully intending to march out into the clearing and tell England exactly what he thought of him and his stupidly endearing accent, but the next words he heard made him freeze in his tracks.

"But I love him anyway."

Whaaaat?

England shook his head. "Don't ask me why, I can't explain it. He just makes me so happy."

I do?

England paused, as though waiting for a response. "Yes, but...I just can't. Not in this situation." He blushed. "Not that...not that it isn't perfect! That seems to be the problem, actually. It's too perfect. I keep sensing connections between us that may or may not be there. I think the romantic setting is getting to me, that I must be reading into it too much. I'm assuming things. There's no possible way he could feel the same way about me."

America struggled with the urge to leap out of the bush shouting, "Yes I do! Yes I do!"

"If we somehow get off this God-forsaken rock," England continued, "and this...the way we are now, if that continues, only then will I consider acting upon my feelings. Only then."

America sneaked as quietly as possible from his hiding place, taking care not to give England any hint that he had been there. He tiptoed away from the clearing, breaking into a run as soon as he deemed it possible. Once he was sure he was out of earshot, he leaped into the air and let out a loud whoop. England liked him! Him! Just moments ago, he wouldn't even have dared dream-

But he did! And had actually told the...whatever-they-weres in the trees that he would go out with him if things stayed the same. America grinned at the ease of his situation. All he had to do was keep being awesomely heroic and flirtatious, and England would be his in no time flat! Still deliriously happy, he ran off to camp. He had some calls to make.

England made his way back to camp a short time later, feeling much better after his chat with the gnomes. They had been so understanding of his predicament, and urged him to apologize to America for the sake of saving their friendship (and whatever else their awkward, dancing-around-each-other relationship could be called). He spotted the American kneeling beside the fire, rotating a fish on a spit. He took a deep breath to prepare himself, then approached.

"Listen, America, I-"

"England!" America cut him off with a happy cry, grinning up at him. "Check it out, I caught a fish! Took some serious ego-bashing and I think I insulted his mother a few times, but hey, it's a fish!"

England looked at their dinner, rotating slowly with a dead look in his eyes. In all honesty, it was rather repulsive, but America seemed proud of himself so he decided to play along. "That's lovely," he replied with a slight smile. "It looks...delectable."

"Hells yeah it does," America said triumphantly, grinning at his catch.

England kicked at the sand shyly. "Listen, America," he began awkwardly, "I'm really sorry about-"

"Ah, dude, don't worry about it," America replied easily, waving his hand dismissively. "It's over, bro. Christmas Past. Water under the bridge." He grinned up at England. "I'm just glad you got out of the forest okay. How'd it go?"

"Ah," England was slightly taken aback by America's overly cheerful demeanor, but decided not to question it. "Well! I had so much fun! There were gnomes, and-" he gestured to the fuzzy-looking fairies that were chattering aimlessly about his head, "-I met these cute little guys!"

America cocked an eyebrow. "Why do you say stuff like that when there's obviously nothing there?"

"They are too!" England shouted indignantly. "Just because you can't see them doesn't mean- ah, forget it. You're probably too much of an idiot anyway."

America grinned. "That's me. So anyway, where'dja leave the lantern?"

"Ack!" England smacked himself in the forehead. "I knew I was forgetting something! I just got caught up with the gnomes, I must have left it-"

"Y'know," America laughed, "You say I'm the idiot, but then you go and do stuff like this." He shook his head, still chuckling. "Ah well, we can just leave it. It's too dark to go looking anyway. Besides," he stood suddenly, face excited, "I have a surprise for you! C'mere!" He grabbed England's hand and tugged him over to a flat rock that he seemed to have been using as a workbench. "I fixed the radio, check it out!"

"What?" England rushed forward to inspect it. Sure enough, the pieces had been restored to their original conditions and positions in the mainframe. "Wow, this is...you did this while I was gone?"

America brightened at the admiration in England's voice. "Yep! Didn't take me too long, I just had to figure out which parts were still working and dried out. Then I just had to put 'em back where they went!"

"Yes, but...how did you know where all the pieces belonged?"

"Dude," America pointed at the machine's origin, engraved into the brass. "'Made in America,' bro! I invented this thing, remember?"

"Ah!" England nodded at the little label. "I had forgotten that. Well, this is a wonderful development!"

"You're tellin' me!" America grinned. "I was thinking I'd give it one more night to dry out, just to make sure there's no water left in the system, and we'll make the calls in the morning. Whatcha think?"

"I think that's a brilliant idea." England smiled appreciatively at the beaming nation. "So we'll be off this island soon, then?"

America's brow furrowed slightly. "I think so," he said. "I guess it sorta depends on how quickly the signal reaches the guys. Which also depends on the signal strength out here. Which also depends on if she even gets signal out here. Which she probably doesn't, since all she has are fish and ass-fruit." He plopped to the ground. "Stupid islands," he whined. "Being all tropical and shit."

"I agree," England mumbled, joining him in the sand. "This weather is really beginning to grate on my nerves." The sun had just sunk below the horizon, and the air temperature dropped dramatically. He shivered and pulled his knees closer to himself.

"I got the fish," America offered. "Nice and hot and everything, straight off the fire."

England smiled at the idea of a hot dinner. "That sounds nice."

"BLECH." America spat his bite out instantly. "That's disgusting! It tastes like death wrapped in a burrito and covered in die sauce."

"It's not that bad," England said, chewing thoughtfully. "Actually, I rather like it."

"Yeah, but you're used to things that taste like the plague," America pouted. "You eat stuff like fried blood and holey frogs."

"Sorry, what was that last one?"

"Holey frogs!" America insisted, "Y'know, the toad-in-the-hole or whatever."

England paused for a moment, then started laughing. "You dolt, it's toast and eggs!"

America stuck his lower lip out indignantly, not enjoying being laughed at. "Then why don't you just call it that? Makes it sound so much less gross. I'd eat your stuff if you'd just say that it's toast and eggs, or turnips and potatoes. Seriously, 'neeps and tatties' just sounds to me like 'nips and tits.'"

"Not that you'd mind having that instead."

"Hell nah!" America grinned. "Just not when I'm wanting potatoes. Usually."

England smiled and shook his head. "You're such a child," he remarked fondly.

"I'm a damn sexy one, then."

England secretly agreed, but decided not to voice it. They sat in an amicable silence for a moment, America breaking it with a loud grunt.

"I don't want this anymore," he said, setting his fish down in the sand. "It's icky."

"Brat, you can't just not eat it because it's 'icky,'" England spluttered. "Honestly, you're so spoiled up on fast food."

"Ppppt." America responded by making a flatulent noise with his lips and forming an "L" against his forehead with his hand. "I'm tired, anyway." He stood up and stretched, yawning hugely. "I'm gonna go to bed. You coming?" He shot a furtive glance at England from under his outstretched arm.

"I'll stay up a bit, I think," England replied quietly, staring into the fire. "Go on, then. I'll be along in a minute."

America nodded and walked off toward their sleeping are. England's gaze followed him until he had covered himself with the now-dry canvas and rolled to face away from him. He looked back at the dancing flames, trying to make sense of his thoughts.

Speaking to the gnomes had been helpful. After so many years of knowing how he felt, he had finally voiced the words aloud. He was in love with America. He had been for quite some time, but the idiot was so completely oblivious that he cockblocked himself without even knowing it! England groaned and put his face in his hands. It was shameless, what he was doing here. Being so openly flirtatious, acting forward, allowing himself to sleep in the American's arms. It was not the way a proper gentleman should behave. But, as he thought to himself, he had always found true "proper gentleman" to be stuffs anyhow. No, his rebellious side still rang in his heart. He would act how he wanted. If that meant being forward, then he would, blast it all!

"Oi!" he called over to America. "I'm putting out the fire, make some room on the leaves. I'm not getting sand in my face because you're a hog."

America laughed and rolled over to accommodate him.

They slept in each other's arms again that night, both of them well aware that this time was not about body heat.

America leaned his head sideways, resting his temple against England's hair. He listened to the Brit's soft, even breathing and resisted the urge to pull him closer, lest he wake the man. He placed a gentle kiss on England's cheek, smiling when he blushed.

"I love you too, England," he whispered. "And I promise, once we get out of here, I'll still make you feel special. I'll be your hero, okay? And you won't even be able to resist me." He grinned at the prospect. "Just as soon as I can, okay?"

England mumbled unintelligibly and America kissed him again. "Dork," he whispered affectionately.

Cuddling a bit closer, he buried his face in England's neck. He breathed in the faint eucalyptus scent, gradually dozing off.

France was enjoying a nice vacation.

England and America had been gone on their mission for the past week, and all was perfectly quiet. He hadn't even heard from them in the last three days. Considering their circumstances, he probably should have been worried. But then again, three days without being yelled at or called "Frog," three days without having to hear the obnoxious laughter and proclamations of heroism from the annoying American. He had been relaxed and at ease, and had decided to take a trip down and visit one of his favorite colonies.

"Fish?" Seychelles asked sweetly, holding out her prize trout. "Would you like to have some fish?"

"Ah," France said airily, waving her off with his hand, "As delectable as that sounds, mon cherie, I am afraid I am not in the mood for fish at the moment."

"Oh." She looked a bit confused. "Then...shall I eat the fish? It is a fresh fish, I would prefer not to have it go to waste."

France ignored her and looked about at the beautiful tropical environment. "This is very nice," he commented. "It is such a joy to visit such a lovely island. So peaceful in comparison to-

"I can't believe you urinated on it!"

"How the hell was I supposed to know!?

France groaned. He was hearing their voices now.

"And anyway, it was dark!" America's voice continued, "And there were a lot of weird shapes and I thought their might be ghosts so I just pissed and ran!"

"YOU PEED ON THE RADIO!" England's voice screeched. "How are we supposed to call for help now, you idiot!? You can't just walk into a place full of misleading shapes and just let loose wherever you feel like it!"

France followed the sound of the voices over a small sandbank. In front of him stretched a makeshift camp and what looked like a rather horrendously wrecked boat. England and America stood on the shore, obviously having an argument.

"Hey, hey!" America shouted indignantly. "You can't yell at me for doing stupid things, you used my underwear as a handkerchief! You blew your nose in my boxers!"

"You're making that up!"

"I am not! They were all snotty and unless I started shitting mucus-"

"'Ello!" France called out to them, waving. "Angleterre, Amerique! I have come to rescue you!"

They both turned simultaneously. Upon catching sight of France, England sighed in relief and America trilled.

"Dude! Frenchy, I never thought I'd be so happy to see you!" France found himself crushed in the American's enthusiastic embrace. Wrinkling his nose, he shoved the boy off and looked at them both.

"Mon Dieu, you both look horrible!" he exclaimed. The two men were covered in a mixture of salt, sand, sweat, and what appeared to be fish scales. The smell...he didn't even want to know. "You are so lucky Big Brother found you both! Come, let us get you cleaned up! Follow me, now!" He stalked off, closely followed by Seychelles, who was still on about 'what about a flying fish? Is that better, do you think?'

America turned to England, grinning hugely. "Dude, we got rescued! I totally knew there was nothing to worry about!"

England smirked affectionately. "If I recall, you were the one sobbing your eyes out not even thirty minutes ago about not getting a proper breakfast."

"I was hungry!" America said, puffing up defensively. "But anyway. We're going home now, so I guess it doesn't really matter anymore, huh?"

"I suppose not." England looked away.

"I mean," America continued, oblivious, "all the weird stuff that happened here, we can just forget it! It's all in the past and we can go back to the land of fast food and hot showers!"

"Yes..." England sighed. "Just forget about everything." He still wouldn't meet America's eyes.

"Hey," America said softly, finally catching on. "I didn't mean everything. Just the bad stuff! We had some pretty cool adventures, right?" He grinned, and as England turned to look up at him, he quickly leaned forward and kissed the Brit full on the mouth.

England lost rational thought for a moment.

"See?" America said, pulling away with a triumphant smile. "Great adventures. And I sure as hell don't wanna forget that. Now come on," he held out his hand. "I want some real food, and you taste like you haven't brushed your teeth in a week."

"You moron." England's eyebrows narrowed, but he blushed all the same. He reached out and took America's offered hand. "And you taste like rotten fish and rancid coconut."

"Aww, you say the nicest things!"

Hand in hand, they followed France back to the hotel.

After everything was over and they had returned home, they recounted their tale of being shipwrecked. It seemed to England that every time they told it, the details became more and more vivid, and there were certain things he wasn't sure he remembered happening. With this last telling, it appeared that America had single-handedly fought off a giant squid (the reason that he hadn't been able to control the boat, clearly he was busy doing more heroic things) and a shark-bear (according to America, it had been trying to eat England in his sleep, which was why he didn't remember that specific event). No matter how many sensationalized tales he told, however, America never mentioned their sleeping together or the kiss.

England found that a bit odd. Generally, America was one to boast loudly about his sexual conquests, often getting into arguments with France about who got laid more and who was better in the bedroom. But this, the one thing that would have trumped any of France's other points (he had been after the Brit for years, America kissing him would have counted as a win in every following debate), he never brought up.

His question was answered three weeks later, when a very shy and timid-looking America approached him after a meeting.

"So...have you given it any thought yet?" he asked hopefully, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet.

"On what? Your STD bomb idea?" England still thought he was talking about his earlier strategic proposal. "I highly doubt that dropping canisters of clap-addled tampons will do anything to help us."

America blushed furiously. "Not that! I meant the whole going out with me thing."

"W-what?"

America turned an even deeper shade of red. "Y'know, when we were on the island and everything. You said if things kept being awesome between us, you might go out with me. That's why I haven't said anything to anybody about what happened, I wanted to give you a chance to think it all over without being teased or any pressure or anything."

"America, that's so swee-" England was touched until the message sunk in. "Wait, I never told you that, how did you- were you eavesdropping on me!?"

"Uh," America was at a loss. "No? The, um...the fairies told me!"

"I didn't tell the fairies, you daft twit!" England launched forward and America ran around the tables, giggling like a child in a game of tag.

"Come on, England," he wheedled once he was at a safe distance. "Pretty please? I'll be nice to you and I'll buy you pretty things, and I won't tease you about your eyebrows and your cooking sometimes, and-"

"Yes."

"What?" America stopped, thankfully in the middle of his promise that he'd actually eat England's cooking, the results may have been disastrous.

"I said yes, git." England felt his ears growing hot, but he smiled. "I'd be happy to."

He had never seen America grin so widely. It was literally as though his face had been split from one ear to the other. "Oh my God!" he shouted excitedly, "Oh my God, you said yes! This is so awesome! You said yes! And now you're my boyfriend!"

England rolled his eyes. "Thank you for the announcement, Captain Obvious."

"Hell no, I'm Captain America!" America chirped, leaping over the table and twirling England around. "And you can be my Peggy Carter, only you won't get all old and die and I won't have to love your niece instead!"

"What?" England laughed, completely lost.

"Nevermind!" America trilled. "I'm just happy is all!"

He kissed England again. This time, England could sense America beyond the sweat and sand-drenched days on the beach. He smelled of gunpowder and aftershave and tasted like bubblegum and he was warm and sweet and his hair was so soft and-

This was going to be much, much better than the island.

A/N: Aaaaand I'm finally done! Oh my gosh, you have no idea how long that was sitting in my Doc Manager. Good Lord, y'all.

Anyway, this was based off the non-linear comic of the same name. I've been reading the Hetalia Scantalations, and this particular one is my personal favorite. So much of the adorable boys, so much amazingly cock-blocked USUK :D I have feels.

Anyway, I really hope you liked it, and I definitely encourage you to go look at "We're Shipwrecked Too" if you haven't already. I included the entire comic in here, but the pictures are so much love.

As are reviews! I always like those, if you please :)