I actually didn't intend on this story being a USUK story, but that's exactly how it turned out. I do ship USUK, I just don't write about it often. I figured something light-hearted and fun would be a nice change, though.
"Hey, Alfred!" America was pacing the streets, looking around frantically. England had never seen America acting so weird. "What are you doing in England?"
America turned at the sound of a familiar voice, and his eyes seemed to light up when he saw England. "I knew you'd be here!"
"Alfred, what the hell are you doing here?" England asked, lowering his voice. "What the bloody hell are you doing in London? Why are you here unannounced?"
"Aww, you're happy to see me!" America said. "Are you off today?"
"Yes. It's a Sunday." England muttered. He wasn't usually off on Sundays, but he wasn't going to tell America that.
"Oh! Well, I came to tell you about a kick ass weapon my country made," America lowered his voice, looking around. "B-But I need to tell you in private. You have anywhere we can go?"
"Yes. Back home." England rubbed his temples. I don't want to put up with his crap today... But I suppose I don't have a choice. Knowing him, he'd get lost with no money and a dead phone if I wasn't with him.
"Let's go, then!"
England sighed. "Okay, come on."
America followed him back home, bouncing around happily. He really is childish. "Hey, England, what's that big ass clock thing called, again?"
"Clock Tower?" England glanced at America. His eyes were clouded with confusion. "Big Ben," he muttered.
"Oh!" America said, smiling. "I knew it!"
After a couple of minutes, they reached England's house. England unlocked it and America bounded inside, immediately sprawling himself out on England's couch and turning on the radio.
"I remember when,
I remember, I remember when I lost my mind.
There was something so pleasant about that space.
Even your emo—,"
England turned the radio off. "God, I hate that song. It's been playing all week."
"Really? I think it sounds good." America said.
"Anyway, about this weapon your country made." England said stiffly, sitting next to America on the couch. "Why would you want to tell me about it?"
"Because I want you to see it! It's awesome, way better than your lame-ass weapons!" England could feel anger rising, but he pushed it down.
America pulled a folded up picture out of his pocket. "Well, it's not a weapon, it's a fighter jet, actually."
England took the image, unfolding it gingerly. It showed a scribbled image of a plane shaped like an eagle, with blue, red, and white splashed all over it. "This... How would it even fly?"
"Do you like it? I made the design myself!" England ignored the question. "It doesn't matter if it would fly or not. It totally will, by the way. But that's not what's important here: it shoots out lasers and eagle-shaped missiles!"
Now he's just spewing nonsense. Did he really have to choose today? England sighed and stood up. "It's... certainly interesting, America." It looks like shit, and it's just about as useless as any of Anne Frank's music instruments. England scolded himself, now wasn't the time for tactless jokes. "Why did you design it, though? You're not actively at war, are you?"
"I designed it to kick your ass, dude!" America said.
"Excuse me?" England demanded. "We're not at war, you dumbass!"
"I thought you'd like to know what it looked like." America mumbled.
"Well, If you would like my opinion, I think it looks extremely stupid. What an overwhelming design."
England stood up. "Would you like some tea, America?" He asked.
"No, I prefer coffee. Tea sucks!"
"Are you trying to annoy me today, America?" England snapped. America looked slightly offended, but quickly maintained his smile. England reached for the kettle, but America grabbed his wrist firmly. "What is it now?"
"I need you to come explain something to me." America said. "And we need to go! It can't wait!" He tugged England's sleeve impatiently.
"Fine, fine. Let me make tea first—,"
"No! No time for that! C'mon, let's go. I need you to tell me how the metro stations work!"
"Seriously?" England demanded. "Honestly, America, I don't want to put up with your nonsense today. Could you just leave me alone?"
America stood still for a moment, staring at him. England was almost worried he was about to start crying. "No way, dude! And also, I wanna go watch some fireworks with you!"
"No, America!" England hissed. America gently pushed him out of the house, turning off the lights as they went along and taking the key from England to lock the door. Once they were a distance away, America gave the key back to him.
They walked for a good ten minutes. "America, do you know where you're going?"
"No."
"This is hopeless," England grumbled. "I'm going—,"
America grabbed his wrist and started walking. England winced. "I-I'm sorry. But we really do need to get there fast." He let go, grabbing England's hand instead and sprinting forward.
"Alfred, unhand me right now! I demand you unhand me this instant!"
"You're gonna cause a scene!" America pulled him forward a good few meters, before turning a corner. "We're here!" He said cheerfully, finally letting go of England.
England shook his wrist, glaring. "This isn't a train station, you imbecile, and you just wasted my time. Did you really think it was a train station?"
"Happy birthday, England!" America whispered, opening the door and shoving the older nation inside.
It took a few moments for the lights to turn on, with a few whispers of, "Italy, what the hell are you doing?"
Finally, the lights did turn on. A large banner hanged overhead, reading, "HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BRITAIN". Everyone cheered once the lights turned on.
England blinked. Pretty much every country in Europe was there, as well as America (of course), Canada, China, and Japan.
"Come on, dude. Did you really think that I was gonna take you to see fireworks? You hate firecrackers, and of course people would be setting them off. Besides, it's... what, three in the afternoon?" America nudged him gently.
England frowned, turning to France, who was popping open a bottle of wine. "Why this? Nobody ever throws me a birthday party."
"It was America's idea, actually." France smiled. "You look so tense! You should try to enjoy yourself, mon ami!" France motioned to America. "America, you want a drink?"
"No. Not old enough."
"You are here, though."
"I don't drink." America turned to England. "Come on, Britain! You can't possibly be mad at me for all of that, can ya?"
"So the new fighter jet wasn't real?"
"What?"
"Please tell me the fighter jet wasn't real!"
America chuckled. "No, of course it wasn't. Good grief."
France looked confused. "Amerique! We told you to annoy him, not torture him!"
America laughed again. "Well, about that..." France simply laughed.
"Oh, Flying Mint Bunny!" England called out suddenly. America frowned, clearly concerned, while Frnace just stared distastefully.
"Should we just let him be?"
"Yeah. Let's come back in a few minutes." America said, and they both quickly slid into the crowd.
Once England was done talking to his 'friend', America came back. They sang Happy Birthday (everyone in their own language), cut the cake, and England opened presents (he wasn't surprised to find that many of them were tea-related, but he wasn't complaining).
Soon, it was just France, America, England, China, and Canada. Everyone had wished him a 'Happy Birthday' on the way out.
China and France left, both wishing him a 'Happy Birthday'.
"Sorry for today. Did the party make up for it?" America asked.
"Yes. Yes, it did." England muttered. "But you're sure about the je—,"
"Yes! I drew it while I was on the plane ride!"
America and Canada cleaned up, exchanging words to each other occasionally. England helped, though he was a bit zoned out. He had never really had a birthday celebration before.
Canada left too. "Happy birthday, Britain!" He said quietly as he passed.
America smiled. "Well, that's everything." He wiped his forehead. "Did you have a good party, Britain?"
"Yes. Yes, I did. Thank you very much for arranging it, America."
America smiled. "Well, that's great, dude. I better get back to my hotel now, I have to catch a flight early next morning."
England went home while America caught a cab.
When he got home, he laid on his bed, smiling. He'd never admit it, or at least not too sincerely, much less to any of the people who had been there— but it was fun, even if he thought it was a bit childish.
Even with all of America's annoyances, maybe he wasn't that bad. With that last thought, he fell asleep.
Song mentioned is 'Crazy' by Gnarls Barkley. Can anyone tell me what year it is? Pretty easy to figure out. I did write it for a specific year, which is why certain things might not be consistent. A review would be very helpful for me, as I'm still new to writing for people other than myself. No matter what, thank you for reading!