A/N: Eheheh... This was actually pretty rushed... -3- I was sitting in class and was like 'ugh, I am boredddd'. So I wrote this. Look it up if you don't believe me... Pfft. Alabama and it's awesome laws of doom.
Disclaimers: Don't own anything to do with Hetalia. Believe me, if I did... The next episode of the Beautiful World would be out god dammit!
Alabama and Ice Cream
"Alright, welcome to one of the southern states bro!"
It was a sweltering day, and England was boiling in his own juices on the front porch of America's state's home. The young nation was talking excitedly about his 'little boy' and how he was glad the Brit finally had time to drop by and meet him. It wasn't so much he had time that it was he didn't feel like dealing with his problems at home at the moment. Those being the new up and coming pop stars that were making his life a living hell back home... Honestly. The fan girls... He just wanted the fan girls to belt up about 1 Direction already. "It's rather quiet..." He noted absent mindely, looking out at the many fields with a type of wariness. He was longing for the never ending shower of rain and the loud screech of cabs. It was hot here. Dry. Unbelievably silent. It didn't match America's persona. Perhaps Alabama was as boring as he was?
"Yeah, Ally likes it like that. Says it's peaceful. Lame, huh?" Despite the words, his tone was whimsical... And he appeared to be staring out at the fields with a type of pride not unlike England's own when the nation used to be his colony. "It's not so bad..." The smaller of the two murmured, earning a small smile from the American. He was so easily pleased. He'd always been like that. What a silly boy he was. What a silly man he is. "I know you ain't into ice cream... But it's pretty hot, and the air conditioner ain't too good inside. Want a cone?" He waggled his eyebrows as he held one out, crumbs of his own still littering his pouty lips. A bit of vanilla leaked down his chin... England sucked in a breath and held out his hand as he looked away. The thoughts that swirled in his mind at such a sight... He did his best to shoo them away. How utterly disgusting to find a nation he had once considered a son... A brother... Desirable.
"Erm... Yes. Thank you." He said with a jerky nod, already feeling the cold treat slipping in streams down his trembling hand. "Sorry, it's strawberry... Strawberry is kinda weird, yeah? I think it's gross." The American said with a laugh. England rolled his eyes, gazing down at his ice cream and desperately hoping it would cool him down. "...It is rather odd..." He murmured in agreement, taking a careful lick. He shuddered. He wasn't a fan of the treat in general. "...Ugh." He grimaced then held the cone out away from his body. "Sheesh, you're making a bigger mess than me... Hold up. I'll got get a towel." And with that, America scurried into the house and out of the heat. Lucky twat. England stared down at the ice cream in disgust. He had to get rid of the stupid thing... As he heard the creek of the floorboards and the tell tale sign of America returning, he made a panicked decision. He slid the cone into his back pocket and moved to a standing position as to not crush it in his only pair of jeans.
America blinked in surprise at the sight of him without a cone. The Brit just smiled nervously in return, leaning against the brick of the wall. "..Ah.. It was... It was good." He murmured with a shrug, shifting uncomfortably. His companion stared at him a while longer before shrugging as well. "Huh. Okay. Well I couldn't find a rag... So. I'll take care of it." At hearing that, he gazed at him curiously. Cone forgotten. "You?" And that was the last word he was able to say before the American began attacking his lips with his own, raking his fingers through his hair. Body against body. Shocked green eyes locked with amused blue. England shuddered as the other pushed him against the eroding brick.
The cone crushed. The ice cream splattered against the back of his pants and the wall. Everything stilled. And then there were the sirens. "Get the FUCK off my dad ya crumpet-sucker! And put yur hands where I can see 'em or you'll be sorry!" The fire of a rifle made the two both scramble to get away from one another. And there, in all his glory, stood Alabama. Eyes furious and rifle pointed right at England. "I didn't... I didn't do anything, you wanker!" He spat, his cheeks burning red and his hands in the air. The state glared as he rested his finger on the trigger. Tempted to actually shoot him. "America! He broke a state law! Legally, I have every right to blow his head off!" America grimaced, slapping his forehead.
"...Iggy. Don't tell me you put the cone in your...?"