What up, Fang is back! School stuff, you know...I've been kind of busy. But now that I have absolutely no time on my hands, I can totally start finishing all the fics I started...and start posting again...

Anyway, this is my first Hetalia Fiction, and contrary to my being an extremely patriotic American, England is my favorite character in the series.

For those people who like time periods, think of this one as maybe 4, 5 years after WWII. Please enjoy!

The phone rang.

England's cup of Earl Grey jumped a little in his hand at the intruding noise so early in the morning. Mumbling a few choice swear words about the absurdity of such a call, he set his teacup and newspaper down on the tea table and stood up. Stretching his arms up to the ceiling, he made the split decision to be somewhat annoying and not answer the phone right away, and therefore took his sweet time moving from his armchair to his desk. Only three people could be bloody calling at 7:00 in the morning, and he wasn't quite inclined to speak to any of them.

His boss was one. There were enough political meetings with Parliament without having his Prime Minister breathing down his neck. World War II hadn't been exactly kind to him, to say the least; in rebuilding his nation, England had been spending way too much time with him. The last thing England needed was another scolding about his economy, and the flow of income and exports and the situation with the new rising of communism…

England shook his head to clear his thoughts of anything unpleasant. He could deal with that after morning tea.

France, on the other hand, was even worse. England scowled even at the thought of the bloody frog. If it was that wanker, then he was going to be forced to start another hundred-year war. This, under all circumstances, wouldn't be a bad thing…

The last caller at this time…no…oh, #!*% , no…would America suffer him this kind of torture? He didn't want his antics! Couldn't he wait until after his first cup of tea? England rolled his eyes and reached for the phone.

"Hello?"

"Dude, Iggy! I bet you totally can't guess who is freaking awesome and calling you?"
"…You git, Alfred, what the #!*% could be so bloody important at 7?" England yelled into the receiver.

"Ha Ha Ha! Dude, Iggy, I've been up for hours, so I have no clue what you're talking about! Anyway, I totally wanted to tell you what happened to Matthew, bro, he totally got freaked out when I bashed his door down to tell him about…well, I don't remember that part, but it was hilarious, 'cause his bowl of maple syrup – That is so weird that he eats that stuff, right? I mean, hamburgers are the breakfast of heroes! And I'm a hero! So I eat hamburgers!"

"Yes, yes, America, of course you are…not…" England muttered under his breath. Must control temper, must keep control. You are a gentleman, Arthur Kirkland, consider this a test of skill against idiocy…

"And then the bowl ended up on Canadia's head! Could you believe it? Ha Ha Ha Ha! Things are so much better on my side of the world, Iggy, and it was hilarious…Dude, you're not laughing…oh yeah, that's because you're so old, humor doesn't apply to you anymore!"

With America laughing good-naturedly in the background, England's constitution snapped.

"I'm not bloody old, you wanker hamburger eater! No wonder you're gaining weight, with that crap to eat morning, noon, and night!"

"Hey, our hamburgers rock and are delicious! And they are a #!*% of a lot better than those rocks you pass off as scones!"

"What the - ! You git, you have no taste at all! Take a look at yourself before you go insulting other countries' food! Stupid America!" England flopped back in his chair, hand gripping the phone in a stranglehold.

"I do, 'cause I'm awesome! I'm the hero, there's nothing wrong with me! Oh, and how's those imaginary friends working for you?"

England slammed his fist on the tea table hard, shaking the tea in his tea cup. His enormous eyebrows were twitching furiously.

"Alright , wanker, that's it! If you come over to my house right now, I will kick your arse so hard that you'll fly to bloody Russia! Bring it!"

England heard America's laughter over the line, and realizing how worked up he had gotten, sat down none-too-quietly in his navy blue armchair. He rubbed his eyes with one hand and sighed in what seemed to be annoyance, but he was covering up a laugh of his own. He sat back in his chair, waves of tension after the normal exchange with America rolling off his back.

"Ugh…bloody…Alfred, why are you calling me, anyway…" he moaned, leaning his head in his hand.

"What was I- Uhhhh…." Alfred trailed off. Arthur mentally cursed him.

"Oh, yeah! Dude, I totally called you to invite you to my totally kick- #!*% awesome birthday party for…ME! That's right! Tomorrow!"

There was silence on England's end. Frozen in his chair, his mouth dropped open at the words from America.

"….um….Iggy?"

"…Wha-What?" England found his voice. "Oh, umm…yes? What was it you asked?"

"Dude, I asked you if you were coming?" America's voice sounded puzzled. England fumbled for words as he also tried to regain his autonomic functions. Tomorrow? Already?

"Oh, um…yes. Yes, I-I'm coming." He stuttered. He blinked his eyes a few times and shook his head to clear it. "Yes, yes, of course."

"Awesome! Dude, it is gonna be a blast. There's gonna b ice cream and hamburgers and hot dogs, and France was bringing over some snail thing that nobody is gonna eat because that's just gross. Oh, and Tony is totally upgrading my house, so I'll be al hip and hero-awesomeness for the party. And I invited Germany and Italy, hope that's okay with you, though my boss kinda made me invite Russia, even though I totally told him that I didn't want commies at my house, but hey, that just means that if anything goes wrong, I'll save everyone and be a hero! It's all a part of my epic plan, since the superhero is rented out to fix Europe, and – dude, Iggy, you still there?"

England started; he hadn't even realized America's blabbing until he heard that absolutely ridiculous nickname.

"Oh! Yes, I-I'm fine." He covered for his silence.

"You seem kinda out of it today. You're not dying on me, again?" he added jokingly.

"What! No, I am most certainly not dying again, of however you put it, you bloody-!"

England sighed. America waited for the rest of his answer, being uncharacteristically patient. England did pause to marvel at this once in a lifetime occurrence.

"It's just…oh, you know, some of my wounds from the war haven't completely healed yet, and…um…my economy is still in pretty bad shape, so my headache is being a bugger. That's all." He lied smoothly, his eyebrows furrowed.

"Oh, that's all? Kay, don't be gettin' old on me, Iggy, you're only over a thousand!" America's laugh came over the end. Arthur laughed inside his head with his at the long running insult, though he scowled curse words into the receiver.

"Well, ummmm…look, Alfred, I really do have work to do, so if you will excuse me, old chap…"

"Yeah, yeah! Dude, I have so much crap to do for this party, it's gonna be-"

England hung up the phone. Leaning back in his chair, he let out a pent-up breath of air as he settled into the blue fabric again. He grabbed for his teacup, the Earl Grey now only lukewarm, and took a mindless sip. He glanced around the room, tastefully decorated in elegant glass, wallpaper, carpet, furniture…each piece taking another and complementing it, as if that was its only purpose, down to the last painting. A gentleman's tearoom, he scoffed. English pride and joy. His eyes came to rest upon the calendar hanging from the far wall, and were drawn towards tomorrow's date: July 4.

England suddenly sat up, setting his tea down, forgotten, and walking albeit stiffly to unlock the adjourning door leading to his patio. Flinging open the doors, he tasted the foggy air of London's morning mist and leaned against the railing. He let the cool breeze blow his unkempt hair in and out of his brilliant green eyes.

He wasn't exactly lying, he assured himself as his heart throbbed painfully again as in many minutes. His new scars and wounds did sting, as did his headache, but he didn't technically lie to America. It just was not the real reason, he admitted to himself.

"July 4, eh…" he murmured to himself. Smiling a little regretfully, he lowered his head and sighed.

"I might not make it there, dear chap."

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

...I love England...

Yes. The whole thing about just...leaving Artie there in the mud after the Revolution...I really just want to write a fic on...just that one scene...

Just saying, writing America's rants are extremely entertaining! I could go on and on and on, but people don't want me to write just a fic of America never shutting up (though he never does...) so I had to stop somewhere.

France will eventually come in...sometime...Yeah, I really don't like that guy, and if you look in the manga or the anime, you can probably see that he tried to rape poor Iggy like, 2 or 3 times. Think I'm lying? Take a look! Find them! Challenge ACCEPTED!

Anyway, REVIEWS (did I mention that in big enough print?) are greatly appreciated, and though I say this every time, if you have anything bad to say about my stories, TELL ME! Oh, and I write for historical accuracy, as more Hetalia fics pop up, and so if you see anything that isn't, I would greatly appreciate knowing about it.

Example: THANK YOU SO MUCH BritPick94. You are awesome. Yes. And I went back and fixed it. Historical Accuracy, folks! It makes it that much better. Do the same, and be as awesome too!

Thanks, and Arthur forever!

-Fang