Author's notes: I think I may actually carry on with this one :D I mean... whenever I get a whim for a particular short one-shot. I hope you'll enjoy it. And I got the inspiration from watching the mentioned championships :P After watching Hetalia no world event will ever be the same :D

"So, who's the leader now, baby?"

England didn't even try to hide the yawn. Indeed, it didn't matter at all that this was far from his gentlemanly manners and the Briton expressed his boredom and fatigue without embarrassment. It was almost half past five in the evening and he was in his living room together with America as the large plasma TV was bathing the place in its usual blue-cold light. America was sitting on the couch while holding a McDonalds milkshake in one hand and the half eaten hamburger was placed on the armrest ("if you dirty my furniture I'm going to bite your head off!!"). One probably wouldn't be all that surprise to see that he was also dressed like a freaking patriot- his t-shirt had the American flag painted on it and he even stuck some pins and badges onto it with slogans such as "US FTW" or "I R AWESOME". As if that wasn't enough, he was on the phone with Poland and they kept commenting on the very current event- The World Championships in Athletics. Ever since it started a week ago, England couldn't as much as touch his own remote control in the afternoon because America spent all his time watching the bloody competition. The European nation couldn't bring himself to care about the whole thing. As long as his country wasn't at the bottom it was fine. What was there to get all excited about after all? Some men and women sweating in the all too tight clothes – this kind of thing would attract France but not him. And so, England just kept thinking he'll be happy as soon as the damn thing was over. And now he was thankful that the time was about to come. He was lying down on the couch, wearing a pair of smart trousers and a grey shirt which more than likely will get all trashed due to the position that he was in. The man rested his head on America's lap and he was reading a book (one of his beloved and priceless classics) but he was feeling rather bored and not up for much.

"Aaaah... I hate it how your channel only shows the British contestants" America complained while taking a loud slurp of the drink. The smaller man sighed.

"It's not true, and anyway, can you blame us? It's not like anything else matters." He replied with a shrug. England looked down at his watch anxious for the time to pass quicker. It was Sunday evening and tomorrow would be as busy as it always was on Mondays... why didn't America understand? Surely, it's obvious that England would rather spend their free time doing something other because he actually valued their time together –not that he would ever admit to it though! The commentator was announcing the last competition – the final in 4x400 metres Relay-men. England sighed and sat up, putting the book away.

"I'm going to make some tea." He murmured but before he even fully got off the couch America's large hands clasped on his waist and pulled down, so that England was sitting in his lap.

"What are you doing, you git? Let me go!" The Briton struggled to free himself but America was stronger and persistent.

"No. No, no! You should watch it too. Poland I'll call you right...."

"OMG! We're totally the beeeest!!!" even England could hear the excited voice ringing from the little speaker of the telephone and it was obvious that the Polish contestant was on the leading position. America hung up and threw the phone onto the couch. England looked at the screen and soon spotted the American and English athletes were chasing the Pole. The European nation was surprised that he couldn't look away from the television.

"Wah! Look, Iggy!! We're leading now, oh yeah baby!" America's face lit up like a little child's. England actually saw it as somewhat infuriating and for the sole purpose of going against the younger nation he decided to get involved too.

"Come on, now! Move your lazy asses and chase the bastard! Now damn it!" the Briton shouted at the screen and America grew a little tense. Really, this was going against all that England ever said, especially since he liked to mock America for his shouting to the players; ("So what? The louder you talk the better they'll hear you?") and now he was doing the same thing.

"US-AND-A, US-AND-A!" America chanted. "Wa hoo~!" he shook his head happily as the distance between the British athlete and America got larger –the Pole being left way behind them.

"This is ridiculous, we can't lose to Yankees- "

"Oh YEAH! We've done it, man!" the taller man practically threw England off his lap as he jumped up when the Americans finished first. The older nation groaned when the milkshake was spilt onto the black leather sofa

"You idiot! Look at what you've done! Baka America!" he scolded and tried to get out of America's embrace "Clean it up, now!" Did you hear? NOW! This is just..."

America laughed. "Oh please, you're only upset because you lost, eh?" the man winked at England."You're soo adorable when you're angry though. And baby, you knew we were destined to win anyway, since my country is sooo awesome."

England wanted to wipe the smirk off his face.

"Ah don't try to flatter because it's not getting you anywhere!" he said and took the milkshake with the intention to put it away on the coffee table. America however suddenly grabbed his wrists and kissed him wet on the mouth. The rest of the creamy substance spilt onto the front of England's trousers. The Briton pulled away from the kiss.

"You're sleeping on this very couch today!" he said taking the coldest expression he could master.

"Take off your pants England." America suddenly grew even more playful. He didn't seem to care in the least about how annoyed the European country was.

"So bloody immoral! And... these are trousers, not pants!!" England just wouldn't be himself if he didn't point it out after all.

"I actually meant your pants"

The Briton smacked America in the head and got up, off to the bathroom to change. Well... America wouldn't be himself if he didn't follow after.

-The End-