Seal It With A Kiss
England, birthplace of the Bard, home of fish and chips, European football, and the Beatles. A part of the rainy island of Great Britain, separated from continental Europe by the English channel, and takes up the central and southern two thirds of the island. A beautiful, green island (in most parts), while definitely not "tropical" by any terms whatsoever, still nice all the same.
Absolutely nothing like New York.
Yes, England and New York were quite different, America thought to himself. Hell, he couldn't think of a place in his country that truly showed much resemblance at all to the rainy nation. Sure, they were both heavily industrialized countries, and in that respect quite similar, however geologically they were night and day.
Much like England and himself, America mused.
England was a rather perplexing person. Stormy and angry on the outside, and unreadable within. Or maybe he would be more readable if America tried harder. But that would require such tedious effort, it was easier to go about not caring. That was another difference between the two. While America paid no heed to the atmosphere, England over-analyzed it, and tried to say the right things. Though they often came out completely wrong, and made him sound uptight and constantly angry, to England's own dismay.
However, when interacting with each other, England and America's behaviors changed drastically.
They had known each other long enough to know how to say just the thing to truly bother each other to no end, which is why their fights were often so continuous, petty, and frequent. It was surly the stupid things that would grate England's nerves, and still leave him without feelings of morose. Where as with America, a simple comment on his weight or him being unheroic could make him burst out into tears, and yet insulting things like his "mother" (not that he had one he was aware of) or his intelligence quotient seemed to be perfectly okay. It was odd, really.
And while they knew everything of how to annoy each other, they really knew nothing of how the other truly felt.
England would forever be something of a vague mystery to America in some ways, how he could spend a hundred years dwelling on the revolution, and yet not think twice about the hundred years war, which was by far a worse event in English history. Not that America really knew English history, but the prospect of having a war for a hundred years, and then losing had ought to be worse than his silly little revolution, right? But nevertheless, the American Revolution seemed to be the only thing that made the former empire lose his arrogance and stiff upper lip, and rather make him seem depressed and vulnerable when mentioned.
America, on the other hand, was like a bloody Sherlock Holmes case to England. It was beyond the green eyed nations understanding of how the superpower could go from being teasing and cruel to England one minute, then act all softened and hurt the next (in response to some retaliation England might have given), then laugh at England's pathetic attempt at apologizing and comment on how much he sucked. It was one of the things that made England want to bang his head upon a table, and occasionally after dealing with the young nation he did just that. The mixed messages were slowly killing some part of him, not that the Briton had any idea which part that may be nor why they would die do to stupid America. Really, he was just a git. England could care less about him at all. Really.
However, as much as they fought, humiliated, and misunderstood each other, they both truly enjoyed being together. Not that they'd admit it, of course.
So when meetings came around, oh stupid work inducing meetings, the one thing America could look forward to was the chance to spend time with England. And by spend time with, he meant pester until the other blonde try and and beat America with a sledgehammer.
It was February 8th, 2009, and the world summit was being hosted this year in London. Consisting of 191 members, it was a two day long summit in which each member would be required to give at least one official address in some sort of form. The meeting was presided over by Sweden, and practically lead by America (it should be noted this "leading" was unofficial and more or less do to the fact America wouldn't shut up).
Though the countries were supposed to talk about "Millennium Development Goals", global climate change, and human rights (as there bosses were ACTUALLY doing in another meeting room), the nations found themselves arguing over petty things like sports events and fashion. And by themselves, they meant America, England, and France- the usual culprits.
"So, I think that to stop global warming and world hunger and all that crap what we need to do is-" America began, in his usual hyperactive manner. However, he was cut short by another fellow nation.
"If this has anything to do with superheros, giant robots, aliens, or my eyebrows, sit DOWN America." The British nation warmed, eyes narrowing into a glare.
America opened his mouth to protest, leaving it open for a moment as if deciding what to say, but eventually just closed the wide black hole of a mouth back up, grumbling something under his breath about stupid stuffy British people, and sat down.
England simply rolled his eyes, intent on actually getting something done this meeting. However, America wasn't the only nation he'd have to contend with.
Nevertheless, England decided that the temporary moment of peace from the American git would be a good time to try and make his address. He cleared his throat, adjusted his tie, and began.
"As we all know, we are gathered here today to discuss and evaluate the problems of the world. Now, as the representative of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, I-" England began, only to be cut off by an arm stretching itself in the air, and waving itself around as if to either ask a question, or have a seizure. It was hard to tell at that point. England sighed, gritted his teeth, and pointed at the foolish lad having the arm-seizure at that moment.
"Yes, America...?"
America smiled, happy with the attention back on himself, and shot up out of his chair ready to talk. "I think we should skip stupid speeches and get onto the important stuff! Like, for instance, there are no McDonald's in Tibet. Something needs to be done about this!" He said, matter-of-factually.
England blew a fuse, tired of the American nations constant interruptions. "THERE DOESN'T NEED TO BE ANY BLOODY MCDONALD'S IN TIBET, WE DON'T NEED TIBET TO HAVE A FAT ARSE LIKE YOU AND YOUR PEOPLE! NOW WOULD YOU STOP WITH YOUR BLOODY DOOLALLY AND LET US GET BACK TO THE DAMNED MEETING YOU SODDING WANKER?"
America gasped, offended by the other nations (numerous) insults. "WELL AT LEAST I HAVE AN "ARSE", UNLIKE YOU, YOU SKINNY ASSED BRIT! HELL, AT LEAST I'M MAN ENOUGH TO SAY ASS RATHER THAN ARSE, ASS! AND FOR YOUR INFO, ENGLAND, THE TIBET...TIANS DESERVE MCDONALD'S AS MUCH AS THE REST OF THE WORLD!"
Suddenly, France decided that this would be a nice moment to interrupt. "Excusez de moi, Amérique, Angleterre, but instead of spreading that unhealthy poubelle across the Universe, why not spread some of my appétissant food instead~?"
"DON'T INTERJECT INTO OUR CONVERSATION WHEN YOU AREN'T NEEDED, FROG!" England seethed, face flushing in anger.
"Wait a second, did you just insult or compliment McDonald's?" America asked, cocking his head a bit, not understanding any of the French the bearded nation had spoken.
"Insulted." France said flatly. He'd figure even a person of America's..intelligence would be able to make out the connotation of the sentence he had just uttered.
"THEN YEAH! DON'T BUTT INTO OUR CONVERSATIONS!" America yelled. Which caused England to yell at him for yelling. Which caused France to make fun of England and America, which turned everything into one, big fist fight.
What the fighting nations did not notice was the German man in the corner, who looked like he'd like to strangle something at the moment. Whether it be them, or himself no one knew, nor wished to find out.
Now Germany was a rather patient man. He didn't yell until absolutely necessary, sat through ridiculous arguments, and worked hard while everyone else goofed off. He would let these stupid fights slide every so often, as they were fairly common of the other nations.
Too common, in fact.
Germany couldn't recall one meeting where they had actually gotten much anything accomplished. Not ONE. Zip. Zilch. Null. Nichts.
While homicide was not the best option, as killing a fellow nation would most likely result in World War 3, and committing suicide would be...physically impossible, Germany was at a loss. He was SO tired of sitting through America and England's nonsense. It was always those two who distracted meetings. And while it was understandable of America, England? England seemed like a rather sensible nation, he had been one of many accomplishments, and had social morals of etiquette and practicality. Yet, he always seemed to be the very root of distraction.
Had one put America or France by themselves in a world meeting, though America would probably bring up a few stupid ideas and such, everything would be fine. It seemed the only reason the nation was SO over the top was for the very reason of bugging England. (Not to say he wasn't over the top to begin with, just lesser so without the British nation around.)
God knows why England triggered such reactions, however he never seems to make any attempt to put an end to them, instead becoming all temperamental and yelling and starting fights.
Then finally it dawned on Germany.
To have a productive meeting, all he had to do was get rid of England!
Yes, he'd simply have him kicked out of the UN, and be done with it! Then things could go peaceably, and they may actually get something accomplished!
Germany felt like dancing, twirling in happy circles at his new found discovery. However one problem still stood in his merry way. How would he get England kicked out?
He couldn't very well just decide that himself, there'd be too many flaws in his proposal to possibly get planned, not to mention there was no way in hell America or France (or England for that matter) would agree to it.
He frowned. If he did anything sneaky, it could severely injure his relations with the UK permanently. And as much as he hated to admit it, England was one of the best trading partners the German nation had.
He'd have to ponder this plan more, however maybe he could figure out some way to make sure the English nation was absent the next day. That sounded like something of a plan. He'd just, steal his security badge so England couldn't get in the meeting hall, or tell him they switched the location and give him some false address. Something simple.
However the only problem posed that he was on England's home ground. England would realize a fake address if he saw one, and the security guards would recognize him as who he was.
So how could Germany possibly make sure England didn't attend?
As he watched England, America, and France duke it out, another realization hit him like a speeding bullet. America was generally what made England lose focus, so if he could get America to just distract him for the day, then no England, successful meeting, Germany has a happy day!
The only problem would be getting America to agree to such a plan. America would probably either laugh at the German nation, or flat out tell him no. Germany frowned, how could he make the proposal sound beneficial to America?
As the meeting went on Germany continued to brainstorm his little plan, coming up with a few possible scenarios in which America might listen to Germany. Finally have decided on one, as the first days meeting finally came to an end, Germany went over to confront America.
"Oi, America..uh..can I talk to you?" Germany asked cautiously, approaching America. America was just putting all of his papers and such back into his briefcase, having a small side conversation with Japan. Japan bowed his head politely to Germany, saying a few last words to America, then exiting out of the meeting room with the rest of the nations.
America raised his eyebrows. "Um..hi, Germany!" He made no effort to hide the surprise in his voice. The most Germany ever usually said to him were along the lines of "SHUT UP AND LET US RESUME THE MEETING!"
Germany shifted, rather uncomfortable having to ask such a strange thing. But it had to be done, for Germany to ever have any peace of mind.
"Hello America. How are you?" he asked, trying to make some sort of polite conversation. It was easier to act in a casual way, rather than jump at the other blonde nation.
However America would have none of it. His eyes narrowed slightly, forehead creasing with confusion. "Fine...what do you need, dude?"
Germany sweat-dropped, his ruse being seen through so easily. He twiddled his fingers idly, not wanting to touch upon the subject that had to be touched upon. But it would be stupid to beat around the bush, he'd simply have to come right out with it.
"I need you to go out with England. Tomorrow. During the meeting." He said bluntly. Well that wasn't so hard after all!
However, America just shot him a deadpan expression, a slight blush crawling onto his cheeks. Trying to think of a witty reply, he eventually came out with an elongated "Whaaaaattt...?"
Germany blushed a bit as well. Really, it was an odd thing to say. However he'd have to be firm about it if he wanted anything done.
"Go out with England. Tomorrow. During the meeting."
America blinked. Then blinked again. He let out a nervous chuckle, still blushing a bit. "What, are you trying to pimp me out or something dude? And with England of all people? Did France tell you to do this or something?"
Germany frowned, partially at America's crude choice of words, partially at him even CONSIDERING that Germany would ever do the dirty work of France.
"I'm not doing this for France, I'm doing this because it needs to be done, America." He said simply, leaving America simply looking more confused.
"Needs to be...?" He asked, not understanding where the urgency was in dating his friend.
Germany sighed, and began to explain his logic to the confused American in front of him. America's expression shifted from confused, to amused, to rather blank at parts.
"So...let me get this straight..if I don't date England...you're gonna flip out and kill us all...?"
Germany slapped his forehead, not knowing how the American selectively pulled out THOSE parts of his explanation to form that sentence. He made the stoic man sound like some sort of raving fangirl, which he most certainly was not! (Leave that to Hungary and Japan.)
"If you wish to think of it that way, then go ahead. Just make sure England isn't at tomorrows meeting." He said finally, deciding it would be a nice time to walk away, and hopefully go get a beer.
That left America to stand there, and ponder over Germany's idea. He wasn't sure HOW he felt exactly, while he knew he should feel rather annoyed or disgusted, he felt a weird garble of emotions in his stomach, ones he didn't recognize nor want to know, and almost a little bit nervous.
How would England even react to such an idea? Wait, America knew how. He could already just imagine England laughing harshly at him, or shooting him an annoyed look of disgust with a flat out "No." The image made his heart drop a bit, and maybe even annoyed him.
There was no way he'd listen to Germany, he'd rather the man kill him than force him to shred every ounce of pride he had left in his body.
That night however, America found himself actually considering it. He was staying in a British hotel, somewhat near England's house, and couldn't fall asleep.
It was a silly thing, really. Even if England did reject him, he shouldn't care. He was Alfred F. Jones, the US of Awesome! A true American hero! Even if that stodgy old man did laugh in his face, it shouldn't bother him! And yet, the more he thought of that displeasing image of rejection, the worse he felt.
He turned over onto his side, and hugged a nearby pillow. America never felt this self conscious, so why should he now? In fact, it sort of pissed him off. He shouldn't care what England thought of him. He shouldn't be nervous. He should go up to England, RIGHT THEN, and demand he go out with him the next day.
In fact, that's what he WOULD do! He'd just get up, take a cab on over to England's house, and demand his hand in date-age!
And sure enough, America found himself doing exactly that. He felt invigorated, and as he told the Cabbie the directions, he found a rather confident smirk creep itself onto his (heroically handsome) face.
However, when the site of the old Victorian mansion in which England resided loomed over him, he felt a bit of nervousness wash into his gut. The doubts he earlier in his mind repeating themselves, and slowly wondering if he'd made the right decision. However he had no time for doubt, it was all or nothing at this point. When had he become so decisive on this outcome anyways?
He walked up the brick steps to England's front door, looking at the front porch carefully in the darkness, trying to spot the plant in which England hid his spare key. (Truth be told, America had broken into England's house quite the few times before.) Contrary to what people may believe, America didn't always break down England's door. He wasn't like, the hulk or something. However, more often than not, he didn't really knock. He felt no need though, he and England were close, and England should had ought to feel honored when America came for a visit. Therefore, knocking was just an unneeded formality.
As he heard the slight click in the doorknob, signifying the door had in fact been unlocked, America quietly proceeded to enter, after placing the spare key back in the correct little plant pot.
America tried to be as quiet as humanly possible for him, which unfortunately, wasn't very. His footsteps themselves were loud, and he was sure England would have heard him by now. However, upon climbing the spiraling staircases leading to the second floor, it turned out England really hadn't woken up. He always had been a rather heavy sleeper.
America found himself before England's white door, taking a breath, nervously opening it. When the creaking noise (Stupid loud English doors. He had to remember to put some good quality American! door hinges on England's door in the future.) had finally halted and the door was ajar. He examined the room, eyes finally fully adjusted to the darkness.
Unlike the rest of the large house, England's room wasn't very grand. It had a small, diamond shaped window above England's single bed, in which the green eyed nation slept right then. There was a hardwood computer desk in the corner, on which a desktop Mac sat, along with speakers, a printer, scanner, iPod dock, and various folders and papers miscellaneously scattered around it. Near the desk was a black leather office chair, and America couldn't help but think of how much he always loved to spin in the thing, and how England would complain about it every time he did. Not that he was allowed in England's room very often, or like..ever...but nevertheless. On the opposite side of the room was a full body mirrored, with elegant decoration adorning the frame. Near the the mirror was a vanity, with all sorts of stuff disorganized on it, a decorated hairbrush and matching hand held mirror gleaming just a bit in the moons glow on top of the thing. America noted that on the Vanity lay a few pictures, one of a Hispanic man standing next to England in a rather cheery manner, and though America could not identify him the man would later turn out to be Portugal. America also noted two different pictures of himself, one of him as a kid clinging onto England's hand, and England with a rather fond smile on his face, the other taken during World War Two, with a rather tired looking England leaning on America's side, and America beaming like the hero he was, clad in his bomber jacket, where as England was wearing a long dark green trench coat.
America smiled at the picture, remembering the day it was taken. It wasn't a particular happy day, in fact it had been one of the days England had suffered during the Blitz, which was why he was so tired that he actually needed to lean onto America for support. However the fact that he WAS leaning on America, somehow gave America another one of those weird jittery feelings he couldn't identify, but was most definitely a happy one.
Looking around the room a bit more America also noticed a hardwood dresser, one that looked a lot like both the vanity and desk. Had it not been late at night and America hadn't been there without England's knowledge, he may have actually thought enough to guess that the furniture in England's room was apart of a set. The dresser was next to the closet, of which was shut at the moment. All in all the room was nothing out of the ordinary, but something about it just gave America a comfortable feeling being in it. Unlike the rest of England's house, which America, reluctantly, had to admit, was old looking and kinda creeped him out at night.
As America slowly made his way over towards England's bed, he took note of the still figure within it. England was most certainly asleep, and his features smoothed out from their normal scowling position. England was wearing a green flannel shirt, and America guessed matching bottoms. He couldn't help but laugh a bit to see the grown man clutching a doll of what, from England's previous (odd) descriptions, was the "Flying Mint Bunny". The moonlight illuminated the room from the small window, making England's pale complexion look almost ghostly. His ash blonde hair got a near silvery undertone, and it was a very serene scene in all.
The American sat down on the edge of the Briton's bed, deciding to play with his hair a bit. He moved some of the messy strands away from England's closed eyes, and wondering vaguely if he'd ever wake up. And it seemed the moment America's hand flitted over England's rather large eyebrows, England's lids flew up, and America froze.
"Amer..ica..?" England murmured, sitting up a bit, rubbing his eyes. America hadn't stayed the night at England's house, England was sure of that, and yet the American appeared to be there anyways.
America was still frozen in his spot, unsure of what to do or say. The confused expression on England's face turned into something of annoyance, then back to confusion, then to flat out embarrassment. America could only wonder what had gone through the other nations mind at that moment.
"W-WHAT THE BLOODY HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE?" England yelled, cheeks visibly turning a darker color.
America didn't speak, nor moved, nor even breathed at that moment. Which was just plain...odd.
"Are you okay, America?" England said, tone changing to something of concern. What if the glasses-wearing nation had been there because of a problem, what if he was hurt?
"I-I.." America stuttered, flustered, and pissed off that he was flustered. 'MAN UP!' he internally screamed.
England leaned a bit closer, touching America's cheek in concern, and America just blushed a bit at said touch. What the hell was wrong with him today?
"Did something happen, America?" England asked, looking straight into America's eyes. He wasn't very far away from America's face, so maybe if America just leaned in a bit he could...
No! He couldn't let himself think that! He wanted to slap himself!
And he did.
He just, slapped himself, so hard he fell over all the way onto England's bed. His face stung and he had a bit of a red mark on his cheek. There was seriously something wrong with him that day..
England just looked utterly bewildered. America sat up, straighter this time, the slap he had given himself somehow letting him will himself to speak.
"Good morning, England." He said, smiling casually, like any other smile he'd normally give the personification of England.
"What...the hell...America...Why are you in my house...?" England said, not knowing whether he should blush, yell, or call an ambulance for the American nation.
"I have a proposal for you." America said, clasping his hands around England's. England apparently chose to blush, because that's just what he did.
"So you decided to visit me at.." he looked over towards the clock, "three in the morning, when we have a meeting tomorrow, and you could have just have as easily told me there..?"
America laughed, and shook his head. "Oh, but that is the point! You see, you aren't going to the meeting tomorrow."
"I'm not?" England asked, raising a bushy brow, wondering just where America was coming from.
"Nope~" America sang, feeling more confident once again. "You will be with me."
"Since when? Where? What are you even talking about?" England asked, massaging his temple with his index finger. Maybe America was drunk or something, that would explain his odd behavior.
"Since now. Since..." America blushed, "Since it's been decided that you're going to go out with me tomorrow. No objections."
England laughed, as America expected. However it was not a harsh laugh, but rather an embarrassed and confused one. "A-America, you're drunk. Go to bed or something."
America frowned, did England really not believe him. "I'm not drunk. I'm serious." He huffed, feeling a bit insulted.
England blushed, and frowned. "No you aren't. If you were then..." he trailed off, turning away. America found the results unsatisfactory. He was like, totally putting himself out here. On a line! How could England just not believe him?
"England." He cupped the other nations chin in his hand, turning England's face towards him. "I'm. .Ous." He said, enunciating each syllable to emphasize how serious he was.
England frowned, clearly unsure of what to say next. "Did France put you up to this or something?" He asked. America sort of wanted to laugh at the assumption, so much like his own. France just kept getting blamed for this sort of thing.
"No." He sweat-dropped. "Germany did, actually." England's looked confused, but indifferent nonetheless. "Oh. Well, just tell him I said no." he said, breaking away from America's grasp on his chin.
America's frown deepened. He'd thought this would be easier. Or at least more dramatic. It was always easy or dramatic in the movies, so why did it just seem awkward and nerve wracking in real life?
"Why...?" America asked, not really wanting to know the answer.
England shrugged and looked away. It was silent for a few moments, both men unsure of what to do or say next.
"Just because...I wouldn't want you, or anyone really, to go out with me out of force..." he said, unusually calm. America nodded. He supposed he could go now, and just forget the whole thing ever happened. But the weird feeling in the pit of his stomach seemed to stop him.
"What if I...wanted to..?" America asked, not really knowing what compelled him to say the words, but deciding that they felt right.
England's mouth open, then closed, (and America noted that it reminded him a bit of a fish), then his face simply got all red again, and he paused for a moment, not knowing how to respond.
"Then..I'd...I'd..." he stuttered, and America looked at him, strangely hopefully.
"I...WHAT KIND OF QUESTION IS THAT?" England finally exploded, face looking like it was up in flames.
"I dunno..but if I did...what would you do?" America asked, cautiously.
England flushed. "Well you don't, so let's leave it at that." He said, folding his arms.
America leaned in a bit, staring straight at England. "I might."
England blinked, staring back. He then let out a slow, irritated laugh. "I get it, you're trying to screw with me. To get me to say something that will give you a bloody ego boost while utterly humiliating me."
America bit his tongue, and shook his head. "Just..at least...one date." He said, still looking fixed at England.
"...Why...?" England whispered, looking down at his hands.
America shrugged. He added, "It's just one date. It's not like, a big deal or anything." Hoping it would loosen the tense situation.
England nodded, then looked up, glaring. "Okay, fine." He sounded more like he was making a deal, rather than going out on a date.
America smiled, nonetheless, inwardly cheering that his little mission to England's house had been a success. He bit his lip, deciding that he'd already embarrassed himself this one night enough for it to maybe not matter to much anymore. "So, we should..make it official."
"Make what official?" England asked, tilting his head a bit.
"The date. If you want to make it sound like a deal, then we should confirm it with something."
England raised an eyebrow. "What do you have in mind."
America blushed. "Well...let's seal it... with a kiss."
England blushed as well, nodding a bit. America awkwardly leaned in, and though England tensed a bit, he pushed forward as well, until their lips finally touched, warmth spreading throughout their mouths, along with blush along their cheeks.
In all honesty the kiss was sloppy, a little awkward, and extremely tired, a type of kiss one would only have had it been 3:00 in the morning.
Nevertheless, it was perfect, in it's own, strange respect.
The next day, Germany got his perfect meeting. No interruptions, and work was FINALLY done.
It turns out when Germany tries to be happy, he's very good at it.
That day Italy found Germany singing beer songs on top of his hotel roof in a mini skirt listening to porn.
The true picture of German happiness.
OTL IT FAILS, I REALIZE THIS. Done for the USUK communities Sweethearts Week. LiveJournal decided it hated me and wouldn't let me post it there, so I had to post it here~
TAKE A FEW THINGS INTO CONSIDERATION:
I had to do this in one night. Now subtract school and homework from that, and you don't have much time.
ON TOP OF THAT, I ALSO DID A FANART TO GET MORE VALENTINES.
The object is to get valentines, not to write an epic novel.
I'M TIRED AS BATSHIT.
This is UN-Beta'd and UN-Edited
THIS IS A ROUGH DRAFT IF I DECIDE TO CONTINUE IT.
I typed this up without really thinking much. More or less just typing what I typed.
I HAD NO IDEA WHAT I WAS WRITING.
Seriously. Until I finished. ^^;;; So yep...
Feel free to critique me on this. I'll edit any errors. ^^||| I may or may not make a part two. Definetly not this week though. e3e;; I'm going to be busy up untill Valentines Day.