England and America stood nervously in the hallway outside the room of the current world meeting. They both were already late, which was rare for the Englishman, but somewhat common for the American superpower. England risked a look at the younger nation, for once, he wasn't screaming about being a hero or burgers but standing there with a nervous look on his face as he fiddled with the end of his jacket. The thought of America nervous made him want to laugh if not for the fact he was probably just as nervous.
Today was the day or two after a certain accidental confession that dramatically changed the relationship between the two nations to something more than just the tense friendship the two had built up after the Revolutionary War. England acted a bit daft after that and refused to acknowledge the flutter in his chest he got whenever he met the American's bright blue eyes with his own eyes. He let out a sigh as he remembered about how he had convinced himself that America hated him, and even worse, how he hated America. "What a fool, I was" England thought to himself, a small smile playing on his lips as he looked down at America and his entwined hands. America noticed his smile and gave him a large, blinding smile that only America could give.
"Well, we should probably head in. We are already late after all", England abruptly, blushing madly, pulling the door open and stepping through and dragging America in behind him as America let out his obnoxious laugh, a silly grin on his face as the small Englishman dragged him to their seats.
Only when England stopped at their seats did he noticed the ominous silence of the other nations around him and looked up. The other nations all were turned and staring with wide eyes at him and America. England felt his face grow even hotter and then noticed his mistake…He's hand was still entwined with Americas. At that moment, the room exploded with voices.
"Congratulations, England-san, America-san" Japan.
"Oh~~~Lovi, can't we hold hands?!" Spain, who was head butted immediately by a blushing Italian.
"Can we have Pasta at your wedding?" Italy.
"Oh hon hon, tell me Angelterre, who is the pitching and who is catching?" The Bloody Frog.
America stood with his hand rubbing the back of his neck grinning broadly, not helping at all. England let out a moan and slammed his head on the table. Today was going to be a long day.
Bloody Hell.