A/N: I'm baaaaaaccccckkkkk! ^J^

After an extremely long hiatus, I bring you my first UKUS/USUK fic. Do enjoy.

14 Ways to Say

Prologue: Operation British Seduction

England fancied himself to be a very self-aware person. He knew his likes and dislikes. He knew his own strengths and weaknesses. And unlike most of the loud mouthed, arrogant to-the-t nations he knew, England was not a victim of false modesty. He was well aware that he had a penchant for drinking himself into oblivion. And, try as he might to perfect it, anything he cooked came out with the consistency of a boulder and the coloring of smog. (He daren't even mention the flavor). However, he also knew himself to be very self-assured. He was a genius at reading the atmosphere (enough to give even Japan a run for his money), and he was perhaps the most attractive country in all of Europe (his eyebrows were absolutely fetching, damn frog).

Yet, despite all of his knowledge about himself, there was one aspect of his character which England had absolutely no grasp on:

His love for America.

England wasn't quite sure when, exactly, this…thing had started. He knew he had loved the boy from the moment America had called him "brother" in that open field all those years ago (In a strictly platonic way! England was not a bloody pervert like certain rose-bearing Frenchmen). Still, England was not entirely sure when that love had gone from a strictly parental/brotherly affection to something…more.

America, that beautiful boy with a heart larger than the sky and dreams more vast than all the seven seas.

America, that ungrateful child who had crushed England's heart and left him broken a muddy field of war.

America, that friend who had held his hand as his entire world crumbled in a cacophony of sound and a blaze of fire.

America.

England might not be sure exactly when, but he knew that somewhere between Jamestown and the Blitz of London things had changed. He had come to savor the casual arm slung around his shoulder, the idiotic smile flashed in his direction, the random visits to his house or invitations to lunch just because America felt like it.

And it didn't matter that America insulted his cooking and laughed at his eyebrows. It didn't matter that the fool was torturously obnoxious or that he was oblivious to the point of cruelty.

England loved him.

So he'd tried to show him. He'd taken America out to lunch at the most horrid, greasy establishments (he swore his cholesterol skyrocketed just by walking through the doors)—all for a glimpse the childish joy which stretched his smile as he took a bit of his burger and the Oh Iggy, you're the best that followed (even though the git always talked with his mouth full).

And when the idiot trounced in thirty minutes late to a World Conference Meeting—complaining loudly about the crappy Made-in-China alarm clock that didn't work because it wasn't from the good ol' US of A—he would find a star-spangled journal, a red and blue pen and an extra mug of coffee (no cream and two sugars) set neatly at his seat.

England did all of the little things—complementing the latest (horrific) Hollywood action film, always carrying candy in case that hero's-appetite kicked in, and even going so far as to create one of those bloody facebook accounts just to chat with the git at three in the morning (time differences be damned). But still, the object of his affection remained painfully oblivious to it all.

And then England realized that he had been going about everything in the completely wrong fashion.

America was an idiot. He couldn't read the atmosphere to save his (rather glorious) behind.

And what had England tried to woo him with? Subtlety.

England had been a fool. But no more. America was a romantic buffoon, obsessed with his own grandiose Hollywood love stories. Of course he wouldn't be able to feel England's love through presents and kindness, not when he with the clichés of Tinseltown clouding his mind. No, America would not sense delicacy. He was expecting exaggeration and grandeur.

And if that was what it took to obtain his desire, then, pride be damned, England would do it.

Operation "British Seduction" was a-Go.

A/N: That's all folks! ^^ At least for now. Chapter One is "in-the-making". There will be some…interesting developments. ;) I'm going to post it tomorrow along with Chapter Two because I'm just too swamped with homework tonight. Sorry. ^^"

I don't know what exactly it is about Arthur that makes me want to parenthesis all the time. It's like tsundere phrasing...

Anyway, I'll be updating with one chapter every day until Valentines (the 14th, hints the title).

Reviews and critique are greatly appreciated, and if any of you know some British slang/phrasing/spelling I could use, please let me know. ^^