"Hey," America said as the other countries began to filter out of the meeting room, "When's your birthday?" England paused with some files half pushed back into a folder.

"Why is that important at all?" He asked, shuffling the pages around then straightening them again.

"I was just thinking," America rose and leaned against the table, hanging over England, "Y'know, since I celebrate mine every year. I just never see you do anything for yours; I was wondering if you even had one." The Briton froze and stared at his hands before looking up with a glare.

"I do have a birthday," He replied blankly.

"Great, when is it?" England looked away. "Well?"

"I don't remember," He mumbled back.

"What?" America laughed.

"I've forgotten it because maybe I've had more important things to worry about," England stood abruptly, and the other man stumbled back, "Than the bloody day I was born." America opened his mouth to ask how you could forget something like that. "Just watch," He grabbed the file and stuffed the papers into it, "You'll forget too someday."

---

It was mid April when England opened the front door to find America standing in the foyer with a red rose sticking out of his breast pocket.

"What the hell are you--"

"Don't take your coat off," America said, jumping forward and tossing England's briefcase aside before pushing him back out the door. "We're going on a date!"

"What? Why?" England watched as the door slammed, and he was pulled down the stairs. "What for?"

"Because I said so," He hugged England close to his side and flashed him two tickets. "I heard you like a guy named Bill Shakespeare." England squinted at the tickets; they said Macbeth. He raised his substantial eyebrows.

"He died today, you know." The Brit said sadly. America's face feel slightly.

"Well, then I guess we'll celebrate his life today, too." He skipped down the stairs into the Tube station; England jogged after.

The two were walking home after the show with England staring pensively at the sidewalk and America jabbering about the play.

"Totally worth the time," America beamed in the dim streetlight, "Even worth standing for all that time." They came to England's front door.

"Why?" England couldn't help asking, looking up.

"You kidding? That guy who was Macbeth was so awesome."

"No," England snapped,"Why'd you do this for me?"

America got quiet, then replied "I asked around, and everyone said today was your day."

England put his head in his hands, "Today's Saint George's Day," he mumbled. The gesture was touching, it was sweet, but it was misguided. "It's not my birthday." America frowned. The Englishman couldn't help but feel a little bad; he hopped up onto his toes and gave America a little kiss. "Thank you though, it was very nice." He slipped inside and left America standing on the street.

---

On the first of May, England found a little note taped to his front door: Go to the pub. He raised his eyebrows but didn't need to be asked twice.

Upon pushing open the heavy oak door of the pub around the corner, England found himself assaulted by hearty laughter and a big hug from America. "We started thinking you weren't gonna show."

"We?" England looked past his former colony to see Wales smiling over to him under a mop of curly, sand blonde hair and Scotland looking civil enough which was odd in and of itself.

"I asked around again," America explained, "Today's the Union anniversary, right?" England nodded as he was brought over to the table and sat down with his brothers. America took the seat across from him and slid him a pint. "I know it's not your birthday," He admitted, rubbing the back of his neck, "but it's close, right?"

England glanced to the side. Wales was beaming, and Scotland cracked a rough grin and raised a toast.

"Sure," England clinked glasses with his brothers, "This is fine with me."