"You couldn't just let this go, could you? You had to keep pushing it. You had to keep trying to own me!"
"Oh save it, you git. The ocean is mine. Everyone knows this, and now that you're a big nation and you can take care of yourself, you should know it too."
England and America paced around the room like two wolves around a carcass, too close to each other for comfort, but neither willing to back away and show submission.
"We both agree the treaty is rubbish. It'll only work if we set some boundaries. Namely, you meet some of our demands. What's wrong with removing your naval forces on the Great Lakes? Or granting me rights to the Mississippi? You- you're not even willing to negotiate!"
"Because I know what you want. You want me to be your little colony again. It's never going to happen! I'm independent now. You have to accept that. Just sign the treaty!"
England had been staring into the fire, but at America's words, he whipped around, his face furious.
"Damn it, Alfred! Can you not make this about-"
America slammed his fist into England's face. England landed on the floor and stared at America in shock.
"You hit me."
"My name-"
America paused for a split second.
"-is America. You don't get to call me Alfred anymore. Leave my sailors alone, England."
England stood up, a strange smile on his face.
"Hit me again."
"What?"
"Go ahead. Do it. Better still, use your knife. Cut me open. Or shove me in the fire. Don't you get it? Don't you see? I win. You can't hurt me. Not anymore. Nothing can."
America stared into his former mentor's emerald green eyes. They were standing close enough for him to see the tears that shone there, the pain that he had hidden. And America knew that his face was a mirror of England's expression. Slowly, his hand came up to touch the bruise rising on England's face.
England stood perfectly still. It was the first time since the final day on the battlefield that they had truly looked at each other without hatred or rage.
Slowly, as one, they leaned in and their lips met in a kiss. The kiss started out as gentle but became fierce, angry and sad. It was as if they were saying what they had wanted to say but been unable to. England's fingers tangled in America's hair (I'm so sorry) as America wrapped his arms around England's waist (I forgive you). America pulled back for a moment to push open his bedroom door. They stumbled in, kissing hard enough to leave bruises.
The next morning, America woke up alone in his bed.
"England?"
England was gone, but as America sat up, he noticed a piece of stationary with a British crest, (the same kind he used to use) on his bedside table. He unfolded it, his hands shaking. Inside it, in England's precise handwriting, it read.
Treaty signed.
I'll leave you alone.
Good luck, America.
-E
America lay back on the bed, the note held over his heart, trying to pretend he wasn't crying.
England stood on the deck of one of his ships and watched the sun rise on the ocean horizon.
It feels like losing him all over again. But it's for the best, really. We don't make sense together. And anyway…He shouldn't be with me. We're not good for each other. He'll be stronger on his own.
England turned back to his cabin.
It doesn't matter how I feel. It doesn't matter that I love him.
A/N
So…what did you think? I kind of thought of this as a prequel to the other one (Nothing Brings People Together Like Almost Dying), and I've always loved the War of 1812. Thomas Jefferson called it the "Second War for American Independence," and when I heard that quote recently, it hatched this plot bunny. I reposted it because I found grammar errors. I know that can be annoying for readers and I only want the best for you!