Lady Gaga: Speechless: USUK

England stared at the nation in front of him. The rain was getting heavier on the battlefield. The air was cold and calm. Too calm. It smelt of death and betrayal. America stared back at him with cold eyes. England growled and held up the rifle in his hands.

Towards the American.

America faltered, staring at the rifle in front of him. Was he going to shoot? After looking after him for so long, this is how he was going to end it? By killing him in cold blood. America looked at the older nation.

"Why?" he asked. "Why end it? You used to be so great."

England didn't say anything. He stood there glaring at his so called brother. The rifle didn't waver.

"Why so speechless, England? I don't need you anymore. I'm old enough now. This is a new start for me."

England's grip on the rifle tightened but said nothing. He didn't need to, the sorrow, anger and betrayal was there in his eyes. America stepped closer to England.

"Don't move, you wanker." The Brit finally growled.

The rifle was wavering slightly. The mighty nation was weakening. He was losing the strong grip he had on the only person he most cared about. He didn't want him to go, he loved America. Loved him dearly. But he was ending it. Did the stupid American not realise this? Did he not know what he was losing? For nine years of fighting, of slaughter, America had quickly lost England's love. But it was still there eating away the crumbling nation standing before him.

"What happened to you?" America asked.

"What happened to me?" England snapped. "What happened to you? You started this whole mess. You didn't want me anymore. You wanted out, America. I didn't. I took you in and saved you...and this is how you repay me! By starting a war?!"

America glared at him. "I can't depend on you my whole life, England. I'm old enough now to live my own and be the country I am."

England's rifle shook violently and soon slipped from his grasp. The nation fell to his knees as tears began to fall from his face. America stared at him, slightly dumbfounded.

"England..."

"Don't." England sobbed. "Don't say a word. We're finished here. You and I are no longer brothers."

America knelt down beside England. "I'm sorry..."

"Sorry? Sorry doesn't even cut it." he looked away, still staring at the muddy ground. "I...love you."

"You what?"

"I...I loved you. Not brotherly family love. But proper loved you. I never stopped. But now I don't."

"I...I never knew."

"Of course you didn't." England snarled. "I tried to end these damned feelings for you but they wouldn't stop burning. This damned yearning ache for you to be in my arms; to have me...inside you...to have your lips on mine. Now..." England scoffed. "I feel nothing but hate for you. You ruined that chance."

England thrust the rifle into America's hands.

"Go on." He snarled. "End this. Shoot me, now. Go on. Shot me right in the heart. Break it even more!"

America looked at the rifle then at England. He threw the rifle away and leaned forward, closing the gap between them and kissed the sobbing solider. He drew back slightly and looked into England's watery eyes. "Why would I kill you? You cared for me and I love you. I have no reason to shoot you. Not ever. I'm not the killing man you think I am. I know also that you wouldn't shoot me."

England sniffed and leaned in close to America, yearning to taste him again. It started soft and became deep and passionate. Soon it turned rough and wild. America's hands twirled themselves into England's hair. England turned his head to the side and America jerked back, clutching his lip.

"You bastard!"

England smirked. America drew his hand away from his bloody lip, looking at the blood on his fingers. England gently took hold of America's wrist and began to lick the small amount of blood on his delicate fingers. Then he leaned in and kissed him again. His tongue trailed here and there against the small wound he created, making the younger nation squirm against him.

"Oh, America." He breathed. "I ache for you."

America leaned in closer and then...

SMACK!

England recoiled, his hand immediately going to his cheek. He stared at America who was scowling at him.

"I hate you." The young man growled. He stood up, turned on his heel and left the battlefield. England watched his love go. Fresh new tears ran down his cheeks. War was a terrible thing, especially when it involved love ones and families to be torn apart.

England stood up and hurried over to the American.

"America, wait!"

America stopped and was soon on the ground. England on top of him, his arms wrapped around him and sobbing into the younger man's uniform.

"England...please..." America breathed.

"I can't let you go." England sobbed.

"I know you can't." America sat up pushing England with him. He brushed England's hair from his face. "Listen, I can't do this. I can't. I want to be free."

"But...you can be. I know...know that you're old enough to do what you will. But we can be together as lovers."

"No, England. It's not what I want. I love you, England. Really, I do, but maybe we can wait. Give it time."

England felt his body go limp. "Yes. I thought you might." He mumbled.

England stood to his feet and turned his back on his enemy. "I love you, America. I always will. If you need me as I need you..." he turned to the nation. "You know where I am."

America nodded and England turned and left the battlefield. He took out something from his coat and waved a white cloth in the air. He was surrendering. He was defeated by his love. He was surrendering his love to America. He threw it to the ground and ran. For maybe the first time in years, England felt speechless and felt his heartbreak into pieces.

America stood to his feet and walked over to where England dropped the white cloth. He picked it up and stared at it. Even though he didn't show it, America was surrendering his love to England. But he couldn't, not yet. He knew the war was now over and he had won. He had gained his freedom and he could celebrate now. He couldn't wait to tell Canada. He would invite him over and they would celebrate his independence. He would ask France to celebrate with him as he had fought alongside with America. He knew that the Frenchman wouldn't miss it as he knew that he and Canada got along so well, as they had been in the same lines as America and England but France and Canada hadn't gone through a war as England had taken Canada from France. They would be reunited again and they would celebrate all night long. Prussia and Spain would be there too. After all Prussia's boss had sent him that Steuben guy to train him.

He wished England could join but it was more like a cat in hell's chance.

America walked back to his army and smiled. Cheers rang out! Soldiers hurried over to young nation, clapping him on the back. America smiled and shook hands with his friends. The celebrations carried on throughout the night. Prussia, Spain, Canada and France came over with a bottle of wine each and celebrated with the Americans. But throughout the whole night, America's mind wandered to England.

His only love...

A/N:

Bonjour! Hola! Guten Tag! This is a new fanfiction or songfic that I came up with when watching Hetalia AMV's. It was of this song and the USUK pairing. Then I watched xAnimeAmy?x's Gaga madness video and speechless played along with the American Revolutionary War episode. It was so moving and it sparked the whole idea. The next two chapters are ones that I am working on at the moment.

For those of you who have read my previous Hetalia fanfiction with the Bad Touch Trio along this one, just to mention, it could be a couple or so days before I update. Also, I'll be posting two more stories on here that I am working on as well.

I'm just that creative – I'm a busy bee!

Also in this fanfiction, I will only be doing country pairings not country and historical person pairings like: EnglandxShakespeare or ItalyxMussolini. It's just CountryxCountry! If you have any requests for a pairing you love, don't hesitate to ask. Just send it in a review and I'll update after the next two. Until then...happy reading!

Au Revoir!

M.S.P

xxxxx