Hello again everyone!

Thanks for reading my other Hetalia/Pandora Hearts fanfics! *bow*

It appears people like-a the yaoi! So then...here's some USUK!

Enjoy~!

"I HATE YOU!"

"I HATE YOU TOO!"

This . . . was a daily occurence with America and England.

Usually the Englishman cracked first, always being the first to fire the words, "I hate you!" at his ex-brother.

America followed it up with a lame comback, which was usually "I hate you too!"

As you can see, today was no exception.

"I don't get you at all!" the blue-eyed American said, shoving his hands into his sagging blue jeans and glaring at England frmo beneath his metal-rimmed glasses.

England crossed his arms over his chest and rolled his emerald eyes, looking anywhere but at America.

They were standing in England's living room, both standing tall and both . . . refusing to give up.

"Its because your head is full of nothing but cobwebs!" England fired back.

Finally they both sat down. America collapsed onto the couch, facing the brown leather chair where England had plopped down.

"It is not," America replied, closing his eyes and sighing.

England stood to retrieve the cup of tea that was sitting on the coffee table beside America's feet.

"Get your filthy tennis shoes off my table, you git!" England commanded.

America snorted, "Or what?"

England was shaking in fury. But he reached for his tea all the same.

But the American's sneaker knocked the tea forward and on reflex, England slapped it away.

The tea landed upside down on America's shirt, staining every visible inch of it.

"Damn! Look what you did!" America shouted, his sea-blue orb-like eyes seemed to glow with anger.

"I'm going and getting a fresh shirt," America said, standing and abruptly leaving the room.

England raised an eyebrow and to himself whispered: "But this is my house. . .where would he get a fresh-?"

Realization hit.

"Fuck you, you fatass! Don't touch my shirts!" the Englishman thundered up the stairs.

He slid past the doorway and stomped his way back.

"Ameri-!" He stopped.

There, in England's room, stood a shirtless American.

"God, he looks hot," whispered England.

America was looking skeptically through the Englishman's closet, trying to select a shirt that fit his taste.

He removed his glasses, and turned to England, "How come you don't have any damn good-looking shirts?"

England blushed and then stomped in, "Don't insult my wardrobe! Its your own damn fault that my tea got all over you!"

America glared.

"If you hadn't put your goddamn shoes on my table and hadn't pissed me off then we wouldn't even be having this discussion!" he continued.

America calmly walked over and placed his glasses on England's nightstand.

"What are you doing now, git?" Asked England, raising an eyebrow with curiosity.

America cracked his knuckles and turned back to England, "Don't tell me that all this shit was my fault."

England blinked; he'd never heard America talk to him using this tone.

That tone, it was full of a rage that England had never known America to possess.

But the pure fact that America thought he could just give England a good beating at leave it at that made the Englishman equally as furious.

"I may not look it, but I'm stronger than you think," England growled, popping his own knuckles and growling at his ex-brother.

England stepped forward and shoved America to the wall.

Shocked by the strength of the olive-eyed gentleman, America didn't react right away. He stood there, pushed up against the wall, staring.

England stared back, "What the hell are you looking at, git?"

America blinked slowly, still not comprehending.

"I'll make you suffer. . . I'll make you fall in love with me. . . and then. . .I'll crush your heart. . ." England whispered to himself so that America couldn't hear.

He stood on his tiptoes and slowly tipped his head to the side, carefully brushing his lips against America's.

"You're burning hot!" England exclaimed, shocked by the heat coming off of America.

the cocky nation sighed as beads of sweat appeared on his forehead.

"Are you-? You're damn sick!" England growled.

If America was sick. . .England couldn't fulfill his plan!

The American slowly sank to the ground, looking close to collapse.

England smiled devilishly, "Or. . .maybe I can still win. . ."

He leaned down, crawling into America's lap and cupping his hands around the blue-eyed nation's face. Then, he dug his fingernails into the perfect skin.

"I will ruin you, America," England said, crashing his lips down onto America's.

The American groaned under the pain. England's green eyes lit up with victory. But he didnt' stop there, he ran his fingers up into America's hair, pulling at it all while still kissing the nation.

America squeezed his eyes shut in agony.

"You'll pay for all the damage you've done to my heart," England whispered, his lips still against America's, "for every moment that you made me suffer, made me pretend to hate you, you'll pay for every last second!"

Wanting nothing more than revenge, England kissed America again, making this one last forever.

But then, he froze.

Two chilling, ice-cold hands made their way up the back of his shirt.

England blinked, suddenly wide-awake, and he stopped kissing America.

Two mischevious blue-eyes shown from beneath the long lashes of the American beneath England.

"You aren't playing fair, Iggy," America whispered.

England blinked and tried to reel back in fake disgust.

But the ice-cold hands brought him back to America.

"I've got you now," America said, grinning.

England gaped but shut his mouth and half-smiled, "Wow. I should give you more credit next time we do this."

America smirked, "Your secret's out. You love me. Now. . . I can crush you."

England's olive-green eyes widened in horror.

But America shrugged, "For tonight though, I think I can let it go."

There was a period of silence before America continued, "But only if you will-"

"Agreed," England said, cutting America off.

The ice-cold hands of the American moved further up and England rolled his eyes.

"You're too young for this."

But he slowly tipped his head to the side and felt America's hot lips on his.

This, would not be the end.

Oh no.

It was just the beginning.

Review please! With your support, I get ideas! So Review and there will be more lovely one-shots of America and Iggy-brows comin' your way! But until next time...

Cheers!

~ ~ I. Vessalius