Arthur pushed open the door and stepped into the thick, sticky July air. He'd had enough of that damn party that only served to mock him. It wasn't even America's real birthday, it was the date of his independence. His actual birthday was sometime in October, Arthur didn't know the exact date.
Swearing, Arthur reached into his pocket and pulled out his pack of cigarettes. He lit one and sat down on a smooth stone bench. Wasn't it enough that America had gotten his independence? Why did he insist on inviting Arthur to every single damn party he threw to commemorate the cursed date?
Three cigarettes and one setting sun later, Arthur was still pissed. He had just angrily stubbed out the last smoke in his pack when the door to America' house clicked open.
"England? Are you out here?" America asked.
"Over here, wanker," Arthur called.
"Iggy, what are you doing out here?" America said, as if he actually cared
"Smoking, obviously," Arthur said, gesturing to the filters littering the ground, "but I've just run out, it seems. The frog smokes, doesn't he? Tell him to come out here."
America's perfectly smooth forehead crinkled a bit in worry. "Everyone else already left."
Arthur sighed. "Oh, well then I suppose I've overstayed my welcome, haven't I?" He stood to leave, when America grabbed his arm.
"England, are you okay?"
Arthur wanted to scream, 'No! I'm not okay! I haven't been for a long time, because of you! You and your stupid grin and stupid independence and the fact that I'm in love with you-' Wait. In love with America? That was an interesting notion.
But Arthur said nothing like that. Instead he tried to smile and said, "I'm fine America."
America scratched the back of his head. "You sure? I've never seen you smoke, and you've been acting odd lately."
Arthur shrugged. "I guess it's just been a long week."
America nodded in understanding before proceeding to wrap Arthur in the biggest bear hug Arthur thought he'd ever experienced.
"Um, America?"
"Why do we act like strangers?" America pulled back a bit to look at Arthur.
"Wh-what?"
"I dunno, it's just, we have all of this history, and we still act kinda, cold, I guess."
"Well, I guess calling each other by our country names as opposed to our true ones creates a barrier, but we can't stop doing that-"
"Why not?"
"Why what?"
"Why can't I call you by your true name, Arthur?"
The sound of Arthur's true name in America's voice sent shivers down his spine. "Well, then I suppose you could do that… Alfred."
Alfred shuddered against Arthur. "Arthur, I-"
"I have to go," Arthur interrupted, wiggling free of Alfred's grip. He couldn't stand this. Alfred's heat against his own, the wash of emotions flooding through him like he was a horny teenage boy.
Alfred looked crushed. "Why do you have to go?"
Arthur was already walking across the yard to his car. "I, uh, erm, have to feed my cat!"
"Arthur, you don't have a cat!"
Arthur chose to ignore this fact, climbing into his car. "I'll come back tomorrow!" he yelled.
"What?" Alfred yelled back.
"Tomorrow!"
With that, Arthur rolled up the window and drove away, thoroughly flustered. His face was beet red, and despite himself, he smiled slightly at the thought of the hug, and the possibility of getting another one the next day.
Author's Note- So this is my 25th story here on fanfiction. Wow. Only 75 more till 100!
Drop me a review, I'd appreciate it :)