A/N- Hey everyone! Guess who's back! Haven't written anything in a while, and this isn't my usual smut! It was originally going to be, but then I had a change of heart and wrote fluff instead XD Thank you to Owyn for proof-reading! Also thanks to americas-lover for inspiring and encouraging me! And everyone else who supported me when writing this!

ooo

All Of England

"Fuck off!"

"I drove you all the way to London!"

America slouched back in the car seat, sucking on his coke loudly as he deliberately gazed out of the window. If he could have, he would have put his feet up on the Brit's dashboard just to spite him, but the man's car was too small for that. Instead, he simply rested his arm across the window frame and sulked.

Six hours earlier had found the two men driving around the north of England, tucked into the car that England kept in one of his many houses across the country. Naturally, it was a Mini, and naturally, America was already bored to death of fields.

"Dude, I thought this would be fun…" he whined, stretching his arms and almost punching England in the face. "But seriously all it's been is grass and sheep shit."

"Except for the cow."

"Whatever." Ok, even America had to admit, the cow had been pretty funny. They'd been walking through a field full of the creatures, when all of a sudden, one had wandered up and tried to sit on England. The American had been too busy rolling on the grass laughing to offer the poor man any assistance, but as far as he was concerned the whole thing had been absolutely hilarious. Especially the loud moo followed by the terrified screams. Yep. That had definitely been the best bit.

Still, America was bored. There was nothing fun up here. London seemed to be the only place England ever put any of his cool stuff. That and Wales. (Though America didn't really want to admit that he desperately wanted to see where they filmed Doctor Who, or go in the TARDIS or anything.)

"Why did you bring me up here? This is so dull…"

England growled from the driver's seat, reaching a hand across to whack America around the head as he carefully avoided a car coming in the opposite direction down the narrow country road.

"Ow! What was that for? !"

"Quit complaining! You never give a toss about the rest of my country! It's always Big Ben this, the Queen that, 'can we go on the London Eye'… And I'm sick of it! There's more to England than the capital!"

America simply rolled his eyes and went back to staring out of the window. All he could see out there was grass. Grass, grass, more grass… oh look a farm, even more grass, and the occasional sheep. It was utterly, painfully, boring.

"Y'know…" he muttered after a long few minutes of doing nothing. "There's only one thing worse than being in a car with you…"

"And what might that be…?" The grinding of England's teeth was audible.

"Being in a car with you in the middle of nowhere…"

That did it. That was the moment when England finally snapped. There was a viewpoint just up ahead, and he pulled into it, slamming his foot on the brake so hard the car threw them forwards, and only the locking of their seatbelts saved them from a painful journey through the windscreen.

"Ow! Watch it! You could've given me whiplash!"

But America was jerked from his whining when he felt a hand grasp the collar of his t-shirt, and he was yanked around to face a very, very angry England whose face was already the colour of beetroot.

"COULD YOU JUST SHUT YOUR MOUTH FOR ONE BLOODY MINUTE? !" the Englishman roared, teeth bared and knuckles white where they gripped American's clothes. His breathing echoed around the suddenly silent car, and the tension in the air could have been ignited by a single spark. The American's eyes were wide, their glistening surface reflecting a face that would have once, in by-gone years, caused him to wet himself on the spot. His mouth opened and closed as his brain toyed with the idea of a sarcastic remark or quip, but eventually decided that just this once he may have pushed things a little too far, and he remained silent.

"I HAVE HAD IT WITH YOUR LACK OF APPRECIATION!" England yelled, and it seemed that this was going to be the ultimate vent of all his anger. "EVERYTHING YOU HAVE TO DO WITH ME REVOLVES AROUND BLOODY LONDON! YOU CAN BARELY DISTINGUISH ENGLAND FROM BRITAIN! AND THE ONE TIME I GO OUT OF MY WAY TO TRY AND SHOW YOU SOMETHING A BIT DIFFERENT, SOMEWHERE THAT HASN'T BEEN PLASTERED ALL OVER A MILLION BOOKMARKS AND POSTCARDS, DO YOU GIVE EVEN A SINGLE FUCK? ! DO YOU? !"

"But b-but but-"

"SHUT IT! I HAVE HAD IT WITH ALL THIS CRAP! YOU LEARN SOME GOD DAMN APPRECIATION FOR THE REST OF THIS PLACE OR SO HELP ME I WILL BOOT YOU FROM THIS VEHICLE AND LEAVE YOU IN THE MIDDLE OF THIS 'NOWHERE'!"

A tiny sliver of a smirk flashed back across the American's face, and he pointed a finger at the Brit. "Aha! So you do admit it's nowhere!"

If it had appeared that England was past his limit before, then he was certainly careening off the cliff and into the vast chasm of pure, unbridled wrath now. His face had surpassed beetroot, now a somehow even darker shade, and his fists visibly shook while he sat there, teeth bared and a slight hiss of rage slipping from them, before all of a sudden his hand whipped out and the ring of a slap echoed through the car.

America had never even seen it coming. It was unprecedented, and a silence filled the air as he simply stared in shock at the man before him. His cheek flared and began to burn, and steady throb of pain, though his blue eyes never left England's face as he quietly and unconsciously slipped his hand up to cup his now cherry-tinged skin.

England's chest was heaving, though as he gazed back at the American, his expression softened, and he left his hand drop back down to his side. He could feel his bottom lip quivering, as he suddenly averted his gaze, head lowering a fraction, a muttered, "I… I'm terribly sorry about that…"

America continued to look on, and his eyes didn't miss the glistening that arose in England's eyes, the dancing of the light in them that indicated they were filling with tears. They also caught the digging of the man's nails into his thighs, and the blond felt his heart sink at the sight. He'd made England lose his temper, and now the Englishman was upset because of it.

"…I'm an idiot…" America's attention darted back to England when he heard the mumble, and he felt his lips part in horror as the pained voice continued.

"I'm an arsehole… I… I hit you… I just wanted to show you the things I was proud of… And I got so frustrated and…" He buried his face in his hands, tears dripping over them. "I'm just a terrible person… I'm a terrible human being…"

Suddenly, a soft yet firm hand gripped his shoulder, and the Englishman lifted his face to see America leaning over with worried eyes. He wasn't used to seeing such a look on the man's face. It was fairly uncommon, and it filled him with a strange awe, and sent the strangest of feelings fluttering down into his stomach.

"You're a nation, for starters," came the unusually soft voice. "Besides, I was the one being a jerk, not you. I… I shouldn't have mocked your country." Suddenly, the hand pulled back, and America scratched the back of his head in a noticeably sheepish fashion. "I don't tend to say this often, but… Well… I'm sorry, dude. I'm sorry."

It took a few moments for England to fully process what had been said. His green eyes blinked a few times, before an oddly warm and loving smile softened his features, and he lowered his hands, murmuring, "I'm sorry too… Now come here, you big twat."

And with that, England reached over and pulled the American into a hug, pressing his face against the man's t-shirt until the other blond could feel the rumble of his chuckles spread throughout both their chests. America took a few moments to respond, but then his face lit up with a smile too, and he hugged back, wrapping his arms around the other's back and resting his chin atop the mass of messy hair the Englishman possessed.

"You smell like Lynx…" came a sudden comment, one which caused the American to quirk an eyebrow and glance down.

"Dude, you mean Axe," he laughed. "I don't wear Eau du Cat!"

"You know what I mean…" The response was muffled, and only made the American laugh even more. He pulled England even tighter against him, until the side of the man's head was pressed against his heart, and he was certain he'd be able to hear the beat. When he caught a tiny smile curl the Englishman's lips, the organ gave an audible flutter, only causing that smile to widen even more.

"Love you…" he suddenly murmured, catching himself by surprise. It caused his muscles to freeze, eyes widening fractionally in shock, and the lighter blond glanced up, puzzled for a moment, before he chuckled.

"Love you too, even if you are a total tosser," he replied teasingly, sitting up a bit to move his head closer to America's.

"Hey!" the American retorted light-heartedly, but all joking anger was quickly brushed aside as he felt the faint touch of England's nose against his own, followed shortly after by the feel of England's lips on his, and his eyes fluttered shut, body melting into the kiss as he held the Englishman close and savoured the moment.

And it was times like this that he truly loved all of England, with all of his heart.