So this is actually going to be a short-ish (5 or so chapters) EngWorld fic. Basically review to decide who he ends up with in the end (I'm not going to do them all individually pursuing him; this is as in, he already likes someone, and the last chapter reveals who it is and announces their relationship to the world) out of: The Axis (including Romano, Prussia and Austria), the Allies (excluding Canada because I can't see mapletea as any more than platonic, and USUK because it's cliché), Denmark, Norway, Portugal, Switzerland, Lichtenstein, Scotland, Wales and Ireland. If you vote in the next week you can vote for other characters to like him.

Please vote, I'm only doing it because I really don't know who to put him with!

Thanks!

Love you, byee!

ASAS xxx

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Please Don't Send Me Roses: The Axis

Rating: T for the minute

Genre: Just romance, with a little modern history in there. GCSE History is good for something, after all

Pairings: England X The World-ish. Missed a few countries out or it would go on forever.

WARNINGS: None except implications and language. Maybe some angst.

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..:.:.:.]The Axis[.:.:.:..

Nobody knew quite how it had started, particularly not the man himself. It had started with one nation, and then another until an entirely unstoppable snowball had formed.

Every year, at some point, most of Europe, all of North America and most of Asia received a rose from one Arthur Kirkland, perhaps better known as the personification of England and World Representative of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland (although he objected to being the latter – after all, why can't they represent their own bloody countries? It might've been all he had left of his empire but that didn't mean he wanted them to dump their paperwork on him).

Most of them had at first scoffed, incredulous that someone who seemed such a cold and heartless Empire could be capable of such a simple gesture of kindness. A rose from the notoriously cold personification was surely rare…

As one, believing themselves to be unique, the receptors of the innocent flower came to almost cherish the gift. After all, how special they must be for England – England! – to give them a flower. He must struggle to give one to me, let alone anyone else. So the thought process went.

Germany was in fact one of the first to receive a rose, before Arthur's closer friends and many of his colonies, for example.

It happened a little before he formed his friendship with Japan. He had asked for an alliance; he had been nervous and the bored and slightly annoyed look on Germany's face had completely flustered him. His unsubtle shoving of flowers and harried and half-arsed explanation had not gone down well. England found himself faced with a slammed door and a bruised ego. At first he had been mortified at his embarrassingly awkward conduct, which had briefly turned to anger at Germany's shortness with him. However this returned to humiliation when he remembered he hadn't so much as written to request a meeting or gone about things in a vaguely proper way. Of course he would be surprised at England's sudden appearance and odd behaviour, which could easily lead to him being a bit short. It made England want to bang his head against a wall repeatedly.

So England, desperately wanting to make up for his embarrassment, had posted the German a rose of the Gloria Dei variety (having agonised over which type: red was out – too romantic, and he wanted to avoid any connection with France (although the Frenchman's adoption of his flower annoyed him to no end – it was his national flower, for fuck's sake!). White had the same romantic connotations, ditto pink, so he basically had this and yellow left.) Germany had been a little surprised – well, more than a little. England was not known to be the kindliest of nations, and his pride was legendary. On top of that, Germany knew he had been a little rude when England showed up requesting an alliance. He couldn't work up the ability to apologise, and his guilt skyrocketed when he found the innocent-looking rose on his doorstep.

But despite the guilt the rose, and the note with it ('Dear Germany, Sorry for acting a bit weird with the flowers and what-not, old chap. My boss has been rather insistent about me finding someone to be allied with, so I was little desperate. Anyway, long story short, my conduct just wasn't on, and I apologise profusely. Arthur') he couldn't help but feel a little… special?

It must have been hard for him to do that.

Germany didn't want the United Kingdom's alliance.

It really is a lovely flower. I would have expected a bottle of rum and, 'Rum is better than beer, kraut!' from him.

That didn't mean Ludwig couldn't accept Arthur's rose.

What a bizarre man. A fearsome empire, quaking in his boots about asking me for an alliance. How cute.

A brief image flashed in his mind. His green eyes, staring at Ludwig – not Germany, Ludwig – with adoration.

What?! God, I really need to get laid. He's a man!

He turned to go inside and put the rose in water.

It's a nice thought, and nothing but. I'll put it in water and then when it dries, I'll just forget it.

Imaginary green eyes burned in his mind's eye.

He only received three roses over the course of the next few years. The first one, one after the treaty of Versailles ('Because I don't agree with it as a person, even if as a country I am obliged to agree with it. It was utterly unfair on you.') And then at the end of the war. ('I'm sorry for everything.') Every time Ludwig was forced to accept that maybe Arthur Kirkland wasn't as cold as his reputation would have him.

He then began sending Ludwig roses yearly. It was a purely diplomatic thing, Ludwig told himself. An attempt to get relationships back to what they should be for trade, etc. (The truth was Arthur couldn't stand to be truly hated by anybody after his empire began to collapse. An unfortunate coincidence of events, really.) But the little notes warmed his disillusioned heart; he had lost his brother, (England had voted in the affirmative, but a note on a rose said, 'I didn't want to do that to your brother. He was a dear friend of mine before all this.' Ludwig felt more than a little jealous at that. He felt a little perturbed, actually. He had already known Arthur had been rather close to his brother, but it didn't bother him before) and his leader but he had gained Arthur's roses. It wasn't like they saved him, but once a year, he could feel a little better.

The notes mostly said 'Dear Ludwig (at some point Germany had changed to Ludwig, but he barely noticed) I hope you are well. Good luck with Italy. I hope we can remain on cordial terms, as people if not as nations. Best wishes, Arthur.' They were brief, but surely he must be the only one to receive them…

Soon he looked forward to them, and once or twice sent something back. Arthur always showed gratitude, and Ludwig always glowed under his attention.

This left him in a modern meeting, desperately trying not to yell at France to just leave Arthur alone. And desperately trying to avoid Arthur's burning jade eyes. He wouldn't want to give anything away, after all.

Next was Japan. Japan actually accepted England's proposal for an alliance, so England thought it would probably be a good idea to give him some measure of his gratitude. This is how Japan came to find a pale pink rose on the step in front of his door the day after the alliance was officiated. The note read, "Dear Japan-san (I believe it is polite in your culture to suffix names of people you have just met with san?). Thank you very much for becoming my ally, and my friend, I hope. The rose is the same colour as your sakura and my national flower, so it symbolises our alliance. I apologise, I tend towards the corny, sometimes. Best Wishes, England."

Japan reacted a little more confusedly than Germany did. A foreign man, whom he barely knew, sending him flowers? Japan almost blushed. Almost. Was this some kind of western tradition? He did not recall America ever giving him any flowers when he forced him out of isolation. Especially one like this with such a powerful message. He must really be very serious about this alliance. He didn't know why but the thought of the messy-haired blonde gentleman caring about him made butterflies materialise in his stomach. A brief image flashed in his mind. His green eyes, staring at Kiku – not Japan, Kiku – with adoration. He flushed a little, and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Arthur-san is a friend and nothing more. Dear lord, take your mind from the gutter, Kiku.

I suppose this is what I get for being in isolation for so long.

He stared at the rose for a while and raised it to his nose.

It really smells rather pleasant. I shall put it in water.

He pauses for a second before turning and going into the house.

It would be a shame to waste such a thoughtful gift after all.

England sent Japan a pale pink rose every year on the anniversaryof their alliance, whether he could see the other member or not. Kiku continually ignored that his heart beat a little faster when the intense emerald gaze was fixed on him. He ignored the twisting in his stomach whenever Arthur mentioned anyone else. However, Kiku did treasure the roses, yet cursed Arthur for gifting him with something so ephemeral. One cannot keep a dead rose forever, after all.

There was a brief break in the roses from when Japan basically walked over the League of Nations, and through the whole of World War Two. It was understandable; however Kiku felt an unfathomable surge of loneliness at the loss of them. Of Arthur.

It was bad enough when their private alliance got divided between America and France as well.

But this was pure pain. Surely he didn't… love Arthur?

He had assumed that the roses were over. So he was more surprised when, his body ravaged and cancerous from radiation, a mere week after Nagasaki, a nurse brought him a pale pink rose with a note that read: 'Because this hatred has gone far enough. Arthur.' From then on the roses on their old alliance anniversary kept coming, and Arthur and Kiku, if not Britain and Japan, were friends again.

Kiku wanted more.

So now, more than sixty years since the roses started coming again, here Kiku was, silently studying Arthur in meetings, frantically searching yaoi doujins at home for any help or advice in making Arthur his.

Italy first received a rose when he changed sides in 1915, during World War One. The note red, 'Dear Italy, I'm really not as scary as you think I am. Most people I know wouldn't call me scary at all in fact. Thank you very much for changing sides, we need all the help we can get! Yellow roses seemed appropriate as you seem to be of a sunny disposition. I hope you and I can get over the whole fear barrier thing. England or Arthur.'

His thoughts were a little more simple although no less oblivious than Japan or Germany. England's so nice, sending me a flower! Maybe he isn't as scary as I thought! Maybe we can make pasta together! This was obviously before he found out about Arthur's cooking ability.

There was of course a whole break during the lead up to World War Two and throughout it. However a few years after the end, as with Germany, Italy found a rose – yellow again – on his doorstep with a note on a string tied to the stem as usual. However there was also a photo. 'Dear Italy, I hope we can forgive each other after the war. I am sorry for capturing you, although war is was, and I hope you are not terrified. Do you remember when I was your prisoner and how I eventually got out? (God it took me forever. I am now irrationally terrified of going to Italy in case I get captured by a non-existent Germany again.) Howard the spy turned me into an Italian! I have attached a picture I had taken for you to laugh at. I look incredibly daft. Oh well. Don't look so terrifying now, do I? From Arthur.'

Feliciano stared at the photo.

Arthur looks… really hot. Feliciano couldn't believe Arthur looked so good as an Italian.

And he was really nice to me when we were allies… And he treated me nicely when he captured me; he even tried to get a good chef when I complained about his food…

He's so nice, he even sends me flowers. I can't believe big brother France is so mean to him.

Feliciano had of course heard of Arthur's pirate and empire days, but …people can change, can't they? Especially nations, they change all the time.

He decided he liked Arthur. A slightly different image flashed through his head. Arthur's green eyes alight with mirth at the slight smudges of pasta sauce on Feliciano's mouth and nose. He leans over the table on the opposite side of which he is sitting and licks the sauce – he cuts the image off.

Why would Arthur do that?He giggled uneasily and scratched the back of his head. Oh well, I'll just make some pasta to take my mind off of things.

The yellow roses became a yearly thing as well, usually around the time the war ended or on Italy's birthday (20th September, anniversary of the Capture of Rome) with a little friendly note that made Arthur seem a lot less terrifying than England did. He still felt nervous approaching him, but not in the same way. It was less cold sweats and more butterflies, these days…

So he kept his dreams of Arthur a secret, contenting himself with sneaking glances at him from across the conference hall. All the while imagining the day he would unleash his Italian charm on the unruly-haired blonde and watch Arthur fall at his feet. It kept him happy at night, at least.

The three former allies all had one thought in common. They were all at once impatient with waiting to do something and too nervous of rejection to do something.

Please don't send me roses if I don't mean anything to you.

..:.:.:.]End Chapter One[.:.:.:..