Title: DOMINO EFFECT

Author: Fate's Apprentice

Language: English

Rating: M- Mature.

Fandom: Hetalia- Axis Powers

Genre: Romance/Family

Characters: America (Alfred Jones)/England (Arthur Kirkland)

Summary: It was one of those things they just didn't talk about: the reason. There had to be a reason, better than the one given, for why America had declared independence all those years ago. But when Arthur overhears just what that reason was, it triggers a domino effect that reveals America to be so much more than anyone had ever expected. Us/Uk. Canada/France

Chapters: 2/?

Word Count: 2,117/3071

Status: Incomplete

Warnings: Adult language and themes. Some sexual content. Mildly OOC, as I kind of made up this idea and it could never happen in the series, so I don't want any reviews telling me all about how it could never happen, since I already know that. This is nearly AU, but sticks to the main universe, just veering off a little here and there. You don't like it, then don't read it.

A/N: Ages have been slightly adjusted for both my story to work and my general fancy:

· America: 19 years old

· England: 23 years old

· France: 26 years old

· Canada: 21 years old

Beta: dignifiedPianist

Chapter Two: Don't Say Anything

America doesn't run away, ever. Or at least he's not supposed to. He's America for Pete sake! But he did. The youngest allied nation turned on his heels and, without any hesitation or chance for second thought, fled for the exit. He thundered down the stairs, ignoring the desperate calls after him, and threw open the door before darting out into the light of day.

He didn't even consider slowing down until he'd put no at least a hundred feet between himself and the building from where he'd come. When the terror had at least partly faded, and he could breathe once more, his footfalls slowed to a walk and his mind kicked into overdrive. What the hell was he supposed to do now? How could he ever face England again? He swallowed hard and brushed his fingers through skewed blond locks, pressing them back into place as hopelessness settled over him. He was completely and utterly screwed.

"America!"

The shout of his name caught his attention, especially since he knew who that voice belonged to. A hand on his shoulder spread warmth through him, but he ignored it, favoring the onslaught of panic. He whirled around on impulse to face the green-eyed male and opened his mouth to fumble out a half-assed excuse, but was silenced instead. A hand caught his wrist before he could run and the Brit took a step toward him. "Don't say anything," Implored the older nation. Before he could even think of how to respond to that, England closed the distance between them and caught America's mouth with his own.

America froze, taking a few moments to realize what was happening, and even then he couldn't seem to remember how to get his body to respond. For a small eternity, the two nations stood with their mouths pressed together like two halves of a sandwich but, just when England was about to surrender and pull away, America finally remembered how to move. His entire lengthy form melted against the other, lean arms lifting to wrap around the older's neck and mouth pressing enthusiastically back against England's.

Relief filled the older country like a drug and he allowed his arms to slip around the American, pulling the younger close to him. He kissed America until they were both breathless before pulling back just a bit, and he couldn't resist a small chuckle at the younger's whine of protest. A blush colored the American's cheeks and satisfaction filled England to the brim, he'd been the one to do that.

The older raised a brow at the silence that followed and America, after fully collecting himself, duplicated the action. "What? I can speak now?" His tone was playful, borderline flirtatious. This surprised England. After so many years of scathing replies filled with sarcasm and irritation, it was shocking to him that the American could even sound like that, never mind when speaking to him. It sent a shiver of lust through him and, suddenly, he wanted nothing more than to kiss America senseless

His lips quirk, "Of course you can, you git." He replied, barely restraining himself.

America smiled brilliantly, sapphire eyes dancing in the glow of the setting sun, "Kiss me again?" he requested, confidence restored and previous panic entirely forgotten.

England's green eyes shimmer as a smile lights up his features, "With pleasure," he replied and sealed the gap between them once more.

-Domino Effect-

He didn't drop his hand. No, even when the two returned to the meeting, England had insisted on keeping America's hand clasped tightly with his own with no concern for what anyone else thought. It's not like America minded; in fact he was thrilled, it was just incredibly unexpected. England was all about rules and protocol and how everyone else saw him. For the life of him, he couldn't figure out why the other was content to kiss him and hold his hand and be with him.

The two hadn't had a moment to talk since Canada had interrupted them mid-kiss to inform them that Germany was waiting on them, and he wasn't too pleased either. After all, they were in London; England was kind of the host, he sort of had to be there.

So the two had returned with Canada, and said nation had been sneaking looks at America, trying his damnedest to get some answers out of the youngest country whenever he could. It was kind of amusing and America appreciated the comic relief as he struggled to keep some semblance of his sanity.

It just didn't make sense.

The older had led them both to their seats and apologized to Germany for their tardiness, but the normally scary nation seemed more preoccupied with the sight of their intertwined hands, as did every other country in the room. England didn't even seem to notice and it bugged the hell out of America; it was so out of character that it was no longer amusing.

A piece of paper with England's neat cursive was pushed in front of him and his doubts were abandoned immediately in favor of curiosity. England, passing notes in the middle of a meeting? Had he been transported to another dimension?

England knew it wasn't like him, but he hadn't had a chance to talk to the American. Neither had any idea where they stood in respect to the other and, while England had an idea of where he wanted to be with the American, he needed to know and patience wasn't exactly his strong point. As for holding the younger's hand, what would it say about him if he pretended nothing had happened in the company of others? No, he was an honest man and he honestly adored the American, so why should he change his behavior for anyone else?

America glanced down at the scrap of paper:

What are you thinking about?

America pursed his lips and risked a glance at the older male, locking green eyes with his own. He felt a flood of heat rise to his face and he looked back down at the piece of parchment. Pausing, he wrote back:

You.

It was brazen of him, but honest, and he passed the note back, his sapphire eyes watching Germany to make sure he hadn't noticed. Italy was going on about pasta and it's ability to solve all the world's problems. He knew it couldn't, but he appreciated the thought. Wouldn't it be cool if something like pasta or hamburgers could fix everything? England had replied by now and pushed the scrap back toward him:

Oh, really now? Care to elaborate?

America felt a bubble of laughter float to his lips but he swallowed it down and risked another glance at Germany, back to his old self and going full throttle about some meaningless topic the teenager couldn't care less about. He stuck his tongue between his teeth in thought before picking up his pen:

Why'd you hold my hand?

He pushed it toward England before he lost his nerve and stuck his face in his hands, trying to cool his heated flesh with slick palms. He brushed his hair back from his face, a nervous habit he should really try to be rid of, and glanced over at England who seemed to be deep in thought.

Canada bumped his arm gently and the younger nation glanced over at him to see his brow raised with a silent question. America smiled brightly in answer and was about to whisper an actual reply when the scratch of paper on wood alerted him that England was finished. He glanced back over:

Should I not have?

Leave it to England to answer a question with another question, America chuckled silently to himself. He tapped his pen against his smiling lips, before bringing it once more to the paper:

No. It's good. I was just curious.

America pushed it back toward him when Germany was focused on Italy and Romano's squabbling, and then paused to watch England's face as he read it. Relief pushed the Englishmen's shoulders back down and lifted his gaze to meet America's. He spared a small smile just for the American before focusing his attention on a reply:

I wanted to.

England glanced at Germany with little concern before pushing the scrap to his left. They were quickly running out of room, this meeting had better end soon. Ordinarily, he expressed more concern for the matters at hand, but there was nothing really requiring his attention or input at the moment. This meeting was mostly about poverty, and both England and America had already been addressed. It made sense that they should be dismissed since they weren't contributing. Then again, England was hosting…

He glanced over at the younger when the note was pushed his way again:

Why?

England chuckled softly, Did the American need to analyze everything? Couldn't he just let some things be? Picking up his pen, he spared a glance at said country:

That's like asking why I kissed you. Does it really need explanation?

England pushed it back and had to choke down a laugh at America's noise of discontent. Why doesn't he just ask what he really wants to know? England bit his lip to keep his smile from gathering too much attention. He tapped his fingers on the table impatiently as he waited for the other's reply:

Yes. Both do. PLEASE tell me.

England picked up the scrap of paper and examined it for a moment, buying time while he thought how to properly word what he wanted to say:

Well, you have feelings for me? Right, America Alfred? Romantic ones?

America heaved a heavy sigh when he caught the writing on the scrap as England pushed it back. He bit his lip and counted to ten. The other country was infuriating! Why not just tell him? Why all this foreplay? The fact that England had used his human name caught his attention nevertheless, and he had to force back a small smile. He bit his lip before answering carefully:

Yes. I do. Did you not hear me earlier?

America made a noise of irritation when he watched the Brit quickly shove the note into his coat pocket. Damn him. He jumped a little when he felt Arthur take his hand and America felt his irritation melt away rather quickly and a small part of him hated the older country for having such control over him. It took some time but they were all dismissed and America paused to think as England kept their hands together. He tipped an eyebrow up at the Englishmen who merely smiled, and nodded at the door. When they'd reached the exit and were, for the most part, alone, America turned on him quickly, "You never answered my damn question!"

England leaned up and caught the other's mouth gently, dissolving all of the younger's irritation and frustration. Long arms slipped around his neck and knotted in his hair, skewing the blond locks and tugging at England's heartstrings. When they broke, America laughed breathlessly, "You know you just can't kiss me every time you don't want to answer me, Eng- Arthur."

England didn't miss the younger country's correction and the sound of his Christian name on the American's lips did things to him that nothing else could. He smiled softly and nudged America's forehead with his own. "Why not?" He hummed in reply.

America gave an exasperated noise. "Because you'll drive me crazy!" Replied the younger irritably. Usually, that tone alone would be enough to make the Brit snap, but in this situation, it merely provoked him to catch the younger's lips in a chaste kiss. "Short trip, love." He hummed in an amused fashion. America blew a raspberry and England kissed him anyway before sighing, surrendering to the younger man's dramatics.

He brushed blond tresses from the taller nation's forehead and smiled indulgently, "Because your feelings are reciprocated. Because I wanted to. Because it felt good." He leaned closer and stole the other's mouth again, "And because I wanted you to know something," he teased softly, warm breath sending shivers down America's spine.

"What's that?" asked the younger country, tone breathless and awestruck. England flashed an irresistible little smile. He pressed his forehead firmly against the other's and tightened his arms around America possessively.

"You're mine."

TBC.

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