A/N Thank you Everyone who reveiwed, voted on the pole, and faved/alerted this. It means a lot to me. I am soooooo sorry that This took so long. So far RussiaXCanada is going to be the next one shot so everyone watch out for that update~ I might actualy create a story off of this. It was a lot of fun to write. beleave it or not it only took 5 hours to write it down on paper and another 2 to type it up. My Editor(AKA. My mom) got bored with Editing and stoped and I had to force her to finnish so I fould get this up today. so thank you for your pationce.

America had always loved England. Ever since he was young and saw England for the first time. Yes, England had scared him sometimes but, England was so much bigger, older and stronger, which made it easy for him to chase the monsters away. America was given a choice between France and England and chose England because he looked stronger (Plus, France just looked like a child molester). When America got scared he would run to England's side to seek comfort. And when America would have bad dreams he would run to England's room and England would just sigh and scoot over lifting the blanket up inviting his colony into the bed with him. America would curl up against England and fall asleep with his arms wrapped around him.

As America grew older, not much changed. When a thunder storm roared overhead or America had a bad dream, he would go to England's room to sleep, even if England wasn't there. He would bury his head in England's pillow and inhale his scent which he could only describe as a mixture of Earl Grey tea, burned scones, and foggy rain. He found it comforting. But later, as his human body hit the age of sixteen or seventeen his heart would start to race. When he thought of England, a lump would grow in his throat. He would go to England's room and bury his head into the pillow to see if it would help but, it only made it worse. He didn't know what was going on or what he felt. He started to feel uncomfortable around the one person he loved the most, His Big Brother. He hated the feeling. He also hated that England kept raising his taxes, expecting so much more from him than ever before. This gave him mixed feelings for England. In time he started to blame the uncomfortable feeling he felt on England and had finally had enough. He declared his Independence from England. His early feelings of love long forgotten and buried, covered by confusion and hatred.

England and America fought long and hard, England wanted to keep America with him, America trying to break away and become his own nation. Finally on the fourth day of the month of July it was final. England couldn't take the shot against America no matter what he tried. He fell to the ground and wept tears of sadness, anger, and hatred. All America could say to him was...

"You used to be so strong..."

The rain that was pouring down that day, hiding the tears that America was shedding. He turned from England and walked away. When he got home he went straight to England's room and wrecked everything, then flung himself, bloodstained and all, onto England's bed and wept. He cried with happiness and pride, with hatred and sadness, but mostly he cried because he was now England's equal. No longer would he be England's little brother, British America, he was The United States of America. He fell asleep, in England's bed that night for the first time as an independent nation.

~YEARS LATER~

America walked into the world meeting and for once, was quiet and didn't insult anyone. When anyone would ask him what was wrong or on his mind he would wave them off and/or dismiss their antics. But when he thought no one was looking he would stare at England's empty chair with a sad look on his, usually painfully happy, face. Canada even asked him what was so important about England's chair but America appeared to not see or hear him as usual.

When the meeting was over everyone left, well... Everyone except America. When he was sure no one else was in the room he put his head on the table and broke down. He was planning on asking England out after the meeting, but he wasn't there. He would have asked France where the Englishman was but then, France would ask him why he wanted to know. He did not want to explain to France what his intentions were. France would just jump to conclusions and that wouldn't be good, because then he would have Hungary, Canada, and Canada's boyfriend Russia all over his ass... Maybe even Japan... He didn't want to worry about that so he would have to wait until the next time he saw England. The problem was that it had taken him two hundred years to figure out that he loved England and another thirty-three years to work enough nerve to go up to England and England wasn't even there... He was still sobbing when England walked into the room. America looked up; eyes still red and swollen from his tears, and then he blushed. He looked quickly away to hide his emotion and compose himself. England walked up to America and smacked him in the back of the head.

"HEY! Dude, what was that for?" America demanded.

"That was for being a bloody git! That's what!" England replied angrily.

America, hurt and confused, looked up at England trying to figure out what he had done wrong. He couldn't think of anything he had done to merit getting slapped by England. Then he remembered what he had promised himself.

"E-England? I-I have something I would like to ask you."

"Hmm? What is that?"

"W-W-Will you g-go out w-with me?"

England stared at America like he was crazy.

"America, you git... Are you joking?"

"N-no... I'm more serious about this than hamburgers. And hamburgers are the best food on earth."

England smiled and hugged the sad American.

"Yes, I will be your bloody boyfriend."

America blushed again harder and started to smile.

"T-thank you England!" America said as he hugged his new boyfriend back.