A/N: I was totally floored by the reaction to the first part and the idea that I should continue this. So, due to popular demand and consensus, I've to continue this. So, I hope you enjoy and have a good time reading it. And for anyone that is curious, Hawaii became a state August the twenty-first in 1959.

Normally, people who saw things that normal people weren't able to see* didn't scare very easily. Naturally, England didn't scare easily at all. He was England and he had never really scared very easily at all. When Rome had decided to barge onto his land, building that ridiculous wall, he hadn't been scared. When that entire Battle of Trafalgar business was swirling about, he hadn't been scared. When Germany had been staring him dead in the face as bombs exploded in his beautiful country – his heart being torn apart right in front of him– he had felt a very strong sense of annoyance and anger, but not fright. During that entire Cold War bullocks, he hadn't even flinched at the mention of a nuclear holocaust because he knew that Russia didn't have the balls to do something like that.

Therefore, the obnoxiously colored envelope in his hand didn't frighten him as much as it miffed him.

He could tell just by the handwriting on the envelope that it was from America because America had a very distinctive and immediately recognizable kind of scrawl. So, England was torn between opening it and reading whatever the contents inside were or finishing his tea.

On one hand, he could open in now while he was drinking his tea and risk spitting the liquid out due to whatever was in the envelope. On the other hand, he could savor his tea and enjoy the rainy afternoon that was currently going on just outside his window.

He decided that he would drink his tea very slowly, relish the excellent taste of it and then, only then, would he open the envelope because, really, he hated to waste anything that was so nice on his tongue. So, he would take his bloody good time sipping and enjoying his afternoon tea.

Eventually, when there was no more of that beautiful caffeinated drink to be poured on his tongue, he finally conceded to opening the envelope that seemed to loom on the table as if it had its own personality that was vaguely reminiscent of Sweden's. Before he tore it open, he headed to his study, intent on finding his letter opener** to slit the cursed thing open. Finally, with his ankles crossed as he sat at his desk, England withdrew the contents.

An invitation, equally as bright as the envelope, was the treacherous letter that had been inside and England simply stared down at it. It was an invitation that America had made himself judging by the fact that everything was written in sparkly yellow ink that made England's eyes strain and water slightly. There were cutout flowers everywhere on the piece of thick card stock. Although, the Briton had to admit that the delicate pink ribbon tied to the card was quite a nice touch, the card was a bit showy and flashy and England had to make sure that it wasn't an invitation to a party for the Fourth of July because England simply wouldn't attend. At all.

But when he looked at the date, it was being held two weeks from today (a Saturday) and wasn't for America at all. By the flowery script that said 'for whom:' the card said 'Kalani'. England had to look on toward the rest of the card to see what else was written there.

Apparently, it was a family affair and England was invited.

Oh, bloody pissing bullocks.

England knew that under different circumstances, he wouldn't even think twice about rejecting this but this was America that he would be rejecting and he knew the boy better than he cared to admit. Actually, chances were slim that anybody knew his former colony better than he did. Except, that is, for Canada. It was the boy's brother so of course he knew America slightly better than England did.

Either way, they both knew how getting invitations rejected just tore the poor boy down. Secondly, England knew exactly what would happen if he even thought about rejecting the invite.

America would play the 'Oh, Arthur, You're Just Insecure Around The Kids' card and England would snap back that, excuse him, he wasn't bloody insecure at all! America would roll his eyes and respond with an uppity 'Sure you're not'. They would yell and shout and one thing would lead to another and, eventually, America would storm out, practically frothing at the mouth with rage and England would shout that he hoped he had a bloody good time because that was quite the last he would be seeing of his British arse for quite a while. America would, no doubt, turn around, blue eyes blazing like unholy fire, and stick his middle finger up. Then they wouldn't talk for whatever amount of days.

Pondering if he really wanted to go through that this month or the next, England sighed. He rubbed at the small space between his expansive eyebrows. Oh, God and the Queen, what should he say. He only had three days to respond if it pleased him or not. Sighing and practically yanking himself out of the chair, he walked to the living room and stared at the number on the card as he yanked the phone off the hook and detangled some of the chord. Fingers stabbing at the numbers aggressively, he balanced the phone in between his shoulder and his head. It rang for quite a while before he finally got a scratchy voice on the other line.

"'Lo?" The Voice said, sounding completely like not-Alfred.

"Alfred?" England said, clearing his throat and doing that math if it was four thirty here then it must have been about eleven in the morning on the eastern coast of America. So, really, nobody should have been asleep as such an indecent hour in the morning.

"No, this ain't Alfred. This s'Bert. " The Voice said and England felt his eyebrow twitch and his gut clench in the same way it always did when he heard someone mangling the beauty that was the English language. That accent, the general lazy lilt of it and just the way is drawled over his ears like syrup made out of sunshine and pure liquid heat, had to be from Texas.

"Bert?" England asked, feeling oddly stupid for saying such an awful name.

"Yeah, this is Bertie. Bert. Alberto. Texas. Whatever. Who the hell is this and why the hell are you calling my Ma's house?"

"This is England."

"Oh. It's you. I heard all about you from Florida. You're the jerk that's datin' my Ma now." Texas drawled in a menacing manner and, really, it didn't frighten England one bit. Just what was it about him dating America that offended the states so much? Was it his accent?

"What? I can assure you, my good fellow, that I am no such thing. Perhaps he simply didn't understand that I have only the best of intentions for your father."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever. But lemme tell you something, pops,"

"Be my guest, Bert."

"Now look here, my family pretty much runs this place, m'kay? We make sure everything is in order because Ma's kinda scatterbrained and he tends to forget stuff. We clean the house, we mix Ma's drinks. We can be really scary people. Just read a book on the Civil War, old man. Do not fuck with us."

"I'm sorry but it seems to me that you're trying to intimidate me, my boy." England returned, knowing that Texas couldn't beat him in a verbal smack down because England had had centuries and centuries of practicing English snark and wit. So, if push came to shove, England could win this battle without trouble. For God's sake, England had been friends with Oscar Wilde.

"W-well, I just wanted to let you know that Ma means a lot to us and we don't take to kindly to strangers."

"I've fucked your father. A large number of times. I'm not exactly a stranger, hm?"

"I–Hey now, uhm–Wait. What?"

"Your father. My prick. His arse." England said, rolling his eyes. Really, there just wasn't a polite way to put it that wouldn't warp the poor southern state's psyche. Well, mental well-being be damned, because if he had to be plagued by nightmares involving Russia, America, and Alaska, then it was fair that Texas had to be subjected to the same thing. Misery did indeed love company.

"H-hey now, you don't have to be telling me that kind o'stuff! I mean, Jesus, that's–"

"Fairly beside the point. Would you please just ask me about the sodding reason I called? Bloody hell."

"Will ya stop telling me weird and creepy stuff 'bout Ma?" Texas practically whispered and England had to listen very closely and strain his ears to catch it. England rolled his eyes and smirked internally, knowing that he would have time to put scarring mental images in Texas' mind sometime soon and the mental torture could wait until then.

"Of course. Now just ask so that I may please get on with my life. I do have one, you know." England snapped into the phone. God, those Americans were all the same. They never knew when to just shut up and do as they were told.

"So, old man, why're you calling?" Texas finally said after a long pause that made England want to pull his own teeth out.

"I was just calling to, ahem, RSVP for Hawaii's party." England said, trailing off uncertainly.

"Oh! Oh!That's awesome. Here, let me just get a piece of paper and a, uh, pen." The phone was put down loudly and noisily, and England caught the worst end of that due to random feedback suddenly growing very intense for whatever reason. Cursing at the sudden auditory attack, England dropped the phone and struggled to grab the curled wire chord that was entangling itself even more. Oh, joy. He made a mental note to detangle that later. England hurriedly brought the phone up to his ear to see if Texas had come back to the phone and found that the state hadn't. Although that horrid feedback was screeching in the background.

He heard shuffling for a moment and heard someone scream 'Bert! Jesus Christ!' quite loudly and then somebody picked up the phone and England felt his heart flutter somewhat nervously. He was quite pleased that the horrid feedback had stopped but he couldn't quite stop his forehead from creasing in annoyance. It was a natural reaction, rather like his inclination for hating all things French. It just sort of happened.

"England?"

And, oh, his name couldn't have sounded sweeter even if his beloved Elizabeth had said it. Alfred had such a nice voice that it made England's toes curl slightly at simply the sound. Honestly though, he wasn't about to go announcing that to everyone. It would be terribly embarrassing.

"America? Hello, love. How're you?"

"I'd be a hell of a lot better if Texas fucking listened to me for once." America said from the other side of the phone, sounding perfectly happy if not a tad annoyed.

"Is he misbehaving?" England asked, feeling rather old and creepy for asking something like that.

"Well, the thing is, is that I always tell the kids–and, seriously, I don't even know how many times I've told them," here America's voice became slightly distant and England simply knew that he was shouting at Texas and that made the sadist inside him smile and squirm happily, "to not put the phone by the radio because it causes feedback for the other person. Bertie knows that. I'm really sorry, England. I don't know what's up with him. He's been in a shitty mood all week."

"Oh, no. I perfectly understand, dear. Children can be somewhat difficult at times." England responded, pressing the phone closer to his ear with his shoulder as he struggled with the phone chord's difficult tangles. He reminded himself for the third time that month that he needed to get a phone that did have this damnable and annoying thing attached to it.

"Yeah, I know. Still, I'm really sorry. He knows better and he should have put the phone somewhere else." America sighed into the phone. All England had to do was close his eyes and he could visualize what the other nation was doing. It brought a smile to his face and even though England was alone, he was nervous that someone would see him smiling like an utter fool and he quickly covered it up by clearing his throat.

"Oh, don't worry about it. It's nothing very bad. I'm sure he didn't mean anything by it at all. It's not like he did on purpose." England grunted knowing damn well better than America that Texas had meant something by it and that the state had done it on purpose. Oh, England was going to torture that poor boy until he abandoned the entire "Get Away From My Dad, Old Man" campaign.

"Whatever, I'll just have to talk to him about it later. He knows how much I hate that. So, why are you calling? To talk to the coolness that is me?" America asked, tone light and airy.

"Actually, no. I was calling to inform you that I was coming to Hawaii's birthday party."

"Oh, England! That's great. Thank you so much, it means a lot to me. I thought you were going to say no. But I sent the invitation anyway because I, well, thanks. Plus, I think Florida really likes you. He hasn't stopped talking about you since he saw you. Although, for some reason, he says you're a bit of a stiff. Whatever that means." America prattled on and England wasn't even listening to a word he said. Truth be told, he was simply enjoying the sound of America's voice before he heard the word 'Florida' and his mood went down the proverbial drain.

"Stop talking, you silly git." England interjected to which America simply laughed loudly.

"Sorry." America eventually apologized after his fit of giggles had passed.

"Yes, well, I have a few questions." England said, trying to keep the curt tone out of his voice but failing slightly.

"Shoot." America said, seemingly oblivious to the terse quality the Briton's voice carried.

"How should I dress for this?"

"It's casual so you don't really have to dress up or anything."

That was a relief.

"Sounds perfect. I'll be there. Well, I must be going. I've got terribly important things to do." England said, finally managing to detangle a knot. He smirked down in victory at the troublesome phone chord.

"England." America said brightly and England could practically hear the million dollar grin in America's voice.

"Hm?" England grunted, rolling his eyes. In truth, he didn't have anything special to do. If he really wanted to, he would have stayed on the phone with America all day. But the news would be on soon and England couldn't talk on the phone and watch the news at the same time because either he got too distracted by the person on the phone or he fell silent in the conversation. He wasn't very good at multitasking.

"Love you, babe."

England smiled fondly at the sappy endearment and chuckled lightly into the phone. It melted his heart to say the least. So, he smiled warmly– not that he would ever admit to the stupid grin on his face– and simply enjoyed the warm blush that he could feel on his cheeks.

"Love you, too."

And then England hung up before America could start the wretched 'no, I love you more' business that he was so fond of starting. Really, things like that had to be avoided if one was a bloody gentleman because when a gentleman said that the loved something, their word was not to be doubted.

And, after all, Sir Arthur Kirkland was a damned gentleman if he did say so himself.

He checked the digital clock on his oven and wondered if he had enough time to run out and buy presents before the news started. England decided that he would watch the afternoon news and then, tomorrow, he would head out and buy Japan's*** child a present.

Oh, the things he did for love.

*Technically, this was a thing that doctors were calling 'hallucinations'; England called them fairies.

**Every proper gentleman had a letter opener because it wasn't polite to simply rip an envelope open. England had come into possession of this particular letter opener after poor Robert Stewart committed suicide with it. People had nearly gone mad trying to find it and England never told them he had it. There was just something pleasantly morbid about it that entranced normal people to just slash at themselves in randomly vital places. It had nicked him once and England had shouted at the object for hours afterwards. Sadly, it didn't quite apologize so much as it sat there looking very proud of itself. Bloody horrid thing.

***The child wasn't even his and here he was, considering what to get her as a gift. This was absolutely ridiculous and, under normal circumstances, he wouldn't have ever done something like this. However, love and courting took sacrifices.

TBC

A/N: Thanks for reading, have a good day/night, and maybe leave me a review?