Scrambling around to get America's things back in the box, he hastily shut the lid, tripping over one of the many small boxes with miscellaneous knickknacks littering the floor. Crying out in surprise, he crashed headlong into another pile of cardboard containers, and when he looked up, rubbing at the back of his head, he was greeted by America's smirking face, the man leaning against the doorway, arms crossed. How long had he been standing there..? England's face reddened as America began to walk over.
"You okay?" he questioned, leaning down for a kiss before helping the Englishman to his feet.
"Uh, yeah...thanks. I was just...cleaning out my attic. It's been so long, I forgot what all was in here..."
"Oh. So what were you so anxious to hide before I got in here?"
England froze. It wasn't as if he had anything to hide from the other man, but even so, he was hoping that he wouldn't say anything. It was a little embarrassing, now that they were a couple, to look back at when they had been brothers, especially if they were looking back on it together. Brushing himself off, England sighed, looking around the room at the mess. Might as well go ahead and tell him so they could get on with America's visit...
"I just found some old stuff...from when you were still a colony. I was putting it up so I could greet you, but...it seem you found me before I could."
His smile was weak, though hopefully believable, but when America gave him that look, the one that wondered why he couldn't just tell the whole truth, he cleared his throat, looking everywhere but America's eyes.
"Your eyes are a little red. Have you been crying..?"
"What? N-no! It was-- I just-- The dust--!"
America didn't look convinced, and as he continued to stare at England, the Brit became more and more nervous. He knew that he should be over what had happened by now, and he knew that America got irritated with him when he looked back on the sad things, but he couldn't help it! He didn't expect to find those things so soon, and he hadn't planned on looking through the box anyway! He just...got curious, and paid the price for it. Suddenly, England felt the American's fingers wrap around his wrist, and he found himself being pulled to the back of the room, back to the box where he had America's things stored.
"Ame-? What are you-!?"
"Come on, England. We're going to make some good memories with that stuff."
He wasn't quite sure what that meant, but as America released him, kneeling down to open up the lid, he found it more difficult to focus on the statement, and when America pulled out the stuffed bunny, England smiled at the look of awe on his face. He apparently remembered the rabbit...
"You kept it..." he started, flipping the toy over to look at the back. "I almost forgot about it... Hey, you remember when I tried to introduce it to my other rabbit friends, thinking that it was real, and they practically attacked it?"
The Englishman cracked into a grin.
"You came home screaming, and I had to sew its button eye back on. I remember. I also remember that you didn't go anywhere near those rabbits for a week... You were so cross with them..."
"Hey, it's not funny! I was traumatized into thinking that my new friend had lost his eye!"
Regardless of his words, his mouth was upturned into a cheerful smile, and he dove back into the box, getting some of his children's clothes. Unfolding one of the articles, he held it up, the smile widening.
"It's a sweater-vest. England, these were never in style, even three-hundred years ago. What were you thinking?"
England laughed. Was this what America meant by making good memories..? Suddenly, it made sense. Indicating to his own clothing, (a tan sweater-vest with a white dress shirt underneath, khaki dress pants and a green tie,) he smirked tauntingly.
"Watch what you're saying about my clothing choices, yank. I might just declare war on you."
"Aww, you wouldn't do that! I might break up with you, and you know that you couldn't live without my lovin'."
Now this was more like it. They were laughing together, having fun, and even though they were looking back on the past, America was making it enjoyable. England mentally wondered if he would attempt to brighten up his Revolution... If he could succeed, then England would propose marriage, right there... America kept digging and, pulling out the flag, he looked up into the corner, pointing to the circle of stars that adorned the patch of blue.
"It's outdated." he stated, ignoring the fact that England obviously knew that. "Why didn't you ever get a new one? I could have brought you one..."
That wasn't an easy question to answer... He had never wanted a new flag. If he had gotten a new flag every time America updated it, then he would have gone mad... He looked down, staring at his knees, and sighed.
"I wanted to remember... Thirteen stars, thirteen states, and all of those states were thanks to me. It was the last thing I had to remind me that I was still a part of you somehow. If I would have seen that you had other stars on that flag...it would have broken my heart."
The room fell silent. America's heart twinged, and he lowered the flag to the floor. He had no idea...