I left your boss's gender open and tried not to personalize them too much. But, come one, doesn't every boss act like this? Oh, and this is not really a double person fic, I couldn't think of someone to use with England. Hey, there's his brothers, so I didn't completely abandon the theme.

Ugh, Secret Agent Man song, get out of my head!

WARNING: Lots 'o British slang!

The cream colored walls and paper-like stench of the office was all too familiar. You waited patiently, hands folded behind your back. Your boss adjusted a pencil so it was aligned neatly with the rest. You couldn't stand it anymore.

"Is there a reason you summoned me, boss?"

"Ah yes, (name)."

Your boss, your country's official leader, had called you into their headquarters. You were anxious, the only time they would request you was if there was an urgent matter a mortal couldn't handle…or the stapler went missing again.

"You are acquainted with the island nation England?"

You nodded slowly, unsure what would bring that up. Relations with the U.K. were fair, as far as you knew. Sometimes your boss would let certain details escape your attention.

"And you had visited him in February at his own inquiry?"

"Yes."

"I do hate when you don't tell me about these visits."

You were about to tell them your life was yours to control, not everything you did involved politics. It was wise to keep your mouth shut, though. There were plenty of other trips you hadn't deemed to tell your boss about…

"Anyways," they continued, giving you a "I'll find out about that later" look.

"It has come to my attention that this country could become a formidable ally."

Your worries dissolved. Maybe your boss just wanted you to try and be closer friends to England.

"Or a dangerous enemy."

You slumped.

"The fact is, our database is lacking information about the U.K., and England, for that matter. We all know many of the European nations have kept quiet lately. As I've heard, you have gained the favor of many. Our country is becoming more prominent, and I suspect England will want to take some sort of action. He seems to get involved with everyone's business."

Your boss pulled an unsealed letter out of their desk, written in beautiful cursive.

"Do you know what this is?"

"No."

"Good, we removed it from your mailbox."

You pressed your lips together. No comment, no comment.

"This letter is from England, just some jibberish about catching up and so on. He's said he's available anytime this month, except before the 5th, when he is meeting for business."

They paused, waiting for a response.

"Um, it is the 2nd today."

They nodded.

"Excellent observation. This letter seems almost pleadingly worded to meet with you after that date, so I have assumed that this "business" has something to do with you, the country. It isn't a formal invite, but I know better."

They stirred their coffee.

"I want you to head over to England, incognito, and observe him."

You blinked.

"Boss, you want me to…spy?"

"Bluntly putting it, yes. This vague invitation is too much of a risk. We wouldn't want you potentially captured or hurt. With the connections you've made, it could cause chaos throughout Europe. You wouldn't want that."

You shook your head.

"Then you will agree?" It was more of a command than a question.

You hated this, when you were pulled into business and friendships, possibly betraying someone's trust. If you were a complacent little country, you'd act as a pawn for your boss. It was you who built up the relationships, yet your boss could make you destroy them with a flick of their hand.

You couldn't refuse straight out. Your boss did take notice to you ignoring them.

"Yes, just…tell me what I'll need to do."

They gave you an expecting smile.

"You will head to London, where this "business" is supposed to be taking place. I suspect it will be held in an upper class restaurant called Mahogany Road, with someone representing for the prime minister, something of that caliber. You'll be catching a flight there early tomorrow so you can keep a tab on him throughout the day, until the meeting."

"And after his meeting?"

"Return straight here and give any information of importance. This could have nothing to do with you, but I don't want to take any chances."

You sighed tiredly. Spying…on England. The bitter island nation wasn't your first choice, but after your last visit you started to really like the guy. But spying on him? That would be crossing the boundary. This had to be a stealth mission.

You examined the low knit black dress sprawled on your bed. Picking up the scarlet neck tie, you shook your head. You instead went for a slightly dressy white shirt and black slacks. You'd have to blend in at the sophisticated restaurant, just enough so you wouldn't stand terribly out.

Putting the finishing touches to your hair, you rushed out the doorway, suitcase in hand. Time to catch your painfully early flight to London. You didn't feel like a spy scrunched in the dirty airplane seats. Couldn't your boss at least gotten you first class?

The London terminal was bustling, even at 6:30 in the morning. You kept your head low and ducked into a bagel shop. While eating, you examined the note your boss had given you. Apparently, they had sent other "operatives" to "observe" England, categorizing his daily routine. You sighed. How long had this been going on? Were other nations sending people to spy on him without him being aware? You were suddenly concerned about England's safety. Your relationship was…average, but the island country never let anyone to close to him. There weren't any attacks at risk, were there?

You shook your head, looking back at the paper. He headed to a coffee shop for breakfast, most likely because he didn't want to eat his own cooking. After that, a stroll around the city, sometimes stopping in random shops. From the coffee place you could just follow him around, if you managed to remain undetected.

You finished your bagel then halted at the sound of wheels rolling loudly on the tile. Carrying a suitcase around would look suspicious. You found a hidden nook behind a plant and stuffed it inside. It would be fine until you finished your mission. You smiled at the term. A mission; you were on a mission. Not just any mission, either. The entire fate of Europe rested on you! You buffed your nails on your shirt. See, you did have important responsibilities.

You took off, searching aimlessly around London for the messy blonde. He wouldn't be around a large group of people, he preferred solitude. You stopped for a moment. How did you know this much about him?

"I'll have the citrus blast, extra lemon."

You perked up at the familiar British accent. He stood in front of a counter at an outdoor coffee shop. Finally, you'd found him! He spun around, a steaming plastic cup in both hands. This gave you enough time to slip into a vacant chair. Out of the corner of your eye you saw him settle at a table next to yours, holding a piece of paper in his hand. A man stared across at you from the table.

"Can I…help you?"

You pressed a finger to your lips and continued watching England. He unfolded the paper then furrowed his brows.

"Damn Ireland, never forgets about his potatoes," he mumbled.

He clinked his spoon against his drink which was not coffee, but tea. Then, with a deep scowl on his face, read over the letter.

You decided to make observations, like a real secret agent. England was wearing a light dress shirt with a red tie and brown pants. Slightly formal, but not nearly dressy enough to meet someone representing the prime minister. His blonde hair was still messy, though it looked like he attempted to run a comb through it. A bag was slung across his chest, where he had retrieved the paper. You scoffed. Purse boy.

At the current moment, he looked like he just tasted something bitter. Nothing out of the norm. You needed a special notepad! The man across from you shook his head and left.

You watched England finish up his tea then leave, to which you followed a distance behind. He started down the streets of London, glaring at the passerby. You could only imagine him as an old, grumpy man. Occasionally, he'd glance back. To that you pretended to examine the wall. The following scene was going well; you'd think you did this type of work all the time.

England paused and circled around a busy street to a park. He analyzed the fake green surroundings, but appeared to be looking for someone. Just to be safe, you kneeled behind a short stone wall. Pattering footsteps sounded on the close by sidewalk.

A grinning red head stood a ways from England.

"Aye, Britty boy!"

The blonde country sighed.

"Look clover git, let's just-"

"That's no way to greet your dear brother!"

The sudden sweep of an arm around England made you drop further to the ground.

"You owe me a pint, do you not, brother?" the louder one said.

"You're just trying to deprive me of my coin."

"Actually, I was hoping to get you blindly drunk so you'd reveal all your scandalous secrets to me, but close enough."

"Uphill gardener," the blonde mumbled.

He leaned an arm over the wall. You held your breath and pressed closer to it. The other freckled nation was Northern Ireland, one of England's brothers. Last he spoke of any of them was of the curses he received in the mail. A rare occasion for them to be seen together intentionally, as you guessed from the way they were acting.

North Ireland slid his arm further across the wall. You cover could not be blown. You were too curious now, even if it wasn't about you.

"Now, now, we had conditions. None of your ridiculous name calling, ya gowl."

"You just broke your own rule, arse licker."

You contained the laughter. England usually wouldn't use his odd slang in front of you. He was a "gentleman", or so he claimed.

"Don't be startin' a brawl now, brother. I'm here in this tippy city to actually talk to you."

"London is better than any of your cities!"

"Your pubs are trashy."

"So you've already been to one, wanker?"

"Bah, I tried to be nice!"

North Ireland stomped around the wall. The realization hit you too late. You shuffled back to your knees.

"Oof!"

North Ireland tripped over your form, making you stumble backwards. You started to hurriedly regain your composure. It was still fine, England hadn't seen you.

"Wha-(name)? Why are you in this city?"

North Ireland looked up at you, rubbing his carrot colored hair. You backed up.

"I-uh-um-"

"(name)?"

England came around the corner. North Ireland scratched his head.

"You weren't expecting her? Ooh, here on a secret mission, (name)?"

You paled.

"No! Why would I be doing that? Haha!"

England scrunched his bushy eyebrows. You kept the innocent smile going.

"Er, (name), can I speak with you over here?"

"Sure!" you said a bit too fast.

North Ireland snickered. England stopped around the edge of a bush. He rubbed his hand against his forehead.

"Oh bullocks, this is going to be uncomfortable."

You grasped your arm. Wasn't he famous for James Bond and his elite police force? He had to know many interrogation methods…Your best chance now was to just remain silent and endure what was to come.

"I know I told you any date before the 5th would be for business…"

You looked down at your feet.

"B-but actually…"

He sighed.

"My idiot brothers are coming to see me and I might've, slightly, told them…you and I were…"

Your head snapped up.

"Dating?"

"Er, yes, but not that I'm, um, attracted to you or anything. Frankly, you can be quite bothersome. My brothers just keep bloody hounding me about how I should get out and meet people. They think I'm a recluse, bah!"

You crossed your arms, your frustration masking your relief. So this whole thing wasn't about you, at least not in the sense you were expecting. This would be awkward to explain to your boss. But, you were still on a mission. You couldn't let England know you were spying on him. There had to be some useful piece of information you could whittle out somehow. Best to keep on his problem to keep him from questioning you.

"So what are you going to do now? If you're that disgusted with me you have to tell them we're not, um, paramours."

"No, it's not-agh-I can't-"

He took a deep breath.

"I can't tell them. Do you know how long they'd ridicule me? You're going to have to…act like I'm your, er, boyfriend. Just for today. Please."

You slumped.

"But you-"

"Hey lovebirds~"

North Ireland stepped into view.

"I have the perfect idea. There's a band concert tonight. Y'know, one of those ones where you lay out on blankets? You can show off your new relationship in front of everyone! Ireland, Scotland, and I will all come too, so we can still have our "chat", Iggy. It'll be smashing! Unless...you two are breaking up so soon?"

"No, no!"

You grabbed England's hand and smiled.

"I'm so hopelessly in love with him!"

You couldn't manage his name. North Ireland raised his eyebrows.

"That's hard to believe, but I guess even the snot deserves someone."

England hesitantly returned your grasp.

"Yes North, that'd be excellent."

"Aha, I know, I'm brilliant! Now, let's all find a decent mart. I need some new trousers!"

He spun around on his heel. You had a plan. As long as you kept up this girlfriend charade, England would be too distracted to wonder why you were here. Your cover wasn't totally blown yet.

The trip with North Ireland was full of forced hand holding and giggling. When he wasn't looking, you'd both steal glares at each other. Even if it was fake, England was horrible at being affectionate.

North Ireland took off to find Scotland and Ireland, leaving you and England alone. He loaded some blankets into the trunk silently. You leaned against the car, looking around absently.

"How could you do that?" he snapped out of nowhere.

"What?"

"Say that you were in…love with me! Now we're going to have to act seriously involved!"

"Well, excuse me, I thought that would make it more believable. I guess your little fake break up with me will be more heart breaking," you said sharply.

He paused, the scowl lightening.

"Are you actually mad?"

"Maybe I am."

You weren't. If anything, you were a bit allured. The solitary nation chose you out of anyone to, erm, fake date. This was still a strictly professional trip though. You had to report back to your boss. If they found out you were lollygagging with the very person you were supposed to avoid…there goes your limited freedom on trips.

England shut the trunk, not meeting your eyes.

"Let's go."

You hopped in the passenger side. Keeping him in a fair mood would be a challenge.

"'Ello lass, what are ya doing with a complete bloke like him?"

He patted you on the back.

"Hello to you, Scotland. Ireland."

The others beamed at your acknowledgement. You were acquainted with England's brothers, knowing they didn't get much recognition, since England represented the entire U.K.

"So where are we sitting? I've never been to one of these before," you said.

North Ireland pointed to the stage light illuminated grass.

"We're sitting somewhere around the back, so you lovers can have your little night tryst,"

He wiggled his eyebrows.

"But good enough so that the rest of us can see."

"Let's get our blankets arranged before the show starts," Ireland said in his smoky voice.

You laid out England and your blanket a comfortable distance away from the others. Now you could see why he was so worried about their teasing, it seemed like they never relented.

A band entered the stage and began playing. You clamped your hands over your ears.

"What? You don't like rock?" he hissed, sprawling out next to you.

"No, I love rock, but this is a disgrace!"

He stared thoughtfully.

"I agree. Everyone seems to think this band is the best."

"Kids these days."

He laughed. You were taken aback by his abrupt smile. England probably smiled less than anyone you knew. It was different. You wanted to see him smile again.

You place your head on the blanket and stared up at the twinkling night sky. With a soft intake of breath, he rested his head as well.

You bit your lip. The one thing you wanted to do…no, you had to resist. It was England. He'd spit in your face if you even tried. He had said he wasn't attracted to you. You were strong, you could hold back.

England shifted, his arm creeping closer to yours. Dang it. You cuddled up next to him, your arms tentatively hovering above his torso. With a sigh, he touched your hands on him. You fought the giddy smile. Argh, this was not you! You were acting like some foolish school girl!

He clenched your shoulder and pulled you closer. You rested your head on his chest, listening to his rapidly increasing heartbeat.

"Iggy?"

"Only since you're my fake girlfriend will I let you call me that."

You laughed softly.

"Why did you pick me? Er, to be your phony lover I mean."

There was a moment of silence.

"Because you were…the least agitating. Hah, or so I thought."

You smiled, shaking your head.

"Well, I think you're pretty displeasing."

"Ouch, that hurts, luv."

You raised your head so it was above his.

"And your eyebrows need a desperate waxing."

He pouted, touching his big eyebrows. You smiled devilishly.

"But I heard from someone your accent is pretty sexy…"

You nonchalantly glanced away. His green eyes widened. He grabbed your jaw and pulled you to his face.

"Bloody hell (name), you're making me-"

"Woah, didn't mean to interrupt a make-out session."

You pushed off England, who was looking very flustered. North Ireland stood in front, a bottle in each hand.

"I brought you each a grand flask of gin!"

He extended the bottle to you, making a sloshing sound. You paled, remembering your last experience with alcohol. England was not a happy drunk either.

"Erm, no thank you. I think we'll be going home soon. I'm getting tired."

"Taking it to the bedroom, eh?"

England's face inflamed.

"No, get lost, wanker."

North Ireland chuckled and held up his hands.

"Alright, alright, good night you two."

You stared out into the night streets of London. The city didn't settle down even close to midnight. Only the whooshing sound of the air conditioner filled the car.

"Wait!' you exclaimed, slamming your hand on the dashboard.

England almost slammed on the breaks.

"What?"

"My suitcase, I left it at the airport."

England gave you a weird look.

"You left your suitcase at the airport?"

"I hid it. Please, I can't get a hotel without it."

He sighed.

"Okay, but we have to hurry."

He swerved around the intersection. You jumped out of the car and into the airport entrance. Over the waiting area, behind the plant, you memorized. You spotted the obviously plastic fern, but your colorful travel bag was missing. You in took a shaky breath, patting all possible places around the pot. Your bag had all of your clothes, you were definitely not going to stay in your itchy meeting outfit. England peered over your shoulder.

"Something wrong?"

"The-the-I-no-" you sputtered.

"Where's your suitcase?"

"It's-ngh-it…"

"Is it somewhere-"

"It's not here, dammit!"

You punched the air.

"Well, you did leave it at one of the busiest terminals in the world…" he muttered.

You growled.

"Calm down, you (hair color) ball of imminent troubles. There's a store over there for people like you. It has coats, toothbrushes, tea bags, anything you might've forgotten to pack."

You blinked.

"England,"

"Hmm?"

You tugged his hand.

"You are a life saver."

A cha-ching of the cash register rang throughout the empty airport store.

"And the total comes to…forty point thirty two pounds."

The cashier smiled expectantly.

"Hey, Brit," you nudged the slouching man next to you.

"What?"

"My wallet was in the suitcase."

"Bullocks."

You stripped off your sticky clothes from the day. The cool air rushed around your body. Letting out a sigh, you neatly folded them next to the quilted bed and picked up the flannel airport pajamas. Although you were pretty sure they were men's and they smelled like metal, they would be better than sleeping in your dressy clothes.

You clutched them in your hands and opened the window. The distant lights of London flickered. Your spy mission didn't go exactly as planned, plus you had nothing to report to your boss. Maybe you could tell them that it wasn't about you and there was nothing to worry about. Ah, but then they would ask why you had stayed the whole day.

BANG!

The loud knock on the door made you jump. Your only set of pajamas flew out of your hands and to the window. You clenched the pane and watched as they fluttered down into darkness. Shoot.

Another urgent knock.

"Um,"

You did the only thing you could muster: grab the Union Jack sheet off the bed and wrap it around your bare form. You positioned yourself on the bed and folded your legs neatly.

"Come in."

The door creaked open slowly. England's arm was raised, his eyes closed, looking to prepare for a lecture. You grabbed the falling sheet to your chest. He had not seen you yet.

"(name) I-"

He opened his bright green eyes. You smiled phonily. His mouth dropped open.

"I, agh, um…" he stuttered.

Both of your faces started to turn scarlet.

"U-um, sleep well!"

With that, he slammed the door. You slapped your forehead.

EXTENDED ENDING

He exhaled sharply and slumped against your door. You, naked, wrapped in nothing but the Union Jack. It was a scene he had sadly pictured before…You, naked, in HIS house! Argh, this was ridicule, this was-

He loosened his tie and trudged toward his room. Now you probably thought he was some pervy wanker. This whole day…it was aggravating, yet somehow almost perfect. Yes, it was a historic day. Today he realized that he, England, the isolated nation, decided he was in love with you.

Yes, you DID eventually get your suitcase, wallet, and passport back. That's why you had to stay at England's house, you poor, broke thing.