AN: I enjoyed this prompt! I've never written Punk!Iggy before though, but she has plenty of attitude just the way she is, so I figured it would turn out okay. USUK is my favorite pairing (if you like it too, see my fic For Better or For Worse [shameless plugging]) so this prompt was very welcome. That and it came from one of my favorite people in cyberworld, Angel the Neko! Hope this was all you wanted and more, Angel! :P

Prompt: I like EnglandxAmerica! Turn England into a girl. It just works. (from Angel the Neko)

"Why am I here again?" whined Alfred as his friend Britt dragged him along by his wrist. "I don't like shopping!"

"I need a dress for Francis' party," she said, jerking him forward. "C'mon, don't drag your feet like that! What are you, five?"

"No!"

"Well then get a move on, git!"

"You're buying me ice cream after this crap is over with, right? That was the deal."

Britt rolled her green eyes, outlined in heavy black eyeliner and mascara. She'd gone into a punk phase last year—she'd chopped her blonde hair short and now all she wore were weird band shirts and tight jeans with tutus and weird stuff like that. "Yes, Alfred, I'll buy you your disgusting ice cream."

Her taste in clothes (and food) aside, Britt was the coolest girl Alfred had ever met. Sure, she punched him and slapped him around like she was one of the guys and had a mouth that would've made a sailor plug his ears, but somehow she made it hot. They'd known each other since they were children. He'd been the one to smush gum and mud pies into her hair at recess, and she was the one who tattled on him for talking and playing video games during class.

When you had that much history with somebody, it was kind of inevitable. You were going to fall in love at some point—like some stupid girl-next-door movie. And for the past few years, Alfred had been steadily falling head-over-heels for a certain British girl next door.

He'd always thought it was a little passing fancy that he'd get over within a week. Thing was, though, it wasn't going away like Alfred had always hoped it would.

"This store," she declared, dragging him inside some dark, creepy store.

"Dude, this store totally belongs in a horror flick," Alfred said nervously, following Britt inside. He didn't like horror movies. Well, gory axe-murderer dramas he liked, but if there was a ghost on a screen it just made him flip out. "How do you shop in dumps like this?"

She rolled her eyes. "For your information, Yank, this is my favorite store."

"Yikes." That earned him a hard slap upside the head. He grinned, hiding it as best he could when his head snapped forward from her hit. Provoking her was his favorite thing to do. Only heaven knew why she'd put up with him this long.

o~O~o

"Uhh, Britt? You sure it's okay that I'm in here, dude?" Alfred looked around nervously at the empty women's dressing room. Well, mostly empty. Britt was in a changing room at the far end, trying on her dresses.

It was friggin awkward. The girl he'd known since he was seven who he might kinda sorta like was getting naked just a few yards away, even if it was behind a closed dressing room door, and he had no idea what he was supposed to do or say or think. Or even if he should do or say or think anything at all.

"It's fine. There's no one in here," Britt said.

"What if someone comes in here?" You're in here! Jeez, she's changing practically right in front of me and doesn't even care! Does she really not think of me that way at all?

"Then you'll leave," she responded crossly. "Ugh, this one looks horrible."

The sound of her unzipping the dress and dropping it to the floor was driving him crazy. He made himself talk to forget where he was and what she was doing.

"So! What's old Francy-pants been up to recently?" The two of them had used to hang out, but then Francis had gotten a little weird and Alfred had cleared out of there before you could say "Au revoir."

"Nothing much, really," Britt said. He could hear her unclipping a dress from a hanger. "Partying a lot." The slide of fabric against her body. Alfred hummed tunelessly in his mind. Since when had his sense of hearing been so good?

"What else is new?"

She laughed. "Yeah I guess so." There was a pause. "He's kinda good-looking now."

Alfred froze in the act of checking yet again to make sure there were no women coming towards the dressing room. No need for the store to get a restraining order. Or you know, for him to spend the night in a jail cell. But the second those words left her mouth he ceased to care. "Francis?" he choked. "Bonnefoy?"

"Yeah." Her voice was defensively nonchalant.

"Are you nuts?" he demanded almost at a yell.

"What?" she demanded just as angrily. "I just said he was hot!"

"You said he was good-looking," he reminded her. "And seriously, it's Francis! He's been with like every girl in school! He's probably got like a bazillion diseases!"

"So?"

"So? Are you joking? Tell me you're joking. Does being punk mean you're stupid now?" Oh crap. He probably couldn't have said a single other thing to inflame her more. But he tended not to think about things like that before he said stuff.

The door to her changing room banged open. Luckily she was fully clothed, though. Unluckily she looked livid. "Stupid? You call me stupid when you eat yourself to death like a glutton every day?"

Usually he would have yelled right back, but he was too distracted by what she was wearing. She looked amazing, in a short, strapless reddish-black dress with lots of buckles and belts and knee-high combat boots.

"What?" she asked crossly. "No witty comeback?"

"Uh, what?" He shook his head and looked at her.

"I called you a fatty," she said unkindly.

"Hey! This is all muscle."

"I doubt it." She rolled her eyes, then noticed he was still staring and glared at him. "What are you staring at?"

"You," he said before he could stop the word. Then he winced. "Ah, I mean…"

Blushing slightly, she looked away. "Um. I suppose I should take that as a compliment."

"Yeah." An awkward silence spread between them. Alfred took a stab at breaking the ice. "That dress is cool. Francis will—love it." He had to force the last words out.

His stomach curdled when she looked down at it and smoothed it, asking, "You think so?"

"For sure." He ran a hand through his hair as an excuse to look away.

"You're coming to the party right?" she asked, walking back into the dressing room and locking the door.

"Probably not. I'm just gonna eat the ice cream you're buying me" not-so-subtle reminder there "and then go home and play video games with Tony." Tony was his best friend. He was crashing at Alfred's place right now because he'd run away from home. Alfred didn't blame him for running away—Tony's family was so weird it was like another planet over there.

"Why not?"

"I don't like Francis and his crew. And he throws the lamest parties—he's not even around for half of the time because he's always taking some girl up to his room."

"The party's not about Francis."

"For you it is," he said, trying to conceal the venom in his voice.

"I'm not going just for Francis!" she snapped. "But if he happens to notice me, well, then…"

He groaned. "Dude, Britt. You shouldn't waste your time on that poser."

She walked out of her dressing room, gazing at him curiously. The weight of her bottle-green gaze made his heart drop into his sneakers. "What do you mean?"

Suddenly Alfred noticed a flicker of movement outside. "Oh crud! Someone's coming!" Panicking, he looked around desperately for an escape route, but there was none. If he ran out now, they'd notice him.

"In here!" Britt snatched the front of his shirt and dragged him inside her changing room with her, switching the lock

The room was pretty small for the two of them. In fact, he didn't think he'd ever been this close to Britt unless she was punching him or hugging him. The latter was much rarer than the former.

His heart was no longer in his shoes. Now it was in his throat. She was so…there. He was so aware of her.

Britt was obviously aware of him too. She flushed delicately pink and shook her choppy blonde bangs over her eyes.

The new occupants of the changing room were loud and chatty, which gave Britt the opportunity to whisper, "What did you mean, that I shouldn't waste my time on Francis?"

Alfred looked away. "I dunno. I mean, you're totally too good for him. You could do so much better than that creepster."

Her flush deepened and she coughed. "You don't know a thing about me," she whispered. "What business of yours is my love life?"

"None, unless…" Dang it! I need to stop saying things before I think about them!

The punk girl arched an eyebrow. "Unless?"

"Unless you made it my business." Oh well. A little late to turn back now. He reached out and brushed her short hair out of her eyes and tilted her chin up. "I'd definitely treat you better than old Francy-pants."

She looked away, turning crimson. "A-Alfred, what are you talking about?"

"I'm not sure. I'm kinda winging it," he admitted. "But I think this is what they usually do at this point in movies."

He kissed her.

For a second Britt was frozen, her lips motionless under the caress of his. Then she hesitantly began to respond, meeting his kiss with a reluctance that melted as the contact deepened. His arms locked around her waist, and her fingers tangled in the fine dirty blonde hair on the back of his neck.

"Alfred… What are you doing?" she whispered when he broke away for air.

"Kissing you, I think," he responded cheekily. "You dig?"

She knocked his forehead with hers, eliciting a hastily muffled, "Ow!" "Moron," she berated him. "This is hardly the place for a love confession." But she still had her arms around his neck, fingers woven through his hair.

"It's not like I planned to confess to you in a women's dressing room," he said with a sarcastic eye-roll. "I wouldn't even be in here if it wasn't for you!"

"Do you hear a man's voice?" asked one of the other women in the dressing room.

Britt mashed a hand over Alfred's mouth, as if it was necessary. He kissed her hand, although five minutes ago he probably would have licked it to gross her out.

She rolled her eyes. "You're a horrible romantic, you know that?"

"Whatever works," he said past her hand.

Unexpectedly, she replaced her hand with her lips. "You moron."

"I love you, Britt."

"…You too. Git."

He chuckled and pulled her closer, suddenly hoping the other ladies had a bunch of clothes to try on. The longer he got to stay in here, the happier he'd be.

AN: So there was the USUK fluff! Hope everyone enjoyed it! Stay tuned and leave me lots of reviews and requests! If it takes a while for me to update, I'm sorry, but I have lots of schoolwork to get done, and I'm afraid that takes priority over fic-writing :'( Also, this IS a side project-my main focus will still be on For Better or For Worse and my upcoming PruCan/Franada fic. Still shameless plugging, I guess xD But really, you should check out my other fics too!