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Title: When a Simple 'I Love You' Just Cannot Do

Author: DnKS – giRLs

Rating: PG13

Character(s)/Pairing(s): America and England

Disclaimers: The characters involved in this story do not belong to us, nor do they have any connection to real nation(s). No infringement intended.

Warning: General sap

Note: Written for leriko_rasen, posted for public under her permission.

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Chapter 3

The first thing that America realized when he came to his senses was the throbbing pain on his left ankle and wrist. The second thing he realized was the soft and comfortable surface he was lying on. And the third thing was the feeling of someone treading their fingers gently amidst his hair.

He opened his eyes with a groan. The sight that welcomed him was that of a certain someone with vivid green eyes frowning at him. That certain someone also happened to be the one whose fingers were running through his hair. And that certain someone also happened to be England.

With that, the event of the previous night replayed in America's mind. His eyes widened, whether from mortification or embarrassment he could not decide. And when he observed England's frown, America became aware that he was far from being amused.

"You are bloody fortunate," England said with his aristocratic haughty tone that he reserved to scold someone who did something incredibly stupid within his premise. That time, the so called 'someone who did something incredibly stupid' happened to be America. "To fall from that distance and only suffered some bruises without any fractured bones. Thankfully, I still possess a heart to haul you into my guest room after your fantastic fall in my garden. Thankfully, I can ring my doctor in the middle of the night to examine your injuries. Thankfully, your injuries are pretty light and not life-threatening."

America had enough decency to look a bit sheepish. But it was not his fault, he tried to reason in his mind. Who might know that the tree was so frail anyway? Romeo never fell from the tree when he climbed Juliet's balcony. If there was someone, or something, to be blamed, America thought, it had to be that piece of story which somehow failed to mention some warning about the frailty of some trees.

"Just what did you try to accomplish, anyway?" England asked him sharply. Yet, America noted with no little amount of amusement, England still ran his fingers in a soothing motion through his hair. "Climbing my dear old tree in the middle of the night and shooting bullet to my window only to fall afterward? I know that you're an idiot but this is something incredibly stupid even by your standard."

It was a simple inquiry, yet America found it to be so hard to answer. The real answer to that question could be explained by the presence of that velvet box in his jeans pocket. But somehow, telling England 'I tried to propose to you' at that kind of time and place did not really sound so brilliant in his head. He wanted his proposal to be meaningful. He wanted it to be impressive and awesome, because he was America and everything he did was impressive and awesome. Admitting his undying love to England while he was lying on England's couch with injured ankle and wrist after falling from his tree was surely not something that can go for the definition of impressive, much less awesome.

So America gulped and managed a nervous chuckle.

"…I wanted to visit you?" he tried.

England had his eyes narrowed. A sure sign that he did not buy it. "In the middle of the night?"

"I, uh, forgot about the time difference," America said. Somehow being considered as some idiot who could not even remember the time differences across nations helped.

"That doesn't explain why you shot my window," England said.

"I tried to wake you up," America said. At least it was not a lie. "I tried with rocks, but… your window seemed tough and somehow I thought they were bullet proof and… yeah… you know the rest."

"Why did you even try to wake me up?" England asked. "You have the key to my place. I gave it to you years ago."

"I forgot to bring my key."

"If you forgot your key, you can just ring my doorbell."

"I… uh, forgot."

"Or you can even give me a call."

"Er… yeah. I forgot."

"Honestly, you…" England sighed as he tapped America's forehead gently with his forefinger. "If your head is not attached to your body I wouldn't doubt you would forget it one day."

America could only mutter a brief thanks in his heart because England apparently was buying his lie, or semi-lie. He tried to get up and found out that if he did it really carefully, he could move his body without causing much pain to either his wrist or ankle. Soon he was sitting up on England's couch, with England himself sat on his side.

"So, um," he began. "I guess… sorry for breaking your window. And thanks for taking care of my injuries."

England stared at him quizzically. "Did you hit your head terribly hard or something? I admit I did not really put much thought on your head when I tend to your wounds."

"Why do I have the feeling that you just said something not nice about me but I can't really know what is it?" he said. Then he took notice on England's attire and frowned. "And why are you so dressed up so early in the morning?"

England's eyes followed America's, assessing his crisp black suit that spelled out 'serious business' with every fiber of its being.

"I have a meeting with my boss to prepare the documents for the next world's meeting," England said before his eyes narrowed. "You do remember that next week we're going to hold the annual world's meeting at your place, don't you?"

It was perhaps idiotic, but America always believed that England was some kind of a mind-reader. Ever since his early days, England could always tell if he lied or if he hid things from him. And that eerie ability seemed not to leave him even after years had passed. So it really should not have surprised him when he could only think of 'awh, crap' before England let out an exasperated sigh.

"You forgot," he said. "Oh, well, I should have guessed. Considering that you are the same person who has blown up my window because he simply forgot about the thing called door bell."

"Hey," America pouted. "Why are you so hung up about that window? I already said sorry."

There was a smile on England's face when he fondly ruffled America's hair and dropped a kiss to his forehead. "I know. And I appreciate that."

"What's that?" America said playfully. He reached out his uninjured hand and gently grabbed the back of England's neck. Pulling England's face closer to his, he then kissed England firmly on his lips. The kiss was brief, but it was enough to place a smile on America's lips when he ended it.

"That's how you kiss someone good morning," he grinned. He moved his hand until he managed to loop his arm around England's waist loosely. "Say, is there any way so that you can skip your meeting and spend your time with me?"

"No," England said sternly, though he was also smiling. "Stop being such an unreasonable spoilt brat."

"Says the one who's spoiling me," he countered.

"America, honestly," England sighed. "I really need to go, okay? You can help yourself to breakfast and before you ask it, yes, I still keep some coffee for you in my kitchen cabinet. I know you cannot start your day without coffee, much as I loathe that stuff. But afterward, you should go rest. Your injuries might not be grave, but you still need some time to recover."

"Shouldn't you help nursing me back to health?" he asked with what he hoped was an innocent smile.

"Oh, quit that act. That has stopped being effective on you centuries ago," England said. His gaze then turned a notch gentler when he placed his hands on America's shoulders. "I'll see if I can go home early today then we can spend some time together, alright? Before that, you just stay here and don't you ever dare trying to go back just yet with that kind of injuries."

"Wouldn't want to go back just yet before I get what I want when I decided to visit you," America rectified.

"And what is that?"

"You."

"You should thank heaven that you are injured or I would not be held responsible for what I could have done to you," England said. His cheeks sported a hint of flush that made America feel absurdly proud of himself. "Honestly, have you been around France too much lately?"

"Er…" America mumbled, not quite willing to admit that yes, actually, the whole climbing tree fiasco was due to his having a certain conversation with France several days back. Luckily England seemed not expecting any answer to his question. With one last kiss, he disentangled himself from America's one armed embrace and walked to retrieve his black briefcase.

"I have to go now," he said. "Be a good boy when I'm away, would you?"

America chuckled. "This feels nostalgic. I can almost be sure that you would do something like upping my tax the next time I see you again."

"Git," England said fondly, the last time before he exited his front door. America waved him goodbye with a smile. But once the door was closed, once England had left the house, once there was once again silence, America dropped his smile and let his palm collide with his forehead with a well sounding smack as he muttered, "Fuck!"

Stupid Shakespeare, he thought. Stupid tree. Stupid France. Why did he have to fall? Why did the branch have to break when he was going to propose to England? Why the universe was so cruel to him? Had he done something really bad to make the universe angry? Though when America thought about it, he was suddenly being reminded of his past deeds and somehow he could hear China lecturing him sternly about karma.

He cursed and his eyes wandered to England's kitchen. He knew he should have some breakfast but the event of the previous night left him with a sour mood that even the prospect of food did not really seem so alluring. But perhaps some cup of coffee was in order. He could do with some caffeine. Maybe his head would be clearer after he got his daily dose of coffee.

With that thought in mind, America walked to England's kitchen carefully. His ankle still gave a slight pain when he walked, but it was nothing really bad. Thankfully it was nothing bad, or he would surely dump countless cans of pesticide to England's tree as his act of revenge. That tree had not only intervened with his proposing, it also caused him some painful injuries. Or perhaps it was enough reason after all to kill that tree with pesticide, America thought childishly. Then for the umpteenth time that day, he thought: stupid tree.

He made his coffee with a bad mood. But when the familiar scent of freshly brewed coffee reached his nose, he felt somewhat calmer. And though he knew England would scoff at him for it, he honestly felt that the pain lessened a bit after he already drank his coffee.

In minutes, he already sat in England's kitchen and happily slurped his coffee. A really great invention, coffee was. He just could not get it why England was so insistent on tea until he could miss such a great thing like coffee.

And then he caught the sight of the coffee box and frowned.

And then he made out the word 'caramel macchiato' and he grinned.

Fishing his cell phone out of his jeans pocket—thank God that thing was not broken after the fall—he dialed a number. He listened to the dial tone for a while before he heard a single click, telling him that his call was connected.

"Hello, Italy," he said to his phone. "Listen, could you help me out with something? Yes. This is America. I'm wondering if you could tell me a thing or two about…ah, wedding proposal. And no, this is not for me, of course."

End Chapter 3

(A/N: yes, so this is the third chapter and already you can see why we put 'sap' as our warning. Thank you for following this fic until this far, and if you're a new reader, why, welcome then. Hope the amount of sugar did not cause you any cavities or the like. Thank you for reading and, like always, reviews would be very much appreciated.)