England and France were curled up together on the couch, their arms wrapped around each other. France's long blonde hair tickled England's face, and he smiled, kissing his lover on the forehead. France laughed airily, his lips brushing against the Englishman's. Someone rang the doorbell, and England sighed.
"Come in," he called, immediately regretting it once he remembered that he was supposed to be keeping his relationship with France a secret. "Shit. Wait, don't come in-"
It was too late. And who else could be the one to walk in on them but America? The younger country's blue eyes widened when he saw France and England together on the couch. "I-Iggy? W-what...?"
England jumped up. "America! No! It's not what you think!"
"Oh, really?" America, replied, backing away from the Englishman. "Because it looks like you're getting all lovey-dovey with France!"
England didn't know how to reply to that. "A-America," he said, gripping his kid-brother's shoulders. "Just... just promise you won't tell anyone, okay?"
America blinked, still taking everything in. "I..." he began, looking for the right words. "You know how I am when it comes to keeping secrets, Iggy..."
"America, I'm serious," England insisted. "You can't tell anyone about this."
America looked at the Brit in disbelief. "W-wha...?" he stuttered, shaking his head slowly. "I still can't believe you didn't tell me..."
"We didn't tell anyone, America," England reassured him. "We're the only ones who know."
Suddenly, the American pulled away from England. "Don't touch me!" he shouted, rubbing his arms. "We're done, England! I thought we were friends - brother's even! But true friends don't keep these kinds of secrets from each other!"
"Alfred, wait!" England pleaded, but it was too late. The younger country was already out of the door, running across the street with his eyes squeezed shut. England pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. He flopped down onto the couch with France, who wrapped his arms around the Brit's chest in an attempt to comfort him. "Bloody Hell, America..."
"He's just surprised, is all," France reassured his lover, pulling the Englishman into his lap and nibbling his ear. "It's hard to imagine zat someone like you vould turn out to like men. He'll get over it, Angelterre. Just give him some time."
"I'm just worried about what he'll do in the time it takes him to get over it," England explained, pressing his forehead against France's. "If the others found out, we'd never get a moment to ourselves."
France smiled, kissing his lover. "Might as well enjoy it while we can, oui?" he said, wrapping his arms around England. "That is, if you ever man up and top for once."
England shoved him gently. "Shut it, Frog."
France smiled and kissed him again. "If anyone else does find out," he whispered. "Vhe vouldn't let it tear us apart, oui?"
England closed his eyes, wrapping his arms around the Frenchman's neck and smiling. "Of course not, Frog," he reassured him. "Nothing will ever be able to tear us apart."
England and France walked into the World Meeting the next day, and a dozen pairs of eyes were immediately focused on them. Dread immediately filled both of them, but they ignored the dozensof eyes glued to them and found their seats across from each other. The meeting started, but the stares didn't go away.
After a while, England couldn't put up with it any longer. He slammed his fist onto the table, interrupting whatever Germany had been saying. Everyone stopped talking.
"Okay, what the bloody hell is going on with you wankers?" he demanded, glaring at his fellow countries. "What the Hell did you find out about us that was so horrible?!"
For a moment no one answered, just blinked in disbelief. Finally, someone in the back spoke up.
"So is it true, Engrand?" Japan asked. "This rumor that has been going around. Are you and France-sama..." His voice trailed off. They all knew what he was trying to say.
England glared at the floor. "Why do you even need to know?" he demanded. "Why do you even bloody care?! What difference is it going to make in your pathetic lives?!"
He shoved his chair away from the table, storming towards the door before the tears could start to fall. He sniffed, bursting into the hallway. Moments later, France followed him.
"Angelterre!" he called after his lover as the door clicked shut behind him. England turned around, tears forming in his eyes. France wrapped his arms around him, resting the Brit's head against his shoulder. "Angelterre, please don't cry. I cannot bear to see you like zhis."
"Someone's... g-going to see us... F-Francis," England replied between his sobs. France shook his head.
"Vhy do you care vhether zhey see us or not?" he asked, kissing the top of England's head. "Angelterre, I love you. And I vant zhe entire vorld to be able to know zhat."
England looked up at the Frenchman, smiling weakly, his green eyes already tinted red from crying. "I just want to go home, Love," he replied quietly, taking France's hand in his. "Let's go."
France smiled, letting England lead him down the hallway and outside. I don't think it'd be a good idea to return tomorrow, he thought. But knowing Angelterre, he'll probably want to. And I can't let him come alone.
Oh well. Whatever England chose to do, France would go along with. Even if it were the most ridiculous idea in the world. He wasn't the France he'd used to be, before he'd started a relationship with England. Now it was safe to love him, because England loved him back. And he wasn't going to let anything change that.
America glared at the TV, the carton of ice-cream in his lap getting emptier and emptier by the second. I hate England, I hate France, I hate everything, he repeated over and over in his head as he shoveled the frozen dairy treat into his mouth. I can't believe Ig - I mean England never told me.
He looked over at the note folded on the floor next to him, and the pain in his chest only worsened. He hated himself, too, although he would never admit it. He hated the words he'd written on that piece of paper, the insane idea that England would ever have accepted it. He hated France for ruining everything...
"Aaaaah!" he shouted, throwing the now-empty container against the wall. "I hate this! Why do I even feel this way?! Why can't I just forget that this ever fucking happened?!"
Someone knocked on his front door, and he sighed, standing and walking over to it. He opened it violently. "What do you want?" he demanded, his eyes landing on the blonde Frenchman standing on the other side of the doorway. The anger inside of him only grew. "Get away from my house, France."
"Amerique, I need to talk to you-"
"Just leave me alone, Francis!"
France sighed. "Amerique," he said, griping the younger country's shoulders. "You love Angelterre, don't you?"
America looked away, anger swelling inside of him. France seemed to get the message.
"America," he said, squeezing his shoulders gently. "I'm sorry-"
"'Sorry' isn't going to change anything!" the American snapped. Seeing the hurt in France's gaze, he allowed his tone to soften. "Just... don't tell England, please. It doesn't even matter now. I'll never have a chance with him..."
France wrapped his arms around America, pulling him into a fatherly embrace. America didn't return it.
"I hope you can stay strong, Alfred," France said. "Do your best to move on. Dwelling on your broken heart isn't going to fix it."
America sighed. "Just... Make sure I never walk in on anything like that again, please..."
France smiled and chuckled softly. "Of course, America," he said, pulling away and patting him on the shoulder. "Good luck."
America watched him cross the street to England's house. He was probably spending the night there. The thought of France and Iggy even sleeping together made him feel sick.
He couldn't move on...
Not when that Frog was getting it on with England!
I hope you enjoyed it! Please review!
