Soo...it's certainly been a while... *dodges all the thrown rocks*
Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia...or NcDonald's (1000 points to whoever figures out which fast food joint this actually is in real life...NOT), but you all should know that by now.
A/N: Okay, I lied. Heroics for Dummies is not, like I said earlier, going to be a ten chapter fic. It is instead going to be… *drum-roll* an eleven chapter story because I had to split this insanely long chapter in two. Sorry you guys have to bear with my awful writing for a while longer. I have a million reasons as to why this didn't come up ages ago, but I'm going to spare you guys on all the nasty details. Once again, thanks to all those wonderful reviews, favorites and alerts. Eh, I tried to reply to the reviews, but if I missed you, then my apologies.
Pairings: America/England, and five of the ten aforementioned pairings from the last chapter will be present in this one. As for the other five...Well, there's a reason why this chapter was split into two...
Summary: America finally confronts England about their nonexistent relationship and discovers a rather disturbing truth about the older nation. Now, America is stuck between two options - convince England to go into a relationship with him, or lose the other man forever.
Warnings: T for language and some implied sex/sexual jokes.
"Bla bla bla": Dialogue
Bla bla bla: Thoughts, emphasis, flashbacks and hero rules (always at the top of the page)
Heroics for Dummies
-- Written by Shoop da Boop --
Hero Rule no. 4: Consult those with more experience in order to fully understand and appreciate your relationship with your damsel in distress.
---
"I really like you, England."
Shock. Incredulity. Hope.
"I-I like you too, America. And I'm very glad you feel the same way, but…"
Hesitance. Doubt. Wariness.
"…Give me some time to think this through, alright? I'll give you an answer when I'm absolutely sure of my decision."
---
First, there was waiting.
America could deal with that.
It was perfectly understandable after all, for someone as drab as England to be so utterly overwhelmed by the fact that he was now the object of America's affections. Yes, a concept as mind-blowing as such would surely take any sane person a good deal of time to recover from, and America was more than willing to give the Englishman just that to adjust to such an amazing revelation.
Then, there was avoiding.
That America wasn't too crazy about.
Unfortunately, England remained insistent on keeping his distance from the ash-blond man. Their conversations became clipped and brief, with England getting straight to the point before America could switch topics. Eye contact was never held for beyond two seconds, and even the slightest touch between the two nations would cause England to flinch rather dramatically. This kind of behavior would've been fine for perhaps a couple of days, but three weeks was definitely pushing it.
Three weeks and no England made America a very unhappy man. And if there was one thing America hated most, it was being unhappy. That and soggy burgers. He had his fair share of dislike for those abominations too.
Naturally, the strong-willed country wasn't about to let the matter slide. Three weeks was a good enough time for England to come to terms, and America was, quite frankly, too impatient to wait any longer.
And so it was during the next world conference that America decided to finally take action. His plan? Well, it wasn't so much a plan rather than a vague idea of getting England the hell out of there and having a steamy make out session, but for now, it would have to do. It was a very good idea, America decided, and he couldn't wait to watch it blossom into fruition.
…After Prussia was done giving everyone his 'One-Million-and-One-Reasons-Why-I'm-So-Awesome-and-Should-Therefore-Still-Exist' tirade, that is. It would certainly help a lot if France wasn't busy disagreeing with everything he said while Japan did the exact opposite too. Having lost interest after listening to the third word of Prussia's first reason, America quickly stole a glance at his former mentor. The blond island nation was currently holding a teacup daintily in his hand, scowling as he assessed the chaotic situation going on around him.
In other words, England was completely ignoring him, and America didn't like it one bit.
Heroes weren't supposed to be ignored, least of all by their damsels in distress!
He needed to catch England's attention, and for that, a distraction was required. Just a small, almost unnoticeable distraction.
So he went ahead and jostled the table. Only, due to his immense strength, the American ended up flipping said piece of furniture over instead. Everyone instantly diverted their attention toward him, but the two German brothers were the quickest to protest.
"America, what do you think you're doing? We're in the middle of a very serious meeting!"
"Dammit, America! I was just getting to Reason 452!"
Clearing his throat impatiently to hide his growing embarrassment, America rose off his chair to make a very important announcement.
"I call for a hamburger break!" he proclaimed loudly, drawing sighs of resignation and annoyance from his fellow nations.
"Request denied," Germany promptly replied, expression hardening as he folded muscled arms across his chest. "Breakfast was only two hours ago, and we still have much to do-"
But, as Germany raised his eyes to meet America's, he was stunned to see a deadly, predatory glint in those usually cheerful blue eyes.
"Hey Germany, I've got a couple of nukes at home I've been dying to try out…"
The blond martinet squirmed with unease. "…I vote we eat at NcDonald's."
"Hear, hear," the other countries agreed, casting suspicious looks at the very smug American.
"Awesome." America's grin widened as he watched all the nations shuffle reluctantly out of the meeting room but kept his eyes trained on his former colonist, who, he was relieved to notice, was one of the last to exit the premises. Easily crossing the distance between them in two large strides, he clasped a hand on the Briton's shoulder.
The smaller man stiffened under his touch before rigidly turning around to meet his gaze. "Yes?"
"England, we need to talk."
"No."
"Thanks! I'll make it worth your time!"
"I-I…B-But…" England stammered, seemingly unable to comprehend the sheer obnoxiousness the American was displaying. Taking a couple of deep breaths to regain his composure, England finally managed to croak out, "Fine, but later, when we're alone."
"Umm…England, in case you haven't noticed…" America swept his hand grandly across the empty conference room, "we are alone."
"Oh…" The Briton shifted nervously. "Alright then. Make it quick."
"Our relationship," America began, but frowned when he saw the other country wince.
"…What about it?"
"You like me, and I like you. So why is it not happening?"
"I, well…that is…" England coughed into his fist. "America, I'm sure that you've got it all mixed up, and that what you truly feel for me is, in actuality, brotherly affection." He smiled reassuringly at the younger man. "They're very different emotions, but I'd understand if you've somehow managed to mistaken one for the other."
Whatever England was expecting as a response, it sure wasn't the feral sound which escaped America's throat, nor was it to be abruptly pushed against the hard wall. "Fuck you, England! I know what I feel, and it sure as hell isn't just brotherly affection. When I confessed to you back then after the dance, I was dead serious. Why can't you see it? I'm already a grown nation now, been one ever since the Revolution!"
Then he saw it – that small flicker of pain in those bright green eyes before vanishing and replacing itself entirely with raw fury. Stunned, America had no time to react when the Briton shoved him away with a strength that should've been impossible coming from such a skinny figure.
"Don't you think I already knew that?" England spat out venomously. "You're not my little brother anymore. We already established that when you declared war on me."
Suddenly, it all clicked into place. Why England was being so hesitant, why he didn't want to get into a relationship, why he was stubbornly rejecting every single reason being thrown at him…It all made sense now.
"You're afraid of me," America said in disbelief. "You're afraid that I'll go back on you again. You're afraid that I'll hurt you like I did before."
There was no reply to this, but America could see it in the Englishman's eyes all the same.
Apprehension. Reluctance. Fear.
America was no fool, and England's eyes were always so expressive, so easy to read. But as much as he wanted to simply deny it, England did have every reason to distrust him. It had happened before, after all, the breaking of that bond they once thought was indestructible.
"I won't do it again," America promised. "That was all in the past. What we have now is different."
Still England shook his head, a bitter smile etched onto his face. "Empty promises are so easy to make, America." He placed a comforting hand on the taller man's shoulder. "But you have no idea how much they hurt when they're broken."
"Is there really no way we can be together then?" the American asked dejectedly, shoulders slumping in defeat. "Are we really going to allow our pasts to control us like this?"
Once again the island nation clammed up, and that was all the encouragement America needed to continue.
"What happened before can't be changed, England; I know that. But wouldn't you at least give me one chance to redeem myself?"
"I'd love to, but…" The older personification fidgeted uncomfortably, desperately wracking his brain for a reason – any reason – to reject America; but it was becoming increasingly difficult to, especially when he knew he wanted this just as much as the other did. "We're not exactly what you'd call…'experts' in relationships. If we rushed headlong into one, we'd be stumbling blindly around, not knowing whether what we were doing was right or wrong."
Strangely, America didn't seem to be deterred by this at all; if anything, the man seemed to perk straight up. England scowled at this.
Bastard. Still can't read the atmosphere, I see.
"Oh, that's no problem, Iggy!" The honey-blond man's scowl promptly deepened upon hearing his dreaded nickname. "'Cause I've got just the thing to help us get through that!"
"And what would that be?"
Instantly, the American's hand dove into his jacket pocket, rummaging blindly around for a while before finally finding whatever it was he was looking for; in a matter of seconds, the Briton's view became obscured by the very same article America was locating mere moments ago. England tried to take a step back from the item being shoved so rudely into his face before remembering that, yes, he was still pinned against the wall. His mood dampened considerably at the sight of the glaringly bright object, which was still far too close to allow him to decipher what it actually was.
"…And what would that be?" he reiterated, hoping that America would just get the hint.
"The Hero Book, of course!" America declared happily, finally taking a step back away from the Englishman.
"Of course…" I should've totally expected that. Bloody git.
"You know what they always say," the younger man chirped, holding the book up in the air and regarding it with sheer awe and devotion. "When in doubt, just ask yourself, 'what would the Hero Book do?'"
"Nothing, I guess. It is just a book, after all," England quipped, barely refraining himself from rolling his eyes. But even then, it was hard to hide the small, upward twitch of the corner of his lips.
"You know what I mean," America mumbled petulantly, giving the other nation an exasperated look. But deep down, he was smiling.
Now that's the Iggy I know.
"Anyway, the last time I read it, I was at Hero Rule no. 3." Grinning, America pulled his elder beside him so they could read together. "So that means that we can read the fourth rule now! Aren't you excited, Iggy?"
"Just get to it, you insufferable wanker."
Without much further ado, America opened the book to the designated page.
Hero Rule no. 4: Consult those with more experience in order to fully understand and appreciate your relationship with your damsel in distress.
"So, it says here…umm…" America turned questioning blue eyes at his fellow country. "What does it say anyway?"
Fully expecting a reaction like this, England glared at his former colony and snatched the book. "It says that we have to ask other people for help."
"Help? So, it's telling us to ask other dating couples for suggestions on how to improve our relationship?"
"We don't have one yet," England stressed, "but yes, that's the gist of it."
"Do you think it will work?"
The smaller man paused to weigh his options on a mental scale. It seemed that this rule was – compared to the others, at least – rather practical, and it couldn't exactly hurt to venture into new grounds. Below the surface however, England was still painfully aware of the misgivings and resentment he held for America due to the Revolution, no matter how much he adored and loved the other now.
"It…It might," he admitted, albeit reluctantly.
"Good." Tilting his head to face the island nation, America inquired, "You're going to do this too, aren't you? You promised to help me in my hero business before, and you did say that you were going to give me another chance."
"…Very well," England relented halfheartedly. "If we can find sufficient reasons on why we should be together, and why a relationship between us isn't truly as bad as I say it is…then I shall reconsider."
"Fine, watch me then. I'm going to make you fall in love with me," America announced determinedly, sapphire eyes burning with such tenacity and willpower England almost crumbled right there and then.
Instead, he scoffed, "Idiot, you can't do something like that."
"Mark my words, England. I'm going to change your mind, even if that's the last thing I do!" And then he was gone, dashing off into the horizon in search of lovers and the advice only they could offer. But if, at any moment America had turned back to look at the Briton, he surely would've noticed the small, self-depreciating smile decorating said Englishman's pale features.
You can't make me fall in love with you, America…because I already have.
-- France/Canada --
America's first decision was to visit his closest of kin, Canada. It was natural after all, to return to family during times of trouble, and Canada was indeed in a relationship, thereby making him an eligible consultant. Never mind that he was going out with France, someone who America was fairly certain England would disapprove of in terms of love advice.
Finding them was easy enough. Canada had an affinity for the gardens outside the world conference building, especially that one little corner filled with maple trees. Jogging over, America was met with the sight of the two nations surprisingly not doing anything sexual (not that he wanted to see his brother getting it on with the greatest pervert in the whole world), but rather just enjoying a peaceful lunch.
"Mattie!" he greeted. "France!"
"Alfred!" his brother called back while his fellow blond merely graced the newcomer with a welcoming smile.
"Are you here to have lunch with us?" Canada asked, politely shifting over to make some space for the American.
"Naw, I'm just here to talk." That said, America plopped himself down to Canada's right.
Making himself comfortable on the soft grass, America wasted no time in tackling the issue at hand. "I need your help. From both of you, actually."
"Both of us?" Canada blinked. "What for?"
"Dating advice," the ash-blond disclosed, twiddling his thumbs restlessly. Attention spurred, France leaned in to listen. "I kind of…want to get into a relationship…with England."
Previously silent throughout the entire exchange, France suddenly made the strangest squawking noise and choked on his mouthful of beer. Canada was instantly by his side to rub comforting circles on the other man's back.
"That's wonderful, Alfred! I'm very happy for you!"
"Angleterre?!" France cried out once he recovered. "Why on earth would you pick him?"
"…I have my reasons."
"Such a pity." The Frenchman shook his head regretfully, shrugging his shoulders in a fashion that would've looked absolutely horrendous on anyone but him. "Someone with such a semblance to mon Mathieu should not be wasted on that hideous and uncouth country."
"He's not ugly," America grumbled sourly. "And if you're not going to help me, I can always look for someone else."
"Non, you misunderstand me. I never once said that I wasn't going to help you. It is indeed a shame that you chose Angleterre out of all the other available countries, but who am I to dissuade you from the path of true love?"
"Thanks, France. So, got any pointers?"
"Ah, but I am the country of love, am I not?" France said. "It is only natural that I am a professional in the matters of l'amour. Trust me, Amerique, I can do far more than just give you a few pointers."
"Fire away then," America grinned. "I'm all ears."
"Very well. I shall now give you the basic necessities of a healthy relationship. The most important parts of love are commitment, understanding, adoration and care," the Frenchman listed off. He then added as an afterthought, "And sex. Lots and lots of sex."
Both North American brothers flushed a bright shade of pink.
"Take Mathieu and me, for example. We have sex. Every day. For a minimum of one hour," France clarified, and America could just feel the waves of smugness radiating off him.
"F-Francis!" Canada sputtered, his face blushing so madly it matched the color of his hair. "I don't really think Alfred needs to know about this."
But, like always, Canada was blatantly ignored.
"And sometimes, if I'm lucky, we go for a few rounds more. Our record is two and a half hours nonstop. Remember that well, Amerique."
By this point, Canada was frantically searching the ground for even the tiniest of holes to hide in. America, on the other hand, seemed to be so utterly dumbfounded by this new revelation that his jaw muscles were rendered completely ineffective.
Meanwhile, France was still prattling on about the pros and cons of each bedding position, about the many toys he was all too willing to share with the American and about the different proper techniques to ensure minimal pain and maximum pleasure.
"And now," France declared, waving his hand in a dramatic flourish, "onto the subject of deflowering Angleterre."
Noticing the trapped and exceedingly embarrassed expression on his brother's face, Canada decided that now was probably a good time to intervene.
"Francis…"
"-And he may complain at first, being the crude, foul-mannered country that he is, but-"
"…F-Francis…I don't think-"
"-Toys make the experience all the more gratifying, of course. May I recommend-"
"Francis," Canada cut in, voice dripping with rancor. He didn't want to resort to such a tactic, but, as his brother so loved to say, desperate times called for desperate measures. And America was indeed looking more and more desperate by the minute. "No sex. For a month."
The Frenchman instantly froze, eyes boggling out comically, before he whirled around to face his lover.
"A month!" France, sounding very much like the world had just come to an end, placed the back of his hand against his forehead in a spectacular fashion. Rose petals floated down from out of nowhere and covered the grass around the distressed man. America idly wondered where the hell they came from and pitied the poor soul who'd eventually have to clean them up. "But Mathieu, that is simply…terrible! Mon dieu, how could you betray me so?"
"You weren't listening to me!"
"Ah, this is almost as bad as that one time you where denied me our fifteenth round!" the ailing Frenchman sobbed.
Canada blushed madly and sputtered, "I was getting tired!"
"Woe is me," France said dejectedly, rising to his feet. "Excuse me then, for I have to leave and seek for an outlet to drown my sorrows. Please, do not get up on my account. No, really, I insist." And with that said, he sauntered gracefully away in search of a drinking buddy – Prussia, most likely.
"We weren't going to anyway," America mumbled irritably, mouth twisted into a childish pout.
"Oh, ignore him," Canada said. "Francis does this all the time, but he'll always come back within a couple of minutes." He then turned inquisitively at his brother. "So, what's this about England I hear?"
"Well, I dunno…I sorta…fell in love with him, I guess…"
"I see." The Canadian nodded in understanding. "Out of curiosity, when did you find out you were in love with him?"
"I…I'm not too sure, actually," America answered doubtfully. "Maybe I'd always been in love with him this whole time, but just never realized it. Maybe it'd been there all along, but I was just too foolish to see it."
"'Til now?"
America grinned. "'Til now."
They both sat down in a contented silence, enjoying the peaceful atmosphere that was almost nonexistent due to their hectic lives. After a while, America stood up, brushing imaginary dirt off his brown pants.
Smiling serenely, Canada gave his brother a questioning gaze. "Leaving so soon?"
"Wish I could stay longer, but Iggy's not going to fall in love with me while I'm sitting here doing nothing," America said, letting a fond smile grace his lips. "It was nice talking to you, though. And thanks…you know, for listening."
"Of course," the Canadian replied as he watched his brother's silhouette disappear gradually across the horizon. As soon as all traces of America were gone however, Canada heaved a huge sigh of regret.
'Well, so much for Canada's Super Awesome Plan to Get America and England Together,' he thought mournfully. But as he looked towards the sky, Canada found it impossible to feel any remorse for his brother's building relationship with England.
I hope you finally find your happiness, Alfred…you and England both.
-- Hong Kong/Korea --
Too busy wallowing in his self-pity, England didn't notice how much time he'd spent moping before deciding to mobilize. Randomly hunting around for just anyone wouldn't help very much, he decided. If he was going to ask a person for advice, it would have to be someone he was at least somewhat familiar with.
And who better to ask than one of his other former colonies, Hong Kong?
"Hey, Hong Kong! Wait up!" England called out once he was able to locate the Asian man.
Pausing in his tracks, Hong Kong raised an eyebrow as he waited for the Briton to catch up. "Did you want something, England?"
"I need…some…guidance regarding relationships and…" England sighed, rubbing the back of his head in frustration. "Oh blast it all, I want to start a relationship with America, and I'm going to need quite a bit of help in that area."
Instead of replying however, Hong Kong gave him a look of utter disbelief, which was to say that his eyes widened by about 0.0003 millimeters.
"America?" The slight hitch in his voice showed just how surprised the Asian was.
"Yes, America. And looking at your own choice in partners, I should hardly think that you are in any position to comment any further."
Hong Kong sent the other man a dry look. "Touché."
"Indeed. You were the first person I had in mind, should I fall into a predicament like so, especially due to the similarities between Korea and America."
"Similarities?" Hong Kong scoffed, smiling wryly. "Korea is practically an Asian version of America; they're almost the exact same person."
"It is as you put it," England chuckled. "But this makes it all the more important that I come to you, of course. You seem to have the experience in dealing with these kinds of people…in the romantic sense, I mean."
Pondering over this, Hong Kong remained quiet for a minute or two before finally speaking. "Korea…is rather special and extremely hard to deal with, I'll give you that. But he can be mature when the time calls for it, which admittedly is not very often."
"Just like America then."
Hong Kong nodded. "He's fickle, childish and obnoxious to a point where you find yourself often considering suicide as your only getaway, but he's a good person at heart…if not a tad bit too obsessed with breasts."
The Asian looked like he was about to continue, but a flash of blue and white barreled straight into him, effectively cutting off all conversation.
"Did I just hear someone say breasts?" the newcomer crowed delightedly, swinging his wide sleeves around. "I knew you'd understand how amazing they are one day, da-ze!"
"Yong-Soo, get off me," Hong Kong growled from beneath the enthusiastic Korean.
Blinking owlishly, Korea titled his head in confusion. "What're you talking about, da-ze? Are you still upset about how sore you were last night?" He huffed, placing both hands on his hips. "I thought we both agreed to alternate, da-ze!"
"Not going to happen again, trust me," Hong Kong hissed back. "Anyway, I was just giving England some counseling about relationships before you interrupted us."
"You're giving him relationship counseling?" Korea instantly scrambled off the fallen country and was on his feet in an instant. He then beamed at England, proffering his hand out for the other man to shake. Hesitantly, England held out his hand as well and blanched slightly when the Korean shook it with too much vigor.
"You should've come to me in the first place! C'mon, everyone knows that relationship counseling started in Korea, da-ze!"
"I thought relationship counseling originated in France," England said cynically, recalling the many, many times France had bragged in front of everyone that all matters of amour began in his country.
"Oh, so you've been misled too! Don't worry! You're lucky I'm here to set you straight, da-ze!"
"Err…alright then. What kind of advice do you have in mind?"
"Hmm…It's always best to compare this kind of thing with real life experience, da-ze," Korea said thoughtfully. "So I'm going to use Hong Kong and me for an example!"
"Okay, Hong Kong's not the most interesting person in the world, da-ze, so he's really, really lucky to have such a great boyfriend like me," the Korean nation blathered on cheerfully, ignoring the poisonous glare his lover was sending him. "But he can get pretty crazy too, especially with his fireworks. And it's the worst whenever he brings them to my country during his visits! I mean, I don't even know how he gets them past security all the time, and he never runs out of them either, da-ze!
England couldn't help but smirk slightly as he recalled the long-gone days of raising the troublesome colony. "I couldn't agree with you more."
"Yeah, so we all know that my boyfriend's a weirdo, right?" Korea said in a solemn voice. "Take my word on this, da-ze."
"What's your point?" both England and Hong Kong asked, amusement and annoyance evident in the two nations' tones respectively.
"What I'm trying to say, anyway, is that no one's perfect, da-ze. Like Hong Kong's a sadistic pyromaniac, and I know that I can be a little loud sometimes…" Hong Kong's glare intensified, causing the room temperature to drop a good twenty degrees. Korea was quick to rectify his statement, "Okay, I'm really loud all the time. But that's what makes our relationship interesting, da-ze!"
"It's true," Hong Kong added softly. "Dynamics are very important in a relationship."
"Yep," Korea agreed, "'cause Hong Kong wouldn't be Hong Kong if it wasn't for his creepy obsession with fireworks, but that's what makes him so special, da-ze!"
"What he means is that your partner's flaws don't matter to you when you're in a relationship," the more stoic Asian explained. "And that's because you eventually accept their personality quirks for who they are, because that's what makes them, well, them."
"So, if you're going to go into a relationship with someone, you try to overlook these things, da-ze. Or, even if you can't, you try to tolerate them a little more, you know?"
"Of course," Smiling slightly, the Englishman gave a warm pat to his former colony's shoulder. "Thanks for the advice, Hong Kong. I knew I was right in my decision to come to you first." Noticing Korea's pout, England hastily added, "And you too, Korea. You were a great help as well."
"Obviously, da-ze," Korea giggled, rolling his eyes childishly. "But seriously, England, good luck, okay? Me and Hong Kong will be rooting for you all the way!"
"Many thanks, Korea. Your support is very much appreciated. Well, if you don't mind, I must be on my way now." The Briton dipped his head gratefully at the two Asians before turning and departing.
And as Korea waved enthusiastically at England's retreating figure, he slung his free arm around his boyfriend's shoulder. "So, we sure did him a big favor today, didn't we, da-ze?"
Hong Kong nodded, the corners of his lips twitching into an almost passable smirk. "I'll say."
-- Germany/Italy --
By some strange spot of luck, America ran into another couple within two minutes of his search. Well, technically there was only one of the couple present, but that'll still do, wouldn't it?
"Italy!" America called out to the brunet, who perked up straight away at the prospect of having some company.
"Ve, ve, it's America!" Italy chirped, bounding over to the American. "Are you here to enjoy some wonderful pasta with me?"
"Err…no, but I don't mind taking up on your offer next time. So, why are you eating alone today? Is Germany busy or something?"
"Oh no!" Light laughter filled the air as Italy shook his head. "Germany's out buying some of his squishy potatoes, but he'll be back in a few minutes."
"Okay…" the American paused thoughtfully as he tilted his head to face his Italian companion. "Hey, Italy, do you mind if I ask you a few questions?"
"Sure! I'll do my best to answer them!"
"So, let's just say that I, in theory, want to get into a relationship with someone-"
"You've finally admitted your undying love for England? How exciting!" Italy twittered, clapping both hands together in delight.
America balked. "How do you know if I was talking about England?"
Shock and disbelief became evident in Italy's warm brown eyes, and he instantly began apologizing profusely. "Oh, you mean it wasn't? I'm so sorry! I thought you were referring to him!"
"I was," America muttered, slightly disconcerted that even the airheaded Italy was able to guess who he was talking about. "I just couldn't believe you knew. Was it that obvious?"
Giggling, the Italian shook his head. "No, but I'd always believed that you two would end up with each other somehow! Childhood relationships are always the best!" A wistful look flitted across the cheerful brunet's features, but it disappeared so quickly America wondered if it was merely a figment of his imagination. "But that's not what you came to me for, ve! So we'd best get back on topic!"
"Ah, you're right." Worrying slightly with his lower lip, America struggled to recall what he was about to ask the Italian before his train of thought was completely set off-track. Finally, he decided to settle for a question which he personally thought was a must-know before he got into a relationship. "What do you and Germany usually do? As a couple, I mean."
"Ve, that's so easy! Usually Germany tries to work all the time, but then I come up behind him and give him a great, big hug! He'd try to get away, of course, but he always gives in eventually, like the big softie he actually is. Sometimes he even takes me on a date, except he doesn't really call it that; he likes to say that we're spending some 'manly bonding time together' instead."
"We also have pasta for lunch every day!" Italy added merrily. "Oh, mustn't forget dinner…and if I beg hard enough, we even have it for breakfast the next day too!"
America brightened up immediately. "Does this mean that I can get England to buy – not cook – me burgers for three meals a day?"
Italy took the question into consideration, tapping his forehead as he thought this through. "Well, most of the time, Germany only agrees after we have one nice round of good sex. So maybe if you have sex with England…"
The Italian was instantly stopped by the flustered American's palm being shoved into his face. "N-Never mind then. Forget that I asked."
"Sure! Was there anything else you wanted to know?"
But what America was about to reply was forever lost, because at that moment, Germany made his way towards the two conversing nations, one hand carrying a box containing his standard dish of mashed potatoes and Wurst. Italy immediately bounced over to greet his blond lover.
"Germany! Germany! It's been forever since we last met!"
"…I only left for a maximum time of fifteen minutes." Then, catching sight of America, he sent the ash-blond a particularly sour look. Clearly, the American was still not quite forgiven yet for his earlier tactics during the World Conference.
"America." Germany nodded stiffly. Or, at least, as stiffly as he could while Italy was glomping him with such enthusiasm. Then again, Germany was stiffness personified and therefore pulled it off rather nicely.
"Hey Germany," the American responded happily, his fingers waggling in a cheerful wave.
"Is there a reason you're here today? Alone with Italy while I was away?" Germany's tone was particularly menacing as he set the Italian down and stood protectively next to him.
"Oh, don't mind him, Germany! America was here to ask me a few questions, but he's done now, right?" Pleading brown eyes met understanding blue ones, and America stepped away from the couple, hands up in the air in mock surrender.
"But of course! I wouldn't possibly want to intrude on your meal together!"
Italy smiled in gratitude, leaning towards the German to link their arms lovingly together. A slight pink tinged Germany's cheeks, and America was completely stunned when he saw the uptight blond returning Italy's bright grin with a small, but tender smile of his own.
So that's what love feels like…
Watching the pair settle themselves on a nearby bench, Italy draping himself comfortably over the German's lap, America wondered why he suddenly felt so alone.
-- Denmark/Norway --
England prided himself for being an intellectual, and a very good one at that.
Going to Hong Kong for relationship counseling could only be described as an act of pure genius, England thought smugly. First and foremost, they were on friendly terms; secondly, he was in a relationship which had already lasted for a decently long time; and thirdly, he was dating Korea, the epitome of obnoxiousness, second only to America. Truly, if that wasn't absolute mental brilliance on his part, England didn't know what was.
Logically speaking, it should've been wise to follow up with yet another couple who had a resemblance to his and America's personalities. Logically speaking, it should've been wise to go to the neighboring countries he was more familiar with. Everything did make more sense when logic was put into the equation, after all.
…But exactly when did an individual like Denmark follow something as trivial as logic?
England was already beginning to regret coming to him in the first place.
"You want relationship advice from us?!" Denmark exclaimed, drawing Norway closer to him in a tight one-armed hug at the last word of his statement. Scowling, Norway effectively terminated all physical contact between them with a sharp elbow to the taller man's kidney.
"England is coming to us for advice…" Denmark whispered, his expression completely bewildered. He turned to stare at his boyfriend dubiously. "Pinch me, Nor. This has to be some kind of really weird dream."
Norway was all too happy to comply, and the Dane flinched at his unrelenting grip. "Okay, that's enough. You can let go now."
Still, the obvious pain on his arm brought Denmark back to the topic at hand, and he immediately resumed in staring at England as if the other man was some kind of godsend. "You really are coming to us for advice. Holy shit…I never thought a day like this would happen. Well, I guess it's not so surprising, especially since I am the King of Northern Europe."
"As fellow Europeans, I was hoping that you'd be willing to enlighten me on certain aspects of initiating and maintaining a proper relationship, much like the one you and Norway have right now," England explained while deciding that it was probably in his best interests to leave out that their relationship was, in truth, anything but proper. Dysfunctional, more like.
"Aww...you flatter us, England!" Beaming, the tallest of the three men clapped the English personification's back heartily. Barely preventing himself from keeling over, England forced himself to smile back at the exuberant blond.
"So, relationship advice, is it?" Denmark flashed England a toothy grin. "I've got a ton of experience here, and since we're kind-of-but-not-really neighbors, I'd be happy to share it with you!"
England merely maintained his forced smile, not exactly trusting himself to speak at the moment.
"Anyway, see what Nor here is holding in his hands?" Denmark asked proudly, waving a large hand over the smaller man sitting next to him.
The Briton blinked as he inspected the blank-faced Norwegian's hands, which seemed to be clutching a loose sheaf of papers. It was hard to determine what exactly the content was, but England could just barely make out a few words scrawled into the front of the thin sheets. "Err…Paper?"
"Ho ho ho!" Denmark's deafening voice filled the courtyard they were currently occupying as he slammed his palm once again to England's back, causing the Briton to sway slightly off balance. "Oh, England, you really crack me up sometimes." He then sniffled dramatically and raised one hand to rub away his tears of mirth.
"…Yeah…" The Briton surreptitiously took a step back away from the overenthusiastic man.
"'Course he's holding papers, but this isn't just your everyday, ordinary papers! This is…" The Dane paused for a theatrical effect, "…a script!"
England quirked his head quizzically to the side. "A script?"
"Why yes indeed, my fellow European buddy! What Norway is currently holding in his anorexically skinny and excessively bony hands is nothing other than a script! Written by yours truly, of course."
"You wrote the script?" England felt like slapping himself in annoyance. It seemed that spending too much time with Denmark was killing off all his brain cells and causing him to parrot the other man like some kind of idiot. Perhaps this was the way America felt like on a daily basis.
"That's right!" Denmark affirmed joyfully. "It's all part of a relationship, you know. You share what you enjoy with your other half. Romantic, isn't it?"
"…I guess…"
"So, anyway, I've been thinking, there're so many drama series out there in the world. American, English, Chinese, Korean… practically every single country has their own amazing TV show or another, right?" He glanced briefly at England and was pleased when the smaller man gave a slow, hesitant nod. "Yeah, but then I also realized that, well, Denmark doesn't exactly have one. Their own amazing, world-renowned drama series, I mean. And that made me very sad."
"…I see…"
"But that's what inspired me to come up with something myself!" Denmark proclaimed with great excitement. "And after shedding bucketfuls of blood, sweat and tears, I finally wrote it! The greatest script the world shall ever know! I call it 'The Life and Times of Denmark', written by Denmark. Isn't that incredible?"
"…I suppose…" Apparently, Denmark's exuberance had reduced his coherency to a mere two words per sentence. How embarrassing.
"Yeah, and being the super awesome person that I am, I even offered to let Norway try it out! Boy, you're lucky you happened to catch us right this moment, 'cause then you get to hear it before it becomes famous! Seriously, I'd die for an opportunity like this!" Grinning, Denmark turned and focused all of his attention upon his silent boyfriend. "Well, Nor, c'mon and let's show England whatcha got!"
The Norwegian snorted noncommittally, but he looked down at the small pile of papers regardless. He frowned as he read the script Denmark had so painstakingly written.
"Ow," he recited, tone completely deadpan. "Oh no, I have fallen on a pebble. Hmm, I wonder how it got there. No matter, I shall now proceed to annihilate it with my battleaxe."
The taller Nordic's palm had a happy meeting with his face. "You don't have to sound so dead, Nor. Think about the passion! The feeling! The excitement!"
Norway merely stared blankly back, and England felt a pang of sympathy for the taller pale-haired man. Hey, it wasn't exactly the Dane's fault that his boyfriend had the emotional capability of a brain-dead rock.
Yelling out a grand war cry, Denmark brandished his massive weapon (where from England dreaded to know) and swung it around, crushing a few innocent pebbles on the ground. He laughed triumphantly after a few minutes of rock-genocide and hoisted the heavy battleaxe on his shoulder. Turning to the quiet blue-clad nation, Denmark flashed him a brilliant grin and an eager thumbs-up. "See? Just like that!"
Norway rolled his eyes, but England noticed that even through his exasperation, there seemed to be a trace of amusement and fondness. "You're such a dork, Denmark."
Booming laughter erupted from Denmark's throat as he pulled his now smiling boyfriend closer to him in a one-armed hug. "Yeah, but at least I'm your dork."
Feeling distinctly like a third wheel, England paused to take in the sight of the two Nordics. They seemed genuinely content with each other despite the differences in their personalities. It gave him slight hope that perhaps, just perhaps, he had that kind of chance with America as well.
-- Sweden/Finland --
"Hey Finland, can I talk to you for a moment?"
Tilting his head to the source of the new voice, Finland smiled warmly at the arriving American. "Why, of course, America." He patted the empty space on the bench he was currently sitting on.
Instead of walking towards the Finnish man however, America shifted restlessly from one foot to the other. "Umm…I'd prefer it if we were alone, but only if you don't mind, of course!"
Instantly on alert, Sweden snapped his head up to glare at America threateningly. "Wh' d' y'u w'nt t' t'lk t' m' w'fe?"
"Now, now, Berwald, I'm sure it'll be fine," Finland assured the taller man. He then turned to America and asked, "Will this take a long time?"
America shook his head. "Nope, just gotta ask you a few questions."
The explanation seemed to pacify Sweden, and he gave his "wife" a curt nod. Finland took this as his cue to leave and followed the American to a more remote location. Finally stopping at the shade of a large tree far enough away from anyone's earshot, America turned back to face the Nordic. "So, you're probably wondering why I dragged you all the way here."
Finland nodded. "Certainly."
"See, the thing is…I've been trying to get into a relationship with someone, and I'm not exactly sure how to do it."
"Oh, America…" Finland's expression was encouraging, soft and understanding – the look that a parent would don when comforting their child. It was the very same look England had given him on various occasions many years ago, a look that America missed far more than he'd ever dare to admit. "You're asking me for help? Well, I'm honored, but I don't know if I can help you very much. After all, my relationship with Sweden is a little…different than most."
"Perfectly understandable," America said. "But right now, any kind of help is plenty."
"Is that so? And if you don't mind me guessing, this…someone that you speak of…It doesn't happen to be England, does it?"
America, having long surrendered to everyone's incredibly accurate guesses, merely nodded his head and sighed. "I swear, that guy is harder to woo than getting a burger from NcDonald's on 'Buy One and Get Two Free' Day. And you have not seen the fucking line when that happens. It's like everyone in the whole country gathers on that day to eat burgers! Not that it's a bad idea or anything, but still…"
"From what I gather, England is not particularly…interested in a relationship with you?"
"Oh, that's not it! He's just really stubborn, and there're all these personal issues that's not exactly helping to make this all easier…" The ash-blond man sighed tiredly. "But I still want to try, you know? Just 'cause England is totally worth it."
"Your feelings do seem sincere enough," Finland observed. "Very well, since you asked so nicely. But what exactly do you want to know, America?"
"For starters, how's life as a couple? I mean, is it awkward, or stressful, or difficult? I know for sure that it's not all rainbows and sunshine."
"That's true," the Finnish man chuckled. "As for Su-san and I, we have it easy enough. We love each other, and he's actually a very kind-hearted man underneath his cold exterior. In fact, probably the most difficult aspect of our relationship is raising Peter. He can be such a troublesome child sometimes."
America frowned, confused. "Peter?"
"Sealand?" Finland offered, hoping that America would perhaps be more familiar with the nation's official name.
The vacant look on America's face said otherwise.
"Peter Kirkland?"
Now that brought out quite the reaction.
"Kirkland? As in like, England's last name? There's a kid out there with England's last name?"
"Well, yes. I always thought you knew about him," Finland said, looking somewhat abashed. "I mean…despite having England's last name and some of his features, Peter also has somewhat of a…resemblance to you, America."
"…What do you mean?"
"Peter has dark blond hair, almost the same shade as yours. He has blue eyes too, and his eyebrows are a mix of yours and England's," the smaller blond elaborated. "I presumed that, well…I presumed that he was your lovechild or something."
"Mine...and England's…lovechild?" It was getting progressively harder to form coherent words, and the crimson shade America was now turning into rivaled even that of the ripest tomatoes. "I…What…No! It's nothing like that!"
Finland smiled innocently. "Of course, America."
"Okay, wherever the heck you got that from, just know that it is so not true."
"Of course, America."
"Yeah, 'cause we don't have anything between us."
"Of course, America."
"And even if we did, it's physically impossible for two guys to have a baby."
"Of course, America."
"…You're just saying that to humor me, aren't you?"
In a poor attempt to smother his chuckles, the Finnish man hid the bottom portion of his face from America's view. "Perhaps. Is it working?"
"Not really."
"Ah, pity then." Finland faked a remorseful sigh. "At least now I can cross off one more theory on how Peter's existence came to be." He then smiled warmly, closing both eyes in pleasant remembrance of all the wonderful memories he shared with his family. "I know I've said this already, but my relationship with Su-san is nothing short of special, and to have Peter in the family only makes it much more amazing. Giving your life and love to another person is truly a blessing indeed, America. And if it takes England to make you feel this way, then by all means, do everything you can to court him, because to miss out on an experience like this is just too much."
America blinked, his mind shutting off completely at the sheer magnitude of Finland's words. After letting them sink in, he finally smiled in relief and gratitude. "Thanks, Finland. I really appreciate the support."
"Oh, think nothing of it. Anything to help all the other homosexuals out there, right? We do need all the support we can get."
"Homosexual?" America questioned before shaking his head playfully. "No, no, no. I think you've got it all wrong."
"Wrong?" The Nordic frowned. "Unless you're implying that either you or England is female, which I am quite certain is not true…"
"No, I can assure you that Iggy and I are one-hundred percent male," America confirmed. "Or at least, I am, because Iggy has even worse mood swings than a hormonal teenage girl on her PMS. But otherwise, there is nothing even remotely female about both of us."
"Then I can't possibly see how-"
"Homosexual…it's a pretty broad term, isn't it? And so homosexual I most definitely am not."
"America, I'm afraid that I still don't understand what you're trying to say."
"Don't you get it, Finland? If I have to be categorized into one of those weird labels, being a homosexual sure wouldn't be it."
"You're still not making any sense."
"I'm not homosexual," America clarified, "because that implies that I love men, and I don't. So I am clearly not, as you like to put it, a homosexual."
"Oh? Then what are you?"
"What am I?" America grinned cryptically at Finland as he shrugged and stuffed both hands in his pockets.
"Well, I guess I'll just have to settle for being Iggysexual then, won't I?"
---
Guh. Bad ending is bad. Until the next chapter comes...bear with it.
…This chapter ended up being 10,000 words long. Geez, my chapters keep getting longer and longer, don't they? Sorry I had to split up the chapters pertaining to Hero Rule no. 4, but I'd imagine that a 20,000 word chapter would be bloody lengthy. Not to mention the sheer amount of time it'd take to write...*shudders*
Little chapter notes:
There is actually no such word as "anorexically" (shocker, I know; the right word is anorectic), but it just seemed like such a Denmark thing to say that I couldn't resist :P
I don't personally think that there's such thing as a 'Buy One Get Two Free' Day anywhere, really. But I think they should. We do love our free stuff, after all. *Whistles innocently*
Also, the 'Sealand is America and England's lovechild' theory isn't actually as far-fetched as it seems. No, seriously. I mean, look at this: http :// 1660 . photobucket . com / albums / uu321 / hyperparfait / Anime / hetalia / big / aph21_family . jpg (take out the spaces to access the website). Yep, definitely sensing a conspiracy here…
That said and done, I'd like to thank everyone once again for reading this and supporting me all the way. Remember, any suggestions for Hero Rules will be graciously accepted and considered.