Thanks so much for the reviews! They always make my day! :) I'm so glad you guys like the story so far! I've loved writing it and getting to know the characters better! I had honestly forgotten how much fun it is to write fan fictions, and how much I love feedback. It's just a fun thing to do!

Also, sorry that this chapter took a little longer to update. I started writing it going one way, and then I completely changed it! This chapter has really been a tricky one for me! But I got it done, and have a lot of the next chapter planned too because of it! :D

So, without further ado, enjoy the chapter, and please review! :)

x-x-x-x-x

As soon as England woke up, his heart began to flutter. He was able to see light through his still closed eyelids, telling him that it was morning. And he still felt America's arms around his neck, his rhythmic breath running over his throat. A small smile crossed his face: he had slept like that the whole night. Without thinking, England's hand found its way back to America's hair, running his fingers through his fine strands. Why he did this, he still wasn't sure. It was probably just because he still felt some brotherly affection for him, that's all. And it had been a long time since anyone had shown any affection for him. It was refreshing to not have people hate him for once.

Yawning, England took his hand away from America's head as he stretched his arms. He should get up and make them some breakfast.

"Why'd you stop?"

England jumped in surprise, letting out an undignified, "Eek!" as he opened his eyes to look down at America. His green eyes met America's blue ones which, to his dismay, looked wide awake.

"H-h-how long…?" England tried to ask, feeling his face flush.

"Have I been up?" America finished, pulling his arms from England's neck as he laid them on his chest to balance his chin on. "A few minutes. I was thinking of making waffles or something, but someone had been holding me." America's smirk widened as England felt his face grow hotter. "But I did like you messing with my hair. It felt nice."

England cleared his throat, taking his eyes off of America for a moment. He had thought that he had still been fast asleep, that being the only reason he had allowed himself to do such things with his hair. It had been stupid for him to not even open his eyes to make sure that America was asleep. Now he had given America a reason to have that smug smirk on his face. "I'm willing to make breakfast," England said, trying to sit up. He found this difficult though, seeing as America was now refusing to get off of him.

"You made it yesterday, so I can make it today," America said, pushing down slightly on England's chest. "You don't have to get up."

"I don't want to sleep in," England argued, still trying and failing to get up. "I have to keep reading."

"Just stay in bed," America retorted, easily keeping him pinned to the bed. "You'll be able to research better if you're well rested."

"America," England complained, not liking that he was being told what to do, especially by America. "Just let me—"

His sentence cut off as America lowered his face, barely a centimeter of space between the tips of their noses. America's blue eyes stared right into England's, rendering him unable to speak, barely able to breathe. "Stay," America purred, making England's chest tighten.

There was no way that England was going to win this one. "Fine," he answered, his heart thumping hard from how close America was to him. A sly smirk spread on America's lips as he continued to just stare into England's eyes. This really needed to stop though—England couldn't breathe.

"Your eyes are really green," America noticed, daring to let his face lean just slightly closer. On instinct, England tried to keep whatever space he could between them, but the pillow behind his head didn't have any more give.

"And yours are cerulean," England gasped, trying to remember how to inhale and exhale correctly. But upon him slowly regaining the ability to breathe, all he smelled was America. Sugar cinnamon, lattes, a hint of a bakery. His mouth watered—a sick part of him wanted to taste him.

Suddenly, England was much more aware of America's lips just a few centimeters away from his.

"Go make food," England breathed, needing space right now. He felt something in him that he did not like, did not approve of, and was scared by as he felt it slowly taking control of him. He needed out of this situation now.

"What if I'm not hungry for food?"

England's skin prickled, feeling his whole body tense up. He needed to stop this. Now. He tried to knee America in the stomach to get him off, but missed, hitting America a little bit lower than intended. America's face went from one that rivaled even France's rape face to one of absolute pain as he rolled off of England, gripping his vital regions. "Gaah, oh God, why?" he squeaked, tears in his eyes. "Why would you effing do that, man?"

England took that opportunity to get up off the bed, rushing to the corner of the room next to the door. "I was just trying to get you off me," England said, trying to flatten his flyaway hair. "I… I didn't mean to hit you… there."

"Oh, God!" America groaned, rolling onto his side facing away from England. "It was with your freakin' knee too! Gaah, my balls!"

Stealthily, England sneaked out of the room, his face reddening. He was often angry with America, but he, being a British gentleman, knew better than to hit below the belt. It was cowardly and a completely unrefined way to fight back. Even though he was always irritated with America, he was quickly realizing that he didn't like to see him hurt.

As he thought about it, he had rarely ever seen America in pain. If nothing else, he was good at making people think he was doing fine. He was always able to roll with the punches and keep that annoying smile on his face, even during the most dire of situations. However, apparently a good kick to the groin can make any kind of man cry like a child.

Not knowing what else do to, England decided that he would once again make breakfast. He didn't mind cooking, and he figured that America wasn't in the mood to do anything at the moment.

x-x-x-x-x

As England was setting plates down on America's table, he heard him shuffling into the room. He had neglected to neaten his hair or change his clothes. Not even his glasses were straight. England felt uncomfortable as he saw that America was walking weirdly, meaning that he was still in pain. Yes, America had been trying to make a move on him, but England had never really meant to hurt him.

"Good morning," England said, trying to make the situation less awkward. He figured if he had just stayed quiet, that would have just strengthened the tension in the room. Besides, ignoring him wouldn't have been what a real gentleman would do.

America grunted in response, barely even looking at him. England cringed slightly. Still far too much tension in the room.

"America, about earlier…"

"Don't," America dismissed, shoving his light brown hair out of his face. "Just thinking about it makes it hurt worse."

England tried straightening out his shirt, even though it was already perfectly ironed. "I really am sorry about that," he said sincerely.

Carefully, America sat on the edge of the chair, slightly grimacing. "It's fine," America said after a moment. "I guess I did kind of deserved it."

Upon those words, England had to take a double-take, not sure if he had heard right at first. Then, deciding he had heard correctly, he just stared at America for a moment. He said that he actually deserved it? Since when did America actually come out and admit that he was in the wrong?

"What's for food?" America asked, his spirits seeming to improve. England had to keep himself from rolling his eyes—America was always able to recover from things quickly.

"Well, I tried to find your waffle maker, but with your bloody mess of a kitchen…" England trailed off as he grabbed the food from off the counter next to the stove top. "I made a simple breakfast of just eggs and toast." He laid the dishes on the table, hoping—but doubting—that this would be enough for America's huge stomach.

America looked down at the food curiously, then looked innocently back up at England. "So, where's your breakfast?"

England cocked his head, confused. "Eh?"

"Wait. You made this for two people?" America asked, sounding surprised. "This is less than what I eat by myself."

A clicking sound came from England's throat. Bloody wanker! he thought as he clenched his fists as to not begin throwing objects at America's stupid face. England sat down in his chair angrily, trying to calm himself out of his rising rage. He took a slice of toast and one fried egg, and then pushed the remaining food—five slices of toast and seven eggs—towards America. "There," he said, doing a very poor job of hiding his irritated tone. "All yours."

Bloody git.

x-x-x-x-x

England was yet again sitting in the chair that he had claimed as his own while he continued to study his spell book. America sat in his normal spot on the couch, wanting to be with England, even if he ignored him like usual. It had been a few hours since that morning's incident, so America had gotten over his pain by now. He was always able to heal and get over illnesses miraculously fast, which tended to irritate England, seeing as it usually took him longer to heal than most countries. But he really did bring that upon himself—England never forgot how people hurt him, and would hold that grudge forever. He really just always hurt himself, but refused to see that.

"Any luck?" America asked, hoping to start up a conversation. It felt weird just sitting in a room with someone else and not talking.

Not even uttering a word, England flicked his green eyes up at him, more or less telling him to shut the crap up. Sulking, America quieted down again. So he was still angry about everything that had gone on so far today. Okay, yeah, he had kind of acted like a complete creeper this morning. But he thought that England would have been okay with that! He had been stroking his hair, which, for normal people, translates into affection. Apparently not for England. And America hadn't asked him to take practically nothing for breakfast! How was he supposed to know that it was normal for England to eat so little? It wasn't like they ate together all the time! The only times that England would even think of asking him to go with him somewhere was when England wanted to go to a pub and get completely wasted. That had been their only way of actually communicating for the past several decades—fight each other, ignore each other, and then get drunk.

Wanting to stay in the same room that England was in, America just stretched out on the couch, letting his feet hang over the edge. Then, without thinking, he began to hum to himself, not paying attention to what the exact tune was. He felt England's eyes on him, and thought maybe he had been humming his national anthem, and that it was getting on his nerves. But when he turned his head to see what the matter was, he was surprised to see England's face slightly reddened. America finally listened to what he was humming, and blushed too.

It was the lullaby England had used last night.

"Bathroom," England said quickly as he jumped up and left the room, his spell book just barely managing to land on the table. America would have tried to stop him, but by the time that he had been able to sit up, England was long gone. He tried to figure out why he would be so embarrassed, but he wasn't really able to come up with a reason besides England was kind of strange.

America went to straighten out England's book that had fallen open face down, crumpling some of the frail-looking pages. He picked it up and meant to just lay it back down, but his curiosity took the best of him once again. Knowing England wasn't going to be back for a while, America flipped through the pages of the spell book, intrigued by the language he didn't understand. Not feeling like going to get his laptop for translation, America found a spell and just stared at it as if he'd understand what it said if he did this for long enough. He stuck his thumb in the book to mark his spot as he continued to flip through the pages. As he was doing this, a paper that must have been stuck in between some of the pages fell out into his lap. A quick glance at it revealed that it had a circle decorated with runes on it. Cautiously, America picked it up to examine it further. The circle held no clues to him as to what it was, so he flipped it over. On the back, England's handwriting had scrawled a short phrase on the paper:

"For emergencies."

Suddenly, America remembered one of the times that he had walked in on England doing some of his freaky Black Magic. The room had been dark, but he had been able to see that there had been a circle on the floor in the room. Taking another look, America realized what it was—it was the circle used for spells. So England had brought it with him so he could just use it if he needed to do a spell really fast. He guessed it made sense, but it didn't make it any less creepy.

Creepy, yet intriguing. He wondered what would happen if he tried to do spell. Would anything happen? He felt a twinge of nervousness, seeing as even England could mess up at doing spells. But he was America! With a smile, he decided to go for it—he was the hero! He couldn't mess up!

He quickly looked over the spell he had been eying, and roughly figured out how to say it. Taking a readying breath, he prepared himself. He figured for the spell to work, the user would have to have a face in their mind. He tried to think of someone, and immediately thought of England. He thought that it might be a bad idea to use his first spell on him, but then he thought of what would happen if he actually got a spell right. Wouldn't England think he was cool if we were able to do magic? Then they could do magic together! Once again throwing caution to the wind, he had England's face in his mind as he began the chant.

"Qui putat se tam fortem, illum ad risum."

A tiny shudder went through the room, but nothing else really happened. America looked around as if a huge neon sign saying, "Congrats, you just did your first spell!" would pop up out of nowhere. Nothing obvious showed up, and America wondered if he had done something wrong. He had never done anything like that before, so he wouldn't doubt it if he hadn't done it right.

America nearly had a heart attack when he suddenly heard hysterical laughing start in another room. He was trying to think of who could have broken into his house when England stumbled into the room, clenching his stomach. He was bent over, tears in his eyes, laughing. The sight made absolutely no sense to him. England was always so serious and so stuffy. But there he was, laughing like a maniac. It was actually really freaking America out.

"Wh-what…?" America stammered, trying to figure out what was so funny.

England kept on laughing as he struggled to stand up straight, "Ah, oh God, I.. I can't breathe!" he roared, gasping between laughs. "I… I don't know…what's happening!"

America continued staring at England, absolutely terrified. England constantly ignoring him, he could deal with, no problem. But England being happy and laughing? It was scaring the freaking crap out of him. He looked around trying to figure out what was going on, but then remembered the spell book. Apparently, the spell he used caused a horrible case of laughter.

England must have noticed that the spell book had found its way to America, because he quickly walked over and snatched it away. "You bloody idiot!" he chocked between laughs. "Why?"

"Dude, I didn't know!" America said defensively. "I didn't know it was going to make you freakin' psycho!"

England was trying to flip through the pages, but it looked like he was having extreme difficulty with this as his body was shaking with the insane laughter. He threw the book back to America, pointing at a spell. "S-Say that!" he said, laughing louder than ever.

America read over it, and looked nervously up at England. "But what if it doesn't…?"

"Do it!" England yelled. America got scared by the shade of red his face was turning. Was he seriously not able to breathe?

"Desine de alica!" America cried, another shudder going through the room. England kept on laughing for a few seconds, slowly quieting down. The laughs were quickly replaced by gasps for air, his face still a frightening shade of red.

"Idiot," he gasped as he fell over onto the couch. America tensed up as his body fell directly onto his lap. He looked down at England's face. His eyes were closed shut, brows furrowed, his blonde hair plastered to his skin with sweat. His chest was moving rapidly with hard breaths. America's stomach was churning with guilt—he had been an idiot for trying something so stupid. All he had done was just make him have a laughing fit that had made him pass out. What if America had picked a spell that made his heart stop or that made him kill himself? He had been so stupid, stupid, stupid!

"I'm sorry," America said, brushing England's hair out of his face. A slight grunt escaped him, but he didn't make any attempt to stop him. America pulled England into an upright position to try to help him breathe better, laying him against his chest. This caused another upset grunt to come from England.

"Stop touching me," England muttered, his voice raspy. "You did this, idiot."

"And I'm trying to make sure that you're okay," America said, trying to steady him so he didn't fall over. "Can you breathe all right?"

"Yes, you twit," England grumbled, trying to sit up on his own. But as he tried to move, he began coughing, clenching his stomach again. America could feel England's self-hatred emanating from him.

"Just calm down," America said, pulling him back to lie against him. "I just nearly made you die."

"That's the point, you bloody wanker!" England said, once again trying to get up. America just wrapped his arms around England's chest, preventing him from moving. He felt England give a frustrated huff, but he stopped trying to struggle. He knew that America wasn't going to let him go now.

"Chillax, man!' America said. "I just wanna make sure you're okay, that's all."

England just stopped talking as he ended his attempts to get away. He seemed to actually be trying to settle in now. He gave the occasional grumble of disapproval as America felt him cross his arms stubbornly.

"How bad do you hurt?" America asked, balancing his chin on top of England's head. England seemed to give up on trying to tell America what not to do, seeing as he wasn't going to listen.

"Chest hurts," England murmured. "Diaphragm hurts too. Really, anything that has to do with breathing hurts."

"Do you want pain meds?"

"No, you git!" England said stubbornly. "I'm the United bloody Kingdom! I don't need pain medication!"

"Okay, dude," America laughed, patting one of his arms that were still pinned to his sides by America's hug. "Just asking, that's all."

England huffed again, but remained still. America continued to hold him to make sure that he didn't try to get up before he felt better. Without thinking, America began to hum softly to himself, again not paying attention to what tune he was humming. When he realized what he was doing, he listened to the tune that had been escaping him. It was England's lullaby again. America looked down to make sure that it wasn't upsetting him, but felt his stomach flip. England had fallen asleep.

America smiled down at him. He took one of his arms away from restraining him and tousled his blonde hair. He always acted so strong and so tough, but in reality, England was really just human. He could only handle so much before he crashed. America twirled his fine hair around one of his fingers, amazed by how silky his hair was. The last time he had touched his hair was centuries ago when he had only been a small child. He had forgotten the smooth texture of his hair.

He thought back to when he had been a child and how big England had seemed back then. But now it was much different. England seemed so frail, so tiny. "You're so adorable," America whispered, brushing the back of his neck.

"Oh, am I?"

America jumped, feeling his heart skip a beat. "Wha—?"

England looked up, a smug smile on his face. "Hello," England said, laying his head on America's shoulder. "Anything else you'd like to say?"

America felt blood rush to his face. "Not cool, man!" he said, lightly hitting him on the head, only making England's smile bigger. "You just don't do that, dude!"

A smile parted England's lips as he let out a laugh. A sincere laugh that hadn't been caused by a spell. "Ah, your face was priceless, America!"

He looked down at England, extremely confused. England was… teasing him?

"I'm guessing you're feeling better?" America asked, still amazed that England was giving a sincere smile. He hadn't seen one since before the Revolution.

Nodding, England shifted so he wasn't leaning against America anymore. "Closing my eyes for a while did help." America expected him to get up and move back to his seat, but, once again surprising him, he kept seated on the couch next to him as he grabbed the spell book. He crossed one leg over the other as he opened it to his spot. "I think I'm getting close to figuring out how to break the curse."

"Really?" America tried to sound happy, but he wasn't exactly pleased. He really didn't want the curse to be broken. He liked the way he felt. He didn't mind having feelings for England. Not only didn't he mind it, he actually really liked it. He didn't want to lose these feelings.

"I still need to work on it," England continued, "but I'm close."

America smiled, happy that England was happy. But inside, he felt pain.

England still didn't love him back.

x-x-x-x-x

In reality, England was still kind of hurting. He felt guilty as he thought back to when he had considered making America go through that fit of uncontrollable laughter; how he had thought that a fit of laughter wouldn't be that bad of a thing to go through. But now, after having just experienced it, he was really scared of it. He literally had not been able to stop laughing for a single second. He had thought that he was going to suffocate. His diaphragm had been in so much pain, he had thought he was going to vomit. It had been terrifying, and he had really thought he was going to die. When America had finally gotten on with it and done the counter curse, England had almost passed out from a lack of oxygen. He barely even remembered falling onto America's lap, the first thing he really remembered being America making him lay against him. Stupid America. Then he had just hugged him and started humming to him. It would have annoyed England at any other time, but for some reason, this time it had been rather comforting. He had dozed off until America began messing with his hair. He hadn't really minded it, but it made him more cautious, more alert—he didn't want America to start getting more physical after that. Then he had called him adorable. Who calls another grown man adorable! How ludicrous! But part of him had actually liked being called adorable by America. And that had been the part that had responded to him. He didn't know why he had teased him, why he had stayed seated next to him.

He most certainly was not becoming attracted to him.

Setting his focus back to his book, he continued to search for a way to set everything right again. He knew that he was getting close to finding how to break the curse he had put on him. He just needed a little more information, just a few more translations, and he was sure he would have it figured out.

England lost track of how long they sat there. It must have been about half an hour that passed as they sat there in near silence. America had been keeping himself entertained by randomly humming or some other meaningless waste of time. England looked at him from the corner of his eye to try to see what exactly it was he was doing. He was sitting cross legged on the couch next to him, holding his ankles, gently swaying from side to side. His hair was still messy, Nantucket standing even more straight up than normal. He wanted to scold him for not grooming himself properly, but he decided against it—America wouldn't listen anyway. His blue eyes kept flicking from place to place as if his brain couldn't pick one thing to focus on. He blushed slightly as he remembered when those eyes had been looking directly into his, seeming to peer right into him. It hadn't been until that morning that he had realized just how blue his eyes were. Most people's eyes were grey with a hint of blue. Not his. They were unbelievably blue, blue as the clear sky.

Not that he cared of course. He lightly shook his head, trying to get his attention back to his book.

That's when he saw it. He read over it, and then read over it again. A jolt went through him when he realized that this was what he had been looking for, what he had needed! He flipped through the book and found all of the pieces that he had needed to fit together. A smile of success crossed his face—he had done it! He read over it all again, his smile growing larger. This was it!

"I've got—!" he said, but was cut off when he read over another one of the parts. He felt America's eyes on him as he read over that part again. He felt his stomach drop.

"What's up?" America asked, leaning closer to see what was wrong. England continued to stare at the page, trying to figure out if there could be another meaning to it. But nothing came to mind. It meant exactly what it said.

"I figured out how to get rid of the curse," England said slowly, trying to figure out his next words. He saw America tense, but America answered with a fairly happy sounding, "Cool." England read over the passage once more to make sure he had it right. "I figured it out, but…"

"But what?" America asked. He leaned closer, his very blue eyes filled with concern. "What's wrong?"

"It gets rid of the curse," England said. "But it takes all of the memories of the curse away with it too."

America cocked his head at him, a confused look masking his face. "What does that mean?"

England couldn't make eye contact with him, keeping his eyes to the ground. "It means that everything that's happened in the past three days, everything that's happened since the curse too effect. You won't remember anything."

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Gaah! Oh my gosh, I can't wait to write the next chapter! :D Sorry if this chapter is one of my best… I edited at 3 last night… XD If you see anything that you think I should fix, let me know! :)

Please review! Reviews help me update faster, so not only to they make me happy, but they'll make you happy too! :) Just do it! :D