You reach your hand into the bag and pull out a long, brown feather. You run your finger along the edge, marveling at how soft it is. America, who had walked away to get some food, came back and dropped what he was holding.
"Hey! That's mine!" Without bothering to pick up his mess, he pulls you into the closet and shuts the door. Someone on the others side raps their knuckle on the door.
"You only have 7 minutes!" and locks to door. You couldn't see anything past your nose, and the American locked in the closet with you wasn't very talkative at the moment. You weren't sure how this would turn out. Lately, you've noticed he has a sweet layer under his hero exterior, and you desperately wanted to get to know that part of America better, but were to shy to do anything about it.
"H-hey, America?" you hear a snort, like he was breaking out of a deep though. Curious, you take a step closer but were stopped by large, warm hands wrapping themselves around your hips. He murmured into your ear in a very proactive way.
"I just can't believe my luck. Who would have guessed that you would be the one to pull my item." His breath tickles your ear and brushes your hair around. A shiver runs down your spine as you strain to retain your composure, but its falling fast. You had two options. 1) let him continue what he's doing and let him think you're not interested or 2) take initiative and show his you mean business. While half your mind ponders your decision, the other half tries to reason why he's acting this way, so quite and romantic.
This isn't the man you fell so deeply in love with. What happened to his loud mouth and hero-complex? You must have frozen, because he hesitated and pulled away. Again, his actions were opposite of his normal behavior. Without another word he retreats farther away. He stood there, whispering to himself, as if arguing with his subconscious or something.
"Goddammit! Why did I do that? I've been working so hard to…uggg I ruined everything!" You can hear the strain in his voice, and it kicks in some maternal instincts deep within you. Without waiting for him to stop mentally beating himself up, you reach over and collect him in your arms.
The American spluttered and tried to pull away, but not to hard. You simply shake your head and hold him tighter, burying your face into his ever present bomber jacket, which smells like fries, fire-works and something you can't quite place. He stands there, apparently contemplating what to do next. In your head, you were counting how much time you had left before the door would be thrown open, and according to your countdown, you had a little under five minutes left.
"Why are you acting this way?" those six little words seemed to have a huge impact on the nation, who looked down into your eyes with shock. You meet his gaze, expecting answers.
"W-what way? The H-hero always acts like this!" his answer was obviously faked, and you weren't in the mood to be lied to. Without hesitation, you grab the collar of his bomber and pull his lips down to meet yours. When he tries to pull away, you use the strength of your entire nation to keep him in place. He finally understands that there's no escape and leans in for a deeper embrace.
When you finally break, both of you were dizzy from lack of oxygen.
"Now, why did you lie to me?" your question made him do a double take and flush darker than he already was. You could tell he was getting ready to lie again, and that really ticked you off. Without a warning, you pin the free nation against the wall and whisper into his ear.
"I don't want lies, Alfred. I want you to be truthful with me. I've always been truthful with you, even if you didn't want to see it." This confession seemed to spark a memory deep in his blonde mind. It was many years ago, around WW2.
"Alfred, please let me help you!" your voice rings loud with desperation. You cling to his jacket sleeve and try to get him to change his mind.
"No. I can't get you involved. It's too dangerous for someone like you." His words stung, but you were persistent.
"I don't care! I want to be there for you! I want to protect you. Even a hero needs a sidekick!" Your words hit a chord deep in the American nation, and you could see it ring true in his crystal clear eyes. He shakes his head sadly and pats your head.
"Your adorable, you know that?" and proceeded to walk out the doors and catch his cab.
"You…." He seems to finally understand what you meant all those years ago, and what you mean standing in front of him right now. Without another question, he swoops down and envelopes you in a kiss so warm you couldn't think a single coherent thought.
The hero seems to know exactly what he was doing, and made sure you knew that you were under his control, if only for this short time. A few times he broke away, and it seemed he was trying to say something, but gave up and took your breath away again. Finally, he must have gotten his thoughts together, broke away and finally spoke what was on his mind.
"After I broke away from England, I thought I'd never find someone to hold close again. My first meeting as an independent nation was horrible. I was all alone; England wouldn't even look at me. They got worse and worse until one day, a beautiful new nation walked through the doors and took my breath away. I finally had something to look forward to. I made myself what I thought she would want, tried to woo her. Made myself strong and loud to catch her eye. She tried to help, but I was terrified for her. She was my light, my joy. I couldn't let anything happen to this creation of heaven, sent to help me live again," your breath catches in your throat. You can he's talking about you, and your heart soars, "Without you, I don't know what I would have done. I don't know if I'd even still be here. When ever I hear someone call me fat, or stupid, I just want to end it. When I hear the other's whispering behind my back about my economy and even right to my face about how disgusting I am, I don't know how long I can deal with it, but there's one thing always stops me. You. You always stop me from pulling the trigger and help me put down the knife. Thank you. T-thank you so much." His sky blue eyes began to over flow and you can tell how much it took for him to confess everything to you.
You let him cry for a few moments before brushing away his bitter tears with a delicate hand. Standing on your tiptoes, you gently kiss each of his flushed cheeks before landing your lips on his still trembling ones. You refused to back down until his shaking stopped, and his arms snaked around your hips.
The door flew open and England stood there, a smirk evident on his face, but as soon as he saw America's expression, he became humble and stepped out of the way without a word. Good. You take the larger man's hand in your and lead him out of the small room that had changed your life. Before anyone could say anything, you give his hand a squeeze.
"I love you, you moronic Hero. I'll always be your sidekick." You finally realize what that third thing was. It was Fries, fireworks….and home.
O-oh gosh, what did I just write? WHAT'S WRONG WITH ME!? I guess reading that many angsty fan fictions can really F up your mental state….I literally have about 15-20 more nations lined up, along with three other stories I desperately need to update, two of which I've neglected for so long everyone's probably forgotten about them But….you guys should check out my Harry Potter crossover (Why You Don't Want a Howler) and my first Prucan fic (The Color or Nothing) but always remember! I love all of you, and that's not just sarcasm to make you think I care, cuz I actually do!