Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia Axis Powers. All rights go to its creators.

Chapter 5: England

England and Belarus caught the next flight to London and drove to Cotswolds, a few days later. England had a Victorian style house, but that didn't mean it was full of butlers or maids, or any other people. It was just as empty as Belarus's cottage. Except for the occasional mythical creatures that stopped by. England stepped into the large house, breathing in the familiar air before he turned to Belarus who looked around. Her blue eyes were cold and calculating as she set her bags down.

"You have a large house. No one lives with you?" She asked.

"No. I tend to like my solitude just fine." England said with a huff.

"So where will I sleep?" She asked.

"Would you like me to grab a bag? We'll be going upstairs."

Belarus eyed her bag and England's outstretched hand. She begrudgingly handed him one of her bags while she held onto the other. England took it, immediately being weighed down. What the bloody hell is in this bag? Rocks?! He made a grunting noise before walking up his familiar oak wood stairs. They creaked a bit as they stepped upward. England took Belarus past the upstairs bathroom to a room at the end of the hall.

Belarus placed her bag on the bed, and England awkwardly stood to the side after having put her bag beside the chest of drawers.

England cleared his throat, "Ahem well I'll be downstairs. Come down when you get settled in. Would you like a cupa?" Belarus gave him a single nod before returning to her bag. England went out of the door.

Hopefully Russia won't hurt me, I did free him. Even he should understand that.

England went into the kitchen and put on the kettle. He brought out two tea cups, saucers and spoons for them both. England felt the corners of his lips quirk upward in a smile, I haven't fixed tea for two in a while. England shook his head before returning his lips to a frown, Don't get nostalgic. He set them on the counter and reached in the cupboard to get the tea bags. After putting them in he waited for the water to boil.

What should I have her do?

England made a mental list of the things he would have Belarus do. The place could do for a good sweep, the dishes could be washed, I haven't dusted those "family" photos in a few weeks. My study is cluttered with papers-the whistle of the kettle interrupted his thoughts. England rushed to pour them two cups of Earl Grey tea. He added milk and brought out the sugar just in case Belarus wanted some.

England went upstairs to see if Belarus wanted to come down for tea.

"You don't have to, If you want I could bring your tea up and you can have it whenever you'd like," He said through the door.

"No. I will come down." She said opening the door.

England and Belarus were across from each other. The only sounds were the occasional sip from the tea cup and the clink of the cup upon either of them setting it down on the saucer. England could feel Belarus's eyes on him. She had a habit of staring, England assumed, and it didn't make him any less uncomfortable. England looked down at his tea, avoiding her eyes. England felt blush on his cheeks before he couldn't take the silence and the staring anymore. "So, what are your hobbies Belarus?" England wanted to cringe at how bad he was at small talk. Did he really give a shite about Belarus's hobbies? No. He just wanted this air of unease and tension to fade.

Belarus blinked her eyes, "Huh?" She was daydreaming?! "Did you ask me something?" She asked, her brows furrowed.

"N-no let's get started with your housework, shall we?" Belarus nodded. England got up and grabbed their teacups before depositing them in the sink to wash later. "I'll show you where I keep my cleaning supplies." England said leaving the kitchen and walking down a hallway, past the bathroom and to a storage closet on the right. He grabbed a broom, and dust pan. "The broom and dustpan go in here. On the shelf up top are some rags, bleach, wipes and window cleaner." He said, handing her the materials. "When you're done sweeping wash the windows."

"Ok I can do that."

England watched as she walked down the hall to the living room to start sweeping. England walked back to the kitchen to wash a few dishes. He grabbed the dish soap and a sponge to start scrubbing.

England could only hear the running water. At least she's quiet. England turned to see Belarus sweeping diligently, her face serene. This is how it should be. England found himself imagining if he'd recruited some other nations to work for him.

Italy. He'd probably break all of my dishes. 'Oops. I didn't see those there. Ve~'

France. He'd probably wear some silly outfit and dirty up my house even more just for shits and giggles. 'Did you want me to sweep the floor? Oops I spilled some syrup. Oh darn I got mustard on your white shirts. Oh how clumsy of me. Ohonhonhon~.'

America. He'd probably whine and moan about doing every task I assign. 'This is gonna take forever! Jeez I can't help it if I broke off a doorknob. Your house is like a million years old, I'm super strong remember?'

China. He'd do a good job but he'd probably poison my food.

England shook his head. By then he'd finished the dishes.

Belarus had started washing the windows in the front of the house.

She was outside, swiping the rag in circles. Her eyebrows were furrowed in concentration, her gaze upward as she scrubbed a spot overhead. He could see her pastel pink lips, delicate eyelashes, and blemishless skin. England wondered how he hadn't noticed how acutely feminine Belarus was before.

And then she shifted her gaze to England, who upon realizing that he was just staring at her through a window, gave out a startled cry. His face grew warm with blush and he quickly changed direction and went towards his study.

England sat in his study. He was at his desk that was covered in papers with his head in his hands. What am I doing?

England looked up from his hands. I might as well tidy up this study a bit. England got up and grabbed a few papers. He skimmed them, a few were old so he crumpled them up and threw them in the waste bin. England sorted through a few more and made a neat stack with the remaining bills, letters, and other paperwork he had to fill out. He picked up the various pens and pencils on the ground. He placed them in the cupholder and crawled under the desk, his hand feeling around for a pen, the light in the room not reaching under the desk.

"England, where do you keep your ladder?" He heard Belarus ask.

England bumped his head on the desk, in getting up. "It should be out in the garage."

He crawled backwards, sitting up on his knees. He was startled to see Belarus squatting beside him, they were at eye level. "W-why are you down here?" He asked, at her close proximity, blush creeping up his neck. She raised an eyebrow. England clutched the pen in his hand and grabbed the top of the desk to get back up. He held out his hand to help her up, but she just stood up on her own.

"I'll show you to the garage." He said walking past her, grabbing a set of keys and going out the back door. A small cobblestone trail led to the garage. On either side of the trail was grass, on the left a few rose bushes surrounding a small birdbath. On the right were primroses, marigolds, and orchids growing by the fence.

On the patio sat a small white round glass top table, with one white metal chair.

England unlocked the garage before pulling it up and going inside. Hung on the walls were an array of gardening tools. England grabbed the ladder, and leaned it against the side of the house. "You might need the hose as well." England went to the tap, turning on the water.

He handed her the nozzle, and Belarus started her ascent up the ladder. "I could hold up the ladder for supor-."

"Just don't look up my dress." She replied, not even glancing back at him. "I-I wasn't going to!" What kind of person does she take me for? France? England scoffed in indignation. Belarus was hunched over, spraying the window, but really all he could see was her derriere from his position. And England briefly wondered if he was in some kind of 9th circle of hell to find the most intimidating nation sexually attractive to the point of actually wanting to grab a handful of her arse.

England felt his heart thump in his chest, and he gripped the ladder so hard his knuckles turned white, he begged his arousal to go down

"I'm coming back down." Belarus said. England stepped aside as she descended towards the ground. She looked at him, eyeing his presumably red face, before she held up the spray nozzle. "What are-"

She sprayed him in the face.

"Why the bloody hell did you do that?" He asked, wiping his eyes. Belarus grabbed the ladder and walked towards the other side of the house.

"I will do the rest myself." She said as England blinked, hair and face still soaking wet.

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England dried off with a towel, inside. He sat on the couch with a mystery novel he'd been meaning to finish and a good cup of earl grey beside him. When he'd finished the novel, he noticed it was now nightfall. The backdoor opened and the heavy trudge of Belarus's boots weighed on his wooden floors. The dirty blonde flopped onto his couch ungracefully. There was the beginning of perspiration on her face. "I finished washing the outsides of all the windows," she said through heavy breaths.

"Good, that's fine for today Belarus. How about I make us some dinner?" Belarus sprung up from the couch. "I'll make dinner Tea Drinker."

"But you're exhausted, and you're my guest. What kind of host would I be if I didn't cook for you?" Belarus shook her head and went straight for the fridge.

"Belarus!" England said from over her shoulder.

"You know what they say about your cooking? I do not want to die." She said grabbing some peppers and bringing them to the counter. England pursed his lips.

"That's not true! It's an old rumour, my cooking is superior to everyone else's!" England crossed his arms. Belarus brought out the beef steaks, onions and carrots.

"I won't take any chances."

"Hey! Let me show you! You'll see my cooking isn't bad!" England said grabbing her arms over the counter. Belarus looked at him, face pulled into a frown. She challenged him with her eyes, as England furrowed his eyebrows not backing down.

Belarus sighed before saying, "Fine, if you want to impress me go ahead."

"Impress you? No! I just want to rub it in everyone's faces when you tell them that you enjoyed my cooking." England said with a sneer. "I'm definitely not doing this for you!" He continued as she looked at him unfazed, heat tingeing his cheeks.

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Belarus and England ended up having to scrub stew off the walls and the floors as England allowed it to boil over and explode.

In the end they ordered Chinese take-out.

Belarus let out a snicker, as she slurped her noodles. "I'll be sure to tell everyone about how you ruined dinner."

England frowned, "Shut up." He grumbled stabbing chicken with his fork.

England glanced at her as she snickered again, her dark blue eyes twinkling with mischief, and felt a small smile of his own form.

A/N: Thank you for reading! Criticism Welcome.