Thank you so much for your reviews! I really appreciate them! I'm so glad that you all love the story! It makes me happy that I can write a good story. :D I was a little worried about last chapter, seeing as I was really sick while I wrote it, but it looks like it turned out alright. Thank you all so much for your support! I really couldn't do any of this without you! :)
Please enjoy the next chapter and please review! :D
(A/N) During some quick research, I realized that the G8 aka World Conference includes everyone except China. Just letting you guys know so I don't get complaints of "Where's China aru?" It made me sad too, but I decided I might as while try to keep it historically accurate. :)
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Never before had a World Meeting seemed so intimidating to England. When he would have to speak, he would get nervous about the other county's reactions seeing as they often weren't light or kind with their words. But he knew that he'd be able to deal with their criticism by giving snide comments right back to them. However, he did not have to speak today to all of the countries about his opinions—that would have been easy. No, he had to do something that would be much, much harder.
He had to admit his feelings for America.
England cursed himself for his stupidity yesterday and how he had agreed to France's urgings. How dare the git call him a coward! He pulled on his sleeve nervously as he thought of how he could have just chased France out of his house earlier so he wouldn't have had to agree to this stupidity! He let out a large sigh as he straightened out his clothes unnecessarily—he couldn't back out of this now.
The anxiousness shot up in his body as he found himself in front of the door to the meeting room they'd be in today. He gulped as he thought of what he would have to go through today. What if America was already in there? What if America wasn't here today? What if America despised him for what he had to say? What if, what if, what if? He gritted his teeth as he clutched his hand around the door knob. He had to go in—there was no alternate choice. He turned the knob and entered the room.
He had arrived a little early, and quickly found that not everyone had arrived yet. The far side of the table was taken up by the former Axis Powers, Italy clinging to Germany's arm desperately as he was laughing about something. Germany looked annoyed by this, but didn't do anything to make him stop. Japan looked concerned by their actions and kept a distance from them, but also kept a good distance away from Russia who sat next to him, a small creepy smile on his face. The side of the table closest to the door had two seats open. England's heart clenched when he saw America's light brown hair, his body chilling. He seriously considered leaving the room until he realized that he was actually looking at Canada. He gave a mental sigh, glad that he didn't have to admit anything quite yet. Sat down next to Canada was France who was busy checking himself out in a handheld mirror. For a minute, he glared at him for being so stuck up even in public. He was about to take a seat when he realized that the two empty seats were sitting right next to each other. A scream almost escaped him—he was going to have to sit right next to America throughout the whole meeting!
France must have felt his presence behind him because he turned around, a content smirk on his face. "Aah, bonjour, mon ami!" he greeted, his hair once again caught in a mysterious wind that sent his golden locks swirling. "How are you today?"
"Move," England demanded, glaring at France with all of the hatred he could muster. "Now."
France snickered. "What if I do not want to?" he asked, slipping his arm around Canada who blushed profusely. "I was having a nice conversation with Canada. You know, about how big he is and such…"
"E-eh?" Canada stammered, his face only becoming redder as he clutched his bear closer to his chest. "France, don't say such weird things…"
"I don't care," England hissed, pointing to the open seats. "Just move over one seat! That's all I'm asking!" If they did that, a seat would be open at both ends, France and Canada being between him and America. He just couldn't sit next to America for right now, or else he would go insane!
France glanced at the seats in thought for a moment, as if considering it. Then an evil smile came to his face. "Are you scared, Angleterre?" he drawled, making anger boil up in him. "Why don't you just relax? Surely you want to sit next to your lover?" He let out one of his Frenchie laughs… until England grabbed him by the collar and drug him so his face was only two inches from his own.
"Move or die," England growled. France looked nervous and like he was about to give in and move. But then a smile came to his face. England was about to yell at him for smiling when someone poked him in the middle of his back.
"Dude, what're you doing?"
England froze, feeling his whole body go cold. Very slowly, he turned his head, already knowing what he was going to see. America stood right behind him, his finger still touching his back curiously. His cerulean eyes gazed at him, a nervous smile on his face. His gaze made his body go from frozen to warm in a snap, making the room spin. He let go of France as he turned around to face America, quickly straightening out his perfectly ironed clothes. "Nothing," England said, crossing his arms stubbornly. "Nothing of your concern."
America tilted his head slightly, making England's heart thump. Dammit, he was too cute when he did that. "Okay," he said questioningly as he sat down at the end of the table, leaving the chair next to him open. America looked up at him expectantly, making England blush. "So," he said, patting the chair. "You gonna sit?"
His lips pursed as he looked down at the seat as if it was an electric chair. Giving a sigh as he gave up—it would look suspicious if he denied the seat—he sat down next to him, feeling like the right side of his body next to America was on fire. England looked up only to see several pairs of eyes on him. For a second, he nervously wondered why until he realized that they must have been watching him because of his previous outburst with France. He gave an irritated sigh as he looked down at the table, blood rushing to his face. This did not bode well for the rest of his day.
"Well, let's get started with the meeting," Germany called, standing from his seat. Italy immediately jumped up from his seat as well, still clinging to his arm, a silly smile on his face. Germany looked down at him as he muttered something, making Italy's smile fade, a sad little frown replacing it. Pouting, Italy sat in his chair as he still looked up at him, making some of the other countries laugh—Italy was so cute the way he showed so much affection! Whenever this happened—which was quite often—England would always look away because he thought such displays of love were pathetic. He looked away now because he remembered how America had been like this with him just days before.
As the meeting went on, England did all he could to ignore the fact that America was less than a foot away from him. He wished that he could just turn to him and touch him, kiss him—anything!—without worry. But he knew that, even if somehow America did feel anything for him, he'd back away if he just randomly blurted out that he loved him. He had to approach this carefully, or else it would backfire. He had to come up with a plan, and soon.
"England, what do you think?"
England jumped at his name as his eyes flashed up, feeling the confusion plastered on his face. Everyone was staring at him, waiting for an answer. Blood rushed up to his face as he tried to recall what they had just been talking about. "S-sorry," he said weakly, looking down as he pulled on his sleeve. "I wasn't listening. What are we talking about?"
Germany gave a loud sigh. "We're talking about environmental protection procedures," he said, an intimidating scowl on his face. "What is your opinion on the matter?"
Giving a nervous cough, England sat up straight as he quickly organized his thoughts. "Well, I believe that countries should use less harsh chemicals in fertilizer to help keep soil heal—" England's words cut off as he felt America poke the side of his face.
"But dude!" he said, continuing to poke him in his cheek. "The chemicals do awesome things to the plants! It makes them really big and really good! And then the cows eat them and get radioactive, and then the cows taste really good! If anything, we should put more chemicals in! Then hamburgers would taste even better!"
England felt his eye twitch not only at the stupidity of America's comment, but also because he was touching him. He grabbed his hand to stop him from poking his face and gave him a glare. "You know, that explains a lot about why you act like an idiot constantly."
America's eyes rested for a moment on England holding his hand, but then looked back up at him. "Well, maybe you wouldn't be so grumpy all the time if you actually ate something that wasn't crap," he retorted. England meant to come back at his insult, but was cut off as America poked him in the side with his free hand. He yelped, jumping from the touch as it sent tingles through him. He looked up to see America looking at him curiously. Then he smiled with a look that just screamed trouble. "Are you… ticklish?"
England opened his mouth to deny it, but he couldn't say anything. "Er," he said clumsily, suddenly all too aware of how America's hand was still in his. Not thinking, he let go of it, but immediately regretted it as it found its way to his side, poking him again and making him give another yelp. "D-don't!" he said, scooting over away from him. However, America only took direct commands as challenges. He let out a pathetic cry as America grabbed him by the sides and started squeezing. "Uwaaah!" he cried as he fell off of his chair, America still clinging to him, a mischievous smile on his face.
"Ha ha, England's ticklish!" he yelled, still torturing England's sides as he was on the ground. England tried to get America off of him, but America had a good grip on him and obviously had no intentions of letting him go.
"G-g-get off!" England choked through laughter, his sides aching from the abuse. He grabbed him by the shoulders and tried to push him away, but America had a longer arm length than he did so his aching sides were still in reach. Damn America and his height.
America returned his attempts to get him off with a grin. "Watchya gonna do if I don't?" he taunted, still poking his sides mercilessly. England was about to threaten him when something hit the table, hard.
"Dummkopfs!" Germany yelled, making everyone in the room jump (except Russia of course). "Get back in your verdammt seats! Now!"
Immediately America stopped tickling England, a bemused look on his face. "Heh, sorry Germany dude! I just never knew England was so ticklish! Ha, so funny!" He looked down at England just as the both of them realized just how they were positioned. England felt himself flush as he saw that America's legs had been straddled around him just below his hips. America's face slightly reddened as he jumped up, turning to head back to his seat. He stopped though and turned back around. "Sorry, England," he said, scratching his head in an embarrassed way. He then put his hand out in an offering manner. "Forgive me?"
England stared at his outstretched hand, startled by it for a moment. He sighed as he smiled and took the hand. America smiled at this and helped pull him back up to his feet. "I'll forgive you," he said, not making direct eye contact, not being able to bear seeing those gorgeous blue eyes. "I'll always forgive you, my lo—" His throat felt strangled as he cut off his sentence, his eyes huge. He looked quickly at America, hoping he didn't realize that he had just almost called him "my love." America seemed confused by how he had so abruptly cut off his sentence, so England quickly added, "M-my loud mouthed friend!" Before anything could be said, England rushed back to his seat and clenched his hands together in his lap, refusing to look up.
He was turning into a real idiot.
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The meeting went on without much more excitement happening, seeing as no one wanted to piss off Germany any further. America did his usual fidgeting and odd nonsensical comments, but they seemed to be less able to be contained today. He didn't know why he was having such a hard time focusing today, but he had a hint as to why this was. For some reason, he couldn't settle his nerves because England was sitting right next to him.
It wasn't like this was so unusual—he and America, much to the dislike of the rest of the countries, always sat next to each other. America thought that they were pretty good friends besides that whole Revolutionary War thing, and England was one of the only people America knew he could tell things and know that they would only stay with him. Sure, America was good friends with Japan too, but he knew his secrets could be trusted with Japan only because Japan isolated himself so much. England—he talked with everyone, yet kept his and America's secrets to himself. Only friends did that, right?
But there was something different between them now, and America was completely confused about it. He didn't know how long these feelings had been lasting—a few months maybe? He would look at England and remember back when he was his big, strong, brave brother and how he always protected him. He would think back to then and miss his presence, wish that they were closer than they were now. He wished that they could just sit down and talk like they did centuries ago, just talk like good old friends. But somehow every time they got into a discussion nowadays, America would always find a way to piss England off. He really didn't mean too, it was just that England was still sensitive about some things. America didn't blame him one bit—he hurt too sometimes if he thought about things too much.
"Alright, let's have a quick break," Germany announced, his voice strained. He suddenly looked up at America with a look of pure fury. "Do not go buy yourself a coffee, or else I will kill you."
America looked at him, a little startled by the threat, but just laughed it off. "Hah, okay! I was just planning on getting a Mountain Dew!" Before Germany could come over and pummel him for his arrogance, America got up and walked towards the door. He loved being able to tease people. It was so fun! He mentally cringed at this though—no wonder England was angry at him all the time.
"Er, America?" He turned his head to see England walking up to his, a somewhat nervous expression on his face. America cocked his head curiously—what was up with him today? First he looked like he was seriously about to kill France this morning, and then he had just been stumbling over his words constantly. It was completely unlike him, seeing as he constantly criticized him for his incorrect grammar. Maybe he was feeling sick or something?
"Yeah, s'up?" America asked, shoving his hands in his pockets. "You need something?"
England looked away for a moment, looking like he was about to have a panic attack. "I, er… need to talk with you for a few minutes."
Why did he look so nervous? It was kind of freaking America out, seeing as England was always in such a holier-than-thou attitude. "Okay," America said, putting a smile on his face, trying to reassure England that there was nothing to worry about. "What's up?"
England paused for a moment, looking like he was thinking of backing out. He was about to ask if he was okay, but England grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him out of the room behind him. "In private," England said as he continued to drag America behind him.
"Eh?" America said, surprised by how hard England was pulling him forward. This must have been important if he was making such a big deal out of it. England held fast to his wrist as they walked through the halls, going farther and farther into the building. England must have been dragging him for a good two minutes, making America only more and more confused—what did he need to talk about that was so secret they needed to find the most isolated part of the building? Finally, England chose a random room and pulled America inside with him.
"Dude, seriously, what's up?" he asked for what must have been the twentieth time. England had ignored all of his questions as they had been walking as if he thought he'd get tired of asking eventually. However, he had gotten his stubbornness from him, so he should have known better.
England's shoulders tensed as he turned to face him. "Well, you see," he said, but his voice faded off, his green eyes staring off at the corner of the room. "I, er… I had… a question to ask you."
Suddenly, America's brain jolted as he remembered something. "Dude!" he said, making the other jump from surprise. "I have a question for you too, now that I think about it!"
England looked extremely nervous, but he pulled down on his sleeve as he made his face a mask again. "Alright," he said, crossing his arms. "Well, I… Y-you go first then I suppose. What do you need to ask me?"
"Okay, dude," he said, trying to think of the best way to ask his question and not sound like a complete crazy person. "Well, a couple of days ago, I was just chilling at my house, minding my own business, y'know? Nothing really weird happened, but then I saw this picture of yo—" He paused, not wanting to sound like a total creeper. "Er, this picture. And then I just saw images and weird things. Like…" he paused again, trying to come up with the best word to describe what he saw. "Like… well, like memories. Only I didn't remember them happening. But they were way too real to be dreams or something like that! They looked so freakin' real, man!" He looked up to see England's reaction to this, and felt surprised as he saw that England had gone a shade paler. America was about to ask what was wrong when England finally spoke.
"Just what are you remembering?" he asked slowly, his hands tugging down on his clothing. America knew that this little tick of his was a habit he had when he was nervous. America wondered what he was so worried about.
"Well," America said slowly, trying to think of what he should tell him. "Um, I've seen… er… it's mostly been you." England somehow managed go pale and blush at the same time. "You were happy. Really happy. The happiest I've seen you in, like, ever. And I don't know why I'm seeing things like that, or why they're so clear." America hesitated as he watched England seem to shrink, his mask somehow still on his face, though his emotions were still breaking through. America sighed as he continued. "And that's not it," he said, opening and closing his hands in his pockets. "The other day I woke up and found out that I had missed five days. I didn't remember anything, and things around my house had changed. It really freaked me out. After that, that's when I found the picture." America paused once again to let the new information sink in, letting England rebuild his mask of faux calmness. "So," America said. "What do you think is going on?"
England stood frozen for a few moments, America able to see thoughts running frantically through his mind behind those green eyes. England took in a large breath, obviously trying to calm himself. "I think," England said slowly, cautiously, "that I can't help you figure out what happened. I really don't know what could have happened to cause that."
America knew England well enough to know that he was lying. He was lying directly to his face, and America had no idea why. But he knew that, with England being so stubborn, he would never tell him if the truth if he had already decided to lie. Knowing he was defeated, he sighed. "Okay," he said. "So. What was your question for me?"
England once again froze as if surprised by the fact that he had a question. His eyes flicked back and forth as if looking for a distraction, something to make them forget about the current conversation. "I…" he said, his voice strained. "How… Do you… Do we… What do you think about me?" he finally blurted, his face red.
The question startled America, having not at all expected it. He paused as he thought it over—what did he think of England? "Well," he said, running a hand through his hair. "I think you're a nice guy. You're my closest friend, and I trust you. Sure, you're usually grumpy and kind of a douche sometimes, but you're a nice guy if you actually let people get close to you." He shifted his weight from one leg to another, feeling slightly awkward and on the spot. Such a weird question! "I think you make good tea too. I usually don't drink it, but yours is good."
But America's mind went farther into thought as he continued to map out his answer. He did think England was a really nice guy—at least when you were on his good side. He had grown up with him, and England had always looked after him, even if it hurt ended up with him hurting himself. England had really cared for him, and even if America acted stupid sometimes, he really did appreciate him and all he had done for him. Then the last few months entered his brain, almost begging to be let out. How he would be sitting in a World Meeting and just find himself staring at England; how he would listen to England talk and be lulled by his accent. There was really a lot that he liked about England—but surely England could never return those kinds of feeling for him. England liked to be remote, liked to be left alone. Surely he would never want to be friends or something more with anyone. He just seemed too cold for such a thing. "Well," he asked, his hand still in his hair, "what do you think about me?" He saw the look on England's face and blushed. "J-just out of curiosity!" he added quickly.
Now England paused as he also thought over the qualities of America. "You are kind," he said slowly, looking down at the floor. "You always try to save everyone, even if you know that the chances of success aren't too great. You look out for people. You are funny, though sometimes your jokes are in bad taste. You always try to make people happy, try to make life better for others. Sometimes you're rather immature, but you have that optimism that many people lack now. You never give up. And no matter how many people hurt you, you're always happy and willing to forgive. You are a really good person. Better than I am."
America felt his face redden at all of the comments, a little surprised that England was able to point out as many as he did. He had expected England to tell him he had none or tell him to "bugger off" but he had actually told America his good qualities. America gave him a smile. "Thanks," he said, making the other blush as well. "Now," he said carefully. "Can I ask why you were wondering?"
England froze up yet again, his eyes moving around the room frantically. "It's something…" England began, his voice fading off yet again. "It's okay if you don't feel… I just… we're friends, aren't we?" he blathered, his face only becoming more and more worried as he continued.
Smiling, America laid his hand on his shoulder. He could be so ignorant sometimes. "Yeah," he said. "We're friends."
England looked down at where America's hand lay on his shoulder, looking as if he was shocked that he was able to touch him. America thought that he was being offended by his touch and was about to move his hand. He found this difficult though when England took it with his hand, intertwining his fingers with his. "America," he said, looking down at the joined hands. "America, I… I love you."
For a moment, America just stared at England, his mind trying to figure out what he had just heard—love? He said that he loved him? He meant to say more, but a familiar feeling of faintness came over him as his entire vision went black. He felt his head land on something, but wasn't able to look to see what it was as things flashed before his eyes. At first, they were memories he clearly remembered from his childhood. He saw himself running after England through a green field, a smile on his face. "I wov you, Engwand!" he cried happily as he stayed directly behind him. It flashed to him and England sitting and reading, America in England's lap, his head pressed against England's kind, loving shoulder. "I wov you," he said softly as he faded off to sleep, being consoled by England's accent. Images of England teaching him how to shoot, how to hunt, how to tie a tie. Then flashes of the Revolutionary War, images of England on the ground, sobbing as he lost his precious America. I'm sorry, he so desperately wanted to say but was unable to. Images of all their meetings during World War II, how England had finally started talking to him again. How they had finally once again become friends. Then new images entered his mind—ones that he didn't recognize, yet felt so familiar. England in his arms as he carried him to bed, England cooking for him, England hugging him. Then the image of them kissing flashed through his head, sending a jolt through him. "England, I love you," he had said, cuddled up next him, sharing their warmth. Then England had finally said it.
"I love you too."
Finally, the images ended, and America was coming back to the present. He opened his eyes, his head hurting from all of the memories he had just experienced. He felt his face rubbing against fabric and a loud voice in his ear. A British voice. He lifted his head to find that it had been on England's shoulder as he had been passed out. Finally, England's noise became words. "…okay? Answer me! Are you okay? America!"
"What?" he said quietly, clutching his head in mild pain. "Y-yeah, I'm fine. Just dizzy."
He felt England grab him by the shoulders, making him sit upright. Wait, sit? He looked down and saw that they were on their knees on the ground. England must have caught him and lowered him after he had passed out. "What was that?" England asked, his face full of concern. "What happened just now?"
"I'm not sure," America answered, wiping sweat from his face. "I just saw more memories. A lot of them."
England stared at him, his hands still holding him up. "What did you see?"
America paused as he watched England and really looked at him. Those green eyes filled with worry, his large brows furrowed with concern. His clothes looked like they were getting wrinkled, but he didn't seem to care at the moment. All he cared about right now was him. All he had ever done was care about him.
He smiled as he leaned forward, letting his face inch towards England's. "Everything," he answered, a note of wonder in his voice. "England. I remember everything."
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Kyaaa! He remembers! AAAH! :D See England? Having feelings isn't bad. ;D
Also, I got the whole tickle fight idea from Chatouilleux? by KittyLovesHetalia. So I didn't steal it per say… just adapted it. :) You should read it by the way! It's FrUk, but still cute. :)
Thank you so much for reading! Please review! :D
