Hello again! I'm back with more for this chapter and I really hope you enjoy it, even if it is a tad short. I hope I'm doing justice to the Hetalia characters so far, because I feel like I'm really taking on a responsibility when writing about countries here! I've been to England, but I don't think I stayed long enough to know him, the depictions in Hetalia though seem to be pretty true to how countries generally act in world affairs. In my opinion at least. I think America, for example, is spot on for the most part except we've done some shitty stuff too (sorry indians/ Iraqis!) but now I'm getting political and should stop before someone surely eats me :O. Anyway, enjoy!

I OWN NOTHING

"Why love if losing hurts so much? We love to know, that we are not alone."- C.S. Lewis

England woke up in bed alone, staring at the golden light across the ceiling that told him it was still early morning. He silently cursed the insatiable crow cawing outside the window that had woken him from a relatively happy dream, and refused to let him return to it. Rolling to his side, the former empire wasn't too surprised to not see America there, he never could stay put more than five minutes the git-face, but he did let himself admit that he was a bit disappointed. So far the former colony had been better at signs of affection than he had, but he still had yet to master the common decency of waiting till England had woken up before scampering off to do God knows what! He sighed as the realization that sleep was not coming anymore sunk in. Of course the dream had to be about America, the golden haired nation thought, it was just like Morpheus to roll out a welcome mat like that when he hadn't been to his colony- former colony's- home in so long. And god, if America didn't look exactly like the teenager of almost two centuries ago when he took those glasses off. It was cruel really, and it made England feel like some sick pervert that lusted after younger faire, his former 'brother' no less! He put the thought out of his head as that now too familiar feeling found his heart again. Maybe it was guilt, maybe not, after all America said he had felt the same way towards England. So what was it? And then the thought slowly, and painfully dawned on him.

"It's me," England whispered to himself "it's me and my pride." That stiff upper lip and English pride he always held in such high esteem was what was doing him in. He couldn't look at himself in the mirror and think "I'm going to be beneath that bloody rebel" both literally and figuratively. Bowing, and giving others praise above himself just wasn't something England did, because there wasn't anyone in the world who deserved it...except now he loved someone and that was all he wanted to do.

Suddenly England's eyes shot open when the pungent smell of breakfast came wafting through the room and tickled his nose. Now fully awake, he kicked his legs over the side of the bed and moved quietly downstairs, following the smell and the sound of America's voice that slowly grew louder.

"Ok so I really liked the dancing we put in the last one but I feel like people are getting tired of those so listen to this: Aliens! Don't you give me that! Listen it will be great and have a real message about war and-"

America seemed to be talking on the phone about his next big movie. England rolled his eyes at the younger country's obsession as he the conversation changed tack

"Ok so we'll start that in a few months ok? I got to go I have someone on the other line, bye! Yes, sorry I'm back. Now about those care packages to England,"

The older nation stopped walking at the mention of his name

"Yeah, he's still rationing over there and so are his people so I want the idea of people sending him food and stuff popularized. Yeah I know I'm sending stuff but I want more over there ASAP! Ok you get the idea? Thanks, ok bye." He hung up the phone and England could hear humming and swing music now issuing from the kitchen. His mind still couldn't function right, America had been helping him ever since the war began, before he was even officially involved, so England didn't get why his heart overflowed at hearing this one phone call. He turned the corner and found himself shutting his eyes quickly to the blinding sunlight coming through the windows and reflecting off the polished metal surfaces, although when he opened them again England felt as though he was still being blinded.

Food. Everywhere was food. More food than the tiny island had seen in one place at one time since…he couldn't remember. There was bread, muffins, jam, croissants, fruit, cereal, waffles, syrup, eggs, sausage, and bacon stacked on top of plates, scattered around the room.

Hearing a noise behind him, the taller country turned around and let a wide grin spread across his face like soft butter on warm toast. "Morning England!" he said, waving a batter-covered whisk in a gesture of hello, sending gobs of the thick mixture flying "Glad you're up, I was just about to wake you. Do you like chocolate chips in your pancakes or not?"

England simply stood in the doorway gawking for a moment before America's question fully resonated in his ears.

"Um, no thanks America."

The younger country furrowed his brow "Hey are you ok? Would you rather have something else or…?"

"No that's not it you wanker!" he yelled back and then adjusted his voice a tad "I'm sorry but, are there more people joining us?"

"No, why?" America asked even more puzzled.

The smaller country rubbed the back of his neck, beginning to feel put on spot "Well it's just a lot of food. I mean, probably not for you, and not that that's a bad thing or what have you but I…" the sentence trailed off, and England gave an expressive shrug towards his former colony. He wasn't even sure why he felt this awkward, most of his food during the war came from America so this really wasn't that different, it was just that even that food was still being rationed, far from the near feast that was built on the kitchen table. Plus the fact that America hadn't prepared all the meals they shared during the war whilst prancing around the kitchen probably had something to do with it.

America quickly poured the contents of the pancake batter into the frying pan "Aww, please don't worry England I wasn't trying to make you feel bad or anything! I just want you to be-"

"Happy, yes I know!" The golden haired country interrupted "Now shut up, I'm not a child I don't need every action explained to me!"

"Well….Fine!" America pouted and turned back to making pancakes as England took a seat at the table.

There it was, this feeling of breaking again. Why was it so persistent around America, when all he really wanted was to enjoy his company? England almost wished he could forget his pride just for a moment (for that was surely what must be causing this feeling, England thought) and allow himself to just love, almost, but his pride was all that had kept him alive and full for so long and he couldn't just let that go…God, England thought, he really was bad at this whole "Couples" thing.

America flipped a pancake over with a shaky hand "Oh God, England must really hate me now!" he thought "All I wanted to do was make him feel at home, well not his home right now but, yeah home! Why didn't I think he would be mad at me for all this food? Why?!"

He flipped the soft concoctions onto a plate and carried it over to the already heavily laden table England was sitting at, bathed in sunlight from the tall windows that surrounded him and eying the plate of scrambled eggs hungrily.

"You can start eating without me, its fine." America said, then before he could sit down ran over to take a now screaming kettle off the stove. "I made tea, but I'm not sure if I did it right, its been a long time since I made any and I've always just learned by watching you so-"

"I'm sure its fine." England interjected in what he hoped was a comforting tone "And America," The younger country's head snapped around to look at his former master, only to find their lips pressed together softly, but meaningfully "thank you."

That same goofy smile America loved wearing sprang up on his face again.

"No problem, anytime!"

*_*_*_*

"Where love rules there is no will to power; and where power predominates, there love is lacking. The one is the shadow of the other."-Carl C. Jung