A/N:Ugh. So I've learned that I should no longer write fanfictions at three in the morning. No good comes of it. I left out more than half the stuff I wanted to put in the last chapter.

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The next day, America called England fairly early in the morning, asking if he wanted to spend the day at the park. England had to stop himself from laughing at the idea. A day strolling the park with the fast-paced American? It seemed silly. England accepted, though, only because he was afraid that America would lose his confidence if he told him that he was trying too hard. After hanging up the phone, England glanced outside. It was over-cast, but wasn't cold. A park date shouldn't be too bad, as long as they brought umbrellas, just in case.

While he waited for America to show up, he sat and tried reading a book. Unfortunately, the words just wouldn't meet his eyes. With annoyance, he shut his book and sprawled out on the couch. He still felt that uneasiness that he had labeled "hope" tugging at his heart. Hope, he had decided, was one of the worse emotions, fighting against his realistic mind and making him feel optimistic. Hope was a terrible, wonderful, absurd emotion. He was sick of it. He had to be prepared for the chance that America would never return his feelings in the same way. That thought made his stomach sick. He guessed that hope had its place; it was keeping him from falling into despair.

England was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of heavy rain hitting his roof. He sighed. So much for a day at the park, he thought. For a moment, he waited for the sound of his phone, for America to call and say he wasn't coming. So he was completely surprised when he heard a knock at the door.

"Did that idiot come all the way here in the rain?" he said to himself. When he opened the door, America rushed in, soaking wet.

"England!" he cried. "I was halfway to your house when it started raining and I didn't know what to do, so I ran here." England put a hand to his head.

"Why didn't you just turn around?" he asked. America crossed his arms.

"I told you, I didn't know what to do. It started raining so fast!"

"Welcome to the U.K." England muttered.

"Huh?"

"Nothing, I'll go get you a towel." England left, then returned in a moment with a towel, throwing it over America's head.

"Thanks. I don't suppose I could borrow some clothes or something?" he asked, drying his hair.

"I don't think I have anything that will fit you," England responded with a surge of annoyance. Even after all these years, it still bothered him that America was taller than him. He sighed. "But I guess you can't stay in those wet clothes." He motioned for America to follow him, and walked down the halls to his room. He pulled a clean robe from his closet and told America to change in the bathroom.

While he waited for America, England wandered into the library. He pulled a book from the shelf and casually flipped through the pages, finding it to be one of the old fairy tale books he read when he was younger. In fact the last time he had read it was back when…

"Hey!" America exclaimed, coming into the library, dressed in England's robe. "I remember that book. You used to read it to me when I was little." England felt a wave of nostalgia come over him, then slowly it replaced itself with a deep sadness. He put the book back in its place on the shelf.

"Seems like it was forever ago, but I guess it hasn't been all that long," England said. "Kinda makes me miss old times." Beside him, America shifted uncomfortably.

"You can't really say you wish I was still your little brother," he finally said. England shook his head.

"No, I just miss the times when we were so close," he responded.

"We're close now," protested America quietly, moving a little closer to England. The older man chuckled.

"I know. It's just that since the…" he forced himself to say it, "the Revolution…I feel like there's been a wall between us." England was shocked when he felt himself be pulled into a tight hug. He looked up into America's blue eyes.

"See? There's nothing in between us," whispered the younger nation. He moved in, hesitating for a single second, and then pressed his lips to England's. The kiss was sweet and soft; England never wanted it to end. In the centuries he'd been in love with America, he never imagined that kissing him would've felt this good. But in a few moments the same thought seemed to strike both men at the same time; America was barely dressed. They broke apart, embarrassed.

"Um," America started," so the rain has stopped."

"Yeah, I guess it has."

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Do I even need to say the ending was crap? xD; Oh well. Anyway, there should be maybe two more chapters. Something like that. Please leave a review. :)