One day long, long before the nation's usual shenanigans, England was seated outside, preparing to dine on his afternoon tea. His young colony America rushed toward him. "England, I love you!"
"Oh, is that so?"
"Yeah! SO can I have some pudding?" The boy asked with growing eyes.
"You haven't eaten anything for dinner yet, so no."
"Please~?" America pleaded.
"Well... How about after dinner?"
"But England..." Little America whined. "I WUV you..." And he gave the older nation that you-know-you-can't-resist-me look.
"America..." England sighed, defeated. "...Oh, alright."
And then many, many years later...
"Would you kindly stop rummaging through my fridge and go home?" Britain shot at the American invading his kitchen yet again.
"Take a chill pill, Iggy, I'm not hurting anything. Can I have some of this cake?" America turned to Britain, holding a chocolate cake he found.
"No, you cannot."
"Aw, c'mon!" America pouted.
"I said no, lard-arse."
"What if I said I WUV-"
"It wouldn't work, now go away!"
Lard-arse, a term graciously donated by my British grandmother.