America continued to eat his burger as England got dressed and prepared upstairs. However, America wasn't wolfing down his burger, surprisingly. He was too lost in thought. Were there any other moments that England was like that? America scanned through his memories of his childhood. He never really thought about those days much, even though he cherished those memories, but they brought up painful memories as well. "Maybe that moment was just a fluke," America thought, staring down at his now-cold burger. Memories of England cooking for him, he always looked so cheerful while he cooked, returned to America. He remembered England teaching him many things, like how to fire a gun. He couldn't remember anything that was out of the ordinary like the short-shorts incident. Maybe it WAS just a fluke. America sighed, feeling relief, and something…else? He lifted his hand to his chest, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "Why would England think that way, anyway?" America thought to himself, laughing. "There's no way England could ever like me that way…." Then America suddenly realized. Another memory was slowly returning to him. "Never like me that way…" He repeated. "When have I said that before?" He thought, for it sounded strangely familiar. "He didn't mean it in that way," America finally said, out loud, as he remembered his own words that he had said in the past.
Little, thirteen-year-old America waited impatiently on a couch by the front door, kicking his legs and staring at the grandfather clock. He always hated when England does this. Doesn't England realize how much he worries when he stays out late drinking? America knew something was upsetting him. Something was happening in the world, and America knew that England was keeping things from him. Finally, he heard the sound of a flower pot being tipped over. Drunken England was home, and was staggering up the steps to the front door, knocking things over as he did. America jumped off the couch and opened the door, and England would have hit the floor if America wasn't there to catch him. England chuckled, a blissful expression on his face. America knew it was most likely false. "Sorry…" England said, trying to stand up straight. America wrapped England's arm around his shoulder to help him walk to his room. Luckily America was amazingly strong. As they slowly climbed the stairs, America fought back tears. He hated the fact that something was bothering England so much, that had made him want to get this drunk. "It must be bad…" America thought, a pained expression on his face. On the way to England's room, England talked to him like he was telling a story, but America couldn't understand anything he was saying, and eventually they reached the bedroom and he flopped England down on the bed. "Okay…" America thought, thinking about what to do next. He started by taking off England's shoes, and England protested by saying things like, "No, I can do it myself…" or "Don't worry about me, America…" but America continued on to England's jacket. "I'll just take off his jacket. He'll just have to sleep in his clothes tonight; I really don't want to have to change his clothes for him," America thought as he undid England's buttons. "America…" England mumbled and grabbed America's shirt collar. America directed his attention away from the buttons and looked up at England, who had sat up. England's eyes were half-lidded and his face was pink and his mouth was formed into a smirk. "If you really want to do that, you have to do this first…" England said teasingly, and connected America's lips with his own. America's eyes grew wide, and England pulled him closer, deepening the kiss. America rose his hands to England's shoulders trying to push him away. England broke the kiss and chuckled. "Don't you know how to seduce at all, America~? Gosh, what kind of parent am I, can't even teach my own little kid how to do anything right…." England's arm slipped from America's collar and he slumped back, falling asleep. America sat on the bed for a moment, trying to process what had just happened. America decided that it was entirely the alcohol talking and decided to act like this never happened, "He didn't mean it that way," he had thought to himself, and soon America himself had forgotten….
Until now. America sat in England's kitchen, his hand gripping his chest tightly, his heart beating uncontrollably. America was struggling with three emotions….shock from the sudden remembrance of the incident, slightly disturbed….and how excited that memory was making him. He gulped down his cold burger and started to cough, and then England walked into the room. "Don't swallow it whole, you git. Gosh, didn't I teach you anything?" England said. America turned pink and began to cough even more violently.