Rivalry

Part 19

America had never felt so confused in his life. Why had he done that? He hadn't been thinking. He'd just been angry…furious at Prussia. And he'd…he'd…

He'd kissed Iggy.

Who was standing beside him right now, watching as Germany attempted to explain why he was there with Romano and Veneciano—although he kept getting interrupted by Romano, so he wasn't getting very far—and Veneciano was hanging off of his arm and going on about pasta. Which probably wasn't helping either.

America couldn't help but watch him. Was he upset? He wasn't acting upset or anything… What was he supposed to do now? Why had he done that?

And suddenly England was looking up at him, possibly sensing that he was being stared at. America immediately looked away, a flush crossing over his face as he pretended to find the wall incredibly interesting. How in the world was he supposed to ever look at him again after that? He'd just kissed him.

"America?"

He winced slightly at the word, jerking slightly away from the other nation. "Uh, yeah." He turned slightly, more than ready to defend himself. Say it had just been an accident…

But England's expression immediately pushed all of those intentions away. He looked…hopeful…and happy. Happier than he'd seen him look in a long time.

And then suddenly he was being tugged away from the crowd of now arguing nations. As Romano was yelling at Germany about something that wasn't even close to the subject they'd initially started with. He reluctantly followed England, knowing that he probably didn't have too much choice in the matter. England's grip was tight enough that he might risk losing an arm if he tried to break away now.

They walked out of the restaurant without another glance back, England leading them down the street, still holding onto his wrist, until they'd reached a nearby park. Only a few people were out now due to the late hour, so they were mostly alone. He took a seat on a bench under a street lamp and then stared up at the younger nation expectantly.

"Why did yo—?"

"I can explain, Iggy!" America hurriedly interrupted him. Not that he had any idea how he'd explain it, but it sounded good to him.

Until England stood up again and stared up at him, his expression still curiously blank. America felt his heart race at the sudden close proximity and started to take a step backwards.

But was cut off when a pair of arms snaked around his neck and a pair of warm, slightly chapped lips pressed against his own. Effectively cutting off both his escape route and most of his mental processes.

England didn't allow him much time to react, as he drew his lips back after a few seconds, now just staring up at him with a slightly unfocused expression. "Alfred? What was that?"

Wasn't that what he was supposed to be asking? He wasn't the one who'd just kissed somebody out of the blue. "Uh, what?"

England continued to stare at him and then slowly brought his lips back against America's, deepening the kiss this time, although still remaining somewhat hesitant.

And now America's brain finally decided to kick in. He suddenly wrapped his arms around England's waist, pulling him against his chest in an almost violent motion, managing to somehow knock both of them off balance so they fell back onto the bench.

England yelped, attempting to jerk away from the other male. "Ow…what was that for?"

America completely ignored his question. As England was now sitting on his lap…and looked completely flustered… and…fuck.

"I—I don't—" His mind was threatening to short circuit… He was having one of those odd situations where he felt like he had a devil on one shoulder and an angel on the other. Although in this case, both were saying the same thing 'Kiss him again!'

What was wrong with him? He—he didn't like England that way, did he? He—well, he had freaked out on Prussia because he was…was…he wasn't jealous, was he?

Okay, maybe he had been jealous. Although he couldn't understand why…

England was starting to get a little annoyed by America's lack of response. The idiot was just sitting there, not doing anything after pulling him over. He frowned slightly and then moved his hands to the younger nation's hairline, lightly brushing the pads of his fingers through the blonde strands for a moment, sensing America relax slightly at the gentle motion… And then he tugged. Hard.

"Ow!"

"What you said to Prussia. You said that I was 'yours'. What did you mean by that? Answer me."

"Eh—eh—" America blushed an even brighter shade of red and then hurriedly stated, "Eh, nothing! Just—I wanted Prussia to stay away from you. You—he's totally not right for you."

And now England smirked slightly, leaning closer so his lips almost brushed against America's ear. And people told him that he got flustered too easily. "Mm, he's not right for me? Then who is right for me?"

"Ah…" America hesitated for a long moment. Then mumbled, "Ah, someone more—more—not creepy and albino-like."

England had to hold himself back from smacking his former colony across the face.

"I think you'll need to be more specific than that. I mean, it's not everyday that I get a marriage proposal and I mean, Gilbert is relatively attractive…"

And suddenly he was getting crushed against America's chest again. Which was actually somewhat enjoyable, as he smelled rather pleasant. Like a mixture of leather and some sort of cologne—although just a bit of cologne, not enough to be obnoxious. Although there was also a slight overhanging scent of hamburgers, which he attempted to ignore.

"Iggy! You can't accept! You wouldn't, really? I mean, especially if you weren't really dating."

Hmm, France had been right for once. America was jealous. "I don't see why I shouldn't."

"Because you can't!" And now the grip was getting just a tad too tight. "You can't!"

"And why not?" Come on, just say it…

"Be—because…because I love you, Iggy!"

A/N: FINALLY!!!

Aiyah, that took him long enough.

Okay, and I've finally got a title (and plot) for the PruCan story. It'll be called "Changement" which is French for Change (shocker, right?) And that's all you get for now.