England was trying very hard to ignore the various party-related items strewn around America's kitchen. This proved to be quite difficult, especially when the table was dominated by a massive, half-eaten, fluorescent green cake, and England kept having to lean around it to see if America was still alive. Sadly, he was, as he had been for the last half an hour, which they had mostly spent in an awkward silence.

England grimaced down at the tea he was being forced to drink out of a coffee mug. He couldn't work whether the mug was affecting the taste of the tea, or if it was just awful anyway. "Bloody American", he muttered under his breath, and jumped a little when America's head appeared from behind the stupidly massive cake.

"What did you say?"

"Uh- Nothing."

"Oh, okay then..." America looked at the cake, his eyebrows furrowed. "Are you sure you don't want any of thi-"

"Yes, I'm bloody well sure!"

"Alright, alright, keep your hair on old man!"

"Old- what?" England spluttered. America ignored him.

"I should probably move this, shouldn't I?"

"No, America, you shouldn't, it isn't in the way at all." England replied sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

"Oh, okay then, I'll leave it-"

"I was being sarcastic, you stupid git!"

With England's help, the bright green monstrosity was eventually moved onto the floor, and England finally had a good view of America. America looked a little uptight, England could see now. He was looking anywhere but at England, and something about this irritated him. He coughed, and America jumped, staring straight at him. England realised that now he would have to think of something to say, and his eyes fell on the cake. "So... why the bloody hell is your birthday cake bright green?" England had assumed that this was a simple enough question, but America suddenly blushed bright red.

"I- uh- it's- um-"

"Bloody hell, are you alright?" A part of England hoped that the stuttering was the first sign of the curse taking effect. No such luck, though, America nodded and seemed to calm down when he realised England wasn't really expecting an answer.

After another ten minutes of awkwardness, England was starting to get irritated with the silence, even though it was quite interesting to watch America when he seemed to be thinking. The constant expression changes were quite amusing, and England had to suppress laughter a few times. He noticed that America's expressions seemed to be veering towards determined more often as time went on, until eventually the American managed to look at England, with a now-permanent determined expression. England looked at America expectantly, but it took a few minutes for America to actually say anything.

"England."

"Yes?" England said exasperatedly. America clearly hadn't noticed that England had been paying attention to him the whole time.

"Uhh... I wanted to talk to you about something."

"Yes?"

"Well, uhh... It's about the reason I decided to leave you. You know, on that day."

England barely suppressed a flinch. He noticed that America seemed to be blushing again, something that vaguely worried him. "And?", he barely managed to ask, concentrating more on ignoring the pain in his chest.

"Well, -"

England looked at America blankly, not having the faintest clue what the idiot had just said. "Say that again?" America just looked away, blushing even deeper now. Apparently, he didn't want to repeat it. It amused England to see the usually loud American acting like this. In fact, it was almost cute... It somewhat reminded England of when America was a child. He continued to stare at America, quite enjoying watching him squirm under his gaze.

Eventually, England decided it would be a good idea to try to calm America down. He looked around the kitchen, eyes skimming over the various streamers, deflated balloons and empty bottles. Picking up a bottle, he coughed to get America's attention again. The American flinched, and England waved the bottle. "You got any of these that aren't empty?"

"Bloody hell, I forgot about that!"

"Yeah, and then you took all your clothes off and-"

"Alright, alright, at least I never used to wet the bed!"

"At least I'm not dressed like a frog!"

England looked down at himself. Bollocks, he had forgotten he was still wearing France's uniform. America was laughing hysterically, and England noticed that the pile of empty bottles around the American had increased significantly. England himself hadn't drunk much, since he wanted to wake up tomorrow without a hangover for a change.

"Haha, maybe you should-haha-take it off!"

"I- what?"

"Take it off, it looks awful on you! You always looked better naked!"

England spluttered, then stared at America in shock, his mouth hanging open slightly.

"Close your mouth, Iggy, or I might have to stick my-"

"Alright, you've had enough to drink!"

England stood up and walked round to remove the few bottles that weren't empty from America's side of the table. He couldn't quite believe how much of a pervert America became when he was drunk. I can't blame him though, he thought, he's learnt from my example... England was crossing back to his side of the table, distracted by a sudden flashback, when his foot caught on something, and he began to fall. Bollocks, the bloody cake!

Luckily, England's fall was cushioned by said cake. Unluckily, he was now covered in fluorescent green icing. And America was giggling hysterically. England crawled away from the cake and sat up, glaring at America in time to see the bloody American falling off his chair, still giggling. England rolled his eyes and waited for the bastard to calm down.

America eventually managed to sit up, wiping tears from his eyes and grinning stupidly. "Now you'll definitely have to take that uniform off!" He cried gleefully, his eyes roaming over England's cake-covered body. England tried not to say anything, his eye twitching from the effort.

"Take it off! Take it off! Take it-"

"Shut up, America!"

"Pwease?" America was staring at England with what could only be described as puppy-dog eyes. Bloody hell, he looks cute... Wait, what? England grimaced. America continued to stare at him. England began to get irritated with himself, and wished that America would change his expression. He didn't. England looked at the squished cake on the floor between them, then back at America.

"Pwease take the uniform off, England, I-" America suddenly found himself with a mouthful of cake. England had picked up a chunk of it and thrown it at him, in an attempt to stop the endearing expression that was dangerously close to... making certain parts of him... react, in a way that would have been very awkward if America noticed. America just looked shocked now, and that made him look less cute. Only by a little, though. England sighed, wondering when America had gone from annoying to cute. Probably when England had started drinking, he reassured himself, deciding to ignore the fact that he hadn't had enough to become anything more than slightly tipsy.

England then realised that America's expression had changed again. A grin was spreading across his face, one that looked significantly evil. And England barely had time to register the American's arm moving towards the cake, when a large amount hit his face. He glared at America, and America glared back. Both their faces were caked with green icing. America snapped first, making a snorting noise which quickly developed into a laugh. And, for some reason, England joined in.

"Bwaha, England, you look like an alien!" They both saw Tony walk in, look mildly offended, then walk back out, muttering something that sounded like "I do not look like that fucking limey." This just made both of them laugh harder.

Eventually, they had both calmed down, breathing heavily and clutching their stomachs. America was lying on his side, and he stared up at England, grinning again.

"Hey, England."

"What?"

"Can I lick that icing off your face?"

England frowned at the still clearly drunk American. While the idea sounded oddly, irritatingly appealing, there was no way England would admit that. He decided to just glare, half-hoping that the wanker would just give up. He barely managed to ignore the image that calling America a wanker created in his mind.

"Pwease can I-"

"Don't start that again!"

"But-"

"No!"

America frowned for a moment. Then grinned evilly again. England stared at him warily, waiting for more cake to be thrown. Instead, something heavy flew at him, knocking him over and pinning him down. "What the bloody hell-" His eyes focused, and the first thing he saw was a pair of blue eyes, right above him, surrounded by a face that seemed to consist mainly of green icing. Huh, his glasses must have fallen off when he-England's thoughts stopped when America chuckled softly, his breath tickling England's face. Shit, too close. "Will you get the bloody hell off me?" England tried to move, but he had forgotten quite how strong America was. He could feel himself blushing, and hoped to God that the icing on his face was hiding it. America chuckled again, that evil grin still plastered across his face, and England couldn't help but notice how close their bodies were, and- Oh God, I need to stop thinking about it. Think about something else! Luckily, England was able to conjure a vivid mental image of France skipping around naked. It was enough to calm him down, thankfully. That was, until America licked his cheek.

"Bloody hell! What the fuck do you think you're doing?" America didn't reply. He just proceeded to lick more icing off of England's cheek, making the Brit gasp involuntarily, then struggle to get away again. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy it, it was just that he didn't want America to think he was enjoying it.

But why? A small voice at the back of his mind asked. Are you going to give up on what you've wanted for years because you're too proud to admit that you- "Shut up!" England cried. America stopped licking and stared at him, and England realised that he had said it out loud.

"I didn't say anything."

"No, I- Never mind." England couldn't be bothered to protest when America carried on licking the icing off his face. He knew that there was no way of stopping the American, and- Who are you kidding? You're not even trying to stop him! The voice in the back of his head had an almost teasing tone now. You're enjoying it and you don't want him to stop, because you- SHUT UP -love him! England closed his eyes, thoroughly pissed off. Of course I bloody love him, there's no point in lying to myself now, but I can't let him know that, because- because- England suddenly found it difficult to think, because America had shifted slightly to lick his other cheek, and there was now something hard pressing against his thigh that definitely didn't belong to the Brit.

England tried his hardest to cling to his reasons, but they all evaporated and he couldn't remember why he was resisting, he just knew that he needed to. Then he tried to stop himself from reacting by thinking of naked-France again, but France morphed into the exact person England was trying not to think about. That had the complete opposite effect to the one England had wanted. He prayed that America wouldn't notice. Luckily, America seemed to be too engrossed in licking England to pay attention to much else.

"America." The American carried on licking; England noticed that the more he did so, the better it felt, but he had a feeling that America was getting more pleasure out of it than he was. "America!" England was ignored again. "Fuckit" He grumbled to himself, waiting for a pause in the licking.

The pause came sooner than expected. America stopped for a moment, panting slightly, giving England a chance to move his head slightly... Just to stop him, that's all I'm doing, he reassured himself, although he wasn't sure why he was bothering to make excuses any more. Then America, expecting to lick more icing off, found himself licking England's lips. He froze, his mouth a centimetre away from England's, clearly shocked out of whatever trance he had been in, with a blank expression. Goddamnit, he even manages to be cute when he's being stupid! England thought, and, almost by instinct, moved his head so that his lips were touching America's. Then he froze too. Oh fuck, what the hell am I doing, I can't be doing this, he was probably just licking my face for the icing, he's so bloody addicted to sugar- He tried to move away, but America began to react, devouring England's mouth, letting go of one of his arms to tangle his hand into the Brit's hair so that he couldn't move his head. England didn't particularly mind. This was what he had wanted all along.

England moved his now-free arm up, finding the small of America's back and stroking it, drawing a stifled moan from the American. This made England more aroused, to the point where it was painful being trapped inside his clothes. America had clearly noticed, and moved his hips against England's, drawing a moan from the both of them. The American untangled his hand from England's messy hair, now sure that the Brit wasn't going to move, and began to undo England's cape... Wait, cape? Why the bloody hell am I wearing a- "Oh bollocks!"

Within a few short seconds, everything came flooding back. England's reasons for being there in the first place. He had a sudden burst of strength and managed to roll a very shocked America off of him and sit up in one smooth motion. Then he stood up and, before America could stop him, hurried out of the kitchen, out of the front door, and into the street. America was too stunned to follow him. England didn't care that he was wearing a bloody stupid uniform, didn't care that he was covered in bright green icing. He just needed to get out of there, away from the man he loved. Away from the man I've killed.