Sorry for the massive long gap! School's nearly over now (one more day!) and I have nothing planned for the holidays, so I'll probably write obsessively for weeks and post three new fanfictions every day. Well, maybe not three, but I'll certainly be able to update more often.

America was feeling pretty pleased with life. America was usually pleased with life, but today was special. He didn't know why, or even how it was any different from any of the other days he declared as special (all of them), but he did know that he was feeling particularly good today. He was just having one of those days where his own awesomeness decided to parade around in front of him, reminding him just how cool he was. And, as he often did when everything was well with the world, he decided to visit Britain. The other nation could be grumpy at times and honestly seemed to hate him at others, but America couldn't help liking him. Besides, it gave him a certain self-satisfaction to be awesome in front of others rather than just for himself.

And so it was that America turned up at the United Kingdom's house one rainy morning. He rang the doorbell, brushed the mud off his shoes on the doormat and waited to be shown in before politely entering the house. Or rather, that's what he would've done if he felt like it. He didn't feel like it, so he just waltzed right on in.

"What's up, British dude!" he yelled, announcing his presence to the world.

"Oh, hello America!" Wales appeared from the living room door and shook his hand. "Not much, really. Same as ever. You?"

America frowned at him. "You're not a British dude. Where's Britain?"

"Britain?" Now it was Wales's turn to look confused. "You mean Great Britain?"

"No, Britain! You know, blond, drinks tea, giant caterpillars attached to his forehead?" America's eyes wandered up to Wales's own forehead. "Wait, are you related to him?"

The lightbulb of realisation flickered on in Wales's eyes. "Oh, you want England!"

"Yeah, England, Britain, same thing."

Scotland, who had been passing through the hallway on his way to the kitchen, stopped dead. "What?"

"England and Britain are the same thing, aren't they?"

"Say that agin, America. I dare ye."

"What? What's wrong?" America looked from the dark blond, curly-haired nation to the redheaded one whose hair looked like he made a hobby of sticking forks in plug sockets, and noticed one similarity. They both had those ridiculous eyebrows. "What's going on?"

"Don't kill him, Scotland," sighed Wales. "Get England and Ireland. I think he needs to hear it. All of it."

"Right ye ae. I'll get them. Ye sit 'im doon and get the whiteboard."

"What whiteboard?" asked America, now, if possible, even more confused. "What are you doing?"

Wales led him through into the living room and sat him down on the settee. "Don't be alarmed, America. We're giving you The Talk."

"The Talk? Oh, don't worry, England's already given me that."

England, who had just entered the room with the others, froze. Wales, Scotland and Ireland all slowly turned to look at him. There were a few seconds of the most silent silence Wales had ever heard before.

"What?" asked England defensively, rapidly turning scarlet. "Someone had to do it! I couldn't just let him breed!"

"That's not the kind of talk we meant, America," explained Wales as the other nations tried valiantly to contain their laughter with England glaring at them in warning of what would happen if they failed. "This is a geography lesson, so pay attention, okay?"

Five minutes later, all four members of the United Kingdom - plus America - were ready to begin. America was sitting on the settee, the sole audience member, and the UK were all gathered around the large wheeled whiteboard Scotland had pushed into the room. They were ready.

"Okay," started England, picking up a marker and writing his own name on the whiteboard. "That's me."

"That's you," agreed America, concentrating hard. He didn't know what he was supposed to be learning but he was damned if he wasn't going to learn it through and through.

Satisfied with America's understanding, England wrote three more names next to his own. "And that's Wales, Scotland and Northern Ireland." He pointed to each of his brothers in turn. Wales gave a little wave, Scotland smiled broadly and Ireland nodded in acknowledgment.

"Right. Hi guys!"

"Hi!" they chorused back.

"Ooh, I get it! They're like your states, right?" he asked, looking at England.

Scotland snorted loudly. "Not bloody likely! Gimme that." He took the marker off England and drew a big, wobbly circle around the four names. "We ae the United Kingdom. A country o' countries, really."

"So you're all countries, but you're a country together as well?"

"It's weird," said Ireland, "but yeah."

"And you're not England?"

"Nae," said Scotland.

"But I do have our capital. London's the capital of England and the United Kingdom."

"But we dae all hae our ain capitals too. Mine's Edinburgh."

"Mine's Cardiff," added Wales.

"And I have Belfast," put in Ireland.

"Okay, I get it," said America, sitting up and smiling widely. This was easy! "You're all separate countries, but you're all Britain together!"

England winced. "So close. There's actually no such place as Britain."

Now that knocked America off balance. "What? Yes there is! You're Britain! I've been calling you Britain for years!"

"That's because it's easier to say than the United Kingdom," said Ireland.

"So the United Kingdom and Britain are the same thing?"

"Nope," said Ireland. He took the pen off Scotland and drew another circle around the other three names, leaving himself off. "You know the long skinny island, with Scotland up the top, England down the bottom and Wales off to the side?"

America thought for a moment, then nodded. "'Course I do."

"That's called Great Britain. It's not a country, it's just the name of an island. Britain is a shortened form of that."

"You left yourself out," pointed out America.

"That was intentional. I'm not on the island of Great Britain."

"Where are you, then?"

"I'm the northeastern section of Ireland."

"Oh, I know her!" America was suddenly even more enthusiastic. "She's awesome! I talk to her all the time at world meetings! She's very busy, though - she always has to leave as soon as I get a chance to speak to her. But she's cool! A whole load of my citizens are from her country, you know. She's just-"

Observing quite a few danger signs in England's sudden stiffness, Ireland thought it best to interrupt. "Anyway, she's not actually called Ireland."

"What? Yes she is! She's-"

"She's called the Republic of Ireland. I am Northern Ireland. 'Ireland' is the name of the island we're both on. We use it as a nickname sometimes, but it's no more of a country than Great Britain is."

"You know Ireland," said Wales. "It's the island west of Great Britain. Looks like a teddy bear."

"Of course I know Ireland," scoffed America, folding his arms and leaning back into the settee.

Just to make sure, Northern Ireland wrote 'The Republic of Ireland' outside the circle, drew another, slightly neater, circle around his name and hers and labelled it 'Ireland'.

"So..." America squinted at the Venn diagram taking shape on the whiteboard, "you're all part of the United Kingdom, and you're also British. Except you," he pointed at Northern Ireland.

"Am too! Just because I don't happen to be geographically on Great Britain doesn't mean I can't be-"

Now it was Wales's turn to snatch the pen away before Ireland threw it at America. "He is British. He's part of the British Isles. Great Britain, Ireland and all the little islands around them are all part of the British Isles." He drew a great big circle around the entire drawing and labelled it 'The British Isles.' "Get it?"

"Yep! You're all the United Kingdom. You're all in the British Isles, but only England, Wales and Scotland are part of Great Britain."

"He caught on faster than I expected," said England, eyebrows raised in mild surprise. "Maybe he's not as stupid as he looks after all."

"Nowhere near, dude!" grinned America, completely missing the double meaning of this statement.

"Congratulations," announced Ireland. "You pass."

"Wait, we're not finished!" England grabbed the pen off Wales. "It's a whole lot more complicated than that! We still haven't told him about the autonomous regions and the Commonwealth Realm and the Crown Dependencies and the British Overseas Territories!"

America's face went from triumphant to confused again in the space of a few seconds and his head slowly began to tilt further to one side the longer England talked. Taking pity on him, Wales took the pen back and snapped the lid back into place. "We'll go into that another day. He's covered the basics, at least; we don't want to overload him."

"Yea, that'll dae fer noo," agreed Scotland.

America left the house of the United Kingdom that day feeling even more pleased with himself than he had been on the way there. Why do they have to be so complicated, anyway? That visit had confirmed what he had suspected all along: the UK was weird. Overly complicated, difficult to understand and, above all, weird. But at least he got it now! He, the United States of America, had faced a British Isles geography lesson - the basics, anyway - and won. That confirmed another of his theories: he was made of awesomeness.

He stuck his hands in his pockets and began to whistle The Star-Spangled Banner. All was good with him, and that must mean that all was good with the world as well. As he turned a corner, he noticed a dark-haired girl walking down the street opposite him.

"Ireland!" he shouted, running towards her with a huge smile breaking out across his face. "Long time no see! How ya been?"

She jumped in surprise, saw the American hurtling towards her and her face went from pleasantly content with life to annoyed and irritated in the space of a few seconds. "Fine, thanks," she said, increasing her speed. Her voice was slightly tight, as though she was bothered by something. I know! I'll cheer her up with my awesome new British Isles knowledge!

"I was just at the United Kingdom's house," he said, jogging to keep up with her.

"How nice."

"And they told me all about how British you were!"

Ireland stopped dead and America ran right into her back. "Excuse me?"

"You know, because you're part of the British Isles! You're British!"

That was the last thing he remembered. He never did quite work out what happened, but all he knew was that he regained consciousness a few hours later lying sprawled on the pavement, he had a killer black eye for weeks afterwards and the Republic of Ireland now refused to talk to him. He had a nagging feeling deep in the back of his mind that he'd done something wrong, but he never listened to nagging feelings deep in the back of his mind anyway. Nevertheless, he couldn't shake the feeling that maybe British geography was a little more complicated than any sane American should ever have to deal with.