"Igirisu-san! Sumimasen - Igirisu-san!"

Oh. Right. His name in Japanese.

England turned to see the small, white-clad form of Japan walking quickly towards him. Japan, England thought, was one of the rare few who could elicit a real smile from the frown. He was a good friend.

"Konnichi wa, Nihon." England dipped his head in greeting and Japan did the same – only looking much more real and, well, Japanese. "I have not spoken to you in a while, Igirisu-san. How have you been keeping lately?" Japan looked at him with the eyes of countless emperors, gruesome battles, weathering experience and England found that he could not lie or avoid the question. Not to this wise Nation. He smiled wanly at his friend and continued to walk down the sidewalk.

"I'm a little bit emotional night now, actually, and it's quite annoying to tell the truth."

"Ah, Igirisu-san, wakarimasu," Japan spoke softly. I noticed you seemed a rittle off at the meeting. Amerika-san desu ne?"

Damn. Japan noticed.

England shoved his hands in his pants' pockets and Japan dropped an empty plastic bowl of Instant Ramen into a trash can.

"…Is it that obvious?"

"Well, I do not sink I would say that, Igirisu-san. I merery read the atmosphere between the two of you and determined as such." England heard this and stared at the concrete beneath his feet then suddenly back up at Japan as if realizing something.

"Hey, Japan. You and America are good friends – even after the…war. How is that possible?"

Japan's answer came quickly, as if he was absolutely confident in his reasoning. "Wiz Amerika-san, I keep an open mind. As does he. I was open to forgiveness – as was he and our friendship resulted. We are open to each other's differences. We arso find out what we both enjoy and act on this knowredge."

Here Japan paused and England could feel his eyes boring into the side of his head. "If I may state my honest opinion, (at this England nodded - it wasn't everyday Japan did this) I berieve if you were to open your mind, Igirisu-san, you would be happier." England must have been silent a while because Japan spoke again. "I am deepry sorry if my answer has affected you in any way negativery."

England shook his head. "No, not at all – I thank you. But… I wish America would do so for me."

Japan's eyes shone. "Oh, but he tries. He gets ahead of himself, though and cannot help it; you must accept this if you wish to get croser to him."

England blanched. "Who said I wanted to get close to him?"

Japan bowed his head. "Ah…certainry not me, Igirisu-san. I am simpry trying to help."

They had reached the office building and England held the door open for his friend (arigatou gozaimasu.) He touched Japan on the shoulder. "Listen…Japan. I really do appreciate the help and kind words and I apologize for any rudeness on my part. Now if you will excuse me." Japan bowed once more and watched England's poker straight back recede down the hallway. He hoped the former empire would be alright.

I tried my best, Amerika-san…

Meanwhile, England headed into the restroom to splash some water on his face. Hopefully it would clear his thoughts somewhat – thoughts which were currently swirling, twirling, unfurling to cover every part of his conscious mind in a dense fog. He had just approached the sink when a figure suddenly popped up behind him – blond hair, stubble, and grinning (leering) teeth reflected in the mirror. England clapped a hand to his mouth and stifled a shout. Trust France to be lurking unseen in a bathroom.

"Ah, Angleterre…" France clearly took advantage of the hand covering England's mouth to speak. "I could not help but notice how incredibly inconsiderate you were this morning – ignoring everyone's presentations, tsk, tsk…"

England's eyes flashed and he took his hand away from his lips, turning to glare properly at France (the damn frog had noticed, too.)

"You are a complete and utter imbecile –"

"But I am an imbecile who speaks the truth," France purred and winked at the fuming England. "Tell me, Angleterre, what happened with Amerique 'last night'?"

"What! Absolutely nothing you foul, little eavesdropper – don't make such dirty assumptions!"

"Ah, but that is what I do best – oh hon hon hon hon."

France cut the laughter, narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms, studying England. "Mais, sérieusement – you are all, ah, riled-up, Angleterre and the only people capable of such a feat are either your insane brothers or Amerique. Well, and me, but that's beside the point. So…since your brothers aren't here…" By this time, France was smirking maliciously and twirling a genuine rose (that had come out of nowhere) between his slender fingers.

"Je suis ton ami, non, Angleterre? " You can tell me anything…"

If France's concern had been genuine and his question not completely honeyed in mockery and barely disguised wickedness, England may have gotten to the bottom of his jumbled feelings by simply describing what had happened over the past couple of days. But this was not the case. England slammed a hand down onto the white porcelain counter and snarled at his adversary.

"You bleeding wanker! I've had it up to here with America and then you come along – wishing to rub it in. Well, no thank you! You, Francis, are not helping. Now move before I stick that sodding flower up your arse."

France was shocked (mainly because the usual brawl complete with flying fists and the dense dust cloud was avoided) enough to let England elbow past him without another word in exchange. England threw open the door, stampeding right passed a startled Canada – who was listening concernedly to the heated exchange out in the hallway. Canada stood there for a few seconds worrying his bottom lip and hugging Kumajiro close (Ow!) before turning slowly to enter the bathroom. The first thing he saw was France leaning, back against the sink and snorting gleefully.

The bilingual Nation frowned and cleared his throat, deciding to speak in English and hoping France would notice him. "Hey, Francis? D'you know what was wrong with Arthur," Canada inquired – his voice soft with concern. It took France a while, but his laughter eventually subsided enough for him to answer. "Ah, Mathieu," he purred, delicately wiping a tear from one eye. "It appears that our dear Angleterre is having a little…revelation, so to speak."

"Over Alfred?" And Canada's look of incredulity was enough to send France into another fresh fit of laughter.

I I I

America watched England as he spoke during the second half of the meeting. He watched his movements; the way his hands gestured or pointed or clasped together. America gazed – with his head resting on one hand, propped up by an elbow on the surface of the table.

His eyes are really green, America thought lazily. Kinda like shamrocks except that those are Irish and not British. Oh well.

America watched, gazed, stared. His eyes roamed England's upper body – from his sweater vest to his perfectly tied tie to his not-so-perfect hair and his green, green eyes.

He's totally trying not to look at me. America realized this and slumped even further forward in his chair. What the heeeeell?

The following twenty minutes consisted of America staring comically at England, eyes wide and concentrating. Because maybe England would look at him is he focused hard enough. Superheroes did it all the time and since he was the biggest hero ever then it was totally possible to mentally force England's eyes onto his own. Totally…come on…look at meeee…

England finished his speech, took a seat and closed his eyes – waiting for the next Nation (Japan) to speak.

Well damn.

America, of course, refused to give up ('cause heroes never quit!) and alternated between watching Japan and ogling at England who watched Japan with rapt attention - much to America's dismay. He didn't even notice the time passing until everyone rose to leave at the end of (an un-opinionated) Japan's talk. With a startled grunt, America rushed to gather his things – dropping half of them – and trotted over England who was pushing in his chair and looking worn- out.

America found that the words were sticking in his throat, (what the hell, why?) so he decided to maintain his usual smile. Even though it was kinda strained. But England was being all strained, too, so he had an excuse. England gave a little disdainful sniff in America's direction; well, America assumed it was in his direction – sniffs didn't usually have runways…or something.

America shoved his hands into his pockets as he waited for England to gather his things. What were they even fighting about anyway? That thing he said at the pub? England had said that he could never tell what America was thinking. Which was a stupid thing to fight over, America ascertained with a small huff. England was just as unreadable, or whatever, as he claimed America to be.

So. England was definitely over reacting. Yeah! 'Cause I totally can't tell what he's thinking either – so we're in this together.

Wait. What exactly was it that they were in together?

America was startled out of his thoughts by a poke to the shoulder and a loud, "America?" He blinked and looked beside him to see England standing with his paperwork in one arm and the other held out in front of him.

"May I have my coat back?"

His coat…? Oh, right.

America laughed softly and laid his own things on the table in order to shrug out of England's coat. "Oops – I guess I wasn't thinking properly. Here ya go!" England took it and slung it over his shoulder with an air of indifference. "Well. You hardly ever do. Think properly, that is."

The younger Nation frowned and snatched his things up from the table and moving to the front door, holding it open for England and following after. "Okay, see – that's not fair. If I say something mean by accident I tell you that I don't mean it. But you don't even care – you just walk away anyway without even listening to me. And then you go and say something like that and, and… what the hell is with you, England?"

England didn't speak right away and America unlocked the door. The smaller Nation automatically opened the driver's seat before remembering the difference in sides. He actually slammed the door before walking quickly around and getting in on the other side.

"Sois gentil, Amerique!" The voice came from a spying France across the parking lot and America responded by flipping him off.

He sat down heavily in the seat, sighed and put the key in the ignition. Instead of starting the engine, he turned to face England, a determined expression on his face. "Arthur. What's wrong? I know I can be a bit, um… well I dunno exactly, but I know you don't like it. Really, though. This can't be all me. I already said that I didn't mean it, so…"

When England didn't respond, America tried again. "Dude, talk to meeeee. I can help y'now. I just realized we're in this together…but I still haven't figured out what this is, haha. Surprises aren't really my forte. Well, kinda, but not like…um. Maybe you should just talk 'cause I'm kinda failing over here."

He reached a hand out a placed it hesitantly on England's shoulder – not forcing him to turn, but the implication was still there. And, instead of shirking away, England glanced at the hand and touched it with one of his own. He ran his thumb over America's knuckles, tracing, studying, questioning.

And he's still not looking at me. America thought this, but didn't voice it. England's hand on his own was kinda nice, actually. Like last night with the video games except the opposite. Cool. And then England spoke, breaking the silence effectively enough that America jumped, causing him to grip all the tighter to England's shoulder.

"I don't understand you, America." England pried the gripping fingers off of his shoulder until they were once again relaxed.

"Uhhh… 'kay. Did you want to?"

It wasn't until after the words spilled from America's mouth that he realized how awkward this sounded. What…what the heck was that even supposed to mean: did he want to? Haha, wow – good one, America. This word choice must have served to confuse England as well, because he looked up at America then – for the first time since lunch - with a slightly bemused expression adoring his face.

"…Pardon me?"

America felt his face heat up – oh god, shit, shit, shit – and he suddenly became very aware of his hand resting on England's upper arm (how did it get there?)

"Um. I mean. Uh, I don't get you either, y'know? A-and then we fight for stupid reasons that I don't or can't even comprehend and then you're angry or sad or whatever – and I think it's my fault, but it's kinda just you over-reacting, too…so, um. I, I don't even know why I said that, but let's…not fight?"

Any other day, England would have snapped at such a comment – over-reacting? – but the honesty of America's words seemed to shine out through his eyes, which were really, really, stupidly blue, England thought as he continued to puzzle over America's words of 'did you want to.' Were they really a mistake? Or was he merely over-analyzing?

America's breath hitched slightly – why did it do that? – and tilted his head to the side. What was with that weird look England was giving him? Was he still mad? His arm was really warm under that sweater vest, America thought randomly.

Something seemed to change suddenly in England's demeanor and he leaned back slightly and turned his head to face the front windshield. He muttered something under his breath that America automatically assumed that he was supposed to hear. "What was that?" America leaned forward, ears straining, closing the distance that England had retracted. England snorted and closed his eyes for a couple of seconds before looking back at America, seemingly undaunted by his closeness. "…I'm. Well. I suppose that I am sorry for, erm, 'over-reacting' as you so put it. I hope I haven't, ah, worried you or anything closely related."

For the third time in two days, America's jaw went slack…then morphed into a little round circle of surprise. Then he grinned and leaned back in his chair, his hands moving to clasp England's.

"Haha, awesome! I'm sorry too, for whatever I did, but yeah – totally. So, is everything good now? 'Cause you kinda did make me worried and not many people can do that or make me apologize for anything; so, I guess you should feel good about that or something, haha!"

England rolled his eyes and exhaled in what must have been, like, wonderment or something, America reasoned 'cause he did that to people.

"One day I'm going to find a way to shut you up quickly and effectively, you realize," England sighed languidly and lifted America's hands off of his and onto the steering wheel. "Now take us back."

"Roger that, Arthur!"

And America turned the key. He tried to focus on the road, he really did. But he couldn't help noticing how his heart beat at a billion beats per minute – totally possible in this kind of situation (wait, what situation?) – the small, strange smile on England's lips…

Ohmigod, I'm so happy for some unknown reason, but I love it!

AN - ...This chapter was so much fun to write. Ohmigod - as Alfred would say. Haha, England. Soon you'll figure out a way to shut America up. 8P

Anyway - translations. Sumimasen = excuse me. Konnich wa, Nihon = Hello, Japan. Wakarimasu = I understand. America-san desu ne? = Is it America? Arigatou gozaimasu = thank you very much. Mais serieusement = but seriously. Je suis ton ami, non, Angleterre = I'm your friend, no, England? Finally, sois gentil, Amerique = be nice, America!

Thank you so much for the support!