May 24th, 2014

ARTIST: Kyle

AUTHOR: seecarrun

May 24th, 2014

England hated staying at America's house, for no other reason than because the young man had more blasted confusing technology than England knew what to do with.

But like hell he was going to admit that, so he just chose to suffer in silence.

"Okay!" America chirped, rushing through the living room and into the kitchen with his coat half on and his hair unkempt. "I've got work until like, one-ish today, since I'm getting off early for the meeting tomorrow, and I'll be home after that," he called, muffled, from the other room.

"That's fine," England replied absently, not bothering to look up from his morning crossword.

Seconds later, the young nation popped back out with a doughnut hanging out of his mouth, hair still a mess, though both arms were now safely inside his jacket. "Fo yof feed me to fow you how to fork the FeeFee?"

England narrowed his eyes, unimpressed. "Please don't speak with your mouth full, America. I have no blasted idea what you just said."

America rolled his (blue, blue) eyes (bloody hell, did that tie really make them pop), and reluctantly removed the doughnut. "Do you need me to show you how to work the TV? …Or Netflix…Or the microwave." He pursed his lips. "Is it safe for me to leave you here alone at all?"

"I'll be perfectly fine on my own," England grumbled, crossing his arms. "I've stayed over at your home countless times, and I think I know how to handle your household items."

"That's what I'm afraid of," America said with a cringe, but shrugged it off. "Ah well, worse comes to worse, everything's still on warranty from last time, so whateves." He popped the dounut back in his mouth and waved goodbye with a wink. "Juff fon'f furn fhe face fown!"

"Stop speaking with your bloody mouth full!"

Grinning, America closed the door behind him.

America pulled up to his house at approximately a quarter past one, and sighed in relief. No firetrucks, police cars, or ambulance, and the house was still standing. At least from the outside, all was well.

He unbuckled himself and grabbed his briefcase from the passenger seat, loosening his tie as he contemplated why he put himself through this every time he hosted a meeting.

Sure, he was a little bit in love with England, so having the nation stay with him was an obvious preference, but was the constant worry of finding his house burnt down with England standing over the ashes, arms crossed, bitching about the 'shoddy installation of useless modern appliances' worth it?

He opened the door and held his breath.

"Oh good, you're home. Come and help me with this, would you?"

America blinked. England stood, dripping with sweat but smiling giddily, at the top of the staircase, along with the large vanity dresser from the guest bedroom, which he appeared to be pushing down the hallway.

"What the hell are you doing?" he asked carefully.

England wiped his brow with the back of his arm and beamed down at him. "Your flipper wasn't working, I threw it in the rubbish for you, by the way, and I was stuck watching the same programme all day."

America held in his frustration at his perfectly working remote sitting in a garbage can somewhere, and clenched his fist. "What were you watching?"

"Antiques Roadshow," he replied with a grin.

Of course, America thought with a groan. Leave it to the old man to the find the old maniest possible show on TV to spend his day watching. "And that's why you're trying to push my dresser down the stairs?"

"Precisely. Come and give us a lift, lad."

America shook his head and trotted up the stairs. No use fighting it. Better to lose one dresser than the entire house, after all.

Plus, England's stupid, smiling face made it all too clear.

Yeah.

It was totally worth it.