Author's Note: I know the actual history behind the Boston Tea Party, but of course the event has been "Hetalia-ified" for the sake of the oneshot...

Disclaimer: I do not own Axis Powers Hetalia.

America's Tea Party

I know you don't like the new tea tax I'm charging you, but I really wish you would grow up and stop leaving the tea out in the harbour (yes, harbour, not harbor -- don't be lazy) to rot. I'll be coming out to your house in a day or so, and some of us are more REFINED and would like something besides coffee when they visit.
Sincerely, England

America threw the letter on the ground and kicked a pile of snow over it with the toe of his boot, deciding then and there that he wouldn't take England's controlling habits anymore. England lived so far away – 'across the pond', as he so cleverly liked to put it. Just who does he think he is?

My older brother, America answered himself, sullenly nudging the white snow again with his heel. But just because he's my brother doesn't mean he can take advantage of me like this!

America turned away from the drenched letter and took a deep breath of salty sea air, a cold breeze brushing loose strands of hair from his eyes. He could see the harbor (not harbour) nearby, lined with the bleak silhouettes of ships – he remembered now that England had recently sent him boats loaded with crates of tea, all of which America had adamantly refused to unload because of the stupid tax the older nation attached to them. It was almost like England sent all that tea just to spite him.

He's probably going to want some when he gets here tomorrow, America thought bitterly, recalling one of the lines in England's letter. How satisfying it would be to take those stupid crates and chuck them overboard…but England would be really mad if he did that-

Wait a second. A devious smile slid over America's lips as he stared up at the wooden boxes that sat so tantalizingly on the boats. All of the rules England had given him for the past few years were getting old really fast; throwing his tea into the ocean would be a mere taste of the irritation that America himself had gone through.

America climbed on the deck of the nearest ship and carefully pried open the lid of one of the chests. It was filled to the brim with English tea.

Tea that would look a lot nicer if it were floating on the surface of the gray seawater, he thought with a mischievous chuckle.

America hefted the crate in his arms and walked to the opposite end of the deck, leaning over until could see the dreary, white-capped waves lapping at the side of the vessel. His cunning grin widened as he pushed the box over the edge.

It hit the water with a pleasantly loud crack only moments later; dry tea leaves spilled from the broken chest and bobbed uncertainly on the waves. America bent over, gripping the side of the ship with gloved hands as the tea sank into the mercilessly cold depths of the ocean.

England was going to be absolutely furious when he saw this.

America ran back across the snow-dusted deck and grabbed another crate. He tossed it over the side like he had with the other, listening for that lovely snap as it shattered to pieces beneath the heavy waves. America moved a little more recklessly now, intoxicated by his game and relishing the satisfaction he finally felt after months of quiet, rebellious depression.

But was it really just satisfaction? Or a sense of vengeance for everything England had put him through? The taxes, the needless squabbles, the utter feeling of betrayal from his own brother; the man who had raised him since he was a young nation…

A few submerged chests of tea probably wouldn't be full payment for everything England had done, but America thought he could enjoy this moment of revenge while he could.

Besides, the look on England's face when he found out would be utterly priceless.

England stared helplessly at the bare cabinet in America's house, balancing an empty teacup carefully in the palm of his hand.

"America…do you have any tea?" he asked.


"What about that shipment I sent you a while ago? Didn't you unload it like I asked?"

England felt his blood boil when he heard America's boyish snicker. "You could say that, I guess," the younger nation replied after a brief pause.

England sidled to the kitchen window and looked out toward the harbor. The ships he had sent were still there, and they looked like they were in one piece…

Nevertheless, he couldn't help but ask. "America, what have you done this time?"

"What do you mean, 'this time'? And didn't you walk by the ships when you got here?"

"No…should I?"

"Maybe you should."

England swallowed another sharp response. America wasn't the same anymore; he was an immature 'teenager' at this point, yes, but he was so damn defiant – even more so than some of the other young nations he was trying to raise.

Hopefully it's just a phase he's going through…he'll grow out of it soon enough. The others did, didn't they?

America's tone was arrogant when he spoke again. "Aren't you going to go out and check on your precious tea?"

A phase, England thought, suppressing a heavy sigh. He wouldn't give that bratty adolescent the satisfaction of knowing he was more than a bit miffed. Please, let this just be a phase…