A/N: I apologize for my lack of any knowledge of how to fix a burger. America would be ashamed of me. I own nothing, why else would I be posting here? No offense to Fanfiction.
"Hey England! Come over here and help me with these burgers, wouldja?" America called to England from across the yard. The rest of the room froze and looked at America as if he had been snorting crack. England gave him a look, but walked over there anyway.
It was at America's birthday party, and almost all of the nations were there. They were milling about across the yard and the house, and some of them had mysteriously disappeared partway through (coughFranceandCanadacough). So far the party had been plenty exciting, them having already watched the fireworks and given America presents, and most were just waiting for the nation to finish making the burgers.
England got over to where America had the grill and burgers set out. He grunted and crossed his arms, looking humiliated. He hadn't wanted to come to the party anyway, but after most of the European nations and some of the Asian ones had told him that Alfred would love to have him at his party, he had grudgingly come (or at least that was what he was telling everyone).
"What joke are you trying to pull now, America?" England asked his former colony. His face was set in a frown.
"None, honest. I just thought it was unfair to make the birthday boy make the food for his party. So I thought I'd get help," America told England with his "innocent face" on (#37, not that England had paid attention enough to categorize them).
"Then why didn't you ask France or Italy to help you?" England asked him, trying to disregard the innocent face. It really wasn't making him want to melt, truly it wasn't.
"Because, you're my best friend. Anyway, France disappeared a while ago with Canada, and I'm pretty sure that's Italy over there embarrassing Germany. Don't want to stop that," America said, moving to innocent face #24. Was it a coincidence that usually when he used his innocent face he was trying to hide something? England blushed slightly to the best friend comment, but tried to hide it with the next comment.
"Look, I bloody well know that my cooking is horrible. You've told me yourself. So stop pulling my leg," England said, annoyed America was holding out so long. Usually he would have doubled over laughing by now.
"Just try. I bet you can if you want to," America said, this time using a pleading face. England looked away, the growing blush staining his face only visible to the Baltic nations, who were too busy quaking because of Russia to notice.
"Fine, but remember, I'm only doing this because it's your birthday," England said, moving forward and staring at the food in front of him like it was an alien. Very likely, since it was America's party. "What do I do now?" England asked, never having fixed a hamburger in his life. America grinned, and England got a sinking feeling in his stomach. England was getting disturbed because America had disappeared behind him somewhere. Suddenly, he felt arms wrap around him and grab his hands, while he felt a very masculine body behind his. "France!" England yelled, but then he noticed the sleeves that were on the arms. They were a very familiar bomber jacket's.... "What the bloody Hell are you trying, Alfred?" England asked America, switching to his human name in surprise.
"Nothing. Just pay attention to your cooking, Arthur," America told him, returning the favor. Part of England wished he could see America's face, but the other knew that to do that America would get to see England's tomato red face. America had rested his head on England's shoulder, but not hard, and England hoped no one noticed him turn his face to the side so that America couldn't see his blush. America's hand was now holding the back of England's hand, and with that America started to guide England's hand to where the food was set out, which had already been partially fixed by America. He (as in England being the one to touch it, as America seemed to be very picky about the hand placement) placed the half-grilled burger back on the grill. Then America's hand lead him to the spatula that was sitting there, and he pushed it further onto the grill, making it sizzle slightly. Then they set the spatula down and waited. As much as England tried to start a conversation with America, America mostly just managed to derail the conversation pretty fast, especially seeing as how most of it was always about the fact that America was refusing to let go of his grip around England. The only change was that his hands were no longer holding onto England's hands, and were instead wrapped around England's waist in a huge bear hug. Again, England thanked whatever gods there were that America couldn't see his face. It's not like he was liking it or anything. They were starting to get a couple looks, as well as a couple catcalls, but America seemed to disregard it. England (guided by America) wandered over near the grill again to flip the patties, and then England asked America if they were almost done. When America answered yes. England felt a little sad (not that he would admit that to anyone else).
Soon the hamburgers were ready. America let go of England, and England swore he saw a tint of red on America's face when he finally got to see his face. America called everyone to get their burgers, and the blushing nation took his share. After everyone took the first bite, America cleared his throat.
"Just so you know, the burgers were fixed by Iggy," America said, using his childhood nickname for England, making his face heat up more. Most everyone looked like a deer in the headlights then, and England felt annoyed.
"America, you know I didn't fix them," England started, and he could hear people collectively swallowing their burgers all over the yard, "You were the one cooking."
"My hands never touched the food. You did everything. You fixed a great burger, and at my birthday as well! Thanks, Iggy!" America said, smiling his innocent smile #17. America wrapped one of his arms (the one not holding the burger) around England's shoulder and squeezed a hug, then let go before England could start stammering. England was at a loss for words. This couldn't be America, he was being too sweet to be America. Where had he been taken? And could he keep the new America?
"Y-you're welcome, Alfred," England said, adding the -Alfred as an afterthought. America smiled his wide smile, and started to gulp his burger down.
"Oh, you scared me!" England said after France walked out of the shadows, not really paying attention to his rival, still staring at his former colony, who was currently on the other side of the room, joking around with Canada and Japan.
"Too busy watching America, are you? I don't blame you, after his stunt today I would be too. That is, if I didn't already have Mathieu," France started, "Bringing up the fact, are you sure that they weren't switched at some point? I swear that Canada acts more like you than I would like. And after today's performance, America might be more akin to me than to you."
"You say that like it's a good thing," England said, trying to pay more attention to France. France gave him a sly smile.
"Maybe it is, maybe it isn't," France said, making England feel slightly nauseated at the fact that France might be attracted to him. His attention was again grabbed by the blundering oaf that was America running across the room to where England and France were standing. America grabbed England's hand.
"Hey Iggy, we need someone to judge the drinking contest that Germany and Japan are having, and Germany thought that I would weigh the favor in for Japan and he also thought that Canada would do whatever I said, and everyone knew not to have Feliciano judge it. So I thought you'd be perfect for this! You're totally impartial to everything!" America said in his yell-speak. Still gripping his hand, America dragged England over to the other side of the room where Japan and Germany had beers set out for the contest.
"Not everything," England said under his breath,cheeks burning, and America turned around.
"What was that?"