The last chapter! I was thinking about what England would do if America confessed first, and I decided that the romantic in him would be offended. And to anyone who knows me outside of FanFiction- I can't keep you from reading my work, but please make sure your reviews are constructive and not about arguments. If you don't like my ideas about the pairing, don't click on the story. It's that simple.
Sorry about that folks, it was the only way to ensure she read it.
I do not own Hetalia, or any characters of. If I did, there would be many more slashes by now.
England awoke the next morning with a cold pack draped over his eyes. He reached up to brush it off, only to find his arms pinned to his side. Twisting around, he found himself face to face with America, who grinned at him. "You're finally awake!"
England gulped and stood, ducking out of America's arms. "Were we like that all night?"
America nodded. "Hey, I need to tell you something!"
Ignoring this, England picked up the ice pack and took it to the kitchen to empty it. On the way, he glanced at his watch. "Five in the morning again." He groaned. "He never used to get up this early…"
America was waiting for him when he re-entered the living room. He knew that England preferred to take things slowly, but feelings that had been hidden for centuries were welling up and he had to release them. Besides, he had always rushed into things, why stop now? "England! I have to tell you what I realized last night!"
"What, that sleeping on a couch hurts your back?" Asked England with a wince. "Bloody wanker, you couldn't have woken me up so I could go to bed?"
"No, it's not that!" America paused. "What, you really have back pains? Gosh, I thought only Japan was old enough for that! You must be older than I thought."
England glared at the younger man. "Aren't you kind. And to think that…." He sighed. And to think that I love you despite all that. He finished in his head.
"To think what?" Asked America.
America shrugged. "Whatever. Now can I please tell you what I realized?"
"Fine, since you seem determined too."
Beaming, America proclaimed, "I love you!"
England froze. Had he just heard… He had, hadn't he. In the least romantic way possible, he had heard that. "You… you git! You absolute worthless git!"
England continued on his rant. "You realized last night? Idiot! And that's how you choose to tell me? Do you realize," He stood in front of America now, almost shouting the words, "That this whole thing, this whole dinner, was because I love you? Because I have loved you for centuries now, and I wanted to tell you in a special way?"
"England… I…" America backed away, looking confused.
"And do you mean to tell me that if it weren't for Germany and Italy bursting in on me when I was trying to tell you, you wouldn't have felt the same way yet?" He shook his head. "You idiot!"
America walked up to him. "Iggy…"
"Don't call me that." Whispered England, hands shaking.
"Arthur… did you just say that you loved me?" America asked, smirking.
"Yes, okay? I love you too you fool." Said England, reaching for his front door. "I need some fresh air…"
America caught him before he made it out the door. "Oh no you don't. You just gave me a speech on how un-romantic I was, so I'm not letting you go after a confession like that!"
"America, I'm warning you…" England growled, turning to see America's face. His next words were cut off though, as America pulled him closer. "Gerroff!" he mumbled into America's shirt.
Grinning, America tipped England's head up and leaned down into a kiss. Ignoring Englan's muffled protests, he focused on the taste of tea that now filled his mouth. By the time they broke off, gasping for air, England was no longer trying to escape. Instead, he was determinedly trying to unclasp America's belt. America, to his surprise, found his hands un-tucking England's shirt.
"Can we… Do you want to…" England asked clumsily, still trying to get enough oxygen in his lungs.
America nodded furiously. "Just let me call France first." Smirking at England's confused and horrified expression, he added, "Trust me on this one."
It went pretty fast, but I wanted to get it over with before I got tired of writing it, so sorry to those of you who pointed out how rushed it seemed! Poor England, who knows what he's got himself into? Well, until next time I write a Hetalia story, this is The end.