A/n: I decided that I'd take a break from my long and serious fic to make something cute and fluffy (Although, to all three of you that read it, there'll be a chapter up later tonight just after I proof it). There needs to be way more tsundere-love on the face of these interwebs in my opinion. I have the feeling that America and England getting together wouldn't actually do anything to end that lovely Belligerent Sexual Tension and, more importantly, it would be a damn shame if it did.

Warnings: Light Swearing, Gay Countries


Rain fell lightly on the windows of America's old house in Massachusetts. It was nice rain this time around, though: it was soft and cool like fresh crisp linins, a sign that spring was finally coming. Which was a good thing because if America had been stuck inside for one more day he would have burst into tears, and that would have not been cool when his boyfriend was visiting.

America smiled over at England. As it was, though, today had been awesome. He'd picked up the Brit at the airport just as it started to drizzle. After moving England's bags inside, America suggested that they go out in the rain and have some fun.

England said something about how this was a terrible idea and how they'd both end up cold and miserable.

America just laughed at him and dragged him out the door. Given, he could have done this even if England resisted, but America didn't even have to pull really, so he obviously was willing to do it.

The pair played in the rain like school children. It had taken a bit of coaxing on America's part to get his stuffy boyfriend to give in and enjoy himself, but it had been hard for the older man to resist when America dumped a half-filled bucket of water on his head, soaking him to the bone. England got really red and started yelling, but since he didn't get that one look where his eyes went all white it was okay. Besides, it was hard to miss that he was having a good time when he grabbed the garden hose with a smug grin on his face.

Well, America just couldn't leave it like that. Especially since that shit was cold.

Several hours later, they had come in covered in mud and looking like a pair of downed rats but smiling nonetheless. England had insisted upon a shower as soon as he entered the house and then banished America from his own second floor after he had suggested an original-and-so-not-stolen-from-a-tee-shirt idea of a way to save water. Hey, weren't the Europeans all harping on how America wasn't being environmentally friendly enough?


Anyway, they both eventually showered and England put his copy of the new Harry Potter movie, which he had somehow gotten a few days early, into the PS3 that also served as America's Bluray player and America went to make popcorn.

And now here they were, sitting on opposite sides of the couch and watching as the movie began.

England finally realized that America was looking at him with a lovey-dovey grin on his face and returned the expression with a scowl, which did nothing but make the younger nation smile even wider. After all, in Englandish (not English. America spoke that, in spite of what his boyfriend said to the contrary) a scowl meant "you are absolutely gorgeous and I want to look at you every minute of every day as long as you don't look back." It was just like the way that "How can you even consider putting something like that down your throat, you bloody twit?" really meant, "I really do worry about you and I don't want you to ruin your health," and the way that "You're such a idiot, I can't comprehend how Japan is willing to spend so much time playing video games with you," means "I'm here and I love you, so please turn of the 'tele' and give me attention," and the way that, "Dear Lord, America, you dress like such a slob that I wonder why people don't throw change at you," means "You're absolutely sexy, so either dress in a way that shows it or take of your clothes already." America had spent the better part of the 50's coming up with an Englandish-English dictionary, but it was totally worth it now because instead of feeling insulted when his boyfriend said something harsh he got all warm and fuzzy inside. Not that he would really show it either.

"What is it, you sod?" England demanded. "I secretly like it that you look at me like that, but I still feel a little bit uncomfortable."

"Just noticing how much scrawnier you look when you wear my baggy clothes," America replied, grinning, "I love how you look like this, with your hair wet and stuck to your cheeks and drowning in clothes that are too big for you. You look like you're warm too, all curled up in sweatpants and a long-sleeved tee shirt. It makes you look so innocent, it makes it look like you're mine, and to seem that way even though you're so experienced and so free."

"Wanker, why did you even buy these anyway? They wouldn't even fit your fat arse. I didn't know that they even made clothes too big for you. But then again, I suppose that if you're the norm, there have to be people even fatter than you are. The mind boggles," He rolled his eyes and put his head on the back of his hand, looking out the window and determinately away from America, "Thanks."

"Whatever. Shut up, douche bag; the movie's starting." "You're welcome."

The younger man put his hand on the empty cushion between them, "If you want to, you can come over and cuddle."

England looked at the hand neutrally and grabbed a few pieces of popcorn instead, "I'm alright at the moment, but thanks."

America grabbed a massive handful of the snack and shoved it in his mouth, but as soon as he was done, he put his hand back down where it was, "Okay, I'll still be here when you change your mind."

It wasn't long that he had to wait. Every time he looked back at the other country, the expanse of cushion between them was shrinking. By Bill and Fleur's wedding, England had the bowl in his lap because his butt was currently where America had initially put the food.

America couldn't help but let a contented little smile roll across his face. It felt good to be sitting like this, and England thought so too, if his similar smile was anything to go by. America wondered when exactly would be a good time to loop his arm across England's shoulders, since that was what the older country was aiming for in the end.

England lifted the metal bowl with one hand and held it out to America, "I know that if we feed you any more you'll have no choice but to wear these gargantuan trousers, but I can't eat any more of this slop." "Would you like some popcorn, love? You can have the last of it if you would like."

The younger nation laughed, "Maybe if you didn't cook so badly, you wouldn't be starved enough that you couldn't even handle a couple handfuls of my awesome popcorn!" "Thanks, I'd love some."

England looked genuinely hurt for a moment.

Shit, "Of course, maybe it's just more that you guys in Europe just don't understand that food should be eaten, and not just all dressed up," "I'm sorry; your cooking's not really that bad."

"It's called presentation, and you could use some, git!" "It's alright. Just try to remember not to do that."

The pair watched the movie in silence other than the sound of America eating for a few moments. The younger man stopped shoveling popcorn into his mouth as he felt something brush against his hip. He looked over and saw that England had scooted over, covering the rest of the distance between them. The smaller nation was refusing to look at him, blushing furiously and toying with the edge of the cushion.

America looked back at the screen. England would never admit it, but he was a cuddler. The younger nation knew that his boyfriend secretly loved to curl up next to him, or even in his lap, and be held while listening to America's breathing and heartbeat. America liked it too, no doubt about that, but he didn't have the need to be lavished with physical attention that England did.

He also didn't have the habit of running away if his boyfriend took it too fast or reacted too much.

Still, though, it seemed safe enough to carefully set the bowl down on the floor and wrap his now-free right arm around England's shoulders. The older man didn't react visibly, but America could feel some of the tension in his shoulders slip away and smiled softly.

Eventually, England started to lean into the touch. First it was the bit of weight that he let fall onto the other man's arm, "America?"

The younger nation turned his head slightly to look at his boyfriend, "What is it, sweetheart?"

The little patch of England's back that was actually in contact with America slid up until it was against his shoulder, "I like it here with you." He closed his bright green eyes and smiled, "You make me feel so comfortable," he allowed himself to really rest, pillowing his head into the larger man's chest, "You make me feel so safe."

America carefully turned sideways, sliding himself so that England was sitting between his legs without dropping the other nation. "I'm glad." Oh-so-gently, he lifted one hand and stroked the Brit's cheek, "Sometimes I wonder why you're here, why you've stayed with me for so long. But you really care, don't you?"

England lightly lifted his own hand to cover America's, "I do. You're a fool, but you're my fool." The hand tightened, "Don't you dare forget it."

The larger nation smiled and dipped his head forward so that his nose was in England's still-damp hair, "I don't think I ever could."

Suddenly, England moved. America wondered if he had gone just a little bit too fast, but then in a blink of an eye, the Brit was laying face-down in the same spot with his arms looped around America's neck. He just stared at the younger man. The gaze seemed very measured and calm, but the American could just see the affection buried deep in those gorgeous green eyes.

America chuckled, "You're beautiful."

England blushed, "Oh, hush."

America placed a hand on the small of his back, "No, it's true. You ought to know that by now."

England set his cheek on America's chest and looked back at the television, "How often have you seen this movie, America?" He asked.

The younger nation almost jumped to hear England's real voice, "I donno, a bunch?"

"Enough that you wouldn't mind if I turned it off?"

"Wow, you're turning off Harry Potter? I think we'd better call the press and tell 'em Hell froze over."

"Belt up," England said, reaching for the remote and tapping the power button.

Once the screen had gone black, England set his cheek back down on America's chest. His thumbs gently began rubbing America's neck in the places that always got stuck when he had done too much paperwork. "I like things better when it's just you and me. It's peaceful."

America stroked England's sides with his fingers, "I like it this way too."

England slid up America's body and lowered his face so that their noses were almost touching. "Why do you say I'm beautiful? You're the one who's bloody gorgeous."

The younger nation smiled. He left one hand at the small of England's back but lifted the other to cup the back of his head, "Because it doesn't matter what anyone says. In my world, there is nothing more stunning than you."

It was hard to say who moved first, but they both shifted and their lips connected. It wasn't rough and demanding, or even deep and passionate. It was a simple chaste brush, but it conveyed enough.

Still, the moment that they pulled apart, they both opened their mouths and said, "I love you."

America laughed and England just smiled. They each tightened their holds on each other. England put his head back on America's chest, and America put his nose back in England's hair.

In the morning, England was going to bitch about his back.

In the morning, America was going to laugh and call him an old man.

In the morning, there would be some fight afterwards about something that may or may not have been related to the previous two events.

But tonight neither of them would move, consequences be damned.