Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia, but the thought of the story belongs to me.
Story notes: This will be very slightly crackish because it takes place in Britannia where pretty much any shit can happen. Some USUK going on in it. Rating will be T mostly for the language, but there may be some making out depending on whether or not I want it.
Also, this story was moved from my other account NaruLexigirl so if you're wondering, yes it is the same story. I just felt like moving it to a new account, is all.
Bang bang bang!A fist pounded heavily on the thick wooden door one early winter evening. "ENG-LAAAAAAAND!" A voice yelled as loud and as drawn out as possible, as if the person inside was unable to hear him. It was as if he was trying to catch the neighborhood's attention. America folded his arms across his chest, shivering and impatient. What was taking the British man so long? Was it possible that the man hadn't heard him? He tried again, instead ringing the doorbell incessantly. "EnglandenglandenglandENG~LAAAAAND!" He chanted with the doorbell accentuating each time he called the man's name.
The door was yanked open, a furious and disheveled blonde man standing in the doorway. His large eyebrows trembled with barely-suppressed fury as he glared heatedly at the man at his door. "WHAT?" He demanded. "What do you want, America? Bloody hell, are you trying to destroy my ears?"
America grinned. "England!" He cried happily, a large burst of hot air forming a cloud in the air. "There you are! It's about time you opened the door! I'm freezing my berries off out here!" He unceremoniously shoved past England and entered the man's abode, dropping the duffel bag he had been carrying onto the hallway's floor and dumping his boots to the side.
England glared at the snow that was tracked into his warm home that was already beginning to form puddles. "What in God's name are you doing here and making a mess for?"
America glanced at the puddles to show he noticed his mistake but nonetheless ignored them as he unzipped his favorite brown bomber jacket and shook the snow from his light brown hair. "I'm here to spend the night, duh!"
"'Duh' is not a part of the English language, you git." England muttered before saying louder, "Since when was this decided? Because I certainly did not give you permission."
"Of course not. I'm here because my flight was snowed out on my way home. After all, why would I stay in this old folk's home when I have my kickass house to hang at?" He laughed joyfully, either not noticing or ignoring the fuming Brit in front of him.
"I could very well kick you out right now! There are perfectly good hotels not five blocks from here!" He yelled.
America pouted, his eyes wide in a classic puppy-dog look. "But you wouldn't kick me out into the cold, would you England? After all, you know my economy isn't all that great!" His bottom lip trembled to complete the look.
England glared, trying his damnedest to fight against the look. America had, unfortunately, created the first puppy-dog pout and had a long history of using it to get his way –especially against his not-really-father. And even more unfortunate was the fact that England had yet to resist it. He sighed and America grinned in victory, knowing that he had won. He was right to pull out that trick early on. He had a feeling that England actually would have kicked him out right away without it.
"Fine, you may stay the night." The British man ran a hand into his unruly blonde hair, green eyes closing in exhaustion just from being around the younger nation. America hooted and pumped his fist. "But only until the next flight to America!" England warned him. "I've got such a terrible headache and want nothing more than to sleep."
The taller nation tsked him and took off Texas to clean them, examining them in the lamplight. "This is why you shouldn't drink, England."
England punched his shoulder. "Belt up, you git! I'm not hung-over! And you're incessant chatter is making my migraine worse than it already is!"
America, finished cleaning his glasses, replaced Texas on his face and rubbed his shoulder a little, pouting at the hit. Suddenly he perked up. "Oh, I know what'll cheer you up!" He dropped to his knees and dug through his duffel bag, throwing clothes every which way. England dodged flying clothes and frowned.
"Where exactly were you staying at that you have so many outfits?"
"Here it is!" The other man cried triumphantly and stood, showing off a movie in his hand and grinning widely. "Dude, you totally have to watch this kickass horror flick with me!"
"No, no, and no, America. There's no way I am watching another horrid 'scary' movie with you. You only terrify yourself to the point where you're hanging all over me and eventually you'll end up with me in my bed because you're too afraid to sleep by yourself!"
That's the point. America thought slyly before dismissing the thought, too annoyed at the other man hinting he was a coward. "I'm never scared by these movies! I only cling to you because I don't want you to be scared!" The older nation scoffed, not believing the other for a second. "Maybe you're the scared one, huh? Too chicken to watch a horror film with me, Iggy?" He turned the tables.
England scowled at the insults. "Do not call me that stupid nickname! It's bad enough that a certain French frog calls me that, I don't need you doing the same. And besides that, I am not a 'chicken'."
"Then you won't be against watching it with me." America grinned as he waved the movie back and forth tauntingly.
"Fine, I'll watch the bloody movie! But you're not sleeping with me tonight!" America inwardly cheered and grabbed the other man's hand before pulling him into the adorning living room and pushing him onto the couch before hurrying to put the DVD in.
"This movie's going to be so epic! It's the sequel to that movie 'Paranormal Activity'! I heard it's wicked scary, so try not to piss yourself while watching, 'kay Artie?"
England scoffed, temporarily ignoring the other nickname and muttered, "Hardly."
As England had predicted, America was screaming at every little thing the 'ghost' did in the movie and clung to him the moment a single pan moved. Admittedly the movie had made the older nation jump occasionally, but it wasn't nearly as terrifying as the American made it out to be with all of his screaming. One would think that England was murdering him, if they weren't used to the occasions.
"Omigod, England did you see that? DID YOU? The baby was floating! IT'S FLOATING!" America yelled, burying his face against the older man's shoulder in fear. England pushed him, trying to get him to let go.
"Shove off, you stupid git! It's just a movie!" The younger nation was far too heavy to move so England was left with the trembling man using him as 'protection' throughout the movie unwillingly.
When Paranormal Activity 2 was over, America was shaking like a leaf and smiled just as shakily. "Hahaha, did you wet yourself, E-England? It t-totally wasn't scary at all!" England shot a scathing glare at him as he stood and shook his arm out to get the blood flowing through it as he began to leave the room. It was very nearly 9 pm and his headache hadn't gone away in the least. If anything it had become worse with all of the screaming that had occurred in his ears. All he wanted to do was rest and fall into his own little world.
"I'm going to bed, America. Make sure you don't ruin my house or eat all of my food. Don't leave the tellie on all night." He told him, far too used to the nation invading his home and proceeded up the stairs.
"Whoa, whoa! Y-you're going to bed now? But it's so early!" America protested, shutting off the television and grabbing his bag before running over to join him as he didn't want to be left alone.
"Yes, I'm going to sleep. I've been awake since before dawn thanks to my work, my headache still isn't gone, and I desperately want to sleep!" England frowned unhappily, his already-bad temper becoming worse with sleep deprivation.
"Well fine, you old man. I guess I'll go to sleep too." With that the nation entered the guest room already knowing that that's where he would be staying. England entered his own bedroom and began stripping off his clothes. Halfway through putting on his jim-jams, he noticed that America's door was still open a little. An evil thought popped into his head and he approached the doorway. The man inside was still stripping, but he appeared jumpy all the while, causing England's sadistic side to become even more encouraged to do what he had planned. Still annoyed by the 'old man' jibe, he quickly slipped his hand inside and flicked the light switch into the 'off' position.
The reaction was instantaneous with a very unmanly shriek emitting from the black room followed by a body slamming into England as America barreled out of the room. "AH! Ameri-"
"AHHH!" America continued to scream, hugging England. "THERE'S A FREAKING GHOST IN MY ROOM!"
England smirked at the reaction but then realized what his little prank was going to do. "Wait, no, America-"
America didn't hear him and jumped off of him before running into the other nation's room while screaming, "THERE'S NO FREAKING WAY I'M STAYING IN THERE!"
"America, it was just me-"
"I'm sleeping with you!" The younger nation yelled, jumping into England's bed, still half-dressed and ducking under the covers. England opened his mouth once again to explain his house was indeed not haunted and that it had been a prank, but gave up with a sigh. There was just no reasoning with the man when he had reached this point. He rubbed his temples. No matter, he could deal with America for now. They were going to sleep anyway. All the man was really going to do was huddle against him in the night and honestly the warmth the American over-produced would feel nice.
With that thought he lifted the covers and joined the younger nation under them, lying on his side with his back facing his company. As expected, the other man latched onto his companion and buried his head in his back. Honestly the man was just so stupid over the strangest things. He believed in aliens and ghosts (which were completely fictional –Tony was only another human, he was sure) but he didn't believe in actual living creatures like unicorns and fairies. When would the boy learn the truth?
Ignoring the thought, England found himself pleasantly warm thanks to the body pressed against him. His house had been a little chilly this winter and with America's heat, he was quite content. His head still throbbed with each beat of his heart, but he was nonetheless lulled into a slumber soon enough.
"You're not seriously cooking, are you?" America asked hesitantly the next morning as he sat at England's table, the man in an apron and at the stove. America's stomach already growled in protest at the food he was about to eat, but he didn't really have a much of a choice in the matter. The other man didn't have any cereal and America was far too lazy and hesitant to go out into the cold to go to McDonald's to get some hash browns.
England scowled at him. "My cooking is not so bad that you have to be so hesitant, you ass." America grinned at the name. At least England was calling him a name he understood. And besides, when he said 'ass' it sounded really funny thanks to his accent. Black smoke was already beginning to billow from what America could only assume was supposed to be eggs. He shuddered and rubbed his stomach, knowing that he was going to be eating that soon.
England didn't seem to notice anything particularly wrong with the food, however, and took it off the stove and only added salt and pepper to the mix –as if that would help the flavor- before scooping them onto America's plate. The younger man gazed at the mess with a mixture of fear, unwillingness, and disgust. But England looked very hopeful across from him, so he took a bite. He winced at the salty charcoal flavor and sighed as he managed to swallow it. England waited expectantly for his opinion.
America took a couple gulps of his milk to help wash down some of the flavor and then said, "Well…it's a little better than usual."
The older nation rewarded the praise with a proud grin and hands on his hips, pleased. "Aha! You see? My cooking is becoming better!"
America avoided his eyes. Sure,sure. He thought. Well, at least England was happy. He always either got mad or depressed when his food was criticized, so this was a bit of an improvement. The cocky attitude was slightly annoying, but he could put up with it.
England went over to the cabinets and dug through them before pulling away with a frown. "Oh, bugger. I'd forgotten to get more tea yesterday. I knew I had forgotten something…"
"Whatever." America said, gulping down the rest of his 'breakfast' and guzzling the milk. "You have coffee, right? Then drink that. It's better for the morning anyway and I want some."
England glared at him. "I would never drink that muck you call a drink. It's disgusting. The only reason why I even have that stuff is merely because you visit my house far too often and become like a hormonal woman when you don't have a morning coffee." America glared at him for that. Admittedly he does become a little moody when he didn't have his caffeine fix, but not to the point that he was like a woman. "And besides, I don't have any left."
"What!" The younger nation jumped up, horrified. "You ran out of my coffee?"
"Belt up! I don't have my tea either!" The man sighed and went upstairs with his guest following him. "It appears I'll have to go shopping."
"I'll come with you!" America said and ran into his room to change into some jeans and his trusty bomber jacket. He zipped the thing up and exited right as England did, dressed in slightly thicker and more fashionable wear. The two walked down the stairs together and America pulled open the front door. Outside a fierce wind blew snow into the house and whipped their hair around, freezing the winter-hating American to the bone. "On second thought, I'll stay here." He said, closing the door and rubbing his cheeks to warm them.
England scoffed at the younger nation's weakness to the cold and pulled his boots on, grabbing his keys. "Fine, then. I'll go to the store myself. Don't destroy my home. And I should be back before you will have to leave for your flight if the traffic isn't bad."
"You're going out into a blizzard?"
"It's hardly a blizzard. This is fairly normal deep winter weather, America." America looked doubtful at that, but the other man ignored it. He opened the door and shot a look at the younger nation. "I mean it, America. Don't destroy my home. And don't snoop through my things. You tend to move everything out of place."
"Yeah, yeah." America waved off the warnings lazily, ignoring him. England sent him one last glare, not trusting the noncommittal wave, before shutting the door. The American watched the car pull out (I don't know why Europeans insist on driving on the wrong side of the road. America thought) before hopping up off of the sofa. "Well! Time to snoop!" He said to nobody in particular. He had nothing better to do, after all.
England's house was actually quite large compared to what other people thought. As nations, the personifications all often had large houses, though most weren't all that extravagant as they didn't want to stick out. The government paid for their living expenses anyway so it didn't matter what type of house they lived in. America himself had a huge house just because he wanted the room, even though he didn't really need it. He had plenty of room for Mr. Whale and Tony seemed just fine with the single room he was given. Large houses could be lonely, which is why America preferred to visit the other nations' homes to hang out. But England's house was huge as well, which left plenty for the adventurous American to explore whenever he was left alone at the man's house. All of the front rooms had all been explored multiple times before and so America made his way towards the rooms in the far back corner of the house –new and unexplored ones that made him tingle with what kind of interesting things he would find. Perhaps there would be something he could blackmail his host with to get him to do whatever he wanted…
The very first room America entered was filled to the brim with various crocheted items. He looked around the room for a split second and then immediately closed the door out of embarrassment for the older nation. Honestly, England was such an old man. Or old woman.The younger nation snickered. After that he found a couple more rooms with different time periods' styling. Maybe they were momentum rooms? He had found some expensive pottery and such and not to mention clothing. He'd even found a room for WWII. How strange.
The next room America entered looked as if it came out of a Pirates of the Caribbean house with all of its pirate decorations, chests, flags, and pieces of wood. America knew that England was a pirate once upon a time and missed his pirate age, so it didn't really surprise him to see such a room. He walked in and began to lift up some of the chests' lids. Some of them were empty, but one was actually full of old doubloons, jewels, crowns, and gold from other countries America couldn't recognize. It's a good thing nobody broke into a nation's house or else they would be rich. The younger nation was dazzled and a greedy part of him was tempted to take some, but he restrained himself. His economy may be kind of weak right now, but he wasn't low enough to the point that he would steal what were obviously momentums from his mentor. He reached in nonetheless and grabbed one of the gold coins and stuck it in his pocket. He could tease England about his sentimental keepsakes later on.
He stood and dusted himself off. The room was actually pretty dusty and dark. Had the man made it that way for dramatic effect? But it was certainly annoying with all of the dust flying about. America rubbed his nose and made his way to the door to leave. He paused though as he felt it and sneezed loudly. His heel caught on the hem of a flag and he slipped backwards, falling into the wall behind him. But the wall gave way, making him land with a hard thud and a grunt onto the floor. America blinked to recover his senses and looked around and noticed he was in a hallway that had been hidden within the pirate room.
"Since when was there a door here?" He wondered aloud and stood, dusting himself off. He looked towards the end of the hall and saw it was pitch black. He couldn't see the end of it. A grin lit up his face. This is just what he had been looking for! He stuffed his hands into his coat pockets and walked down the dark hallway and away from the open door. "Now this is what I call an adventure!" He cheered. But after a few minutes of not finding an ending, the excitement began to fade a little. How long was this hallway?
He stopped and looked back and forth between the direction he had been heading and the way back to the pirate room. Both ways were black. He couldn't see anything at all, but he hadn't run into a wall yet, so obviously he hadn't made any turns. That means the way back to the room was easy to remember. But to give up on this mini-adventure was a little disheartening. Why would England have such a large hallway? Where could it possibly lead? Maybe it led somewhere that would solve some kind of old murder? Maybe England was the murderer? The thrill of adventure once again began to course through the American's veins and he proceeded in his quest to find out what was at the end of the hall.
Not far from where he had paused, America noticed a small white light. His heart began to beat rapidly and he grinned. This was it! Unable to contain himself, he took off in the direction of the light, running as fast as he could. The light grew large quickly and it blinded his eyes with its brightness. In no time at all, he burst from the dark hallway and blinked rapidly in the sudden light. He looked around him in giddy, but he paused as he saw that he was in a forest of sorts. His eyebrows furrowed. A forest? But beneath his feet was not expected grass, but what looked like cloud. Only, it was generally solid. He pinched his arm.
"Ow!" He muttered. Okay, he was awake. A little freaked out, he turned to go back into the hallway only to find the entrance was gone. Behind him was only more forest. He frowned and tucked his arms behind his head casually assessing the situation. "Well, shit. I'm not in Kansas anymore."
A/N: Welcome to my first Hetalia story, everyone! I'm quite excited about this. I've been obsessing over Hetalia pretty much all summer and it has been distracting me from my Naruto stories. So, my little brother suggested I write a Hetalia story because usually when I write a story, it temporarily lulls the over-obsessing fangirl in me to sleep so I can work on my other projects.
So here we are!
Please R&R! I really wanna know how well I'm keeping the characters actually IN character cuz it's my first time writing a Hetalia story.