Disclaimer: I own neither Hetalia, nor any of the historical events this is loosely based on. I do own my interpretations of the states though.

Ghent, Belgium 1814

"Well, this is awkward," America muttered.

Across the table, England glared at him.

"Thank you for stating the obvious."

"Just trying to break the ice," America mumbled.

England's face announced very clearly that he was not amused.

"Let's just finish negotiating this stupid treaty," he retorted.

"You're just upset that I beat your unbeatable army twice in less than a century," America teased.

"Shut up, you ignorant brat," England snapped. "I'd hardly call this a victory for either of us."

America sighed. It had always been clear that things would be different after the Revolution, but he had still hoped…

Yeah. Right. There was too much bad blood between them. The things he'd done…the things England had done…no amount of effort could break down those barriers.

"So, what are the conditions?" England asked.

"I want you to stop taking my sailors and forcing them to serve you," America demanded.

"That's not really an important issue," England replied. "I'm no longer at war with France, so I don't need your sailors anyways. Don't even bother putting it in the treaty."

"It's important to me!" America retorted.

"We're not putting it in, America. End of discussion."

"I'm not a child anymore!" America snapped. "Stop treating me like one!"


"Hey, Dad?"

The arguing countries looked up to see a redheaded teenage boy standing in the doorway.

"What is it, Virginia?" America asked.

Virginia offered him a cheerful grin.

"It's Christmas Eve," he explained. "Do you mind if I do a bit of decorating in here while you two are arguing?"

"We're negotiating a treaty, not arguing," England said.

Virginia rolled his eyes.

"Whatever you say, Mum."

The sarcasm in his voice was painfully obvious.

"Don't call me that!" England ordered.

"Yes, Mum," Virginia agreed, quickly turning to flee the room.

"Virginia! Be nice!" America called after him.

He turned to England, who was clenching the arms of his chair tightly to keep himself from running after the troublesome state.

"Take a chill pill, Iggy," America insisted. "You know they've all called you that since they were kids, what with you being the 'Mother Country' and all. You used to think it was cute."

"That was before they started getting sarcastic about it," England retorted. "Look, I don't really mind you bringing the states along, but could you please try to control them?"

America laughed.

"Control them? You know as well as I do that they're impossible to control."

England glared at him, but did not pursue the subject.

"Let's just get back to the treaty," he requested.

"Right," America agreed. "So, any hopes of getting your troops off my land?"

"Not on your life," England replied calmly. "Anyways, it's not your land if you can't defend it. Why don't you just give that land to me?"

"No way!" America insisted. "Let's just leave it out of the treaty."

"We can't just leave it out!" England snapped.

"Why not?"

"Look, do you want to settle things or not?" England asked.

"I just want to finish this stupid treaty and go home!" America yelled.

"Is that all you want?" England retorted. "To go back to your bloody country and avoid the rest of the bloody world?"

"That would be great actually!" America shouted. "Then I wouldn't have to deal with you!"

"And you think I want to deal with you?"

"Both of you relax!" Virginia interrupted, re-entering the room with a box of decorations. "Try to act like civilized adults."

"As much as I hate to admit it, he has a point," said England.

"Yeah, I suppose you're right," America agreed. "So, what do we do about the borders?"

"You know what I want," England snapped.

"And you know I can't allow that," America retorted.

"So, what do we do?" England asked.

"Compromise," another voice suggested.

A tall young man carrying a stack of boxes backed into the room.

"Maryland and Massachusetts will be here in a second," Pennsylvania announced. "They're having some trouble with the tree."

"And how am I supposed to compromise with this idiot?" England snapped.

"We could just leave things the way they were before the war," America suggested.

"That seems to be the best either of us could hope for," England admitted.

"So, shall we get this treaty written up?"

An Hour Later…

"For the last time, you git, it's learnt!"

"But that's weird!" America whined.

"Do you want this to sound professional?" England asked.

"I want to be able to understand it without an interpreter," America replied.

"It's perfect English," England snapped. "It's not my fault you can't write."

"Say that to my Declaration of Independence!" America retorted.

"You know Jefferson wrote most of that," England reminded him.

"Only 'cause they thought 'Go to hell, England' wasn't specific enough," America mumbled.

England stared.

"Did you seriously suggest that?" he asked.

America grinned.

"Course I did!"

"You're an idiot."

"Shut up!"

Another Hour Later…

"Okay, I think we're done," England said.

"It looks good," America agreed.

"Finally," England muttered.

He dipped his pen in the inkwell and signed his name at the bottom of the treaty.

Arthur Kirkland

America quickly snatched the pen and signed his own name.

Alfred F. Jones

England rolled his eyes at the messy handwriting, but America simply grinned.

"There!" he declared.

"Beautiful," England remarked sarcastically. "Now let's just get this delivered. I don't want to spend any more time than I have to in your presence."

"The feeling is mutual," America assured him.

England stood up and quickly made for the door. America, on the opposite side of the table but determined not to let England get out of the room before him, ran after. When England suddenly stopped, right in front of the door, America crashed into him, knocking them both to the ground. They landed in a rather compromising position, and neither of their moods was improved when they heard the distinct click of a camera.

America looked up to see Maryland holding the camera and grinning. Next to her, Massachusetts, a young girl with a backpack, was mouthing the words 'look up.' America did so, and saw something that made him groan.

"Now you see why I stopped, git," England muttered.

America glared at his states.

"Really guys? Mistletoe?"

Maryland shrugged.

"It was Gin's idea," she explained. "We couldn't resist."

"Remind me to kill him later," America muttered.

"Only if I don't get to him first," England interrupted.

"You can't kill Gin until after you kiss," Massachusetts insisted.

"Says who?" America retorted. "Why do we have to kiss, anyways? It's just some dumb old tradition. Who's going to make me kiss him?"

"Me!" Maryland told him. "Kiss England, or I'll send that picture I just took to France. And you know he'll make sure everyone sees it."

"You evil child!" America screamed.

Maryland shrugged.

"Call me what you want, but you'll still have to kiss him."

"This is ridiculous," England muttered.

To America's intense surprise, he felt England's arm wrap around his neck and pull his face close enough to crash their lips together.

Oh god. England was kissing him. England. Kissing. Him.

America did the only thing he could do. He deepened the kiss. This felt so right. How could he ever have fought England? How could he have hurt the one he loved most in the world?

All too soon, it was over. They broke apart, staring at each other. For the first time since before the Revolution, America saw something besides anger and pain in England's green eyes. Shock, affection, and maybe even love flitted within those emerald orbs.

Then, it was gone.

"Get off me, git," England snapped, though with less venom than usual.

America quickly scrambled to his feet and helped England up.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

He was pretty sure he was blushing, especially considering the way Maryland and Massachusetts were grinning.

"Where's Virginia?" he asked. "I need to kill him."

A few days later

As he was boarding the ship that would take him home, America noticed England standing on the docks. After checking that all his states had already boarded, he approached the island nation.

"Hey, England," he said.

England turned to face him.

"Hello, America," he replied. "I was looking for you."

America awkwardly shifted his weight.

"Um, yeah, about that prank the states played…" he began.

"This isn't about that," England cut him off. "I just wanted to give you this."

He thrust a wrapped parcel into America's hands.

"Open it as soon as you get back to your country," England instructed.

With that, he turned and left.

As soon as he was gone, America ripped open the parcel. There was no way he was waiting too months to find out what England had gotten him. Inside the package was simply a chocolate bar and a card, which read: Happy Valentines Day.

America smiled and gently rewrapped the gift. It would be around Valentines Day when he got home, wouldn't it?

"Thanks, England," he whispered.

Author's Note: Merry Christmas everyone! Hope you enjoyed this little Christmas oneshot based on actual historical events. The Treaty of Ghent was signed in Ghent, Belguim on Christmas Eve, 1814, and the treaty reached America on Valentines Day, 1815. As soon as I heard that, I had to write this. So, here it is. Also, This was my first time writing the states. Did you like them? Hope you enjoyed :D

On a really random note, am I the only one who thinks Sealand should be the one singing the song 'I saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus' and that it should be 'Daddy' instead of 'Mommy'?