"I'm coming!" England called after hearing the doorbell ring twice. He kicked the white oven closed with his black loafers and slipped off his pink oven mitts onto the white kitchen table. He walked hastily to the white front door and opened it lazily.

"Hey Iggy!"America exclaimed and threw his arms around the older nation who tried to force a smile for his former colony. England could tell it was certainly not a business trip the other nation was on courtesy of his jeans, gray tee shirt and his infamous bomber jacket, but it was hard to tell because the American never wore proper clothing to meetings even so.

"Nice to see you too," he said as an obvious lie. He motioned for America to join him in the main room for a bit. Just a bit, England told himself. "What brings you here unexpectedly?"

America slumped into the bland chocolate plaid coach he had so many old memories sitting on. The room was exactly how he remembered it: the ugly couch Canada and America would poke fun at, the feminine flowers plastered on the wallpaper matching the linoleum tiles, and a glass coffee table that England always used for tea. The only new additions were the television and lamp. He propped his feet onto the ottoman, a habit he created when he was a child, and asked "can't I just come and visit my favorite former empire?"

"Make it quick," he said. It wasn't that he hated when America visited, it just flowed too many painful memories that overwhelmed England, especially when he came unannounced. Not to mention he had his infamous scones cooking in the oven, and he certainly did not want to have his cooking criticized anymore.

"Will you come to my birthday party?" he begged giving his famous puppy eyes and lip quiver he knew nobody could resist, especially England. "Everyone's going to be there but you! Even Russia is coming!"

"Thank you, but no thanks."

He crossed his arms across his chest and pouted. "Why not? There is gonna be fireworks and hamburgers! Doesn't that sound like fun?"

"It sounds childish if you ask me," he murmured loud enough for America to hear. "And it is going to not gonna."

He stuck out his tongue. "Stop being such an old man and live a little! The pres said I could stay overnight but I've gotta be back by morning, so I have 'til then to convince you."

England rolled his emerald eyes. "Well maybe you should get your head out of the clouds and go back to your own country. You should stop being insensitive about everyone's feelings. You know very well why I do not want to attend, and you persistently ask me every year to come!"

America frowned and bit his lip to prevent warm, brisk tears from falling. "I thought this year could be different. We're allies, right? Anyways, that happened, like, a billion years ago-"

"Two hundred thirty seven," he corrected acidly adverting his gaze to the window.

"Huh?"America asked raising one of his eyebrows in confusion.

"Two hundred and thirty seven years since I got that bloody declaration!"

His eyes glowed. "See! You do care! It's all in the past now, right? Anyways, if I was still your colony, you'd probably lose WWI and be speaking German. That wouldn't be cool."

Nervously he said "well, we shouldn't be talking about hypothetical things. I want you to wash up for dinner; I guess I will have to rummage for leftovers, if that is okay with you."

"Sounds delicious," he said just as he did as a child to please England.

He shrugged, lifting himself from the couch. "I guess I will mull over my options about your party…"

"That's good enough for me!" he said cheerfully and scurried down the hallway and into the cream colored bathroom. While he was walking back to the kitchen, America heard a creak in the floorboards that sounded oddly like a metal door. It was something he could not remember from all of the times he spent in this house as a child. Curiously, he lifted up the newly refurbished crimson carpet to reveal a metal trap door leading to a cellar or bomb shelter perhaps. Iggy wouldn't notice if I was gone for just a couple of minutes, he told himself as a justification to snoop around England's belongings. He jumped into the basement that consisted of a small room, primarily based upon trinkets he collected over the years. Huh, I didn't know he has some memorabilia. I guess I'm not the only one with a storage closet…

He shuffled through a couple of small boxes that collected nothing more than knickknacks such as his old pirate cloak that still stunk of gunpowder, a hand sewn sweater, a WWII and American Revolution military uniform, a couple of weapons and a snow globe of New York City America bought for him over fifty years ago. Wow, he thought to himself. He really is an old man.

Out of the corner of his sapphire eyes, he noticed a mirror leaning against a bookcase of spell books. He gazed into the mirror, not even seeing a reflection of himself. How stupid, he thought to himself. Why would Iggy even buy a mirror that doesn't even work? He stuck his hand to punch the mirror; however it rippled at mere touch, just a pond would. He pulled his hand away. This wasn't a mirror, as it was a portal. It'll only be a couple of minutes, he told himself trudging forward into the portal. However, the mirror collapsed in hundreds of shards scattering around his sneakers.

To Be Continued...

Author's Notes: Welcome to Reflections of Revolutions, aka Fogged Mirror. Yeah~ I put my A/N at the bottom so now I can discuss this chapter! Rating might change. I had this story in mind for a while and I hope that you enjoy it! I really do. I'm sorry the first chapter is so short, it is just a prologue. Should I even continue it? Urg. It seems so stupid and cliche...Maybe it was a stupid idea to start these stories anyways. I feel so conflicted! Please review you awesome readers! If not I'm probably going to trash this idea. If you like what you're reading be sure to follow betweendreamsandrealityy (yes two Ys) at tumblr for updates and more! I have to cut this short because my sister is forcing me to watch a movie with her even though I have to study for finals. Okay, I hope this didn't ruin your expectations.

Warnings: None yet.

Disclaimer: I do not own hetalia.