The morning came and England tried to force himself to forget all about confessing to himself he was in love with America. He walked into the living room and watched as he slept messily sprawled across the couch. His hair a mess, his snoring atrocious, his clothes dirty and disarray, and what a mess he left the couch's condition in. I was in love with this? England asked himself. "Wake up." He said as he lightly kicked America awake. The boy stopped his snoring and reluctantly opened his eyes to the figure of the Brit. "It's already noon.." he stated

The American rubbed his eyes from the sleep sand. "Okay, I'm up, I'm up." He hazily said. He forced his way to sit up and rubbed his face once more.

"You said you had something planned for today." He asked America.

He almost instantly perked up remembering his plans for the day. "Oh yeah! I gotta get everything ready for it." He said as he got up.

The pair walked down the park path trying to find a spot good enough to have their picnic. America had the basket in his grasp while England held a blanket for them to sit on for when they found their spot. Almost a half hour of walking through the park later, they found their perfect spot. It was open enough to see the scenery but with just the right amount of trees to shade them and prevent them from getting overheated. Arthur unfolded the blanket and spread it far enough for them to sit on. He'd told America to not make such a feast out of lunch just as he had with breakfast yesterday. He'd only packed enough sandwiches for the both of them, two drinks, and two small bags of chips: Cheetos for America and regular Lays for England. America noticed England had started to dress more casually over their month together; he wore an actual tee shirt and pants that went to his calves.

"Hey, guess what." America said to the older nation.

"Hm?" England asked pulling out their lunch.

"Today's our last day to be married to each other." America reminded.

Britain lightly chuckled, "Yeah, tomorrow morning we go to the courthouse." He finished passing out chips, drinks, and sandwiches.

"I'll tell you, it's not gonna be as much fun without you around." America said, opening his Cheetos bag and then digging for one.

"I'm going to miss it not raining every other day." England exaggerated as he held his sandwich. America laughed.

"Hey, England… just because we're not gonna be married anymore, doesn't mean you have to be a stranger alright? Stop by every once in a while, we'll do more fun stuff together." America offered.

"Like what?" England asked, curious.

"Like… the carnivals, or the movies, ooh or visit monuments. There's many things we can do! And if we run out of things to do then we can do them all over again! It'll be so awesome!" America enthused.

"And you should come over to my country as well, there are a lot of things to do there too." England suggested as well.

"For sure, I'll come over all the time!" America got excited.

"Just call first, okay?" England asked, the boy nodded in an answer. They talked over lunch about trivial things and small, random topics. Both seemed to be enjoying their limited time together, while they still had it.

"So, whaddaya think was going through our heads that night in Vegas?" America casually asked.

"I don't know. A lot of alcohol, that's for sure." England shrugged, taking another drink from his Arizona Iced Tea.

"You drink tea a lot, you know that? Aren't you worried about kidney stones?" America asked before he could even think about what he was saying.

England removes the can from his lips and looks to the label. "Its not like its the only thing I drink. I drink water, too." He answered. He puts the drink back where it was and they both face forward to look at the people that cross their vision.

In the close distance they see a couple holding hands, America looks subtly to his left hand. He never did take off his ring, only to shower or do dishes. He can't see if England is wearing his because the basket is blocking his sight of the Brit's hand. The couple in front of them stop, the man gets down on one knee and pulls out what England and America can only assume is a box with an engagement ring inside. The American nation looked over to the older blond, he looks… not exactly sad, but unsatisfied. As if he wanted to be the woman being proposed to, properly. Not after a drunken night with his former colony. When Britain shifted his eyes from the couple, to his lap, to the shrubbery around him, America felt guilty.

He make an attempt to cheer the Brit up, "Well, I just thought… since its your last night in the States, that we could go somewhere nice tonight for dinner. Of course, my treat. I think you'll like it."

England looked his way and gave a small smile, he nodded in agreement slowly. He looked back to the couple; the woman's arms were wrapped around the man's neck as he spun her around twice to celebrate their new lives together. That's way too embarrassing; I could never do something like that with him. Both America and England thought simultaneously.

Britain and America walked into the fancy restaurant wearing the suits they had worn to the last world meeting. The chandeliers that hung from the mural of a ceiling lit the room just enough accompanied by small candles at each table in small vases, great mood lighting for a romantic night. Tables were set up in a 'U' shape to make room for the dance floor in the middle of the room that was just in front of the stage where classical instruments were placed. The hostess showed them to the table they would be eating at for the evening. It was very elegant, England was kind of surprised. The only restaurants he'd seen so far in America were McDonald's, Whataburgers, Wendy's, and other fast food places. He'd never expected someplace like this to be in the country, he wasn't even sure what kind of cuisine this place had to offer.

"Good evening, gentlemen. I'll be your waiter for tonight, can I offer you a glass of our very own wine?" A man, mid thirties, asked them.

They looked at each other cautiously, "Maybe just only one glass." America requested.

"Very well." He left to retrieve the wine.

"We don't want to overdo it again." America joked. Their waiter came back with a bottle of red wine, he filled the glasses on the table. After he requested they have a nice night and he'd give them some time to look over the menu, he left once again to tend to other tables.

"America, I feel like this whole month we've been doing activities together, but we haven't really gotten to know each other any better." England started. "It's been a while since we last spent time together."

"Um, well, what do you want to know about me now?" America asked.

"How are you doing these days? Have you been having any problems with your country since you became," he tried to stop himself from choking up, "independent."

"Uhh, it's tough sometimes, but I kind of expected that. I didn't think running a whole nation was going to be easy. Actually, this month was just what I needed- getting away from work for a while. You can work your life away, y'know? You'll go crazy!" he explained. England knew exactly what he meant, it reminded him about his mystical friends back at home. They probably missed him very much, he hadn't said a word to them since he left for the meeting a month ago. "What about you, England?" America asked.

"I haven't been up to much these days. Trying to keep my country stable is challenging enough, never mind prospering or maintain a social life." Whoops. He didn't mean to say that last part. Now America's going to think he's a loser with no friends.

Surprisingly, he doesn't comment on it or mock him for not having a social life "What about before? I don't remember much from when I was a kid, did you have a good social life then?" he asked.

"It was so long ago, I can't really-"he was interrupted.

"Did you date any other nations?" America asked, curious.

England froze. Did America really want to hear about his exes? Why would he want to if he did? "I-I don't really want to say," England stammered.

"C'mon… if you can't tell your husband, who can you tell?" America pressed forward, he briefly flashed his ring for proof of their marriage.

Britain sighed, "Okay, you may not believe it, but," he pauses for a long time, with a slight cringe he says, "France."

"Shut up, you're kidding." America showed interest. Britain gave a guilty, sickened smile.

"Needless to say, it didn't last very long." He excluded that it was only made up of lustful nights between the two of them, he felt America didn't need to know that little fact.

"Woow," America let out a shocked face, "Anyone else?"

"I don't know how to answer that. Rather I say 'no' and that would be lying to you, or I do tell you and you think I just go around with other men all the time." England was silent. America looked to him in a sympathetic manner. "Listen, I've learned my lesson: nations- while it seems like a smart choice at the time (seeing as how they'll live as long as you do and don't seem to get any older), it's actually not." He looked off, "They all turn out to be real arseholes eventually." That must've been why England didn't have many friends when it came to the other countries, the relationships probably all ended badly between him and the others. The subject of the other nations seemed to upset England very much so America decided not to bring it up again. They just ordered their meal and continued talking about other topics.

"England," America said. England reluctantly looked up to the American. "Even after tomorrow… I'll still be your friend. If you want." He said quietly, though audible enough for him to hear.

Britain gave a small sigh of a laugh, "Thank you." He said. Once they got their food, they hardly talked except about how their food tasted.

"Wanna try some?" America offered. He cut up a piece of his meat and handed the fork to England, who took it willingly and tasted a small portion of the other's meal.

"That's delicious," he handed the fork back over to America. "Have some of this." England, also, separated a piece of his food and offered it to America.

"These guys know their stuff." He praised and gave England his utensil back. He couldn't help but think when he cut another piece of meat, before it entered his mouth, that England's mouth was just on the same utensil, he oddly felt a slight flutter in his heart thinking about the indirect exchange of DNA between them.

When they couldn't stand for one more bite, the blonds put down their forks and continued their evening. Even after their plates had been taken for cleaning and the bill had come to be paid for, they stayed there conversing. England absolutely enchanted in what America had to say, and the boy not much different. It wasn't until America finished one of his stories with a great laugh from both of them that they noticed all the people on the dance floor. With a finishing chuckle, America asked the British nation "Do you want to dance?" he smiled.

England looked to the dance floor as well. As if he was contemplating it for a while, he stared out to the dancers. America stood and extended a hand for him, which he took and stood as well.

To be honest, not many people were on the dance floor, maybe about ten. Yet, it seemed like a lot more when they were sitting down. America faces England and brings him in close to his chest. Britain rested his hand on the taller's shoulder blades, while America rested his hand against England's slightly lower back. They swayed slowly in circles with the rhythm of the band's sound. Chest to chest, England dared not to look into the younger nation's eyes in fear he'd be swept off his feet. This is dangerous. He thought. His body didn't seem to cooperate with his brain's signals and warnings not to be drawn in any more than he already had been, England looked deep into America's crystal clear eyes. Convinced he had more will power than his emotions, he looked away. But in retaliation, his head unconsciously rested against America's chest.

America lowered his head against England's. He closed his eyes as they continued to stay in that position and sway. He smiled, "I guess you can consider this our first dance." He said.

England was quiet for a moment, "And our last." He felt an involuntary tear glisten down his cheek.

America finally opened his eyes and looked down to the Brit's face. He saw the outline of a tear stream and England's eyes were reddening. He moved his hand up to England's cheek. "Hey, what's the matter?" he worried.

England brought his hand back up to wipe away those damn tears, "Nothing." He staggered his breathing. "It's just… you say we're still going to be friends after tomorrow, but you don't mean it. By the time the next world meeting comes around, you'll forget this whole month ever happened and we'll go back to being strangers." America looked sympathetic to his crying husband. "Despite how it started, I've been having a real nice time here, but I don't want it to be just a memory of 'that one month I was married to you'." He wiped excess tears from his cheek.

America pulled him back into his chest. "Here, let's just go home, okay?" he asked. England sniffled, but nodded against America's chest.

They arrived back to the house, upon entering the key into the door, America looked back to England. "You stopped crying." He said. England pursed his lips but made no response. America opened the door for them to enter. After England was in as well, he shut the door and locked it behind them. He stretched and yawned, "I'm pretty tired, I'm just gonna take a shower then go to bed." He informed the other.

England was still too embarrassed from his crying fit earlier, he only answered in slow nods. By the time America was out of the shower and in his sweatpants, he had already been in his pajamas for the night.

"I set the alarm on my phone for seven. I thought we could have breakfast before we go to the courthouse tomorrow. I'll wake you up when I do, alright?" America said, sliding his finger across his phone. He looked up to England in his green pajamas, he stepped closer, "Um, goodnight." He said and kissed England's forehead. It was as if that chaste kiss had broken his brain's abstinent lock. He walked towards the door.

"Uh, America-" he said quickly before America left the room, "since it is our last night together… you don't have to sleep on the couch if you don't want to." He nervously suggested.

America looked at him, surprised, for a silent moment. "Uh, okay." He accepted. He stepped to the bed and plummeted into the sheets. "Ahhh~ it feels soo much better than the couch. I might even get a good night's sleep." He said, England had no choice but to smile. He sat on the side of the bed, riskily he placed his hands on either side of America and hovered his face over the younger's. America hadn't noticed until he felt the sides of the bed get heavier and he felt soft lips kiss his. He opened his eyes.

"Good night." England sweetly said and climbed over him to the left side of the bed, leaving America quite bewildered. Was it really a goodnight kiss or was it meant to be something more? He was never any good at reading people, even people he'd known his whole life.

America pushed himself up enough to relax his head on the pillow, he kept staring at England's back that faced him when England turned on his side. He couldn't see just how red and hot England's face was from chance embarrassment. America just got under the covers and faced the opposite direction. The painful awkwardness between them increased at an alarming rate with every second that passed. While England kept worrying about how embarrassing it was to kiss America on the lips for that brief moment, America hand reached his hand behind to grab hold of England's. They held each other's hand behind their backs for minutes which seemed like hours. It wasn't an entirely uncomfortable position, just from an outside perspective it did look kind of strange.

They lay there, contemplating who'd make the first move, and if the other would reject it. In the end, it was England. He released America's hand and shifted against America's back, hugging around to the front of him. "England," America put a hand on the Brit's forearms around him.

"Please, America… can I just… stay like this for a moment." He nuzzled his face into America's back. After a moment, America took it a step further: he reached around to bring England in closer into a hug both facing each other. England stammered, "Wh-what-?"

"I wanted to make our last night together memorable." America responded. His hand gently slid over England's body from his hip, up his back, to the back of his neck, and then graced his cheek. He stared quietly for a brief moment into England's eyes and then pressed his lips to the Brit's. His lips were as soft as the skin on his back was or the smoothness of his hair. Almost instantly, the older nation melted into the kiss and shifted his weight to climb on top of the younger. America's hands smoothed back down to his hips and then up a little under the pajama shirt he wore to the small of his back. England rubbed his hands up America's chest and halted kissing him, he went to the American's neck not too long after that. He began sucking and licking with expert motions, he knew he had him when the other blond had released a moan. Aw, hell, he couldn't deny himself a moan either. He made his way up to America's ear, giving it a soft chomp and he scathed the outer shell with his teeth.

Suddenly, he gasped and sat up straight, still sitting on America's lap. "W-we can't do this! I promised myself I'd never fall for another nation." He shook his head and emphasized. He quickly removed America's hands from his back.

America sat up as well, persistent on having his hands on the older man, he rested his palms on the Brit's hips. "Forget about all that, England. Tonight, we're not countries… we're just two people that are incredibly attracted to one another. Forget about those other nations, 'cuz they must've been dumber than a bag of rocks to take advantage of you." He explained.

"Not countries?" England asked.

"Nope, Alfred and Arthur not America and England." America answered.

England pondered over it, it was very tempting. For once, the multiple nagging voices that called his head home completely shut up. He rested his arms on America's shoulders and brushed his lips to the boy's, this time with more intensity. Involuntarily, his lower half grinding into America's as the American grabbed the hem of his pajama shirt to prompt him to take it off. After the action took place, America went to kissing Britain's bare chest, his hands going wherever they could: up his back, over his stomach, down his arms, kneading his buttocks. England rolled his head back as America massaged his thighs, he grabbed at the back of America's shirt to take it off as well. America lifted his arms up for the removal of his shirt and braced England's fall onto his back to the pillows. He kissed down England's stomach as he pulled on his pants and underwear, Britain lifted his hips as his hardened member sprang free. The Brit's face flushed ruby in embarrassment, "Yours too, wanker." He said.

"Don't worry, they're comin' off too." America assured him. Though it was much more difficult than getting England's pants off, he managed considering he was on his knees.

England pointed to the American judgingly, "Wh-when did you get so big?!" he persecuted.

"Like, five minutes ago. You were there, remember?" he said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. That's not what I meant, wanker. England wanted to say, but didn't get the chance to when America went in for more. With a hand on his cheek, America slid England further up against the headboard with the pillows. The two kissed yet again, never tiring of the practice, Britain smoothed his hand over America's warm skin. When Britain ended it, he brought America's first two fingers into his mouth. He promiscuously sucked on them with great expertise until they were thoroughly coated in his salvia. When America's face showed his confusion, England chuckled a little bit and brought the hand down to his entrance. Clearly, America had never done it this way before. The British man gave a microscopic shutter as the fingers touched him there. He clenched his teeth and spread a pained look on his face when the digits entered him. He didn't think it had been this long since he'd done something like this. America's eyes had no clue where to look: at Britain's face or his hand going inside of his husband.

"Are you okay, man?" he asked, concerned.

England's breath hitched repeatedly, "Yeah, I'm… just fine." He said, one eye closed. "It's actually, pretty good." He pushed America's fingers in deeper and then clutched his arm in desperation. Desperation for what, neither of them knew for sure: whether to remove the fingers immediately or to thrust them in harder. He buried his face into America's shoulder and sounded out something like a punch in the gut.

"I don't understand, you say it feels good but you look like it hurts." America commented.

"Just… just give me a minute, okay." England tried. He relaxed his muscles as much as he could, which wasn't very much.

"Can I look for your sweet spot yet?" America asked. England took in a breath and laid back down to the pillows, he nodded his approval. America curled his finger every which way he could find, just to make England shout out in pleasure. He dug his fingers even deeper a curled his finger a few centimeters to the left and,

"There, right there!" England arched his back and screamed, clutching the sheets as hard as he could. His screaming and whimpering turned America on even more. "Again." England commanded. America gladly obliged in tickling the nerves, sending England's nervous system to freak out. "More, dammit!" he shouted.

"Just a sec." America said, he stretched his opposite arm (fingers still inside of England) to the bed side table. He couldn't reach the drawer, just a few units away from his reach.

"You can take them out if you need to get a condom." England said, even though he whimpered when America did take them out to get what he needed. Fully sheathed, America spread England's legs far enough apart for him to squeeze in. He looked at Britain's expecting eyes looking at his penis ready to enter him. He caught him looking at the Brit, "What?" he asked.

"Um, nothing…" he caught himself from saying something foolish. Something like, "I love you"

And that's where I'm gonna stop this chapter because I'm just an evil bitch like that. Yeah, I do that stuff: make you wait forever and then leave it when it gets to the juicy parts. I'm so bad .

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