"English cuisine is far superior to American!" Arthur shouted at the top of his lungs at the younger nation. They've had this argument many, many times before, but neither of them are willing to give in.

"Umm, dude, no way!" Alfred shouted back. "Your stuff tastes like bricks!" That just made Arthur even angrier. They were just meeting at Arthur's house to discuss world affairs, which of course quickly turned into an all out fight about food.

"At least my food isn't covered in grease!" Arthur huffed out. "Look, if you would just try one of my scones again, I'm sure you would love it," he slid a plate of burnt scones across the table in Alfred's direction. The American looked at them, contorting his face in disgust.

"Why don't you try my food, Iggy!" he said as he pulled a wrapped up hamburger out of his pocket and sliding it toward Arthur. As it skidded across the table, it left a trail of grease in its wake. Arthur took a couple deep breaths trying to contain his anger; he was going to have to clean that up later.

"Look Alfred, neither of us will EVER try each other's food. However, I'm tired of having the same fight over and over again," Arthur signed, "We need to find a way to settle this once and for all!" he put his head in his hands. Alfred thought about it, they did fight about food, like a lot. They never had any fun while they fought and it just ruined the whole evening. But, what kind of contest could they have to decide who's better, Alfred thought. He could easily beat anyone at anything because he is America. Hmm, something that'll embarrass Iggy, making him uncomfortable was fun. Plus, and he would never say this out loud, a blushing Iggy is just so freakin adorable!

A light bulb turned on in Alfred's head, "Gay Chicken!" he shouted.

Arthur looked up from his hands, "I beg your pardon?"

Alfred smirked, "Come on!" he shouted, running to the living room.

"Don't run in the… never mind," Arthur said, "Why do I even try?" He followed Alfred into the living room and sat down on the couch next to him. Why was he talking about happy poultry?

"Okay, the rules to gay chicken are easy," Alfred said, "first one to pull away, loses." That's when Arthur understood, he meant gay as in homosexual and chicken as in scared.

"S-so let me get this straight-"

"Starting now!" Alfred interrupted him and grabbed his hand. Arthur jumped a bit from the sudden action but didn't pull away, in fear of losing the game. Alfred didn't just hold his hand, he caressed it. Being gentle for once, he held Arthur's slightly calloused hand stroking his thumb over it every once in a while. Arthur's face flushed crimson, he didn't expect Alfred's hands to be so… soft. Then again, he never really thought about what his hands would feel like. Well, this is a competition, Arthur thought. Maybe he should step it up a notch, scare Alfred into turning away. Scooting a little closer to him, Arthur leaned his forehead against Alfred's. Now it was Alfred's turn to blush. Whoa, he did not think Arthur would step up to the place like that. The British Man's silky hair brushed his face making Alfred's brush a deeper red. This is hard to admit but... it felt nice, instead of fighting for once. Alfred tilted his chin toward Arthur's so their lips brushed each other's slightly. Both nations, with their hearts pounding and their faces flushed, pressed their lips together completely in a gentle kiss. Game forgotten, Arthur wrapped his arms around the American's waste and he tangled his fingers into Arthur's blonde hair. Pulling each other closer, they deepened the kiss.

They finally pulled away at the same time, blue eyes looking into green ones. Alfred smiled and Arthur blushed, "Well, I guess it's a draw then," said the American.

Arthur looked at the floor, "Yes, I suppose so…"

Looking at the time, Alfred stood up. "Well, I better get back, Tony challenged me to a video game tournament and I'm gonna kick his butt."

He started to walk away, "Wait!" Arthur shouted, grabbing Alfred's sleeve. He turned to the shorter blonde in surprise. "Umm, maybe we could… h-have a rematch. Tomorrow, we could make a picnic out of it." Arthur was looking at the floor, preparing for rejection. Then he felt a soft hand on his chin, tilting his head up and forcing him to look at Alfred.

"You bring the fish, I'll bring the fries?" Alfred asked.

Arthur resisted the urge to correct him, "Sure." He smiled and Alfred leaned in, pecking him on the lips.