The ring sat in its black box velvet box, eight bands of twisting golds caught the light in the room in such a way that England swore, was mocking him.

England was in his study, sitting in a worn but well loved arm chair. The late afternoon was sun filtering through the room accompanied by a light breeze that rustled the curtains. In his hand was a ring.

Not just any ring though, it was the ring.

The ring he was going to use to ask America to marry him with—at some point possibly— in the near future.

He heaved a long suffering sigh and allowed himself to slump in his chair, a headace forming behind his temples.

The best way England could describe his relationship with America , was… it was… Well it was rather like a jigsaw puzzle. Yes, he knew that that was an overused and clichéd metaphor, fitting together like puzzle pieces and all. But he wasn't referring to just the individual pieces of the puzzle. He was referring to the puzzle as a whole.

Their relationship was well, was big, complex, and some pieces just did not fit together not matter how hard you willed them to. But after many, many aggravating years of pulling their hair out, and thoughts of just walking away from the damned thing once and for all. They were rewarded with something beautiful, that in the end fell into place, like the last pieces of—well, a puzzle.

Perhaps it was this prevailing idea of puzzles, that lead him to buy the puzzle ring in the first place.

To be honest he had been toying with the idea of asking America to marry for him for awhile, ever scent about 2004 when his own country allowed civil unions to take place! But something had been holding him back from actually taking that plunge. Maybe it was his own fear of being rejected, or maybe it was some else entirely. Either way though, England was petrified when came to the idea of actually jumping off the matrimonial cliff.

England blamed the royal wedding for pushing him off that cliff. Thanks to his royals getting married everyone had marriage on the brain. To the point where even America, had (five months ago…) off handedly mention that it would be nice, if they could one day get hitched.

"Wouldn't that be nice Arthur?" He muttered to himself, running his hand through his hair in frustration.

He looked back at the box in his hand the ring sitting on its crushed velvet cushion still mocking him.

Maybe he thought the thing was mocking him because the thought of asking the one man he loved the most to tie his life to his for the rest of their days still scared him to no end!

He come this far though the once empire was not about to give up. He'd looked around for what seemed like ages before he bought a ring that he felt suited American, at any rate that lad would have something more to not pay attention with at meetings. He just needed to think of a proper way to ask him, and he'd be golden.

If he were America, he would have found a way to paint the question across the bleeding sky! But he was not America, not by any stretch of the imagination. There seemed to be something so clichéd about all the traditional methods of proposal. Fancy dinners, insert time of day, walks in the park/ sea side, even asking America at one of their world functions! All of these had crossed his mind at some-point scents he had decided to walk down this path, but all of them had been tossed out for one reason or another.

England sat up with a sigh setting the open box on the arm of the chair as he glanced at the mantle clock. It was getting dangerously close to four o'clock, and tea-time was not something that England was about to forgo just because couldn't find a satisfactory way to pop-the-question to who had to be the most loveable over-grown git in all of Christendom. Especially when said git was going to be arriving for (as America put it) 'special just us time', at around five o'clock.

He rolled his shoulders they felt stiffer than usual, maybe America was right, he really should try and relax more. He made to bring his hands up to stretch his arms over his head, but as he did so his hand bumped into the arm chair just hard enough to in the ring, box and all flying. England watched transfixed as the box bounced once, actually dislodging the ring which hit the hard wood with a noise like a handful of pennies.

"Oh bollocks ." It was all he could really find to say, as he looked at the jumble of loops on the floor of his study. He pushed himself out of his chair, and with shaking fingers picked up the knot of rings that damn puzzle ring had become. A quick examination showed that none of the loops were actually bent in a way that they shouldn't be. It was just a matter of solving the puzzle.

England grumbled a litany cursing his own clumsiness, as picked up the box, it was really, nothing fret about all he to do was find where he put the blasted instructions and put it back together before America showed up. Simple really…

Or not so simple… England thought nearly an hour later when he sat at his kitchen table head in his hands and the ring sitting so innocently on the table in front of him, no closer to be solved. He'd torn apart his house looking for the directions to put the ring back together again, but they were nowhere to be found. What was more he had spent nearly all of tea-time looking for them. He had come to the rather gloomy conclusion that he must have accidentally thrown them out at some point.

He groaned and lifted his head just enough to glare at the disassembled ring. There was no way he could ask America to marry now! Not with a ring that was in pieces, grant it that was what the ring supposed to, but still!

How would it look if he got down on one knee before America, and asked to marry him with the puzzle ring in its current state ? What would he even say?

"Oh, Alfred, my love marry me? And if you say yes, you have to figure out how to put your ring together."

No, that was not a situation wanted to face. England sat the rest of the way up and glanced at his wrist watch. It was nearly five o'clock, he let out a sad sigh, a hand covering the frown that found its way to his face. He picked up the tangled ring and set it in the box, never bothered to close the lid.

"Well," he said to the room at large, in the voice of one trying to put on a brave front, "It looks like it will just have to wait until the next time won't it?"

Solemnly he pushed back from the table and set about getting the kettle on. He might of missed most of tea-time, but that still didn't mean that tea was not unwarranted. The fact that it was very nearly five did not slip England's mind, but banked on the fact that America would most likely be about half an hour to an hour late. Thus, giving him time to put the kettle on, hide the ring , try and get his home back into some semblance of order, and then act like he'd be in repose all day.

While he banged about in his cabinets for the kettle he vaguely wondered why America didn't want him to just pick him up from the airport? It was what they normally did when visiting one another, and he rather enjoyed those airport reunions when they hadn't seen each other for weeks or even months at a time. But America, had been oddly incessant over the phone about not be picked from the airport this time round.

He stood at his sink filling his beaten kettle lost in his own thoughts, the sound of the rushing tap filling his ears. He never did hear the other sounds.

Like the sound of a key being sloughed into his front door, or the sound of a bag being set down quietly as a door was closed. Nor did he hear the sound of someone trying all too hard to not be heard, as they made their way through a house they happened to know all too well.

So it was to be expected that England might not react too kindly to someone who would sneak up behind him and suddenly wrap their arms tightly about his person.

Poor America received a sharp elbow to the gut and face full tepid water for his troubles.

England, still acting on instinct wheeled round and brought the kettle up in over handed swing ready to deliver the killing blow, but the kettle slipped from his fingers and clattered into the sink behind him.

"Alfred, you're on time!" He gasped, as his eyes alighted on the damp nation doubled over clutching his stomach, then nearly slapped himself. He'd nearly stoved his boyfriend's head in with a kettle and all he could do was make a comment on America's punctuality! What was wrong with him?

America looked up at his lover a pained smile on his face. Not quite the tender greeting he had planned but what's a hero to do?

"H-hey, honey-bunny it's nice to see you to." He grunted, as he righted himself, still rubbing his mid-section.

England rolled his eyes with a huff, "Git, just what were you thinking sneaking up on me like that? I nearly killed you!"

America jutted his bottom lip out in a pout shaking the water out his hair, "Aw, come on Artei , I just wanted to surprise you that's all."

The British nation heaved a sighed and shielded himself from the spray of water droplets that American sent flying about the kitchen, Really that boy…

"Alfred, love, stopped that you're getting water everywhere, here let me get you a towel."

He pushed past the younger nation only to be stopped by a strong hand on his arm. England half turned and raised a impressive, brow to a set of baby blue's that he never learned to say no to.

"Can't I at least get a kiss for my pain? I mean it's been so long scent we saw one another!" That pout, that America had perfected over years on his face.

England couldn't help the small smile that came, not quite unbidden to his lips, but it was quickly cover it with poorly feigned annoyance, "Well, I suppose."

"Hey you were the one who threw water in my face!" America said with mock indignation as he and England drew closer.

"Watch your tongue lad," England replied, making it a point to light cuff America upside the head as he took the boys wet cheeks in his hands, "or you might find more than just water in your face the next time round."

Their breath mingled as America smiled that ridiculous grin of his, "Well as thing go I guess you have thrown worst things at face before!"

England felt it best to not respond to that last statement, for if he did it would spoil the mood. He felt the American press his forehead to his blue eyes meeting green, saying 'I love you' without words.

Neither could ever say who leaned in first, either though way the last few inches between them disappeared as their lips met. They melted into one another; America's lips were still very damp, and the water that dripped onto his shoulders reminded him that he might want to find America that towel soon. But as America hummed and smiled into the kiss pressing back a bit more firmly— maybe the towel could wait.

They pulled apart somewhat reluctantly, England stroking America's cheek fondly, and America smiling that dopey smile of his that he always wore after a kiss like that.

"It is nice to see you darling, and I am rather sorry about attacking you in such manner" England said in a stage whisper.

To which America shrugged good naturedly his eyes sparkling in the light as he chuckled. "Ah don't worry about it sweetheart, a little water never killed anyone before!"

England padded the cheek one more time before he let his hands drop, and took a step back from his lover, "I suppose that might be true. Now you, go and sit at the table while I go and fetch you a towel. I don't want you getting water all over my house."

America bobbed his head in agreement, as he turned his back to begin to dig through his kitchen drawers. A large tee-towel could do for now until he could nip up stairs for a better one.

"Hey, Iggy when did you get a puzzle ring?"

He nearly slammed the drawer on his hand, Shite, he'd forgotten about the ring in the excitement. England wheeled around mouth flapping uselessly as he tried to some explain away the presence of the ring that would make America forget about the ring until he could fix it. The excuses died in his throat though; America was already holding the jumbled mass of rings between his thumb and forefinger; such a look of concentration on his face with his tongue poking out of his mouth.

All England could really do was watch in stunned amazement as American slid the loops up and round one another, each one falling into its proper place seamlessly. He sometimes forgot just how intelligent America could be, in all fairness though the lad made so easy with his talk of giant robots, and zombie apocalypse preparedness kits. But America was the nation that made it to the moon six times and back, on little more than sound math and prayer, America had been the first nation to take to the skies and nerve look back, and as America presented the solved puzzle ring to him in his up turned palm with a gleeful grin, was the nation to spawn the Rubik's cube.

"Niffty ring sweetheart, though isn't it a bit big for your finger?" America said taking a closer look at the ring. "Not that I would know your ring size or anything…" He add quickly a faint hint of red dusting his cheeks

England blinked coming out of his daze with a small intake of air. When had America gotten so close?

America arched a concerned eye brow in his direction, "Iggy, babe you okay, you seem out of it?"

He batted the hand away that America tried to place on his shoulder with an air of determination, and gently took the ring out of his palm less it fall apart again.

No he shouldn't, he really, really shouldn't. It was a foolish notion to even begin with, the mood wasn't right, and America was still dripping water, and and he'd left the tap running, and there were just so many other reasons why he should not do, what he was probably going to do anyways. Because one thought, one little voice in the back of head managed to stand out from the rest yammering for him to just turn tail and run.

Since when has anything in this relationship work out exactly as you planned it?

And looking into those eyes, those worried, summer blue eyes that had stolen his heart the first time they looked into his, and never bothered to give it back. He knew that right now was as good a moment as any. That no matter what the centuries had in store for them, he wouldn't want to face those unforgiving years with anyone else.

"Arthur?" America asked, as England took his left hand in his, shock and confusion evident on his face. England ignored him though, for if he were to keep looking into those eyes he just might lose his nerve. He kept his eyes trained on America's hand, sliding the ring soundly onto the appropriate finger. It fit perfectly, as was to be expected; it wasn't that hard to figure out the younger nations ring size. American slept like the dead after all.

He felt rather than heard America's intake of breath, as he slowly knelt before the one he loved the most. Only when his knee hit the ground did he dare look up at America face, who's eyes were now as wide as saucers behind his glasses. England took a breath and gently squeezed the hand that was quivering in his own stealing himself to speak what had to be the most difficult phrase in the English language…

"Alfred F Jones, would you please marry me? Not as a nation but as the man I have loved for so very long."

The words hung in the air and there was taking them back now. England was aware of his heart hammering in his chest threatening to break out with each strike against his rib cage. His body felt light almost sickeningly so, well aware that his whole world could come crashing down with just one word.

America's face was dazed and flushed, his mouth hung slight open, and the corners of his eyes glistened with barely restrained tears.

"Alfred?" He prompted, seeking to break whatever spell America seemed to be under.

He was only briefly aware of the hand in his taking hold of his wrist, before England was wrenched to his feet and pulled into a literally bone crushing hug. America buried his head in the crook of England's neck in a rather weak attempt to hide his tears, he still felt them soaking through his shirt.

England felt rather inclined to take his lover's actions as a good sign, if America snapping his spine could be seen as good thing. It wasn't exactly a yes, but he highly a sobbing America meant, no. He sighed, pressing a comforting cheek against the head of wheat blond hair trying to hide in his clavicle, and warp his arms around slightly shaking shoulders. They rocked back and forth for a moment, swaying to some unknown rhythm of comfort.

"Not cool man." America said at length.

"I beg your pardon, what?" England replied mildly affronted.

He looked up at America his eyebrows furrowed as the younger pulled away and held England at arm's length, smiling a watery grin

"Not cool for making me cry," he said with a sniffle, taking off his classes wiping at the fresh tears with the heel of his hand, "I mean man, that just kind of came out of left field, and I never thought you'd beat me to it!"

England, blinked, and then blinked again, causing America to just laugh and shake his head. He set his glasses down on the table, digging in the pocket of his bomber jacket for something.

"I guess what I'm saying is, that yes Arthur Kirkland, I will marry you but, under one condition…"

England felt his heart soared higher than any bird, then plummeted like a lump of lead all within the same moment, "What-what's your condition?"

The younger nation simply shook his and pulled from his pocket a box. A small black velvet box; green eyes went wide as two and two suddenly became four.

He opened the box to revile a heavy gold band with a single expertly cut Emerald standing slightly proud of the metal. Then in a voice that was sheepish when compared to his normal vibrato said, "Only if you'll marry me to, okay?"

They stared at each other before a smirk broke across America's face, and a laugh escaped England's throat before he could stop it. The laugher balloon around him taking America with it; soon their laugher filled the kitchen. England felt himself falling into America's arms still laugh his head resting on a broad shoulder. Wither this laughing fit was brought on by hysterics or just out right relief, England really couldn't tell nor did he care to! What had been so worried about again, England couldn't remember. America was laughing holding him close, and proposing marriage just after he'd managed to pop the question first!

Their laughter subsided with England rubbing at his eyes, "My we are a quite a pair."

America nodded in agreement " A perfect mismatch set if you ask me!"

The kiss that followed was to be expected, but was still just as sweet. When they pulled apart , England let America slipped the ring onto his finger.

"So I take it you'll marry me then?" America asked cheekily, as he appraised the Emerald ring on now on his fiancée's finger.

England smirked, "I would assume the answer would be obvious by this point."

"I know," America pouted "It be nice to hear you say it, I said it to you after all."

He linked their hands so that their rings bumped together, gazed upward "I suppose it should be said…" he hummed noncommittally drawing the moment out, "Yes Alfred I'll marry you, if you will marry me."

America let out a small cheer an impish gleam in those blue depth's as he rested his forehead against England's, while his free found place on England's waist "Then we're all set then!"

All set then. Of cores America would wrap up something like this into one neat little package, but he couldn't really bring himself to be annoyed by right now. Especially when America leaned into kiss him again.

" You know I love you," he said in a breathless whisper, "right Iggy?"

He nodded and brought the intertwined hands to his lips, "And I you darling, though I must ask?"

" Sure, what is it, honey-bunny?"

England gestured at his new ring with a small twitch of his head, "Is this why you didn't want me to pick up from the airport today?"

"Oh, yeah," America said with a shrug, "I had to pick it up from the jeweler's today and I wanted it to be a surprise, and I guess it kind of was! You just surprised me first."

England then smiled a smile that he saved just for America pulling his now fiancé in for another kiss.

And later, much later when love had been made and they were laying in his bed, with America curled around him, snoring in his ear like a rather large animal with a sinus problem. He tucked his head under his fiancé's chin, and sighed contentedly feeling as though that puzzle of theirs was finally, truly complete.