As far as plans to raise funds for the United States went, this was easily the most… Unique. That was the best way Alfred F. Jones could put it. That didn't mean it wouldn't be awesome; after all, he had been the one who inspired it! Still, he was starting to wonder if this would be such a good idea, especially after he had seen the turnout. Only the fact that his country (really) needed the money kept him there, and not hidden in the back like he wanted. But no, his boss insisted that he needed to be there. Something about being a good example in these troubled times? Alfred wasn't sure. All he was certain about was that he was being dragged around like an item, not even allowed near the food. They didn't have hamburgers (sadly), but the cake looked divine… And it had a huge American flag on it! Well, it did, until they started handing out slices. But that wasn't the point! The flag, his flag, had been on a cake. And he wasn't allowed to have any. But his complaints fell to deaf ears, and he was shown around, eyed at like he was for sale. To say he was for sale would be wrong. After all, he only had to go on one date. One little date; how hard could it be?

"How do you think it's going, son?" His boss asked, out of earshot from the various guests. Anyone could get in, and there were a good number of people there just to catch a look at the famed America, or for the food. Alfred shrugged, long since used to the President calling him 'son', despite the fact that he was easily much older then anyone in the room.

"Good, I guess. Lots of interest, y'know?" Alfred wasn't sure if that was because he was up for grabs (for one night), or because of all the rare military items and memorabilia that was going on sale for the general public. Most of the stuff had been dug up from various museum basements, but a few were from Alfred's own collection (easily tripling the price). None of his really special stuff was up for sale, just a few weird things from around the different times. Like an old yo-yo he used to play with, back when he was a colony with England. It had never been his favorite toy, requiring him to stand still to use it.

"That's good, then. Now, can I trust you to walk around alone? Remember, you're representing the United States, Alfred," the President said with a smile. He walked off to talk with someone who looked important, but the nation couldn't recognize him. Too many important and stuffy politicians who just want to look good, he thought. He spotted several senators (from both sides), and a few people from congress. He knew there would probably be more as the night continued. Then what the President said finally seemed to click in Alfred's brain.

"Wait, I can get food now!" He exclaimed, not realizing how loudly he had spoken. He jumped up like an excited schoolboy and dashed towards the food. He waited in line, though, and filled several plates with everything from ribs to little pieces of steak. And, of course, he had gotten a star off of the cake. He was too busy thinking about how he was going to eat it all without looking like a brat (as England would say) to notice how most of the ladies were now looking at him with amused expressions. Most of the ladies, and even a few men stole a glance at him.

"Is it good, mon Amerique?" A voice suddenly said, causing said nation to nearly choke on his steak. That wouldn't look good, if he needed CPR in the middle of an important event. "Ah, sorry. I thought you would see me coming," France said, sitting across from Alfred. The North American nation eyed the European like one would a dangerous but not aggressive fish.

"What are you doing here? This is an American event, for Americans," Alfred said. France gave him an amused smile, which didn't amuse America at all. If anything, it made him even more paranoid. After all, that was the kind of smile that Russia had on all the time. "I know! You're going to buy everything and destroy it. Well you're plan ain't gonna work, 'cause I'm a hero and-"

"Please keep your voice down, while you make unfounded conclusions. I am merely here to view the proceedings, though I may buy a trinket or two. Preferably something from your colonial days. I do believe they would startle England, oui?" Taking that as an honest (enough) answer, America sighed and nodded. Figured, that France would come for a chance to get something that would upset Iggy. Still, it hadn't been something he had thought about. Would him selling a few colonial day items bother Arthur? Probably not, but you never knew. What was that Japanese word Kiku used to describe him? Tsunami? No… Alfred could never remember it.

"As long as you don't ruin the American-ness of the event," Alfred replied, through bites of his cake. He wasn't a believer in 'best for last', and liked to eat things as he pleased. It had always annoyed England, obviously. France sighed and rolled his eyes, but didn't say anything because the lights dimmed, except for a spotlight that went over to the podium at the stage.

"Welcome to the first ever auction hosted by the United States of America!" The President said enthusiastically. Cheering broke out, and he waited for it to die down before speaking again. "As you all know, we have all sorts of special items here today. Everything from perfect recreations to actual uniforms and items, from all periods of America's history… And of course, we have the nation here himself!" At this point the President gave everyone a smile, and a little bit of laughter flowed through the room. Everyone had seen Alfred dash for the food, after all. "And at the end, you have the chance to buy a romantic date from the man himself!" The President said, looking far happier then America was. I'm a nation, and this is my duty, he told himself. But he was pretty sure he had never thought that, in a million more years, he'd be selling himself to raise funds for his nation.

"Thank you, Mr. President. Now, we'll start out with more recent items and work our way back, until we reach our nation himself," the auctioneer said, stepping onstage as the clapping for the President stopped. "We'll open tonight with the uniform worn by America during his six month tour in Iraq…"

As far as auctions went, this had to be one of the freakiest ones Alfred had ever seen in his life. The opening piece had gone for nearly four thousand dollars, just because he had worn it for six months. And that was the first thing. Of course he hadn't supplied everything, and the other items still went for good prices, but from the way people were acting… They might as well have called it 'America empties his closet and let's you buy his stuff'. It would have been more accurate.

Two women got into some kind of food fight (a waste of good cake) over his dog tags from World War Two (and they weren't even his first copy, which he had refused to give up; they were from his second tour in the Pacific). A big weapon collector bought the pistol he had used once in World War One for nearly six thousand dollars. And his World War Two Navy uniform went for over one hundred thousand dollars. Alfred hadn't known if anyone would buy anything of his, considering the price put on all of it. He was being proved wrong, time and time again.

"I told you that you would be popular. You should listen to moi more often," Francis commented as the bidding for yet another military uniform continued. Alfred hadn't even remembered keeping most of them, and he had little attachment to a good number of them. He had kept a few of his uniforms, of course. His World War Two bomber jacket (too old to wear around like usual, but he had a recreation made to wear), his World War One uniform, his old Union (and matching Confederate) uniform, to name a few. And, of course, his Revolutionary War uniform. That was something he would rather die then part with, and no one had even bothered asking.

"I guess… Still, it's kinda weird. I mean, it's just a uniform," Alfred said, watching as the bidding reaching the hundred thousands. It was between two big museums, privately owned of course, who probably wanted to show it off. France laughed, giving America another amused smile.

"You are their country, non? And you have lived through history… They want to have a part of your history. You as a country, and you as their embodiment." It made sense, he supposed, but he wouldn't want to pay so much money for an old uniform… Even if someone famous (he guessed) had worn it. "Aren't you on sale soon? You should go up there, mon cher," Francis said. He eyed America like he was something to eat, and Alfred didn't stop running until he was safely behind the curtain of the auction stage. He had seen that look before, and it usually ended up with someone being groped (Arthur, or Mattie, depending), and someone else being kicked in the balls (Francis).

He didn't realize that, throughout the whole night, Francis hadn't even tried to buy anything, just watched the proceedings with an amused look on his face.

"I can't believe you guys are having me wear this," Alfred muttered, tugging at his jacket. The lady, who had, apparently, been in charge of his outfit for the night, gave him a small smile. "I mean…. It's not like I hate it… But usually you guys want me to be more serious and all. And, well, this ain't serious." The lady's smile grew.

"That's the point, Mr. America. Now, let's see… The President wants you to run through what you like to do, say something about how… And I quote, 'heroic', you are. Oh, and do something to make the ladies feel special." America was wondering just how much his President was on his side when he heard what he had been dreading. The start of the auctioneer's speech about him. Him being America.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, the moment you've all been waiting for! He's 235 years old, looks like he's nineteen, and is the personification of the United States of America…. Alfred F. Jones!" The cheering nearly blew Alfred's ears out, but he had heard the sound of machine guns go off just feet away, and had survived having a grenade thrown at him from point-blank range. This was nothing, right? He walked out as confidently as he could, ignoring his beating heart. If he had listened to it, it would have been beating so fast that it threatened to rip out of his chest. He gave everyone a cocky smile, the beams of the spotlights causing them to gleam. More than one woman let out a high-pitched scream, and he thought he saw someone faint.

"Hey, guys! I'm America, but you can all call me Alfred!" He paused as he leaned casually against the podium, grabbing the mike instead of standing behind the stand. "Or your hero, if you want," he added with a sly wink. Now the cheering increased tenfold, but he couldn't help but look for France. The nation saw him looking at gave him a coy wink back, but Alfred was more then used to it and didn't even blink. He felt a little bad, leading all these people on, but it was his duty as a nation. Besides, he was all these people's hero. If they needed help, he'd be there! He was America! "So I was told I would be wearing something special tonight, and I thought it would be some kind of suit… Luckily it wasn't, 'cause I like this a lot more," he said, trying to buy himself some time.

He did like his outfit, though. Tight blue jeans showed off his legs, and he wore plain white sneakers (brand-less, he noted). He wore a tight white T-shirt underneath a brand-new jacket that he would be certain to wear next time he saw England. It was a nice black, contrasting to his shirt. On the back was a complete collection of all fifty of his state's flags, sorted by alphabetical order. On the front, the zipper was an American flag. There was an eagle (faded in, so it looked like it had been branded onto the material) on his left shoulder, clutching a sword and olive branch in its talons. Over his heart was an America flag.

"So then, I guess you all want to know about me." America let out a nervous laugh, running a hand through his hair (messy, as per usual). "I like video games, sports, and fast food. I'm a big advocate of the basic rights, of course, and I'm not afraid to fight for what I believe in." America thought about what else to say.

These people didn't want everything, right? That would take him too long… After all, he was a man of many habits. It just came to him, having lived a couple of centuries of being alive. He knew Arthur had at least thirty hobbies.

"I'm a master at everything American, of course. Ya'll should know that I'm a true gentleman," America said in a perfect southern accent. Several people broke into cheering, and most of them laughed. "Oh, I see we have some Southern folks here…" He changed into a New Yorker accent. "Anyone from the Big Apple? Oh, I see, over there in the corner." He smiled. This was something he was good at; mimicking his state's accents for fun had always gone over well at parties. "But we can't forget the California girls!" He shouted, giving everyone his million-dollar grin. Everyone laughed, though he wasn't sure if it was from his accent or what he was saying. "Now, I love my international citizens too…." He concentrated. "Especially the Scottish! Ah, where's my haggis?" He said, laughing. "Where's my tea, you gits? I need my tea!" He added, speaking in a Scottish, then British, accent.

He had a feeling France was smiling; he always did like it when anyone made a joke about the British. The fact that he had more British jokes then anyone else didn't mean anything to him. Time to move on before I bore them, America thought.

"As far as other nations go, I'm super close to England and… Um, my bro. Um, Canada! Yeah, that's it!" He felt himself go red as he forgot Canada (again), but everyone laughed good-heartedly and he continued. "I've served in ever war we've been in so far, and I've received more medals then all the people in this room combined… Though, that might be an unfair comparison," he said, laughing. He glanced at the auctioneer, who nodded and moved forward, taking the microphone.

"All right! Now, the bidding for one romantic date with our hero, America, will start at one hundred thousand!" Alfred was just able to keep his mouth from dropping open. Sure, this was a once in a lifetime deal. And ok, he was attractive as far as looks went. And he was a hero, so everyone loved him. And he had a fanclub (several, mostly on the internet). So maybe they could have started at half of that price. As it was, he doubted anyone would be willing to spend-

"One hundred and fifty!" A voice cried out. The silence broken, the auctioneer had trouble keeping up at first. America was too nervous to watch, paying attention to the huge American flag that was hung up on the opposite wall.

"Two hundred fifty!" Were there always thirteen stripes on his flag? Oh, of course. Alfred felt his palms go sweaty, forcing himself to stand on the stage and keep up some kind of smile up. He wasn't sure if he looked pathetic or what.

"Three ninety!"

"Four fifty!"

"Five hundred!" Did he hear right? Half a million? That was the most they had sold anything for, the whole night. Certainly no one would pay anymore.

"Six hundred!" And America was shocked yet again, something that was becoming a regular occurrence that night. What he didn't realize was that there were several people who had come just for the chance to have a date with him.

"Seven hundred!" Why were the voices starting to become familiar? Well, one of them at any rate. The auction had come down between four people, three women and one male. America looked around and nearly fainted when he saw the man.

"Seven fifty!" Damn France, he thought. He must have planned the entire thing… Alfred didn't want to think about what the nation would make him do. Of course it was only supposed to be a date, but this was France. No doubt he'd find some way to force a kiss on Alfred.

"Eight fifty!" One of the ladies had dropped out, looking disappointed. Meanwhile, Alfred was trying to remember if Francis was even allowed in the auction. Didn't you have to be American or something?

"Nine hundred!" Another lady out, looking like she had just sucked on a lime and lemon at the same time.

"Nine fifty!" The last woman looked torn as she made the bet, but did so. Watching Francis, the nation didn't even blink.

"One million! Ladies and gentlemen, is this it?" The auctioneer seemed to have gotten far too into this, having pointed and motioned as the bets rose and rose. A silence. "We have a winner! The romantic date with America is sold, for one million dollars!" While the auctioneer looked ecstatic, and Alfred knew his boss would be more then pleased, Alfred was terrified.

He knew his country was low in cash, but this? He was screwed.

"It's just France, he won't kill you. Now good night, I'm sleeping." With those words of 'encouragement', Canada hung up on his brother, who was left staring at his phone like it had grown legs and walked into his hand. I'm… I'm doomed… If I get through this alive it'll be a miracle, he decided.

"Bonjour, mon cher Amerique. I hope you're looking forward to your date," Francis said, sneaking up behind his fellow nation. Never being one for personal space, he grabbed America's butt in one hand, rubbing softly. Alfred, for his credit, jumped in the air and made a sound that was a mix between a dying cat and a drowning elephant. "Ah, that is no way to greet your date," France said, trying to move in again. America slapped him away, bright red.

"France! What's your deal? Dude, this isn't cool. I'm, like, not going on a date with you! You'll, like, kill me or something," America cried out. The cleaning staff didn't even glance at them, far too busy cleaning up the night's mess. France frowned, and tilted his head, as if offended by what Alfred said. Considering he heard it (and worse) from England on a regular basis, America knew he was faking.

"I did not say that we were going on a date. I asked if you were looking forward to your date. Actually, I bought you for a rather simple purpose." Deciding to ignore the fact that Francis made it sound like he was some kind of item, Alfred raised an eyebrow. The European nation smirked. "Mon cheri Angleterre will be so happy to see the gift I got him, non?"

Alfred's roar of anger, surprise, and shock was one of the most amusing sounds France had ever heard. The look on his face was quite priceless as well. It would have been funny, even, if France had not had to run for his life.

As far as dates went, this was hardly America's first. This was the first one not to do with something political or otherwise nation-based. As if that wasn't enough, France had made him go to England to 'have a proper meeting with Angleterre'. Tugging at his suit, and wondering if he could leave without Francis noticing, America scowled. The European nation in question had yet to appear. Alfred wouldn't be surprise if he didn't come at all. After all, if France invited Alfred to anything, he would take his sweet time to make sure it wasn't some kind of plot to get into his pants.

"Ah. America… So you did come." England's face was slightly red and he didn't meet Alfred's look. He sat down in the booth quickly; examining the silverware like it was the most interesting thing in the room.

"Yo, what's up with the nation name? I mean, can't we just be human? Arthur…?" Alfred trailed off. He wasn't sure what he had been expecting from the other nation, but this certainly wasn't it. He had spent a few days wondering about his feelings for Arthur, and decided that a date wouldn't be bad. It wasn't like they hadn't gone out to eat before. Sure, usually another couple nations tagged along. But that wasn't that much different. Right?

"Oh? Sorry, Alfred. I was thinking about something…" Generally, when Arthur wasn't paying attention to something, you knew something was up. Summoning up his courage, Alfred reached over to grab England's hands. The island nation let out a gasp of surprise, and his face went red quickly.

"Come on, Arthur. We're here for a date. Not between England and America, but Arthur and Alfred." Plus, I really want this to be special, Alfred found himself thinking. He always had wanted to be close to the other nation. Personally, that was, not just through politics. But when you were a nation that wasn't always possible.

"I… I suppose so." Arthur gave Alfred a weak smile, which reminded the younger of the looks he would receive when his 'big brother' was tired from working too hard. He must be under a lot of stress, Alfred thought. "So. What did France do to convince you to do this?" He asked. Alfred waved a hand in the air, leaning back against the seat.

"Psh. I'm a hero; you think he can convince me to do anything? I just wanted to do something for yah, and figured that I could use some help about fancy restaurants in London… I mean, 'cause you have a big stick up your butt that makes you so stiff," he said with a laugh. Arthur frowned and shook his head, but was used to the jabs at his personality. In honesty, Alfred didn't want Artie to know the real reason why. What if Arthur took it the wrong way? It wasn't like any other date, Alfred knew. If it were anyone else, he'd be too busy trying to impress him or her. With Arthur he was able to just be himself.

"H-Hey! I was just asking… Here, read it," Arthur said, passing Alfred a crumpled up note. He used to the table to flatten it out, and read it quickly. The look on his face went from confused to disgusted. "You can understand my doubt…" Arthur said softly, face bright red.

Dear Mon Angleterre,

I hope you read this, instead of burning it in your fireplace (like you usually do to my letters). I am simply informing you that you have a date arranged with mon cher Amerique, at the Artisan Restaurant, on the fifth of this month. America will be there at six pm sharp, and is very eager to meet you. He mentioned something about whips and chains…?

Nevertheless, I am certain you will be in for a very fun-filled night. America is quite strong, after all… Though I'm sure you can give as well as get. Oui, I trust you will arrive on time.

Avec l'amour, la France

"Ah. Um. He didn't… You didn't take this seriously, did you?" Alfred asked, taking several moments to form a coherent sentence. Arthur sputtered, nearly spitting out the water he had been taking a drink from.

"N-No! What makes you believe that I would listen to this nonsense? Obviously it was some kind of sham by that frog, who simply likes to string me along and play with my feelings-" Arthur stopped, glowering at the waiters and waitresses that walked by. "Where's a waiter? I want to order and get this over with," he muttered darkly. Alfred bit his lip, a little nervous that Arthur was having such a bad time. Sure, the letter was disturbing. But were they unable to have a nice meal together?

"Sirs, have you decided on what you want to eat for tonight?" A waiter suddenly appeared, as if having heard Arthur. He probably had. Said nation looked over the menu, not having actually opened it before hand.

"Erm, yes." He proceeded in ordering some insanely complicated meal, the waiter writing franticly to keep up with Arthur. He was ranting, Alfred realized. This must be even more important to him then I thought….

"And for you?" The waiter turned towards Alfred. Damn, I haven't opened my menu either! Quickly he skimmed the list, trying to find something that sounded edible and not British. Please tell me they have good food… Francis wouldn't kill me, right? Not really convincing himself, Alfred finally found something.

"Um, steak, well-down, with potatoes on the side…. Anything else, Artie?" Alfred asked, looking over at his dinner companion. Arthur shook his head, not even saying anything about his nickname. That's not good, Alfred thought. Usually he tries to strangle me for trying to call him that…

"It will be out as soon as possible," the waiter said with a bow, leaving quickly. He left the two in a somewhat uncomfortable silence. This isn't going well… Come on, America! You're the hero, and your damsel is troubled. Figure something out and give her the best night of your life! It didn't really matter that said damsel was actually male, and more likely to declare war on Switzerland then admit he was troubled.

"Anything happen recently?" Alfred asked, mentally kicking himself for such a stupid question. Luckily it gave Arthur something to talk about, and he practically lit up as he started to go on about 'those bloody politicians' and how his 'blasted economy' wasn't doing much better then anyone else's. In other words, a completely normal conversation about a topic Alfred usually avoided with zeal.

"And then my brothers keep annoying me. 'Oi, England, can you go water my potatoes while I'm gone?' Or, if it's not Ireland, it's Scotland or Wales. 'England, brother, I need someone to try my haggis!' And don't get me started on all of my ex-colonies…" Arthur trailed off, sighing. He shrugged, looking a little more depressed then the moment before. "What can I say? Not all of them are so eager to befriend me again." Alfred bit his lip, knowing that the old memories still hurt.

"It's fine, Iggy. Don't worry, they aren't allowed to bother you right now," he said, reaching over again to grab Arthur's hands. They were so small, so cold… It had been a while since they had properly held hands, and it felt so strange now… Alfred still remembered the feeling of his hands being held; of the sense of security and strength it gave him. He wondered if Arthur felt the same, now that his hands were the small ones. He hoped so. "After all, I'm the hero and I say that you aren't allowed to worry right now!" Alfred added, grinning. Arthur nodded, his hands tightening on Alfred's.

"That sounds… Nice. I wouldn't mind having a few moments to relax," the island nation replied.

With most of the drama out of the way, Alfred found himself on a very enjoyable date. He and Arthur would joke around (mostly Alfred), poke at each other's strange habits, and discuss how much they hated France. In other words, a normal conversation for the two, except for one thing; neither of them tried to strangle the other. Which was good, Alfred decided.

"So then, are you really not going to tell me why you're here?" Arthur asked, having finished his scone and was now on his after-dinner tea. Alfred paused from his double chocolate cake and swallowed, knowing Arthur hated it when he talked with his mouth open.

"You really want to know?" He replied, taking another bite. He knew that he'd have to admit it eventually, but he didn't want to make it all seem like some kind of cruel joke… Knowing Arthur, he'd take it the wrong way completely and blow the whole thing out of proportion. And Alfred was having a really nice night; he didn't want to ruin it. Arthur nodded, taking a sip out of his tea. His green eyes seemed to bore holes into Alfred. Shifting in his head, Alfred nodded. "Ok… But you have to promise to hear me out and not leave in a mood, ok?" Arthur frowned.

"Fine. As long as it isn't some ridiculous reason…." He looked away, narrowing his eyes. Alfred had known him for long enough to tell that the island nation was worried. Oh Arthur, you get nervous about everything… No wonder you have such a big stick up your butt.

"Well… My country recently had an auction, and the biggest item was… It was a romantic date with me." Alfred paused, knowing that now was the time when Arthur would explode. And God, did he explode.

"What the bloody hell, Alfred? Did you do this as some kind of sick joke? How much? How much did that… That frog, pay you to tear at my heart? To play with my feelings?" The table was upturned, the dishes and glasses sliding onto the floor and breaking. The entire restaurant fell silent, eyes staring. France, from his seat, stood slowly. England lunged at America, intent on punching the taller nation, but his wrists were grabbed and carefully lowered. "How much?" England shouted, looking up with tears in his eyes. Alfred felt a lump catch in his throat.

"A… A million…" They fell out of his mouth like a feather from a bird, and broke and chance of the night being saved.

"Fine! I see how it is!" England shouted, shoving America away and dashing out of the room, ignoring all the looks he drew. Alfred bit his lip, trembling. Arthur… It's not like that, he wanted to shout. I love you, I really do… He was rooted in place, and it wasn't until the soft murmur of French reached his ears that he remembered where he was.

"Ca va, ça va aller…" He felt the soft hands pull him away from the ruined table, hear Francis hand the manager a clump of money, and then they were out of the hot and stuffy room. France pulled him into his car, shoving him in. There was a brief silence as the other nation walked around to the other side, getting in the car in silence. It took Alfred a few moments to realize they were driving.

"… Will he be all right?" He asked, his voice hoarse. Francis shrugged, the lampposts casting their light over him in waves. "C-Can we go see him?" Francis slowed to a stop. There were no other cars on the road, and the silence was starting to get to America. He was used to the hustle and bustle of his streets, where there was always life, but they were far away enough from the main parts of London for that not to reach them.

"It will be best if you give him time to mope… He is a loose cannon, oui? He will need to calm down before you will be able to make him see sense. Now, where is your hotel?" Francis asked. The European nation, Alfred recalled, had a small apartment he rented in London. No one ever bothered to ask why. Saying the address, Alfred felt like a limp doll, just sitting there, completely useless.
I just wanted this to be a date, damn it… Why does Arthur have to know everything? Why can't he just listen to me? Ugh… Alfred was not looking forward to the morning.

He wasn't sure what Arthur was expecting, but America had a feeling that it was not a half-awake American with a bunch of roses knocking on his door at seven in the morning. At least, that was what Alfred guessed from Arthur's look of surprise, which quickly molded into one of fury, complete with a bright red face.

"Go away, git! I don't need to listen to anymore of your lies!" He tried to close the door, but Alfred shot a foot out and managed to catch it right in time. That, he thought through gritted teeth, was going to hurt later. "Go away, wanker… You just are here because you need to complete some blood deal with that frog…" Looking at Arthur's face, it was clear he was suffering from a hangover. His face was still flushed from the alcohol, and the fact that he was wearing his shirt and pants from last night helped.

"Arthur, it's not like that. I didn't do it to hurt you, honest. I really did want to have a nice date with you-" That was as far as he got, because England opened the door and proceeded to tackle America. Oh, wait, Alfred thought. He's hugging me.

"You bloody git! What am I supposed to think? You admitted that the only reason you were going on a date with me was because someone gave you money. How do you think that made me feel?" Arthur asked, resting his head on the spot between Alfred's neck and shoulder. He hasn't hugged me since before the Revolutionary War, Alfred thought sadly. I missed it, he realized.

"I… I wasn't thinking. I'm sorry," he said. He blinked and pulled Arthur away from him. "Look at me, Artie." England looked up at America, too annoyed and confused to bother with the nickname. "I look at you and see someone who has cared for me since I was a little colony, someone who has stayed with me through thick and thin… And as much as you deny it, I know you care for me." In your own little ways, though that was left unsaid.

Whenever Arthur chided Alfred for not paying attention, he was reminding him of his duties as a nation. Whenever he grew emotional in July, it was his way of showing America that he still cared, even after all these years. And when he called hamburgers deadly and disgusting, and told Alfred that he was going to die young if he kept eating them, it was his way of showing that he watched out for him. America smiled sadly, looking down at the little nation that used to be so big. But I'm glad he's small, Alfred thought. Because I can do this.

And with that, America pulled him into a tight hug, resting his chin on Arthur's head. He breathed in the deep scent, the smell so uniquely Arthur. Tea, of course, and the damp smell of ever-present rain. The musky smell of old books and comfortable rooms, worn down by eons. The fresh smell of the sea, mixed and diluted with the smell of an entire meadow of flowers. Yes, this was England. This was his Arthur.

"I love you, Arthur. And I know you do, too. Even if you insult me and try to feed me all of your bad food, and even though you think all of my ideas are stupid, you love me." Alfred raised an eyebrow in surprise when Arthur pulled away. Oh crap, he thought. Am I just seeing things? Did I make this all up? His doubts were put away when he felt those oh-so glorious lips hit his, in a soft and careful kiss.

"Since when have you been so observant, you git?" Arthur asked, pulling away with a frown. His eyebrows seemed even bigger, Alfred noticed idly. He gave the island nation a grin.

"What are you talking about? I'm a hero! Everyone knows a hero has to be observant!" He was shut up by another kiss, this time deeper. He ran his right hand through England's hair, the other holding onto him like he was the last being on Earth. Arthur was good, though. His hands were both pulling at Alfred's hair as their mouths slowly opened up into a bigger kiss. Eventually they broke apart, both slightly redder then before. "If that's how you're going to shut me up from now on, I'm going to have to talk more," Alfred said, laughing. Arthur scowled and gave the other nation a soft punch in the chest.

"Git. Now come inside and help me look for a vase to put those in," he said, motioning towards the flowers. Alfred laughed as they walked inside.

If I can be your hero, I don't care what you say.

A/N: Usually have these at the beginning, but whatever. Anyway, I came up with this idea somewhat randomly... I forgot what movie, but I was watching one and it involved some kind of auction-for-a-date thing. And thus I came up with this. And seriously, come on. If I had the money I'd totally 'buy' America for a date and make him go with England. Maybe that's just me. Anyway! I love getting feedback and it would be awesome (like Prussia) if you left me a good, honest review!

And I suppose I should say how I don't own Hetalia, as much as I would like ^^