My first Hetalia fanfic! Well, if you don't count Thing I Will Not Do In History Class. I've been on a major USUK kick recently and wrote this on my iPod over the last couple of days. It was really fun to write and I'm way, WAY more proud of it than I should be.

"America, I found it!"

England turned away from the box of junk in America's room that he'd been picking through, holding a video game controller that had been buried at the very bottom.

"You found it? Awesome!" America looked up from the pile he'd been sorting through and began making his way through the cluttered room.

"I still don't see why you made me search for this for two hours." England tried not to sound petulant but was not altogether successful.

America appeared deaf to his complaints. "Dude, thanks so much! You have no idea how long I've been looking for this thing!" And with that, he threw his arms around England, knocking him backwards into the row of boxes.

England felt a flush spread across his face, and immediately pushed America away. "What was that for?"

"That was a bro hug," America explained, looking somewhat confused. "You know. I'm glad that you found it, so I hugged you." He laughed and good-naturedly whacked England on the shoulder. "You really need to loosen up more."

England moved quickly away, trying not to show how much the hug had unsettled him, but the fact remained that feeling America pressed against him like that, solid warmth coming through his jacket and his breath loud in England's ears - well, England didn't quite know what had made his face turn red, but he hoped to God that America hadn't noticed.

Unfortunately, it seemed to be becoming a habit.

Even in the middle of a World Conference meeting.

"So, who agrees with this plan?"

"...I do."

"Whoa, seriously? England, you never agree with my ideas! You're always telling me they're stupid and far-fetched and -"

"Well, they usually are. But this one actually makes sense, and I think it might -"

"BRO HUG!"

"I said stop - Oof!"

"Oh, get a room, you two."

"France, it's not - like - that - stop it America -"

"Mais bien sûr que non."

"I don't speak your idiot language, frog. AMERICA WILL YOU LET GO!"

"Amerika-san, please stop hugging Igirisu-san, we have a meeting to get back to..."

"Oui, so stop it with the sexual tensions already."

Bloody France.

The bro hug continued to pop up with increasing regularity. Much to England's annoyance.

"So I'm going to watch that new horror movie this afternoon, you know, the one that just came out? God, I hope it's not too scary..."

"America, why do you keep watching horror films when you know you'll be scared out of your wits? ...I'll come with you, if you want."

"Dude, seriously? Bro hug!"

England still wasn't sure whether that had been a good idea. The movie itself was excellent; good plot, chilling suspense - at least, that was what he'd heard. He didn't really know himself because, five minutes into the first scene, America had reached over and tightly wrapped his arms around him, clinging to him for the duration of the movie. England hadn't been able to focus clearly on anything after that.

"So, what's this restaurant called? And why can't I understand anything on the menu? Or even pronounce it? I mean, seriously, why can't they just have hamburgers and fries like normal people eat?"

"You've said that for every restaurant menu we've looked at. Look, I... I suppose we could go to McDonald's instead, if you like."

"I thought you hated McDonald's!"

"Well, if you don't like any of the other restaurants..."

"Dude, I so love you for this! Bro hug!"

It's not a date, England kept telling himself. It's not a date. The food was abysmal, of course, but somehow that didn't seem to matter. It's not a date. Somehow, on top of the table, their fingers were touching, fitting neatly together, and he had no idea how that had happened. It's not a date. America was talking animatedly, his blue eyes so clear and full of laughter that England just wanted to lean forward and –

It's not a date.

England waited in front of the door and reflected on why he should definitively not have come. The main reason was that today was February fourteenth, and showing up at America's front door with a present and a bouquet of roses might be taken completely the wrong way.

Bouquet of roses. England still couldn't believe he'd gone out and bought that. And not just yellow roses, a symbol of completely platonic affection, but red ones. A bouquet of red roses on Valentine's Day? That just begged to be misinterpreted, because he did not mean it like that, he did not –

Right, that settled it. He was just going to chuck the stupid thing into the bushes right now –

The doorknob rattled, and England just barely had time to hide the bouquet behind his back before the door was thrown open and America was standing there, already talking.

"- had my headphones in, sorry, took me a moment to realize someone rang the doorbell, and then I thought I'd imagined it, but then I decided I'd better go check - Oh. Hi." He appeared to notice England for the first time. "Hey, what's in the box?

Typical. "I-It's that new video game you wanted." Did he just stutter? Ridiculous. "I mean, I knew you were having a hard time finding it, so I just researched online a little, and... it popped up." Please, please don't notice what day it is!

"Awesome!" America snatched the box from him and tore off the wrapping. "Dude, this is epic! Bro hug!"

Not again...

As America wrapped his arms around England, he accidentally jolted England's shoulder, causing the latter to tighten his grip on the hidden roses and release a loud crinkle of plastic wrapping that was probably audible from Japan's house.

Crap.

America pulled back from the hug. "What was that?" He glanced downward, and England could see his eyes finding the edges of white plastic that stuck out from behind him... And then a loose petal drifted in a lazy spiral between England's feet to land directly in front of America.

Double crap.

America grabbed the arm that England was hiding behind his back and pulled. England tried to resist, but even as a tiny child, America had had no problem swinging a full-grown bison by its front hooves; soon the roses were out in the open.

America, with his hand still maintaining a vicelike grip on England's wrist, looked from the roses to England's face and back again. "Wait - what day is it today?"

"Er - "

"It's Valentine's Day, isn't it?" America's gaze was uncharacteristically piercing. "Are these for someone?"

Just lie. Just lie and say they're for someone else, and you picked them up on the way here - or, better yet, that they're for your house - "They're - ah -" His voice squeaked horribly. "They're - for - you."

"For me." America's eyes were fixed on the bouquet now; England couldn't tell what he was thinking. "But you were hiding them..." He snorted slightly. "Chicken."

"Er - I -" England wanted to die, right now. Desperately casting around for a change of subject, he finally managed, "Look, could you - could you stop it with the bro hug thing?" America looked up, his face slightly puzzled, and England seized on the response as a signal to continue. "It's obnoxious, annoying, and quite frankly rather awkward."

"You think so?" America stepped forward slightly, narrowing the distance between them.

"Yes, it's - really -" England forgot what he was going to say. The fact was that America's face was far too close to his, and it felt like those blue eyes were the only thing he could see, and there was no way he could possibly form a coherent sentence right now.

"I could do something else instead, if you want." America moved in closer so that their noses were almost touching.

"Like what, for inst -" England managed, before he was rather abruptly cut off. America leaned in the last couple of inches, and the still-functioning remainder of England's brain effectively short-circuited. Because America was kissing him, so very much, and England felt completely rooted to the spot, unable to move a muscle.

The contact disappeared suddenly as America pulled away. England's first reaction was to feel disappointed, then to wonder why he felt disappointed, because there was no way he'd enjoyed that - Oh, who was he kidding? He'd enjoyed that very much.

"I could... do something like that, instead." A faint redness was spreading over America's face with the awareness of what he'd just done, and the fact that England was still failing to respond evidently wasn't helping matters. "Unless... you'd rather not?"

At those words, England finally felt his thinking capacity and muscle control return, and the first thing he did was lean forward and kiss America as thoroughly as possible. Yes, this was much better than a bro hug.

"I think," he said upon surfacing for air, to find that America's face was a very interesting shade of red right now, "I think I'd definitely prefer this."

Ohmigosh writing Tsundere!England is SO fun. I'd forgotten how enjoyable it is, writing characters deeply in denial about their romantic affections... This is my first time writing an actual tsundere though, not sure how well I did. Please tell me how I did, I'm not too sure about the characterization but anyway.