Disclaimer: Hetalia does not belong to me, it belongs to Himaruya (and FUNimation, I guess? I don't know. It belongs to all the people who own the rights, none of which are me. *sob* ). Mitt Romney and the real world also doesn't belong to me.

So I heard about the "romneyshambles" farce today, and thought I'd write this oneshot. I couldn't resist. All I could think about during this story was England complaining to America about what assholes his politicians are, and America trying to explain that not all his citizens are like that.

((NOTES: Obviously I'm going to be showing some partisanship in this fic. I am a democrat, and a liberal, and yes. I think Mitt Romney is an idiot. But really. Even Republicans and conservatives are flinching at this incident. So…yeah. ^^;

Because it's Mitt Romney, that also means that there are triggers for homophobia. I'm sorry, but it's kinda inevitable when talking doing RPF about Republicans.

Also, the reason that England is able to get to the USA so fast is because I believe the headcanon of "nation-hopping," which is basically like teleporting, but only nations can do it. Don't ask me why England didn't just nation-hop directly into the Oval Office. I'm slapping down the poetic license card. ^^;

This takes place in the APH universe where nations are known by the entire population. That's always been my headcanon, so I am making it so. :)

And lastly, yes, this is USxUK. It's my OTP, so I tend to incorporate that into my fics even when I try to keep it out (this pairing just keeps dragging me back!) Okay, that's it. Enjoy~! )).

(((UPDATE: Thank you so much to an anon reviewer "Guest," who pointed out that the correct British term is "sofa," not couch. Thought I'd caught all my Americanisms...oops ^^ But yeah, thank you so much for the correction!)))

"AMEEEERRRRRRRIICCCCCAAAAAA"

A loud shriek of fury sounded throughout the White House, and said blonde nation flinched in horror. "Oh Jesus," He squeaked, turning away from the TV in the Oval Office to look at the door.

"YOU BLOODY ARSEHOLE AND YOUR BLOODY CITIZENS! SENDING THEM OVER TO MY COUNTRY AND THEN HAVING THEM INSULT ME AND MY CAPITOL? OH, YOU ARE SOSLEEPING ON THE COUCH TONIGHT!"

America flinched again, placing his face in his hands and almost curling in on himself. From the desk in the front of the room, President Obama, Vice-President Biden, and the First Lady looked on bemusedly.

"Um, Secret Service will be able to stop him before he does any real damage… right?" Biden asked nervously. America glanced at him with a raised eyebrow. Yeah, that was a resounding no.

There was a pounding on the disguised door of the Office, and distantly, the occupants could hear the mutterings of Secret Service: long used to the British nation storming in and disabling their every security effort.

"AMERICA! OPEN THIS DAMN DOOR OR SO HELP ME GOD I WILL BREAK IT OPEN!"

"You could just nation-hop in, babe," America laughed nervously, realizing just a second too late that he really shouldn't be speaking at all right now. The humans in the room flinched.

A growl came from the other side of the door. "America…" The Brit trailed off dangerously, and America swallowed nervously. The younger nation seemed to realize, then, that he was acting extremely un-heroic, and immediately straightened and walking with a tall, proud gait to the door and calmly opened it.

However, when faced with the small, but stiff-as-a-board Brit that was his husband, the American immediately shrunk back.

"Um, hi sweetheart," America said with a small, crooked smile, trying to put as much apology into it as he could. England just glared at him, crossing his arms and not moving from his place in the doorway. America swallowed. "Um, come in, come in,"

He ushered the stiff nation into the room and shut the door, shrugging helplessly at his President's panicked glare at him.

"America, love," England almost hissed the endearment. "Would you like to explain why I returned home today to an international incident caused by one of your politicians?"

America laughed even more nervously. "Well, uh, you know I can't control these things, sweetheart. He isn't the president, he's just a candidate! You can't really blame me for that, right?" He smiled rather proudly, almost certain that he had managed to shove the blame from him onto Romney. Hey, if I was him, I would be doing the same thing, the President thought with a nervous glance at England. Who knew so small a nation could have so strong a glare?He felt like ducking for cover and the Brit's anger wasn't even directed at him.

England's teeth were clenched so tightly America thought his husband's jaw would break. "This man—no, this fool—shouldn't even be in the running! I thought you had made a mistake when Mr. Bush was elected, but this is even worse. At least Bush could stay in my country for more than a day without insulting me!"

"I know, babe, I know, and I'm really, really sorry, but I can't really control this, you know that!" America began hopelessly babbling. "I mean, yeah, of course I'm upset for him insulting you! I know how long you worked to get the IOC to agree to the Olympics in London, and I'm so proud, babe, and it's great and I'm so excited and so are the rest of the nations, and I know you are too, and of course I know you're ready, you've been preparing for 7 years and it's going to be beautiful, you're going to be beautiful, and it's going to blow away Beijing, but I really don't know what to do, because what's going to happen if he's elected president? I don't want to ruin our relationship! I mean, I know our personal relationship won't be affected, but our professional one might be. Unless youthink our personal relationship will be affected because I heard you saying something about a couch a few minutes ago and I'm really sorry babe, just, please, I'm sorry, really, sweetheart, I'm—"

"America." The voice of a much calmer Brit silenced the babbling American in his tracks, and he looked hopefully at his husband. The First Lady thought he looked so much like a kicked puppy dog in that moment that she just wanted to go up and cuddle him.

"Yes?" Said nation squeaked nervously. England sighed in response, placing his face in one hand and rubbing tiredly.

"I know it's not your fault," He murmured wearily. "It's just that Cameron won't let me get to Romney, so I needed someone to shout at. I'm sorry…git." He added the insult almost as an afterthought, but nobody was fooled.

America sighed in poorly-concealed relief, ruffling his golden locks and inching nervously to take hold of his love's hand. Luckily, he didn't get his arm bitten off, and so the humans safely assumed that the storm was over—for now.

"He knows that I'm your spouse. He knows that we are married, that I am your closest ally, that it is of the utmost importance for my people to approve of him if he is elected." England met America's eyes. "My people are your people, and yours are mine. Weren't those in our vows?"

President Obama could almost see his country's heart break at that. "Oh, sweetheart," America cooed, enveloping his lover in his arms and squeezing comfortingly. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. It was totally rude for him to go to London like that and just insult you. After you've done so much to make sure that this year's Olympics are special. And they will be special, dear. No matter what Romney said."

Michelle Obama cautiously nodded in agreement. "Yes, Sir England. Sasha, Malia, and I will be there, and we're all very excited. It's an honor to be included in something which is sure to be magnificent."

England let a small, almost unnoticeable smile come across his lips, and he nodded at the First Lady in gratefulness. "Thank you, Mrs. Obama."

America carefully led his slumped lover over to the sofa, and motioned over England's head for the humans to leave the room. The President nodded in understanding, and led his vice-president and wife out of the office: possibly to help his daughters pack for the trip to London.

Once the room was empty, England slumped even further, leaning into his husband's comforting warmth. "So many people were against me hosting it. The IOC said for years that East London was too crowded for a stadium, that there was no way we could host it. They—"

"But you kept fighting," America interrupted, a golden, proud smile almost blinding the Brit. "And you won. The Olympics are in London. The Opening Ceremony is tomorrow. It's going to be seen and loved by more than 4 billion people, all over the world." He gripped his husband tighter. "You don't have to worry, babe. Everything's gonna be great."

"I'm not worrying!" England protested, but a raised eyebrow from the American that held him spoke volumes. Of course America would be able to see past every façade England put up: would be able to see right into the depths of his insecurities.

"Yes, fine, I admit it," England muttered, averting his eyes. "I'm worried. But only a little!" America grinned. "It's really okay, Iggy. Everybody's nervous when they host the Olympics: they just don't usually show it. I mean, remember China in 2008?" England laughed softly at the memory: the Asian nation had been so jittery that it had looked like he was on a sugar high.

"Just forget about what Romney said," America murmured.

England sighed. "It's not that easy, love. He not only insulted me and my people, but he also forgot the name of the Labour leader!"

"Yeah, yeah, I heard about that too," the younger nation conceded, glancing at the TV which was still playing news reports about this over and over on repeat. CNN was the one with the most facts, but America personally found MSNBC's commentary bitingly amusing. "Miliband is a contender for PM, isn't he?" England nodded in affirmation. "One of the top contenders. And a good friend of mine," He added.

"Both David and Ed went out of their way to meet with Romney, and according to them, he had absolutely no charm or warmth at all! Even after he insulted me! I would've gone and smacked some manners into him myself, but David said that it wasn't worth it."

America chuckled. "Since when have you ever listened to one of your Prime Ministers who wasn't Churchill?" England legitimately thought about that for a few seconds, before answering, "Maggie Thatcher. Because that woman scared even Russia."

The younger nation laughed loudly at that, and England crinkled his nose at the familiar sound. The tsundere was already finding it difficult to keep up his mask of irritation at the American, but with a gentle kiss upon his furrowed eyebrows, the Brit finally relaxed fully.

The couple spent a while simply enjoying the peace of lying in each other's arms, the news reporters' debates creating a quiet buzz in the background. Occasionally words like "twit," "foreign relations," and "special relationship" would stand out, but mostly, they ignored the television.

After around 10 minutes spent in blissful assurance and understanding, America stirred carefully, kissing the top of his love's brow. "Forgiven?" England hummed softly. "Forgiven. It wasn't even your fault to begin with, for once. It's your ridiculous politicians: and God knows that I understand how tedious dealing with them can be."

America chuckled sheepishly. "Yeah, yeah, I'll try to talk to him about that little, um, comment."

"You know that that was not the only incident, yes?" England asked, digging into his coat pocket and pulling out an article with various parts highlighted. "My PA gave me this: apparently it's from his book No Apology."

"Ironic title," America mused with a sheepish chuckle. "Considering the amount of apologizing he's going to be doing."

England hummed in agreement, but gave the article over for the younger nation to read it out loud. "'England is just a small island. His roads and houses are small. With a few exceptions, he doesn't make things that people in the rest of the world want to buy. And if he and his country hadn't been separated from the continent by water, he almost certainly would have been lost to Hitler's ambitions. The only redeeming thing England has ever done is form an alliance with the stronger country of America. But even that decision had an immoral result; as the aforementioned alliance caused our once proud nation to delude himself into believing a sexual union between two men is ethical, which it obviously is not. If England had stayed in isolation, the whole world would be better off. Our nation would not be corrupted or spellbound by this Devil's snake as he is now.'"

As America read, his voice grew more and more angry and disgusted, so by the time that he got to the assumption that England was somehow "corrupting" him, he was nearly shaking in anger. Suddenly, the tables were turned: with England trying to restrain Americafrom nation-hopping to London and slapping his Republican candidate himself.

"Our personal relationship is nobody's business," the American muttered. "Nobody's. And the fact that he insulted you like this…" He sighed, tossing the article onto the coffee table and rubbing his eyes tiredly. "I'm sorry, England. I should have checked this out sooner…why hasn't this been reported until now?"

"People thought it wasn't important. That it was just 'normal,' homophobic behavior. That he wouldn't actually be stupid enough to act on these beliefs." England shrugged. "Take your pick. But seeing this gave me something to think about." He looked up and met America's eyes. "Does he have a personal vendetta against me because I've 'corrupted' you? Because I'm your husband? Did he say those remarks on purpose, or was he really just an offensive idiot who didn't know what he was saying?"

America sighed. At first, he had thought it was just stupidity. But now…well, it certainly wasn't the first time that a human had discriminated against their relationship. Humans didn't seem to understand that sexuality wasn't an issue for nations. They weren't human, and they didn't abide by human laws. How did people not get this?

"I don't know, babe. Maybe, maybe not…I don't know. But I'll be sure to speak to him personally before November. We can set up a meeting: put him in his place, okay? Make sure he knows that if he can't accept our relationship then there's no way he'll gain the approval of any other nations."

England nodded in approval at each suggestion, slowly untangling himself from his husband's embrace as the American spoke. By the time America was finished, they were both standing once again, straightening their clothes and trying to look presentable. England stubbornly tried to smooth down his choppy locks and failed miserably, much to America's amusement.

Placing a gentle kiss on the Brit's brow, the younger nation enwrapped the man he loved in his arms. "We'll get through this, England. Politicians come and go. But we are forever."

England chuckled. "Git. You are such a hopeless romantic." America laughed, hugging him tighter. "Guilty as charged!"

They stood for a few more moments, before England reluctantly untangled himself from the embrace. "I should go. There's still a lot to do before the Ceremony tomorrow, and we have to make sure we're 'prepared,'" He smirked at his lover. "We wouldn't want to disappoint Mitt, would we?"

America laughed, throwing an arm around his strong, loveable, perfect Brit, and walking from the room. Both of them ready to wow Mitt Romney, and most importantly, the world. "Oh, definitely not."

Word-Count: 2,346

Why can I not manage to write anything short? I just go on and on…gah! Oh, whatever. I think it's pretty good.

Also, as a note, that passage from Mitt Romney's book, No Apology, is based on an actual passage, which I changed a little for purposes of the story. This is the actual paragraph: "England is just a small island. Its roads and houses are small. With few exceptions, it doesn't make things that people in the rest of the world want to buy. And if it hadn't been separated from the continent by water, it almost certainly would have been lost to Hitler's ambitions."

Okay, I guess that's it. Hope you enjoyed it! :D

~ CC.