A/N: I don't know where to begin with this author's note. I've been in a terrible creative rut the past three months, unable to write or publish almost anything. I would start projects, or try to continue old ones, and just lose the motivation for it at all. And I don't know why. But, a great friend of mine, Inari Kasugawa, allowed me to use the 100 themes list that she had on her profile to better give me ideas for things to use,. I saw number 30, 'Under the rain' and instantly this idea came to me. It wasn't until after I wrote it that another friend, my Zombie L, asked me why I didn't do Revolution based. So why didn't I? Well, my darlings, that would be too expectant! Anyway, please enjoy and let me know what you think!

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or any of the characters used in this story.

Title: Kisses Under the Rain

'Argh… where is that git?' England thought to himself looking outside the window for what had to be the twentieth time in the last ten minutes. It was quiet in the house, only broken by the sound of rain against the panes of glass and the roof, and the faint ticking of a clock on the far wall. On any other day, Arthur might have gone so far as to say that today was a peaceful day, perfect for reading with a cup of tea. But, of course, such tranquility was nowhere to be found for the Brit.

He'd tried to find that peaceful state –taking to reading his latest book, and had even made himself the perfect tea for a day like this. But every time he tried to relax, his thoughts would jump to all the possibilities that could be happening in that moment.

That idiot America had been staying with him for the past couple of days for the latest meeting that was coincidentally being hosted in London. Of course he told himself that it was simply a business meeting; that there was no other reason why he would want his previous ward to stay with him. No… never.

After being kept up in the house for a few days, Alfred had complained about needing to get out for a while, and do something, but since England refused to go with him on one of his crazy escapades, the younger nation had resolved to go for a simple run.

That had been an hour ago, though, and in that time, a common midsummer storm had set in over the English landscape. And now, it seemed, every clap of thunder and blinding light from the lightning made the old nation jump. He knew well enough that even if Alfred was to get struck by lightning, he wouldn't die from it. If anything, it would probably only boost his ego –that he had survived a bolt of lightning. Even so, that didn't mean the poor boy wouldn't get hurt from it. And England couldn't help but find himself not wanting that.

He sighed, continuing to watch the road that led to his house for any sign of the American. 'Even when he's not under my care that boy can't help but make me worry… he's so reckless!' Another bang of thunder rocked the house and Arthur felt himself tense up. 'Come on, Alfred, where are you?'

Dismissing his worried thoughts to the back of his mind, Arthur turned and went over to his couch, where his book and tea sat forgotten on the coffee table. He picked the antique teacup up and sipped at the cooled liquid, if anything to give himself something to do. 'He'll be fine…' He told himself. 'He probably just ducked into some shop in town until the storm passes over, nothing to get worried about.'

Even so, he found himself standing up once more, and going back over to the same window –just as a flash of lightning lit the lifeless room, followed shortly after by the loud thunder, proving that the storm was lingering over the area.

England's eyes suddenly caught sight of someone running up the road, towards the house. It didn't take Arthur long to realize that it was, indeed, Alfred. He glared at the running younger nation, scolding him for his reckless nature before turning back to the room, quickly setting down the cup he was still holding in his hands.

He quickly went to a nearby bathroom and grabbed a towel, there was no way in hell he was going to let the American into his house, trek water all through it and have his pristine wooden floors suffer from it! After retrieving it, he went to the front door, to stop Alfred before he barged in on his own –dripping wet from the rain, as he was.

Just as he opened the door, Alfred was entering the gate to the front lawn. "Hey, Iggy! I'm back!" He called through the downpour of rain, which just made it even harder for Arthur to hear him, but somehow he made out the words.

He glared at him as Alfred finally reached the front door, which was covered by an overhang, keeping them both out of the rain, though that did nothing to stop Alfred from dripping water. He hardly seemed bothered by that fact, either. His eyes were still the same bright blue as the undisturbed sky and shining like they always did with such a contentedness for life itself.

"You idiot," Arthur growled halfheartedly, throwing the towel over Alfred's head and beginning to dry him off as best he could, concentrating on his work, yet all the while feeling the other's eyes remaining on him. "You're so reckless, git! Why didn't you just come back before it started raining? You're going to get a cold now!"

He paused a moment, watching the way Alfred's previous curious expression turned into his normal large grin, "Hey Iggy, I have an idea!" He said happily.

"That's wonderful, Alfred, now kindly hold it until after you dry off." He felt like he was talking to a child again, "My floors are going to be ruined from the water you're dripping…" He commented almost under his breath.

Suddenly, though, before Arthur could react, he felt Alfred take his hand and pull the Brit out from under the awning, down the steps into the pouring rain. "Alfred? What the…?" Arthur exclaimed loudly in pure frustration, feeling strong arms wrap around him, keeping him from retreating back under the safe cover out of the rain. "What do you think you're doing? You're already soaked and now I'm going to be!"

His emerald green glared daggers at the American, who pulled the towel Arthur had been using to dry him off his head, and let it carelessly drop to the ground. The look in his eyes, though, kept Arthur from complaining about how that had been one of his good towels and now it was going to be covered in mud.

"I said I had an idea, Arthur." He repeated. "While I was running it started raining, but I had this sudden thought… you and I have had a lot of first together, you know? We had our first kiss, and a first date, even though it didn't go so well…" He said, looking off as if remembering how all his plans for that had somehow been ruined that day. "Hell, I even took your first time!"

Arthur blushed profusely, his glare only intensifying, "Belt up, you git! What are you getting at? What's your point? And kindly make it quick, I'm getting absolutely soaked out here!"

"My point," America continued, "Is that we've had so many firsts together already, but I've never kissed you under the rain before."

"So what?"

"So? We have to check every first off, don't we; besides, how heroic and awesome does kissing in the rain sound?" He explained, the latter explanation Arthur knew he shouldn't be surprised about. Heroism was always on America's mind no matter what the situation happened to be… he'd just come to expect that sort of thing.

He finally huffed, though, "If that will get you off me and let us go back where it is dry then hurry up and get it over with! I do not appreciate the feeling of wet clothes." Arthur knew he wasn't being very sympathetic to Alfred's idea, but he didn't think he could be too sympathetic to anything when being forced to stand out in the rain.

Alfred sighed, leaning closer till his forehead touched England's, rain water dripping off both of their hair between them and creating rivers of water down both of their faces. "Come on, Iggy, you have to at least act like you want me to kiss you, otherwise it just doesn't mean the same thing." He explained.

Arthur pursed his lips in annoyance, "And how exactly would you like me to do that, Alfred?" He asked with the same tone that was lined across his features.

"Well for starters," The American started, moving Arthur suddenly like he was a rag doll so his arms were no longer hanging limp at his sides, but instead up around Alfred's neck, then his own returned to around Arthur's waist, and pulling their bodies closer together than had been previously.

"Now close your eyes." He said quietly, that tone Alfred always got when he was trying to be romantic lingering on his every word.

And even though Arthur could see through it all right down to the basics as though Alfred himself was a science, he still couldn't help but allow himself to go through the motions to follow through with what the younger wanted. He couldn't help it; Alfred simply had that odd effect upon him. Despite his complaints and constant annoyance with him, Alfred always seemed to get what he wanted out of Arthur in the end.

"You git…" Arthur exclaimed halfheartedly with a final exhale before finally closing his eyes.

Almost instantaneously Arthur felt Alfred connect their lips in a light kiss –the younger nation's lips were cold from the rain, and it was hard to tell if his were as well, but it didn't really matter to him.

There was a brief moment where he completely forgot about the rain that was pouring down on them, and instead he focused only on the feeling of Alfred there so close to him –holding their bodies so close and still, sharing body heat at the same time. Arthur felt one of Alfred's hands move from the small of his back to trail up his spine the back of his neck, and finally into the wet tresses of his hair.

Arthur shuddered a bit at the unfamiliar feeling, and in response he felt Alfred deepening the kiss –biting lightly at his bottom lip, which Arthur couldn't help but respond to, his lips parting for America.

Just then, a loud crack of thunder overhead caused Arthur's body to tense up in America's arms and pull back from the kiss, instead gripping him tightly. A deep blush spread across his cheeks at his own reaction to simple thunder. What was wrong with him? He'd never been afraid of thunder before! He understood the scientific reason behind thunder and thus saw no reason to be afraid of it.

Perhaps it was just the feeling of vulnerability of standing out in the open. Despite how small of a chance he knew they had at being struck by lightning out here, there was always that sense, he supposed, that it could happen.

He heard Alfred chuckle and instantly glared at him, "Belt up, you wanker!"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, Iggy. Never knew you were afraid of thunder before!" He teased, causing Arthur's glare to only intensify, but he bit his tongue, knowing that anything he could possibly say in retort would more than likely just come out more against him than anything. Not to mention, he knew well enough that when Alfred got an idea in his head, it was nearly impossible to convince him otherwise.

"Alright, Alfred, you got your wish, now will you let go of me so we can go inside?" He pulled against Alfred's hold, trying to get away, even though getting back quickly hardly meant anything now. They were both drenched to the bone and there was nothing to be done about it.

America finally nodded, letting go of England with his trademark grin back in place. Arthur felt his hand being taken just as he grabbed his towel off the muddy ground and turned to go back to the house, but he said nothing of it. As much as he complained, he had to admit, he didn't mind these small actions from America. It made him feel like he was genuinely wanted, and what more could he want out of the younger nation than that?

The End

A/N: So, what did you think of my first piece in at least three months? Good? Terrible? Any comments that you might have, any at all, would be very much appreciated, and will help keep me motivated to continue finding themes to write things for! Please let me know what you thought, sorry I don't have too much more to say in regards for this… it's just a simple little one-shot that speaks for itself.

Please review!
-Forbiddensoul562