Per request for Breenieweenie.

"There is some sort of accident/head injury and the male country thinks that America belongs to him and is his lover. He's overly affectionate and acts alpha male around other countries. The doctors tell America and the other countries to keep up the act of America belonging to him or more damage could be done to his psyche. Either the male country wanted America and was faking the entire time to keep her or he got his memory back sometime but didn't tell anyone because he enjoyed her attentions. Smut or light smut."

Thank you for all the reading and reviews. She asked for the Netherlands, through discussion. Apparently the Netherlands needs more love. :)

I own nothing. Rated M

OoOoOo

America hated hospitals.

She always had. Even before they started being used by the living more than the dead. The fact was that they were originally meant as a place for the wounded and sick to die away from home. She loathed the smell of the antiseptic and she crinkled her nose when she caught a particularly strong whiff of some.

Ugh...

She glanced at the nation laying on the hospital bed. The Netherlands had yet to wake up. However, in America's defense this time it was completely not her fault.

He smacked into her.

All she had to show for it was a goose egg on her forehead, and he had been... well...

She was here, sitting with him while he rested.

The doctors had come and gone numerous times. Some even tried to get her out of the room. America had stared at them blankly, understanding the hand gestures, but she refused to leave until Belgium got here.

Because, if she left, it would be all kinds of cruel and mean to just leave someone alone when they were injured. And it did not help matters any that he'd been hurt in Sweden, which was neither of their homes.

So she'd been forced to call him, while the hospital was busily tracking down a translator for her. After she called Belgium to inform her of what had happened. Because, well, America didn't speak Swedish. Or... whatever the people here spoke. Because she could swear the one nurse was speaking Finnish.

The Netherlands groaned, and America turned her attention back toward him.

Oh finally! The guy took forever to wake up from a bump on the head. She gazed at him with eager blue eyes that gleamed behind Texas. Nantucket stood up proudly, declaring she was in fact America. But hey, only silly people would ever confuse her and her sister Canada. Plus, America's blonde locks were only a little past shoulder length.

So really, there was no resemblance between them but some nations still thought Canada and she were the same nation at times.

Slowly, his green eyes opened and America was ready to shout with happiness. She could go home soon! She needed McDonalds to ease the stress of this ordeal. Maybe a large hazelnut iced coffee...oh and one of those individual apple pies.

It made her miss her lands.

OoOoOo

It took a few moments for his eyes to focus. The world was painfully bright, and his head was pounding. He felt cold and warm all at once. Everything felt far away, and as if he were waking from a long sleep. He cracked his eyelids open.

There was a blurry shape near him.

He blinked, wanting to hiss at the way his eyes stung. However, the blurry colored mass came into focus slowly.

There was a blonde woman with glasses smiling at him in such a relieved and happy manner. He felt the reflexive urge to smile back. Did he know her?

"Hey dude," she said warmly her bright blue eyes seemed to dance as she looked at him.

It took him a long moment to puzzle out her words. She was speaking English. Somehow he knew English, but also knew it wasn't his first language. He stumbled over one word, though.

Dude?

What was a dude?

Why did he feel as if he had heard that word quite a lot before?

He furrowed his brow. Who was she? Why was he here? As a matter of fact, where was he?

"Who are you?" He asked gruffly, his throat scratchy and his words were tired. His brain somehow knew what to ask her.

The woman blinked at him, her smile fading quickly. Had he said something wrong?

"What?" She asked weakly.

"Who are you?"

"I'm America," she said slapping a hand across her chest. Her pretty face scrunched up in confusion. "Don't you remember?"

Remember? What was he supposed to remember? Did he remember?

Yes... in part.

He was called The Netherlands. He knew that. He wasn't human, not quite. He was the manifestation of his people's will and the land they inhabited. Yes, he could recall all of that. However, as his green eyes slid over her confused and worried face, he couldn't place the name at first.

But she...

There was something about her that called to him. A she seemed vaguely... familiar. Like the remnants of an important dream. It was on the tip of tongue, locked away in the recesses of his mind.

However, he pondered why he felt he should know her, the woman touched his hand gently.

"Hey now," she said softly in sweet tones, "stay with me buddy. Do you know where you are?"

He slowly shook his head to the negative.

Her face tightened briefly. Her blue eyes widening. "Well," said in a friendly tone, "you're in the hospital."

"Why?" He asked.

"You had an accident," she said quickly as her eyes flickered down and then back to him.

"What happened?"

"We'll talk about that later. Tell me something. Do you know who you are?"

He noticed that her eyes were worried, and her smile was forced now. There was a hint of fear in her words that he could tell she was working hard to repress.

"The Netherlands," he replied gruffly, as if it were a silly question.

Relief stole over her features, and she grinned at him again. Some of the tension melting away in her frame.

He decided he rather liked her that way. When she grinned at him and he felt as if he'd managed some great feat.

Tentatively he returned her grin with a smile of his own.

She was something to him. He was certain of it.

OoOoOo

America felt half terrified out of her mind. Oh Lord. What was she supposed to do? He didn't remember her. However, he did remember who he was. That was good enough right? They could fix this, Sweden's people. Surely. They had to.

Right?

Her blue eyes wandered over the male nation with a bit of unease.

She'd broken the Netherlands. An unexpected blow to his head with her own had wiped the poor buy's memory. No nation was ever going to let her live this down! It was just an accident! A teeny, tiny accident and now the guy was acting all strange.

Fucking great.

She smiled widely as he gave her a grin. She kept hoping he would yell 'gotcha' at any moment. Dutch people played pranks, right? Yet, time passed and he was content to smile at her. There was no recognition of her in his eyes. Damn. She needed to go get the doctor. Whatever his name had been. Something with about 13 consonant and a single vowel in there somewhere.

America bit her bottom lip in contemplation. She needed to get a hold of Belgium and Sweden. She would have to tell them that he'd woken up but was acting really weird. He hadn't made a trade demand of her yet.

That was unlike him.

He also hadn't mocked her yet.

Also unlike him.

A smile twitched at her lips out of reflex when she noticed him staring at her.

"Hey," America said sweetly, beaming at him in the hopes of keeping him calm. "Why don't I go get the doctor, and let him know you're awake. Okay?"

She squeezed his hand, and stood. America removed her hand from his, and leaned over to brush a lock of hair out of his face. The Netherlands watched her quietly.

She smiled at him and made it all the way out into the hall before having a quiet mini freak out.

OoOoOo

America had been keeping the Netherlands company for the better part of a day. She joked with him and made sure to get him something more edible than hospital food. When the nurses caught her sneaking it in, however, they had evicted her from the room.

Green eyes were watching her as the Netherlands answered the questions posed to him by the medical staff.

America zoned most of this out as 'testing'. A point in the medical process where she could do nothing. Whenever he caught her gaze, she waved with an encouraging smile. Because this shit had to be scary as could be. She certainly couldn't imagine what it was like to wake up with large portions of your memory gone.

All the while she asked herself where the hell the others were.

She sighed and pulled out her phone, sighing heavily, when she spotted Sweden coming down the hall with the doctor from earlier.. With a grim look about her, America waved at him. The tall blonde nation spotted her instantly. He closed the distance between them.

"It wasn't my fault." America said quickly. Sweden gave her a disapproving stare.

Sweden pulled her further into the hallway as he frowned at her.

"It really wasn't Sweden," she tried placating. "We just sort of collided and suddenly he was passed out." America told him emphatically, keeping her voice low. She looked back at the Netherlands who was watching her intently, his eyes narrowing at Sweden and flicking back to America.

Creepy.

She looked back to Sweden speaking in quiet tones with the doctor. America gazed on in a concerned fashion. Honestly, she was worried about The Netherlands. He was acting strange and it could be disastrous if he didn't get his memory back. They also didn't know how much of it was lost anyway. So he could be stuck at any point in his history.

America admittedly, didn't know much about the guy. Except that he liked tulips and windmills... or something. England mentioned it once.

He had a cookie of some sort...

Maybe.

The doctor made a face, and America's attention focused on the unhappy expression.

"What is he saying?" She demanded, her patience wearing thin.

The taller nation looked displeased. His blue eyes locked with hers, his way of expressing his anger.

Damn. If Sweden was angry, it was bad news.

"H' s'ys th're 's s'me m'm'ry l'ss." Sweden replied grimly.

"Memory loss?" America parroted with dismay, while snorting in a sarcastic manner. "Geez. I could've told you that. How much did he lose? When will he get it back?"

The taller nation gave her a slight shake of his head to the negative.

Oh.

"He might not get it back?" She asked, feeling terrible.

Sweden nodded firmly. He frowned at her. "Y'u h've a h'rd he'd." He commented bluntly.

"I do not!" She snapped angrily rubbing at her own goose egg. "He hit me." She said in a low voice. "See?"

Sweden inspected the bump with a large amount of disinterest. His eyes blinked at her behind his glasses. America frowned at him. This fucking sucked! It was a freaking accident and now the Netherlands was...

Still staring at her from his bed.

Alright, clearly he'd suffered some brain damage too. After all, he had memory loss. So, some part of his brain must've gotten squished... somewhere.

She took a calming breath.

How the hell was she supposed to explain this to his Prime Minister? Or her own President? America could feel the disaster looming on the horizon.

Sweden seemed to sense her discomfort, for he gave her a reassuring look. Well, he was usually neutral. So he would just watch her get her ass handed back to her over this relations nightmare.

It wasn't her fault the guy tripped! It wasn't!

Belgium rounded the corner, and Sweden waved her over.

She was slightly disheveled, likely having run into the hospital. She'd rushed over as soon as she'd heard. As a more mature nation, she did not blame America once everything had been explained to her.

Much.

America watched the way Belgium's green eyes narrowed at her.

Oh come on!

Then again, the Netherlands couldn't remember the hero nation. So perhaps she really shouldn't complain. America glanced downward.

"How is my brother?" She asked in a hurried manner.

"He's stable," America answered, "But there has been some..."

"M'm'ry l'ss." Sweden said after America trailed off.

"Yeah," the blue-eyed female said eloquently, "that."

Belgium gasped, her eyes tearing.

"Ho-how bad is it?"

America shifted uncomfortably. "We ... ah... don't know. I was sort of hoping you could tell us." She hinted vaguely.

Belgium was the one that would know him best.

"Where is he?" The older female asked.

America pointed to where the Netherlands was watching them, his green eyes blinked. America waved with a smile.

The doctor stated between them, and asked a question that America couldn't understand. Sweden responded, and the doctor led Belgium to the room where the Netherlands was.

"Geez. This sucks." America muttered to herself more than Sweden.

The male nation nodded firmly.

"I can't handle this crap right now," she stated with a self-deprecating grin. "Your coffee tastes weird, and all I want is freaking French fries. I think I need some McDonalds. Yeah. That'll totally make me feel better."

She beamed at the thought.

"Th's 's Kuntby," the stoic nation informed her, "the ne'r'st McDon'lds 's 'n Uppsala... a l'ng w'y fr'm h're."

Then there was silence, and Sweden nearly had to check to see if America was breathing.

Her eyes became wide and tear filled. Her mouth dropped open in horror as she stared at him aghast.

"What?" She asked quietly, her voice cracking.

"'Mer'ca" Sweden said gently, his stoic face looking somewhat embarrassed.

He knew what was coming next when she drew in a deep breath. He braced himself.

"NOOOOO!" She wailed dramatically, beating at his chest. Not truly trying to harm him, but Sweden winced all the same. Sometimes, America forgot that she could be freakishly strong.

Some of the medical staff came closer toward her. The Doctor treating the Netherlands asked Sweden if America was alright.

He gave an excuse to the Doctor that America was simply overcome by the tragic news. So as to avoid any questions from the human. She would be fine in time, he'd hunt down some other place that made burgers. The Swedish doctor nodded, a look of sympathy on his face.

The tall stoic nation tried to placate the female as she started openly bawling.

"NO! NO! SWEDEN!" she hollered with teary eyes.

The humans looked on with pity.

How the poor woman must be suffering! She must be the injured man's girlfriend, fiancé, or wife. The doctor promised Sweden that he'd speak with the nurses about letting her back in the room once she calmed down.

OoOoOo

Belgium watched the Netherlands as he stared at America. He had hardly acknowledged her beyond a curt 'Sister'.

Well, he still was the same there. However, his voice seemed a touch more clipped than Belgium recalled him being since she'd decided to stay with Spain when he'd left.

Her thoughts were hard to hold onto between her worry and concern. As well as the loud shouting in the hallway.

They could hear America's screams through the opened door.

"WHY? GOD WHY?" The English-speaking nation howled, causing several medical staff to flock to her location as she clung to the tall male nation.

The Netherlands eyed the blonde female as she sobbed openly all over Sweden who awkwardly patted her back. Something squirmed in the pit of his stomach at the sight of her in another man's arms. Why was he upset by it?

She's said her name was America.

America...

He knew that name.

"HOW IS THIS POSSIBLE? THIS CAN'T BE TRUE!" America cried, collapsing to the floor on her knees. "No! no..." she trailed off into wracking sobs.

Sweden's expression never changed, he gingerly picked America up and set her on her feet. He continued to pat her back as he pulled her in for a hug. The female buried her face into Sweden's shoulder and whimpered.

Something in the Netherlands twitched uncomfortably. A part of him that was older and nearly forgotten. A part of him that was far more forceful than he felt he was used to being.

Strange.

"Why is she so upset?" He asked casually, in Dutch, already forming a conjecture as to the nature of her distress.

"Oh, I think she is just worried about you."

His sister nation flashed him a reassuring smile, but her eyes were on pair of nations causing a scene. A woman gave America a cup of water and spoke to her in softer tones. Belgium had to strain to hear it. She couldn't make it out.

America stiffened, Belgium saw, as Sweden said something to her. The female nation looked over at them with a red face. America turned back to Sweden.

The Netherlands felt his head throb. There was a flash of memory, it was quickly chased away, but he recalled the face. The same face of the woman who'd been sitting by his beside when he'd woken up. Only, it was younger and she did not have glasses at the time. He saluted a flag... not his own; sometime in the late 1700's. A man with white hair came to the Hague... a highly respected man that his mind wanted to call 'Adams'.

The same face he's seen before smiled at him widely. The light of pride in her eyes was great. A female nation that proudly declared-

What?

His mind shuttered, halting the thought in its tracks. As quickly as the flashes had come, they dispersed and it left him feeling confused.

"I.." he muttered to himself, "I know her... somehow."

Belgium's green gaze snapped to him in a heartbeat. Her normally mature and composed demeanor nearly shattering at the sound of his uncertainty. The Netherlands had always been rather self assured and even a touch overbearing ever since they'd grown up. However, his tone was very much like the way he sounded as a child.

Lost and seeking guidance.

"Of course you know her," Belgium soothed with an encouraging expression.

He looked at his sister nation. Green met green, and he searched her face for signs of how he was supposed to know America.

"How?" The Netherlands asked after a few moments of silence.

Belgium made a noise. A cross between a laugh and a gasp of dismay.

"She's your-"

A voice came over the intercom, followed by several people rushing down the hall. The Netherlands blinked. She spotted England walking down the corridor toward Sweden and America. England appeared concerned.

America appeared ready to burst into a fit of tears again, as she moved her hands in gestures from the Netherlands to Sweden.

Belgium tilted her head, trying to figure out what America had said that had England looking murderous. Not even two seconds later, the group was joined by an animated Australia. Why where those two here? Australia started laughing and America glared at him.

Australia poked her in the head.

America slapped his hand away.

"My?" The Netherlands prodded.

Belgium turned her attention back to her brother nation. She paused, wondering why he was so interested in America. However, it was an easy enough question to answer. America was his ally.

"She's your-"

A nurse knocked on the door, giving the Netherlands a glance that was vaguely reproachful.

"Läkaren sa att din fästmö kunde komma tillbaka i rummet" the woman said, giving a nod toward Belgium

"Fiancée?" Belgium repeated not realizing she had done so. The question clear in her tone as she watched the nurse walk away. His sister nation was busy puzzling out what on earth the nurse was talking about.

"Fiancée?" The Netherlands asked stoically, looking down at his lap.

Belgium politely excused herself for a moment, and went to join the other Nations in the hall so she could speak with Sweden about America being labeled her brother's fiancée.

The Netherlands looked up, and watched her leave. His mind still turning at the upheaval to his normally -what he felt was- peaceful life.

Fiancée.

He did not really know that word. However, it sounded important. There was a vague whisper of a thought in his mind that it was an French term for engagement. But it was hard to recall how he knew it or why.

The Netherlands could remember France. That was easy. And, he could have sworn he also knew the dark haired man standing with England.

What was England doing here anyway?

He blinked at Belgium started poking England in the chest and America was waving her arms around and burying her face into Sweden's shoulder again for another round of sobbing.

The Netherlands narrowed his eyes at the display. If she was hurting, she should come to him for comfort.

He felt that old sensation return and he knew that Belgium would not lie to him. It also made a strange sort of sense.

It would explain her dramatic behavior. She was clearly overcome by sadness that he could not remember her. He sat in the bed and tried to recall the memories that alluded him with no success.

However, he couldn't shake the feeling that he'd know America for a long time.

OoOoOo

It was Belgium who realized her mistake when The Netherlands greeted America as mijn vriendin. When they returned to the room with Sweden, Australia, and an irate looking England. The British nation was glaring at America.

While America was mouthing 'tattle-tale' to Sweden, who was stoically refusing to respond.

The youngest blonde nation didn't even appear to know what it meant, because she simply smiled and nodded. Belgium watched as America started chatting in an animated fashion with her brother about nothing at all of importance.

However, it did not escape Belgium's green-eyed gaze, that The Netherlands was listening to the exuberant nation fully. He was not tuning her out as he normally did.

Hm.

Australia was laughing and joining in. America moved closer to The Netherland's beside to make room for the others as they exchanged awkward condolences about his current condition.

Belgium looked over and noticed that America was perfectly still and staring down. She followed the younger nation's gaze.

The Netherlands was holding America's hand.

Oh.

America's eyes were wide behind Texas, and she blinked several times. However, she did not try to pull her hand away. Sweden saw it, Belgium could tell, because he frowned slightly.

He likely had come to a conclusion that the Netherlands was acting strange due to his predicament. The stoic nation locked eyes with Belgium. She nodded subtlety to tell him that she saw it too. Australia and England however, appeared to not have noticed.

"America," Belgium asked in a natural voice, "would you come with me to show me where the ladies room is?"

It was not uncommon in America for women to go to the restroom in multiple numbers. The blue-eyed nation blinked and nodded. She retracted her hand from the Netherlands and made a gesture toward the door.

"Sure. This way." The younger nation said as she walked out of the room.

They were a little way down the hall when Belgium stopped.

America looked back at her, clearly confused.

"Um... it's right over there." She said pointing.

"America," Belgium started in a serious tone that had the blue-eyed nation on alert.

"Yeah?"

"I think... it is possible that The Netherlands might think you and he... are... together." She finished slowly.

America gave an odd grin. Her face was partially twitching.

"Why would you think that?"

"Well, it is possible that he may think that you two are... intimate on some level."

America sucked in a deep breath.

"And why, exactly, would he think that?"

"But this could be good," Belgium continued. "It could help him recover quicker. He said some things that make me think that being around you might be the solution."

"It is a head injury! Those really aren't an exact science." America retorted, with her eyes flashing. "I am not gonna lie to the guy and be all lovey-dovey with him when I barely freaking know him outside of official business!"

"So get to know him," the sister nation urged.

"What?"

"Get to know him," Belgium said gently, "and while you get to know him just pretend you are with him until he remembers."

"Are you even hearing yourself right now?"

"Yes!"

"How the hell can you ask me to do that to him? It's wrong."

"It is in his best interest. What if he never remembers? What if his people suffer for it? What if some war is started because this comes out?"

America opened and closed her mouth several times. Her face flushed and blue eyes overly bright.

"America you just have to go along with it," Belgium said forcefully.

"The hell I do," America hissed.

It was then that Belgium realized her mistake. Telling America she 'had' to do something would only bring to life her stubborn pride and that would make it so the last thing she did was spend time with The Netherlands.

The mature nation backtracked.

"I'm sorry," Belgium said trying not to shout. "It is just that this is a tough situation, in fact it is a tad crazy this even happened."

The star-spangled nation settled down a bit, her expression turning from un-accepting to slightly mollified. Blue eyes looked to the side.

"Yeah, I know what you mean dude." America said, attempting to be diplomatic. She sighed. "I'm sorry too. This has to be really rough on you."

Belgium nodded silently.

"I just don't think this is the best idea," the younger nation tried again.

"I think it could work. He says he thinks he 'knows' you. He didn't say that about this place, or the events that happened. You saw him! He barely even recognized

"And what the hell are we supposed to tell the rest of the world?" America demanded angrily.

Belgium paused.

"You let me tell them you are together," she said after a tense moment.

"What?" The blue-eyed nation asked slowly.

"We tell all the common allies what is going on," Belgium suggested reasonably, " so that they will play along. Then have them tell the other nations they are allied with. Everyone will think you are together."

America narrowed her eyes at Belgium harshly. "And... you don't see anything wrong with that plan? Anything at all?"

There was a tic in Belgium's cheek.

"Well, it is either that or simply wait to see if his memory comes back on its own."

"See now that is reasonable-"

"Which is might never do."

"But it could."

"Yes, but he thinks he remembers things about you! You heard the doctor. He needs familiar surroundings. It could jog his memory."

"I am not. I repeat, not going to live in the Netherlands."

"Why not? It is a beautiful country!"

"So is mine!" The blue-eyed nation retorted adjusting Texas.

"America!"

"Belgium!"

"Fine, then take him to yours," the older nation reasoned.

"Oh yeah, that will go over great. I can see it now. 'America kidnaps amnesiac Netherlands!' Are you trying to get me into another war?" The younger blonde demanded gesturing between them.

"America," Belgium pleaded, "If you can help him..."

"I have helped him!" America snapped, "I carried him over here. I stayed with him. I called you and Sweden. I-"

"I know, I know," The green-eyed nation agreed. "However, if we tell him the truth it could do him more harm."

The younger nation sighed.

"You don't know that, it could snap him out of it too." She pointed out quickly.

"Or make it a thousand times worse." Belgium replied sadly.

Damn...

Country in distress. Well, two countries. America's weakness.

America didn't want to hurt the Netherlands. They'd known each other for ages. He was the first to (unofficially) recognize her as a nation. So some part of her had a sense of loyalty toward him. She was also his third largest direct investor. So there was quite a bit at stake. Also, she liked the guy well enough to try and joke with him on occasion. They had much invested in each other's nations.

However, pretending to be his 'woman' or 'girlfriend' or whatever seemed morally wrong. Yet, letting him be open to a potential attack or other manipulation seemed worse. The younger nation waffled in indecision.

"You'll be my hero." Belgium said.

It was the proverbial nail in the coffin. America mentally checked the 'helping' box in her mind because she knew that she'd lost.

The blue-eyed nation stilled, eyes blinking slowly. Damn Belgium. She knew what saying that sort of thing did to America.

Damn her. However, there was a sense of exhilaration at coming to the rescue.

The star-spangled nation let her head drop in defeat.

"Fine." She muttered darkly.

Belgium practically drug her back to the room, and America only put up a token resistance. Because she had agreed, but there was part of her that still enjoyed keeping up appearances. Sometimes. And, she could not have Belgium thinking that every time she dropped the word 'hero' America would come running.

Hell no. She had her pride.

The blue eyed nation smiled at the Netherlands who watched her curiously. America noticed that England and Australia had gone somewhere. Which left only them, and Sweden.

She moved to his bedside, and placed her hand over his. She could feel Sweden and Belgium watching her every second.

She could to this.

If it helped the Netherlands...

"Hey honey," America cooed, feeling wrong and strange about doing so. "Do you want some coffee?"

OoOoOo

The Netherlands wouldn't allow another male nation anywhere near her. Even poor Sweden.

Apparently, he forgot that America liked to hug other nations she knew well. Which was perfectly normal for her to say goodbye with an affectionate embrace. It was all innocent and America gave him a glance when the Netherlands actually tried to move between her and Australia.

She blinked, and tried to step around him.

That was not appreciated by the Netherlands. He frowned at her with unblinking eyes when she attempted to take another step toward her other allied male nation. America did her best to hold in her irritation.

England frowned, and Australia laughed. They'd been told about America and the Netherlands being 'together'. It was a good think America had Hollywood, because it took quite a bit to fool England. However, he seemed surprised if not relieved that she wasn't off by herself.

She glared at his retreating form before flipping him a rude gesture. She didn't need a man in her life. However, because she was the hero, she wasn't going to leave the injured nation by himself.

Sweden merely nodded and wished them well. He promised to take care of the hospital records and discharge papers. It was all too soon until America was nervously waiting outside the room for the Netherlands to finish getting dressed.

Great. Just fucking great.

She pinched the bridge of her nose and stared balefully at Belgium who looked so hopeful this would work that it nearly left America with cavities over the sweetness of the sight.

She could already tell this was going to be a nightmare. Not that it was the Netherlands fault, just that she was going to be buried in paperwork because of this.

America shuddered.

OoOoOo

Getting him into her car was easy. Deciding on playing the classical station because she couldn't understand Swedish metal bands, was also not difficult. But finding something to say to a nation who didn't have all his memories was...

Well, it wasn't easy.

The ride over to the airport was spent with uncomfortable 'getting to know you' questions. He asked about her favorite things and America, trying to be nice, asked him a few in return.

Apparently, he really did like tulips and no, you were not supposed to ride the Windmills.

Well, that killed one of her secret dreams.

They spent a good deal of time in silence after they made it to the airport.

Even going through airport security was rather uneventful. In all sincerity. The Netherlands just followed what America told him to do, and Belgium had given her his passport. He had this habit of practically standing right behind her, or directly in front of her if there was a male he didn't like the look of.

Which was strange. However, she reminded herself that he probably couldn't remember that she would be able to take on anybody in this airport. It didn't matter if they were as strong as a bull. She'd swung heavier things than that around like a toy as a child.

But it was sort of sweet, when she thought about it.

He was actually trying to protect her. That was a little adorable. America gave him a true smile, with her eyes sparkling.

The Netherlands and she boarded the plane without any problems. It wasn't until the plane took off that she

America noticed that he kept grabbing her hand. She wasn't scared of planes! America loved planes! She'd flown in several of them, and piloted more than a few. Her face flushed slightly when his thumb brushed the back of her hand in a soothing motion. The Netherlands busied himself in looking through the magazines.

Perhaps he was trying to remember. She hoped that was the case. America bounced her leg until the flight attendant came around with drinks. She ordered a soda, and the Netherlands asked for coffee.

America managed to disengage her hand from him. Long enough to lean forward and look at the window at the vast ocean. She loved the view from up here.

OoOoOo

They had barely made it off the plane, and into the terminal where there were some shops for tourists, when the Netherlands wandered into a shop. Presumably, his attention was caught by a shirt he saw there, because he picked it up and examined it closely.

America followed in after him, a haggard quality about her eyes. She just wanted to sleep.

She watched as he made his way to the cashier. The petite dark-haired woman began to ring up his purchase.

"$50?" The Netherlands asked with narrowed eyes. "I'll give you $25."

The girl blinked.

"Sir, the price is the price."

"Nonsense," he said neutrally.

The Americans were trying to drive a hard bargain. That he could respect. However, he'd beat them down. He always did.

"$27." He offered, brining the price up slightly, seeing if they'd take the bait.

"Sir!" The clerk said in exasperation. "We don't lower the price just because you ask."

Ah, so they were going to be that way. The Netherlands narrowed his eyes.

"$30."

The clerk called for the manager and America tried not to blush as they were creating a scene. Great. She couldn't even let the guy wander into a shop. The announcement for assistance rang over the intercom.

The Netherlands was pleased. Good, bring the one in charge. Then he was certain to get a deal. A good bargain for this would be suitably impressive. He was keenly aware that America was right behind him and now was not a time to show weakness.

He did not realize that America spotted the portly woman with graying hair as she came out of what was presumably the stock room.

America pulled the manager to the side, gesturing her away from where the Netherlands could hear or see as he continued to try and haggle with the clerk.

Said clerk was trying hard to stay polite as the Netherlands proceeded to point out 'flaws' in the shirt. Wheedling for just that extra bit of leverage.

"Hi are you the manager?"

"Yes, Ma'am," the woman responded politely.

The nation gestured over to the Netherlands.

"Look, he's suffered a brain injury," America whispered to the Manager truthfully. The woman's face turned from polite to sympathetic in an instant.

"Oh my, I am so sorry." The woman murmured sincerely.

"Yeah..." America gave a sad look toward the Netherlands. "So if you could just let him think he's getting a good deal? It would really mean a lot to me. And, I'll pay. Here's my credit card. Charge me for the difference. Just, please, let him think he's gotten a bargain or something."

The nation said as she dug through her wallet. Handing the plastic card to the manager.

"Just," America said quietly, trying not to blush in embarrassment, " just don't let him see."

"Of course," the manager replied with a customer service smile as she nodded.

The manager walked over to the checkout counter and gave a large smile.

"How can I help you today Sir?" She asked, shushing the clerk as the girl tried to tell her the man was haggling the price.

"I'll give you $25, for this." He said stoically, with a straight face.

The clerk furrowed her brows. "But you just said $30."

"That was before you argued," He commented flippantly.

The manager looked at him for a long moment. "$45." She said crisply.

At last! Someone who understood how to do business! The Netherlands felt a tad excited. He calmed himself. He was a nation. A proud representation of his people.

"$27."

"$40."

"$27." He repeated with narrow eyes.

"$43." She said, giving him an unconcerned expression.

Hm. This older American was harder than he expected.

"I'll give you $30." He said commandingly. "My final offer."

The manager stared at him for a long moment, before nodding firmly. He happily paid, and turned back toward America who was grinning at him. Though her cheeks were stained a deep red.

He waited patiently while his transaction was finished, and the manager moved to the side to allow the clerk to modify the price. The Netherlands did not see America wandering over with the manager to bill her for the other twenty dollars.

America's people were remarkably slow at bagging up a single shirt. He'd have to offer her some suggestions to increase her productivity in her people.

OoOoOo

They stopped for coffee, just a little way outside the airport at a place called 'Dutch Bros'. It had Dutch in the name, and he was one to patron his own people.

However, when they wanted him to pay $4.50 for a single cup of flavored coffee with a little milk he stared at them as if they were out of their minds.

He took it back. America's people were crazy. They charged too much. He gave a look to the female nation, then stared down the men serving the coffee.

He did not see America growing steadily redder as she slapped down the money for the drinks on the drive-thru counter, while he tried to negotiate a lesser amount from the passenger's side.

Apparently, her coffee establishments also expected... 'tips'. He only knew because he watched her drop two dollars into a jar.

"What are you doing?" He asked watching her with a look a kin to horror.

She blinked at him in confusion. "Giving them a tip," she said honestly.

America flashed a smile at the two men inside the little stand alone building with its drive-thru. It was still a novelty to him that her things were so spread out. You had to drive to every place to get what was needed.

It seemed exhausting to him.

He gave her a kiss on the cheek as he collected his beverage. America blushed bright red, nearly swerving into oncoming traffic. His memory vaguely recalled a joke about 'women drivers'. He blinked at America, as her blue eyes watched him carefully before returning to the road.

OoOoOo

It turned out to be a mistake to get lunch at McDonald's. One that would cost her a small fortune in air fare.

She'd barely managed to get the fast food bag into the car, and unwrap a sandwich, when he started asking questions.

She internally groaned.

"What are you eating?"

"A hamburger," she said with a pleasant sigh, bringing the juicy-meaty morsel up to her mouth.

"It looks disgusting," he told her bluntly.

America froze, her mouth open, and the burger hovering just before it. Her blue eyes flashing behind Texas. She closed her mouth and looked at him. "What?"

"It looks disgusting," he repeated.

Her hands shook, and he watched the 'burger' move. Her right eye twitched at him.

"Darlin'," the female said in a thick southern twang which had him thinking a few inappropriate things. "Don't you ever insult my burgers. And before you get on your high horse about cuisine," America continued, "I'll have you know that Germany introduced me to this wonderful invention."

America could only blink as the Netherlands plucked the food from her hands and summarily threw it out the window without missing a beat.

His green eyes were narrowed on her shocked face.

Internally, America was wailing louder than any air raid siren. However, her brain could not fully comprehend the atrocity she'd just witnessed. He'd wasted good food! Her fucking food!

A burger! This went beyond sacrilege.

"I will make you something to eat," he said with authority in his tone. "Not that garbage."

It was her garbage damn it! America felt her blood boil hotly. She was going to kill him. America was inches away from strangling him with his own scarf.

"No more German food," The Netherlands said with a hint of testiness to his words. "I'll make you Stamppot."

The word made her pause.

America scrunched her nose up at the name alone. What sort of fucking fresh hell was a food called 'Stamppot'? It sounded like some sort of bacterial infection.

The Netherlands looked through her McDonalds bag with a disapproving gaze.

"And your people forgot the mayonnaise for these thin fries."

And, that was the straw that broke the camel's back, America snapped.

No one defiled her fries with mayonnaise! That was such a gross freaking topping on fries. It was ketchup that was permitted near the golden deliciousness. KETCHUP that went on fries.

Without thinking about it again, America turned the car around.

She was taking them back to the airport.

OoOoOo

The Netherlands could only smile in amusement as America all but ripped open the passenger side door and dragged him out. She slammed the car door with her foot and locked it with the bob on her key ring. She grabbed his hand and drug him toward the counter for the respective airlines.

"What are you doing?" He asked, happy to hold her hand.

"Getting us plane tickets." She said through a clenched jaw.

"Where are we going?"

"To the Netherlands," America said, her teeth clenched tightly.

"Why?" He asked quizzically, "We just got here. You were taking us to your home"

"Change of plans," She growled at him.

He looked around the full airport, as they passed through the automatic doors. "And you forgot our bags." He pointed out.

"I'm spontaneous like that," she replied sardonically.

"But the bags-"

"We. Will. Manage." America said in a tone that allowed for no arguments.

Her firm and freakishly strong grip kept him in place, she thought, as she ordered the tickets.

She did not realize that the Netherlands really didn't care. She was so adorable when she was being 'spontaneous'.

OoOoOo

She remembered his territory very well. America had been her numerous times over the years with many delegates, Presidents, and sometimes just for fun.

Mostly, though, when she visited, she was not alone with the male nation.

The Netherlands perked up at being back where he belonged. America sighed, as he informed her that they were in easy biking distance of his home.

She smiled when he looked over at her, trying not to make a big fuss about this. She sent Belgium a text message.

Hopefully, he was remembering the correct house and not one he had like three hundred years ago.

OoOoOo

She was convinced he was trying to seduce her.

Absolutely convinced!

The Netherlands barely waited until she was inside his home the first time, before accosting her with a kiss.

Which, she hadn't terribly minded at the time. However, each day he was finding ways to try and touch her.

His more tactile nature was going to drive America insane. The Netherlands gave his this 'look' sometimes that all but screamed 'let me chase you around the bedroom'. Sadly, America was having a harder time remembering why it was that she kept denying him.

Then she'd remember.

That he didn't remember and that would kill any romantic notions she'd had. All of them.

However, she'd look down with pinked cheeks and mumble excuses as to why she couldn't stay in a room with him. Or why she had been sneaking out of bed early so he did not cuddle her. Because if he kissed her, she knew she might be even further tempted to throw caution to the wind and take advantage of him.

And, that was so thoroughly un-heroic that it made her ashamed she even thought about it.

Heroes did not take advantage of amnesiacs. It was just like an unspoken rule or something.

The Netherlands was around her just about all day. He was sweet, smart, and handsome. America was in real danger of falling head over heels for the nation that couldn't remember that he actually had a lengthy history with her.

Or that, in all their time knowing one another, he'd never once showed an interest in her sexually.

Not once.

So, logically-and yes, she did think logically- everything he 'felt' was part of the lie. A portion of his mind making up an idyllic scenario to deal with his trauma of not remembering.

Fucking hell.

Why did he have to be so freaking perfect? Why couldn't he have just been a natural jerk, and then she wouldn't have minded so much. But oh no. No. He just had to be all kinds of wonderful.

The jackass.

America groaned softly, letting her head fall into her hands as she pondered out her conundrum. It wasn't working. All she could think of was maybe it wasn't so bad to let him have his way. Because she'd have to be blind, deaf, and have the IQ of wheat toast to miss his constant attempts to get her on her back.

Not that she'd mind being there. At all. She'd never heard him speak of Dutch poetry before, but it was beautiful when he recited some passages he knew. And it had taken all her will power not to just crawl into his lap and-

She started banging her head on the wall.

"Do you hear that?" The Netherlands called from upstairs.

"No!" America replied, continuing to knock her head.

Maybe she'd forget too, and then it wouldn't be so bad.

OoOoOo

The day he met Canada, America learned something interesting about the Netherlands.

Apparently, he had a jealous side.

She found this out when he came home from the bakery to discover a strange man in his house. Well, strange to him anyway. The Netherlands would argue the point later.

Because there had been a man in his house.

His house.

With his arms around America, who did not appear to be struggling.

The Netherlands gracefully dropped the bread he was carrying and was across the room in the blink of an eye. He yanked the male off of America, and wrapped a hand around interloper's throat, lifting him off the ground effortlessly.

"Who the hell are you?" He snarled angrily.

"Oh my God. Netherlands, what the hell?! Put him down!" America shouted as reached to pry Canada from his grip.

The Netherlands took exception to that. His brows furrowed and he glared at his woman.

"Who is the man? Why was he all over you?" He demanded.

America stared at him flabbergasted. "What? All over me? What are you talking about?"

She was not going to get away with playing dumb around him.

"He had his arms around you and-"

"Was giving me a hug, you colossal ass! He's my brother!" She yelled, her eyes boring into his.

Oh.

Oh.

Brother.

Oops.

It was an understandable mistake.

He dropped Canada and turned toward America, who looked highly unhappy with him.

The Netherlands looked between them, noting the very strong resemblance and similarities. Well, it was ridiculously easy to see how he was her brother now. He cleared his throat.

"Goedemorgen , hoe gaat het?" He said, with his ire evaporating and a bored expression hiding his embarrassment.

The one called 'Canada' blinked at him while coughing. America rubbed her brother's back with a sympathetic and worried expression.

Great... so she liked her sibling. Or at least, enough to be concerned. The Netherlands internally groaned. This was not a fortunate event.

"Fine. How are you, eh?" The blue-eyed male answered back politely. "I'm sorry aboot that. I guess I should have told you... America and I... hug sometimes. No harm right?"

America's face was one of annoyed shock as looked at her brother.

"He chokes you, and you apologize to him?" She asked, clearly astonished. "What kind of freak are you? No one is that polite!"

Canada rubbed his throat with sheepish expression.

"Come on America, eh? Don't get mad at me."

Her expression softened for a moment. "You're right... Sorry."

America turned to glare at the Netherlands. Her blue eyes narrowed on him, and he resisted the urge to gulp. His little treasure was a tad intimidating when she was upset. He stood his ground all the same.

"You are sleeping on the couch tonight." She said menacingly.

His shoulders drooped. Damn. He'd been making progress too. This was going to be a bitch to get back to America with starry eyes and swollen lips from his kisses. That was a much better mental image than her with her blue gaze blazing at him behind Texas.

The Netherlands tried to picture the former.

"You two are together?" Canada asked, surprised.

The Netherlands stilled. America hadn't told her brother about him? Why not?

America blushed, her cheeks tinting pink. "I uh... I told you about him."

Canada gave her a blank, uncomprehending expression. "You did? When?"

"1782," America replied, picking a year at random.

The northern nation's eyes widened, something flashed across his face. Recognition. "Oh wait... I think I remember you saying something about it now. How did I forget, eh?"

The female nation shrugged.

"Probably because someone wouldn't stop choking you." America muttered.

The Netherlands watched the exchange, feeling slightly ashamed he'd assumed that America would let another man all over her. A hug wasn't terrible, but it could have given any male ideas. Except for her brother of course.

He must have forgotten about the brother, but that was fine because Canada had forgotten about him. And, now, he was banished to the couch. Damn. He was never going to get in America's arms again at this rate. He sighed with irritation.

Somehow, it was the Canadian's fault.

The image flashed across his mind. Bright, like a moving picture.

"Netherlands?" America asked, her tone suddenly concerned.

"You don't look so good," Canada said bluntly.

The room was spinning.

That man... 'Adams' came to his land. Normally, The Netherlands would never have cared all the much. However, someone mentioned that a new nation was coming with him. The day flashed before his eyes. He was standing with his country's leader as 'Adams' was received.

The white-haired man spoke eloquently, and the Netherland's listened to his concerns. All valid. As his gaze wandered to the woman dressed like a man at his side.

Time passed, but the Netherlands somehow knew it was the same encounter. The woman stuck out her hand, and he had the feeling he'd met her before. However... she'd been... smaller then? Younger? The last time he'd seen her, she'd been holding... a rabbit?

"It is my sincerest wish that we can grow to accommodate one another," the woman said brightly.

He said nothing, looking her up and down. Sizing up her worth as a nation. A potential ally or enemy. After a few tense seconds she smiled widely.

"I am called The United States of America." She told him with a sense of pride in her voice.

He couldn't decide if he liked her or not.

The Netherlands blinked. He put a hand to his head. It was throbbing. America was at his side, whispering comforting words as she helped him to a chair so he could sit down.

She told Canada to stay with him while she fetched some water. All traces of her anger were washed away, and as the Netherlands glanced up at her, she simply looked... worried.

OoOoOo

Belgium came and picked them up for the next meeting. His sister was oddly maternal as of late. It reminded him of when he was younger.

Before she'd decided to stay with Spain after he tried to free them both.

He enjoyed the fact that his sister and America seemed to always be smiling around one another. It was obvious they were getting along wonderfully. In fact, Belgium and America often went on walks just to 'talk'. Good. They should get along.

Of course, he didn't see the covert questioning glances, and reciprocated glares.

He did however, notice that America had yet to initiate any physical contact toward him and she found over 300 ways of getting out of love making.

Over 300.

He'd counted.

The Netherlands didn't understand. America wasn't acting predatorily toward him. Then again, she wasn't a Dutch female. His women normally chased him. The blonde nation, however, seemed content at the space between them.

He wasn't.

In fact, it was slightly irritating. Especially when other men were around. Right now there were a lot of other men nearby.

The Netherlands wasn't perturbed by Sweden being near America, now that Belgium had disclosed that Sweden was with Finland.

And, not interested in females.

Ah. So he had never been a threat to begin with. Excellent. The Netherlands now no longer minded the tall Nordic nation patting America's back at the hospital.

His green eyes watched the others. Some nations he knew well. Others he could not recall. Their names were on the edge of his tongue, but they stayed just out of his reach.

However... he clearly remembered Denmark and the nation was not doing himself any favors by acting flirtatiously toward a woman that was obviously the Netherlands'.

He noticed the fact that America had a peculiar way of acting around Denmark. Almost as if she could tolerate him. They were both loud and happy, but America would flush when he spoke to her sometimes. Denmark had the annoying habit of getting overly close to his woman.

Highly unacceptable.

The Netherlands put a stop to that by not-so-politely sitting between them. Followed by the blatant challenging look in his stare as he glared the Dane down.

Something flickered across the man's eyes, as if he had suddenly remembered that America was The Netherlands'. Denmark gave a gesture to tell him that he wasn't here to fight. The Netherlands saw Denmark concede easily.

Well, he wasn't going to let the other nation forget it.

It was also strange to him the way she interacted with him. She gave teasing smiles, and coy looks. It was not the straightforward sort of enticement he was used to.

Or how she often was fine with holding his hand. She even kissed him a few times in public, but she never attempted to coax him into her bedroom. Or his.

In fact, he'd had to insist on sleeping next to her, because she hadn't brought it up.

Strange.

Perhaps she was giving him time to adjust? But it had been weeks already.

Spain glanced at America, and the Netherlands glared at him. The darker-haired nation had kept his sister from him for a time, he was not getting within arm's length of his little treasure.

He looked over to see that America was chatting quietly with Russia.

"So you like men with scarves now, da?" The larger nation asked with open amusement and a hinting tone.

America blushed, her blue eyes riveted on the larger nation.

"I have no idea what you mean. " The blonde female replied lowly.

Russia only grinned at her. That delight of a someone who enjoyed teasing other nations clear in his eyes. Russia was not a harmful character, that The Netherlands could recall at the moment.

"Oh, really?"

"Really. Because The Netherlands and I," she paused taking a deep breath, "are in a committed relationship. So, no, I do not 'like men with scarves now, da?'"

She finished, scowling at the violet-eyed nation.

Said Dutch nation straightened up and glanced at Russia. Hm. His white and blue scarf was better than Russia's any day of the week.

It was white and blue, two of America's colors. Unlike the solid color of the Russian nation. It added a bit of, dare he say, dashing contrast to his handsomeness.

The larger nation let out a childish giggle and eyed America speculatively.

"Oh? Since when?" he asked burying his face a bit in his single colored scarf.

"What?" She asked with a long-suffering sigh. The Netherlands notice she was irritated by Russia.

Yet, he had no idea why. So, he decided to sit and observe. He was not appreciative of the blatant tension between the pair. It would behoove Russia not to anger him. The Netherlands was a force to be reckoned with. And, if he had to prove it with a show of force, he would.

But not until it was necessary. He did not want America to appear weak in front of the others. Rescuing her, or getting her a good deal only seemed to make her... upset.

"Since when have you been in a 'committed relationship'?" Russia asked slowly, his eyes gleaming as if he'd set a trap for the boisterous nation.

A single memory of a time long ago... far away... in an unknown place popped in his mind.

The woman, so young and new, was staring with a slightly nervous expression at the large nation in front of her.

The United States of America. That was her name. She'd come to his country before.

She was out of place, in her simple, yet sturdy, hand-made gown. Instead of the silks and taffeta of Europe, she was clad in a sturdy combination of linen and wool. Her golden hair was covered with a stark white cap. The Netherlands knew that her people considered it vain or conceited to go without a cap upon a woman's head in high society at the moment.

He'd never cared much for fashion anyway. However, her contrast to the finer colors and richer countries was obvious.

She smoothed down the skirt of the gown. Even her long gloves were not as fine as the European nations.

Russia smiled at her, and The United States of America relaxed slightly. He watched her take the larger country's offered hand with a demure nod of her head. She walked past him as she was led to the area where others had gathered as the music floated about in the air.

The Netherlands was bored, the whole affair was tedious... until Russia and the new female nation started to dance. It was a Baroque dance for the nobility. The upper class. A type of social dance that was done by one couple at a time, with all the other guests around the sides of the room. The people of the highest rank sat at one end of the room, and the couple that danced directed it toward the highest members.

The female nation glanced at Russia one, before the newest song began and others parted to allow them room.

And The Netherlands struggled not to watch the pair in awe. They moved together in nearly perfect time. As their hands interlocked and they turned around one another, every nation could see the reaction between them. They danced, alternating turns with slight hops. The new nation hid her face coyly behind a fan, as was common. Her blue eyes staring into Russia's violet ones. It almost looked as if they were

There was a powerful connection between them.

The drew closer. Circled. Parted. It was beautiful to behold. When they came back toward one another, hands clasping, it was as if the Netherlands was watching the Allemande for what it truly was. A dance that of flirtation and desire. Hands touching, grasping, and holding. No longer two nations kept as a polite distance.

He noticed the delicate blush on her cheeks and the look of interest in Russia's gaze as he gently kissed her hand when the dance finished.

The Netherlands thought it would only be a matter of time until they untied.

His head ached, but he fought it down. He was confused. America was with him. So how had it gone from that moment in time, where Russia and America danced around each other with genuine interest. To the slightly frosty tones he heard from the pair now? The notable amount of forced diplomacy.

The Netherlands narrowed his eyes at the amusement flashing in the larger nation's eyes. There was still a powerful connection between the pair. Nearly undeniable, and he disliked it instantly. If the two ever joined...

It didn't matter. Everyone knew that they America was with The Netherlands. So Russia was baiting her.

His green eyes shifted to the female nation who was still blushing. He admitted, she was rather odd, but endearing to him. He grinned lazily, and grabbed her hand under the table. She stiffened.

"Since 1782," she said with narrowed eyes.

Russia raised a brow, laughed to himself, and turned back toward the meeting. Something about his features suggested he didn't believe her in the slightest. America snuck a glance at him, curious and flustered as to why he was not pushing the topic. She could feel that he knew she was lying.

Several minutes passed in silence as they listened to Switzerland go over his newest economic choices. And, per usual, they were sound and well thought out. America sighed as she attempted to pull her hand back from the Netherlands who just was not having any of it.

The man had a thousand hands, she would swear. He was so... affectionate. All of the time. It was, well, it was rather nice if she were honest, but she couldn't go around holding hands all day. England would flip a gasket and Belgium just kept nodding at her.

Which made her remember that the Netherlands affections were all based on a lie. That made her feel guilty. When America felt guilty, she tended to avoid the things that made her feel that way. However, she couldn't leave the Netherlands. So she was stuck, feeling guilty for liking the fact that he showed her affection.

Curse her strong morals.

And, his attitude toward her had the nations that weren't told of their 'relationship' staring at them. Curiosity one the faces of some, pity for the Netherland of the faces of others.

America scowled at those. Her blue eyes narrowing harshly. Several nations looked down, having been caught.

Assholes.

She shook her head. The Netherlands leaned forward and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

It took everything she possessed not to give a startled 'eep'.

OoOoOo

The Netherlands was growing more confused. America gave out many signals that she really was interested in him, but she never acted on them.

So, he decided to consult with France, about what America women liked. Maybe, her culture had changed more than he remembered. The other country took great delight in telling him, in detail, just what Americans enjoyed so much.

The Netherlands left with more questions than answers. He had done almost everything France had mentioned.

Perhaps he was doing something wrong?

OoOoOo

The day he remembered everything, was a Tuesday as he was making coffee.

When America stumbled in, rubbing her eyes sleepily and accidentally called him 'Holland'.

Something she hadn't done in years.

He dropped his mug in shock as everything came flooding back in a tidal wave.

"Are you alright?" America asked in alarm, hurrying to grab a towel for the mess.

The Netherlands stared at her, parts of him disbelieving and confused. He and America weren't anything other than allies. He knew that now. They never had been.

Yet, his sister and countless other countries had gone along with it. Why? To spare him? To trick him?

"Honey?" America asked, her voice soft and concerned.

He looked into her blue eyes, and found that he wasn't angry. Strangely enough, he was a little relieved.

"Honey, are you okay?" She asked again, leaving the towel on the floor and coming toward him.

His green eyes watched her with an intensity he rarely showed outside of war. She touched his face gently, her noticed that she looked worried.

"I'm fine," he heard himself say, "just a headache."

Her expression broke into one of relief as she gave him a quick kiss.

"I'll get this cleaned up. You go rest." She said, smiling at him reassuringly.

The Netherlands decided he would speak to Belgium about all this. Find out the reasons why they had played this trick.

And, if the answer was to his satisfaction, he would decide what to do next.

OoOoOo

Kissing.

America loved kissing the Netherlands. Kissing still conveyed the passion she felt for him. Yet, allowed her the wiggle room to apologize when he got his memory back. Because he had to get it back eventually.

He just had to.

He never spoke about his work, but America assumed that everything was going well enough. There were things Nations just never talked about. Even if they were allied.

He had her pinned to the mattress. She didn't mind in the slightest as their tongues danced over one another. His knees were on either side of her body as she nearly drowned in a tidal wave of desire and lust.

She wanted to take things further. Honestly, she did.

But she couldn't.

It wouldn't be right. Even doing this was horribly wrong.

He pulled back, his green eyes dark as he reached a hand to caress over her stomach. He was seeking permission, she knew.

Yet, a lump formed in her throat at how intent he looked and how handsome he was with the early morning light streaming in.

No, America. She told herself.

She shook her head with a blush, and tried not the feel bad that he looked... sad. Even if he went right back to kissing her.

Because, America understood. She honestly did. If they were 'together' why wouldn't she let him make love to her? However, she couldn't tell him.

It might hurt him in more ways than his memory.

OoOoOo

The weeks passed in a blur of gentle caresses, lingering kisses, and warm affection. America and the Netherlands went for walks, and she agreed to join him at his hobbies on Saturdays. Though many of them involved things she did not understand.

Like his obsession with cooking.

However, America did enjoy eating, so thought she did not understand it she welcomed that one.

Except when he made her try the 'Dutch' foods, as she termed it. Like when he took her hotdogs away and pushed a few cooked ... things on her plate.

"Uh... honey?" America asked, slightly confused.

"Yes?" He answered readily, setting his own plate and throwing her food in the trash.

"I was eating that."

"That is garbage," he dismissed quickly.

She hid her annoyance. Even amnesiacs tried to complain about her food. Fuck him. Her food was delicious!

"No," America said patiently, "that was an all beef hot dog."

The Netherlands gave her a quick glance. His green eyes looked at her balefully.

"This is better."

Better? America poked it with a fork.

"What is 'this'?" She asked suspiciously.

"Frikandel." The male answered.

She blinked. Did he just... did he just swear at her? It seemed a little excessive.

"I'm sorry, what?" America asked, confused.

"It is a long, skinless, sausage. Eat it."

She made a face.

He laughed. "It's deep fried. You liked deep fried things."

Well, that was true. America, being the wonderfully supportive and amazing girlfriend she was; smiled even though she internally looked at the funky sausage as if it was about to eat her instead. It looked strangely dried out, but she'd survived worse than dry meat.

She pushed her fork through it, cutting a piece and taking a bite.

It actually wasn't half bad.

But, it'd never beat a ballpark dog.

OoOoOo

America was going to have to stop letting him pick movies on 'movie night'.

It always ended up being something romantic. Which wasn't terrible, except that there was always some reference to sex, or an actual sex scene.

As if his hinting wasn't obvious enough already.

Like when he nearly tackled her to the couch. America squirmed and wriggled. The Netherlands like that. Or at least, one part of him did. She pushed him off with a blush and coy look.

She couldn't help it. She really did like him. America just knew she couldn't give into him.

Yet, instead of backing off tonight, he stalked after her. Heat pooled between her thighs and she kept walking backward.

"N-netherlands," she said softly, "honey... why are you looking at me like that?"

Her back hit a wall, and she looked behind her. Then back at the man in front of her.

"Like what?" He asked huskily.

"Like you want to..." she alluded. " You know.."

He only smiled.

America wasn't dense. She understood why. Her eyes became half lidded as she watched him come toward her with far more confidence and determination than he'd ever displayed about this before.

And, she nearly melted.

Soon they were embracing and kissing. America felt him grind against her, and she moaned softly enjoying every moment of it. His hands were on her body, and she was nipping at his lower lip. Her face flushed, as they both started to breathe heavily.

America moved her lips to his neck, kissing him there and enjoying the way he shivered slightly.

Somewhere along the way, she'd forgotten to keep track of his hands.

His fingers dipped below her waistline, searching for what he knew would have her squirming against him. His hand stroked her as she keened and kissed him repeatedly. She could feel his finger dip inside of her. She moaned deeply, her hips thrusting forward into his hand to grant him better access.

The Netherlands made a noise of approval and started moving his finger. In and out. It left America wanting something far more than just his hand. Her essence made her slicker, as she made mini-thrusts in time with his finger.

America was wound up so tightly from the months of kissing, flirting, and touching that she already knew she wasn't going to last long.

Especially if his thumb continued to rub in circles like that.

OoOoOo

As sometimes happens, there was a moment of stark clarity as she came down from her blissful high. With a groan of shame and anger at herself, America glanced at the Netherlands.

There was a look of desire on his face that nearly had her knees trembling. If they hadn't been already from the pleasure he'd wrung from her body.

This was wrong. She knew it.

Wrong.

Bad and horrible.

She was taking advantage of him.

This had to stop, because he was undoing the button on his pants.

"Wait!" She said, louder than she intended.

His gaze met hers, and she could tell that he knew what was coming by the way his eyes narrowed.

"I-I can't" America cried out, scrambling away from him.

The Netherlands frowned.

"Why not?"

"Because," she insisted, taking another step back, "it would be wrong to do that when you don't remember... everything."

"What more do I need to know?"

She swallowed heavily. Her heart pounding in her ears. America had to tell him. Consequences be damned. He deserved to know.

"I haven't been entirely truthful," she started, wincing at the way his eyebrow rose. "The fact is... the fact is that we're...that you and I..."

"Weren't together until after my accident?"

"What?" Her startled tone surprising her own ears.

"That we haven't been together since 1782 when John Adams visited the Hague, and you introduced yourself to me with your new name. Because, the first time we really met you were a little girl that away and caught rabbits, so understandably, I had no interest in you."

"R-r-rabbits?' America repeated, with her mind churning back to the very early time.

Yes, she had caught rabbits. Hadn't she? And, the Netherlands... she remembered meeting him once before 1782. There had been a colony, when she was first forming. New Amsterdam, the first name for what would later become New York. Her 'heart'.

New Amsterdam. Amsterdam.

Oh!

Her blue eyes clouded in confusion and delight.

"You remember?" Her words were nearly a whisper as tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. Did he that mean he felt the same way that she felt about him? What would become of relations between them? Was he upset that she'd lied?

Would he leave now that he remembered?

His hand was one her face, brushing them away as he drew her closer.

"Don't cry, little treasure." He murmured kissing her again.

The emotions swirling in her were nearly too much. She let out a sound, something born between a sob of joy and a moan, as she clung to him.

The Netherlands grinned wickedly. "I've remembered for weeks now," he admitted casually. His fingers trailed up her skin sensually as she blushed and stuttered.

"W-w-what?" She asked, her eyes searching his. "Why didn't y-you say s-something?"

He shrugged, attempting to appear nonchalant. However, she could see the faint flush on his cheeks.

"I like having all your attention." He admitted huskily, leaning closer as he kissed her, stealing her breath away.

When he pulled back, there was silence for a moment.

She looked at him with teary eyes. So happy that he didn't seem to want to leave. Or to stop things between them. America smiled at him, suddenly shy now that everything was out in the open.

"And just so you know," He added when he pulled back. "I'll be keeping that attention."

He lowered his head, and she offered up another kiss eagerly. There would be time for questions and discussions later. There would be a chance for her to clarify what this meant for them as individuals, instead of nations. Right now, however, she just wanted to give into the what she'd been denying for so long.

To say that the Netherlands was delighted by the way America tugged and led him to the bedroom would have been an understatement.

They tumbled to the bed, a pile of limbs and searching lips. Clothing was torn, barriers between them were removed by two sets of hands. America giggled in-between kisses when his fingers brushed against her side. His green eyes locked with hers and she laughed out right, before tugging him nearer.

They couldn't get much closer.

The Netherlands would file the information that she was ticklish for later use.

However, his attention was soon caught up in America's hand wrapping around a part of him that was already standing proudly.

"Naughty," he whispered, nipping at her neck.

"I'll really misbehave," she said seductively, "if it turns you on."

"Careful, sweetheart," The Netherlands warned her with a searing kiss. "I have some years of experience on you."

"You'd be surprised just how... innovative I can be." America promised pressing her hips against his.

OoOoOo

When America went to the next meeting. She was alone. Many nations watched her with interest. Her self-proclaimed 'defender' was nowhere in sight.

It was strange.

However, a few minutes later, after she was seated and pulling out her notes. She was no longer alone. The Netherlands sat next to her, not an unusual sight anymore. The meeting started and progressed as it always did and the other nations soon lost interest in America and the Netherlands.

So they did not see her secretive smile and slight blush. If they had glanced over, they would only have seen the Netherlands paying attention to the meeting and America looking aloof or bored.

However, the pair was neither bored, nor paying attention to the meeting.

Because he was holding her hand under the table. His thumb slowly stroking the back of her hand. Her fingers threaded through his.

She slipped a piece of paper his way, with her free hand. There was a single sentence written hastily.

See you tonight?

His green eyes glanced at the paper, and he squeezed her hand in affirmation. America grinned and blushed. She gave him a shy glance.

Dutchmen were amazing.

OoOoOo

Whoo! Got it done!

I was hoping to post this sooner, but it just kept sort of building...

For all those people that love The Netherlands, I hope this was in character, and did not make you want to hunt me down. :)

Poor guy needs more love.