The scent of the air mixed with the ways the trees danced in the rearing wind hinted at a coming storm. Alfred F. Jones, hero extraordinaire (to him, at least,) was sitting in his kitchen drinking coffee. He gazed without interest outside his window and blandly noted the weather. Then, angrily, he slammed the cup down onto his table, making the hot beverage gush over the top like a miniature brown geyser.

This wasn't fair! He was a hero! A hero! He had battles to fight and countries to save, so why was he sitting here bored?! It was his country's custom to take it easy on Sunday, but telling Alfred to "take it easy" was like telling a fish to take a break from swimming. What could he do? What could he do?

Suddenly, a mischievous smile emerged on the young country's face. Why hadn't he thought of this before? He knew exactly what would cheer him up!

...…………………………………………..

It was raining at Arthur Kirkland's house, as per usual. Today, however, it looked as if it would be especially bad. Steam rose up from his tea and encircled his face before trailing off behind him, chasing the path he left as he paced up and down his living room. His moment of peace was ruined by the ringing of his phone.

"Hello?" he said politely, taking a seat and gently beginning to blow on the tea's surface.

"Hi!" was the energetic response. Arthur's tea was soon splurted out of the cup. Apparently, being a hot beverage is a risky lifestyle in this fanfiction.

"America…" he uttered sourly.

"England…" America uttered back, mimicking the older nation.

"What do you want?" Arthur asked after heaving a heavy sigh. This had better be good! Ever since he decided to declare independence from him, England had been getting nothing but trouble from that American git.

"I just thought you should know," said the chipper voice on the other end of the call, "I'm in love with you!"

………………………………….……...…….

Matthew Williams brought his hood in tighter around his head and hugged his beloved polar bear cub, whose name currently slipped his mind, to his chest as the rain poured down upon them. The bear stirred inside of his hoody, a bit irritated to be stuck in such a place.

"It's alright, Komajirou," Canada said, smiling pleasantly, "We just have a little further to go before we reach America's house."

"But I'm a polar bear," Kumajirou pointed out, "I'm at least twice as waterproof as you, whoever you are."

"…How is it you can talk again?"

"………."

"Well, anyway," Matthew continued as they came nearer and nearer to the sanctuary of a warm, dry house, "This rain came really suddenly, didn't it? I've been in this part of America lots of times, but the weather's never been like this! I wonder what happened."

Finally, the shy Canadian's efforts were paid off as he made it to the front door of his brother, Alfred's house. The door was worn out and flimsy, probably due to how often Alfred slammed it with his insane strength. He knocked, only to have the door heave a long, drawn out groan as it fell off of its hinges and on to the floor, ending with a loud crash.

"Um, America?" Canada ventured in his usual timid whisper, "I'm coming in."

Matthew had no doubt in his mind that America hadn't heard him, but he stepped in anyway, rewarding Kumajirou's (partial) patience by liberating him from inside the hoody and allowing him satisfying gulps of fresh air.

"Hi!" came Alfred's voice. Matthew looked up from his tiny bear, but didn't see Alfred anywhere. He walked further into the house, certain that his southern neighbor had been speaking to him.

"H-hello?" he softly mustered.

"England…"

Matthew sighed.

"No. I'm Canada, remember?" he said, trying to raise his voice but, as he was well aware, not succeeding, "Can-a-da. With a C."

By this point, he had made it to the messy, ill-kept hallway leading to America's messy, ill-kept kitchen. All Matthew could see of the messy, ill-kept owner of this messy, ill-kept house was the single strand of messy, ill-kept blonde hair that always stuck out from his messy, ill-kept head.

"I just thought you should know," said the chipper voice from the other room, "I'm in love with you!"

Canada froze. His eyes widened. His face felt hot as it burst into a crimson blush. His heart-beat sped out of control. He was brought back when he almost dropped Kumajirou. As soon as his rationality was restored, Canada turned and fled the house as swiftly as possible- all the time trying to comprehend what he had just been told.

Alfred was in love with him?

……………………………………………………………………………

Canada's face was, needless to say, not the only one turning red at that particular moment. Arthur also had a hard time grasping what he had just heard.

"You what?!" he exclaimed, unfortunately sounding much stupider than he cared to sound and dropping his hot beverage onto his tidy, well-kept carpet.

"We just can't get a break around here!" it shouted up from below, but its former consumer was far too preoccupied to notice.

"I said, 'I'm in love with you'!" was the ever enthusiastic response.

A strange feeling washed over the young British gentleman. Well, to be honest, the strangeness was not in the feeling itself. England was far too old of a nation to have never experienced love before, but to feel such a thing for-

That was when he heard insane giggling on the other end.

"Just kidding!!"

And with that, his former colonies hung up the phone, no doubt doubled over in laughter. Arthur was left standing alone in his living room with nothing but the sound of the rain…slamming ever faithfully against his house's roof and windows.

……………………………………………………………..

Alfred was doubled over in laughter.

"Oh, man!" he exclaimed, "I was right! That was gold! I'm gonna hafta tell Canada about this!"

He paused, his smile fading.

"But he really didn't sound very angry on the phone. In fact, he…"

He shook his blonde head, restoring his trademark grin.

"Bah! What am I thinking?! He's probably pissed off beyond measure right now! No surprise there!!"

Little did he know, America had just set in motion the beginnings of a long, hard-to-weather storm.