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Title: When a Simple 'I Love You' Just Cannot Do

Author: DnKS – giRLs

Rating: PG

Character(s)/Pairing(s): America and England

Disclaimers: The characters involved in this story do not belong to us, nor do they have any connection to real nation(s). No infringement intended.

Warning: General sap

Note: Written for leriko_rasen, posted for public under her permission.

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Chapter 1

It was on a perfectly fine and nothing-out-of-the-sort Wednesday afternoon that America found himself walking through the busy streets. His eyes were busy watching the goods being displayed on the shop windows. He had a light frown on his forehead and the expression he wore told the world with a very clear voice just how distressed he was. Every once in a while, he would bit his lower lip in deep contemplation before shaking his head slowly.

"That won't do," he said softly.

And with a sigh, he would leave the shop which display he had eyed for quite a while and move on. It was curious to note that every shop he visited showed some jewelry, most notably rings, on their windows. And it was also curious to note how America seemed to assess each and every ring he could find on display before he moved on to another shop. It was most curious, indeed, but those people crowding the plaza with him that time had their own business to take care of. So, they gave him little to no interest. And that suited America just fine. After all, he did not need people's interest on him when he was busy trying to find the best engagement ring for England.

He groaned at the thought.

It still felt surreal for him. As a matter of fact, if he did not know better, he would have thought that someone surely had slipped something into his drink until he could come to his current predicament. It was ridiculous when he thought about his situation. For years, he had been together with England, and yes, America admitted that he loved him. But never did he think to propose to him before. It was an idea that seemed to come out of nowhere and, frankly, he did not know what caused that.

"Just great…" he mumbled in half annoyance as he observed another ring—a platinum band with three perfectly set diamonds at the center. "Just why the hell am I thinking about proposing England, anyway?"

He did not expect any response to his randomly sprouted sentence, so when an amused 'I beg your pardon?' reached his ears, he found himself nearly jumping in surprise.

With several curses flying in his mind, America turned his head and came face to face with France. He blanched. Of all the people and nations, why had it to be France who caught him red handed?

"Good day, my friend, such a lovely weather we have now, am I right?" France greeted him with a wink, a well-placed brief kiss to his cheek, and the usual ass groping. America was quite proud of himself for sustaining his unmanly 'eep'. But he could not really manage to hold back a nervous twitch as France continued with, "And of course, it's a perfect day to shop for some… ah, engagement ring?"

He eyed France cautiously. "What are you doing here?" he asked, trying to change the direction of their conversation.

"This is my place, for a start, the beautiful city of Paris." France said with a light frown. "And you, my friend, just walked through the streets mumbling something about 'proposing to England'."

He managed a nervous chuckle and said, "You heard no such thing."

It was somewhat funny how the universe worked. When a man told the world that he never cheated on his bookkeeping, more often than not, some guy in crisp suits and very thin watch would narrow their eyes at him and made sure to check his financial records in a way that made ants seemed like a bunch of lazy buggers. But if the same man announced to his friends that he had managed to hack into the security system of the Bank of Swiss and robbed a good deal of money, more often than not, his friends would pat his shoulder and offer him a cup of tea to calm his nerves down.

So it was not really strange that, after hearing America's statement, France suddenly sported a very huge and mischievous grin.

"You do want to propose to him!" he exclaimed.

"Shut up! France, just… shut up!" America whispered harshly as he looked around him in suspicion. "You want the entire world to hear you or what? Fuck…"

"Hey, easy there," France said. He even had the nerve to chuckle as if he was highly amused. Yet when America reviewed their current situation, perhaps it was not so weird after all if France was to get amused. That guy (or nation) practically got his enjoyment from others' predicament it seemed.

"Calm down, would you, I wouldn't do anything bad," France said even though America really doubted the sincerity of his words. "Oh, don't look at me like that. Have you no faith in me, America?"

"I don't think I need to answer that," America said warily.

France merely clucked his tongue. "You youngsters are so suspicious toward others. I merely want to extend my hand of friendship and offer you my help for your… quest."

The way France said it, America thought, could go very well on the face of the devil trying to seduce men into sin. It was thus understandable that he gave France a critical glance.

"I don't need your help," America said. "Besides, why must I ask for your help? And why must you help me?"

"Ah. But I am the country of love, am I not?" France said with a meaningful wink. A dove perching on a tree near them chanced to see the wink and promptly fell to the ground—not really dead, but with a terrible case of love sickness. "Surely this matter is something of my interest."

"Ha. Shut it, France," America said. "I can do well on my own."

He tried to walk away, but France grabbed his shoulder and forced to him look straight into his eyes. America could only gulp. For, though he did not know what had caused it, France really did look serious, so very serious without a hint of teasing on his face when he simply asked.

"Can you, really?"

America blinked rapidly. "What?"

"Can you really do well on your own?" France clarified. "You should pardon my doubt on you because I honestly cannot think of you as someone who excels in the matter of romance."

"W-well, of course I can do well, I'm a…"

"Stop with that 'hero' thing for a moment and listen to me, would you?" France cut him off halfway. "This is a serious matter. I think you also realize that part quite well. You want things to go smoothly but can you do that on your own? I don't think so. So you need help, my help, and I'm more than glad to provide you with it."

America could not say anything as his response to France's words. He only looked at the other with a somewhat lost expression until France let out a sigh.

"Why are we talking about this on the street in a purely plebeian fashion?" he asked no one in particular. "Come with me. Let's continue this conversation in a more civilized fashion over some tea and pastries."

It was not really clear, at least in America's opinion, how a moment later they already found themselves seated around a table in some small but sophisticated café. A cup of coffee was placed in front of him, along with some raspberry tarts. And France was leaning on his chair opposite him, smiling, really smiling, not smirking or sneering, but smiling.

"This is surreal," America said, being blunt like usual.

"Well, I do think hearing you proclaiming your intention to propose to England in the broad daylight is also surreal," France said. "So, touché."

America bit his lip in confusion before he said. "I mean… it's not like you to be so intent on giving me help."

"The point is, it's not about you," France said. "But it's about love, can't you see?"

Truth be told, America could not 'see'. His expression might very well show it for he could hear France trying to explain his point further.

"Let me explain it. You love… flying, don't you, America?" France asked and America nodded. "So, let's just say there's this plane you love so much, a bomber plane or something with ridiculous design the way you love it. The thing is you love this plane and you know the great things she could do. Then enter this novice pilot, a naïve and eager young boy. He shares your love in flying but he is still a novice and you see him manhandling this beloved plane of yours. Surely you cannot bear the sight, so what would you do? You step forward and show him the 'right' way, correct?"

America blinked, "Well, of course…"

"Then it's no different from my case," France said. "Love and romance is my greatest passion. And you are a novice in this kind of thing. So I merely show you the rope to prevent you from tarnishing the most revered name of romance. If I let you to your own device, you would probably just shove your ring to England and say something along the line of 'say, I love you, how about we get married', am I right?"

Refusing to answer France's question—because somehow America thought that could be the way he would do the whole proposing thing after all—America let out a huff and said somewhat tensely, "Yeah, but I'm going to… propose… to England and I don't think you… have more knowledge on that matter than I do."

"And this is where you go wrong," France said. "I do have more knowledge on this whole proposing thing in general and proposing England in particular. Why? First, I have been living longer than you. Second, am I not the country of love? Third, I have proposed to England once myself. So, yes, I have the experience."

America decided to ignore all of France's statement except for the 'I have proposed to England once myself' and he very nearly slammed his hands onto the table. He managed to restrain himself from doing that, but he did not quite manage to restrain himself from shouting out loud.

"You have what?!"

"Would you please lower our voice?" France cringed. "Everyone here can hear you, and unless you want to make a scene, I suggest you calm yourself and try speaking more quietly."

America grumbled a little, but he did calm himself down after that. He personally thought it was justified for him to shout out loud. It was shocking, to think that France had once been in his position, trying to ask England to marry him…

…but, wait. England was never married to France, he thought, that would mean…

"He rejected you," America said without really holding the childish glee back from his voice. "So much for the country of love. England rejected your proposal. Ha!"

"It's neither here nor there," France admonished. "It was supposed to be a political marriage after all. The fact that he rejected my advance only meant that our political agenda differed too much back then. It's different from your case. Or… is it not? Are you merely trying to wed England for the benefit of your country? Is this something that your boss asked you to do?"

"No! Gosh! I mean… no!" America said hastily. "It's nothing to do with my… my nation or politics or my boss. I just… want to… you know!"

"You just want to tell him how much you love him," France said.

"…yes."

"Sweet, America. Very sweet," France said. "But sometimes, a simple 'I love you' just cannot do."

America, forever a stubborn brat he was, grumbled. "And why is that?"

"Think about it. Marriage is a big thing, you understand," France said in the tone that made America feel like he was a child being lectured. "England is perhaps not the most sophisticated person out there but you have to admit he's quite a high class—now, don't tell him that. Do you think he would appreciate it if you just go 'let's get married'? What you need, America, is romance. It's a basic need."

"I am romantic enough."

"Yes, romantic in the way you ask him out to fast food restaurants, spend your time alone with him by playing video game, and think that good sex overcomes all trouble," France said with a dejected sigh. "Which is perhaps fine, each for their own taste, but at least you need to give more thought when you are going to propose. It means you asking the other to spend their life with you, to love you only, to be yours. It deserves to be something memorable, something magnificent."

Sometimes, more often than not, France could sound like some pervert who put too much of his mind into things that he called love and passion and romance. But sometimes, though really not that often in America's opinion, France could also sound so sensible. Just like how it was that time. Though America was loath to admit it, France did sound somewhat sensible and he started to give his words some consideration.

Not that he was going to tell him that, of course.

"Think about it," France said. Then he reached to his jacket pocket to retrieve a square card and hand it to America. "And if you still find no luck in finding some engagement ring, go there. That place has the best jewelry you can ask for."

America eyed the card suspiciously, but accepted it nonetheless. Strange as it was, their conversation continued, yet never once did France bring up the issue of his proposal anymore. They talked about things that they often talked about in their usual conversation, with much bickering and bantering. And when they parted ways, America still could not decide if France was merely trying to mess with his brain or if indeed he was trying to help like what he had declared.

He stared at the piece of paper that France gave him. On it was written a name of a shop along with its address. He gave the paper his most scrutinizing glare before he snorted.

It was three hours afterward that America exited that certain shop which address was written in elegant script on the small card that France gave him. In his hand, he clutched a small velvet box containing what he intended to be his engagement ring for England. And in his head, he had begun thinking of what France had said. He thought about England. He thought about his decision to ask England to be his forever. He thought about how much he loved England.

He then thought about France's lecture and decided that it would not hurt trying to incorporate some 'romance' into his proposal. Yet, it was most unfortunate that France's and America's idea of romance differed so very much from each other.

End Chapter 1

(A/N: So this is the end of the first chapter. We hope you enjoy your ride so far. If you don't it's not too late to cancel your ride. Thank you for reading and, like always, we expect to see you again next chapter. Any comment would be much appreciated so please do not hesitate to leave us your review.)