A/N: Ever sit down to write a fic and at first you like it but then you look at it and go, "Oh god, I wrote that?" But you figure, well, it's written, may as well post it? Yea. Yea this is mine. *head desk* Anyways, it's always a good idea to give credit where credit's due, so first things first: the scene I describe with America's misadventures in driving is from a seriously funny fanart of England and America that can be found on deviantart. Also, the locations and what-not that I mention are all real places.

Prompt: "rubber" comic, Italy gives advice, Saudi Arabia (Yea. Trust me. I had to pull shit outta my ass for this dern prompt.)

Separated by a Common Language, Indeed

England looked up from his desk and smiled when he saw America walk by. "Hey, do you have a rubber?" he asked.

America blinked a few times, trying to fight the blush that threatened to blossom across his face, and sputtered indignantly. Come on, America, you're awesome. You can think of something witty to say! Instead he just looked at England as if he had just asked him to label the capitol of Uzbekistan on a map.

England raised a brow. "America?"

America was starting to sweat. Why… why was England asking him this so suddenly? He tugged at the collar of his shirt and blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "Why, do you have a partner or something?" he asked. America hoped he sounded skeptical, or like he was making fun of him, but he was pretty sure he just sounded like someone had just kicked him in the balls. Humiliated, he ran out.

England was completely confused. "What is he on about?" He shrugged to himself. "Ah well, I'll just have to find another pencil to write with."

In the hall, America leaned against the wall, legs shaking. He placed a hand over his heart, willing it to calm down. What the hell was England doing, asking if he had a condom so casually? For a stuffy Brit, he sure was being forward! The nerve of that tea-loving old man. They'd only gone out once! Oh sure, he'd liked England for as long as he could remember (not that he'd ever be caught dead tell the older nation that.) But did he think America was easy or something? (Even if he was, that was totally beside the point.) He stood for justice and freedom and… and strong family values, damnit!

Except at the moment those family values weren't feeling all that strong. Actually, they were feeling pretty non-existant.

He frowned. Awesome as he was, this was a matter that required professional advice. So he ran to the nearest Italian restaurant.

"Italy, help!" he exclaimed, out of breath.

Italy was in the middle of feeding Germany (who looked like he was about to explode his face was so red) a fork-full of pasta. He waved at the younger nation. "America! What's the matter? Want some pasta?"

America shook his head vigorously. "No, Italy, I need your help! It's about my friend again!"

Germany nearly choked on the pasta. "What," he coughed a few times. "What do you mean again? You've been… getting advice from Italy?"

America nodded. "Yea, for a friend," he explained. "About relationship stuff. Italy really knows what he's talking about!"

Italy struck a cute pose. "Just call me the love doctor!"

As if his face wasn't red enough, Germany's blush deepened. "How could I forget," he muttered.

As with most world meetings, if America wasn't the one doing the talking, then he wasn't paying the least bit of attention. And seeing as France had been prattling on for the past, oh, half a century, America was good and zoned out and had taken to doodling on his copy of this week's world stock market data. Or was it information about the environment? He wasn't too sure…

He hummed under his breath and drew a little version of himself with a cape and a sword, adding the caption 'America the Hero: Medieval Style!' He beamed down at his awesome creation and quickly added a dragon, which he heroically defeated. And of course every good hero story had to have a damsel in distress… He sniggered to himself as he added England (labeled: Stuffy Old Brit) in a princess dress, thanking him for saving him. His laugh turned into a goofy smile, and the next doodle was of America the Hero getting a well deserved thank you kiss from Princess Engl- WAIT WHAT THE FUCK.

America gasped and quickly stuffed his drawing inside his notebook, then looked around to see if anyone had noticed what was on the page. But of course everyone else was paying attention (or at least pretending to pay attention) to France. Well, except for Greece, but that was nothing new. He heaved a sigh of relief and settled back into his seat as if nothing had happened.

Seven minutes into France's speech, England couldn't take it anymore. He knew the other country had one more minute on the floor, but damnit, if he was going to insist on constantly diverging from the topic at hand, then he didn't think he could listen to a second more.

"France, if you don't have anything important to say, then why did you raise your hand?" he shouted.

France pouted. "Now, England, that's not a very nice thing to say."

"You're getting on my last nerve. Bloody hell, either get to the point or stuff it!"

America smiled, glad he had decided to pay attention for once. It was always fun to watch the other nations fight (and even more fun to step in and bring peace like a true hero once the argument got boring). England's face got a little redder when he shouted. America felt himself starting to smile. Why hadn't he ever noticed it before? It was kind of cu-Why was his brain doing this to him?

"I can't take it anymore," he mumbled under his breath.

Except he hadn't mumbled it under his breath. Actually, he'd sort of said it out loud… rather loudly. Like, shouted it. He wondered if it was possible to will the ground to swallow him up.

England cleared his throat. "I'm inclined to agree with America," he said. "Let's stop this fighting and get back to business."

America heaved a visible sigh of relief, overjoyed to have a cover for his outburst. "Yea, back to work! No more, uh, non-work related stuff!"

England couldn't help it, he smiled proudly at his old colony. "Why, America, that's probably the most sensible thing you've said this year," he poked fun at the younger nation, trying to conceal how proud he was.

America laughed. "Yea, well, I'm just being my normal self, awesome as usual!" He gripped at his notebook and stared at the clock on the wall; could the time go by any slower?

England's smile broadened. America was being serious for a change!

Suddenly England noticed that the younger nation was holding his binder as if it held something important. "America… is there something you'd like to say? Unlike France, maybe you've got some pertinent information you'd like to share with us?"

America's eyes widened and he slowly drug the notebook towards himself, hugging it to his chest. "N-no! Why would you say that?"

England frowned. "You don't have anything to say? Noting at all?"

America shook his head no.

England narrowed his eyes, getting suspicious. "Then what's in the binder?"

America paled. Was England on to him? Was he trying to get him to confess in front of everyone? Well, England had another thing coming. America's lips were sealed! "N-nothing!" he stammered.

But that didn't stop England from marching around the table and glaring daggers at him. "You're acting stranger than usual," he said. "What's in the binder?" he demanded again.

"Nothing!" America said. "I swear!"

"Then give it to me!"

"No!"

"Give it here, America!"

"Never!"

"Yes!"

"No!"

"Ye-"

Switzerland fired a bullet between the two of them. "Shut up and get back to the meeting!" he shouted. America took the opportunity to flee the room, but in the process failed to notice that a certain piece of paper had fluttered out of the notebook he was holding and landed at England's feet.

-

America had been hiding in the lady's room (England would never find him there… he hoped) but he was starting to get hungry, not to mention his butt was starting to hurt from sitting on the toilet seat for so long. He chanced a peek in the hallway, and when he was absolutely sure that the coast was clear, he made a mad dash for the exit.

But when he passed by the meeting room, he heard a chair being pushed back, and papers being moved around. Knowing England, it was probably him; first to arrive, last to leave… America looked from the door to the meeting room, and then to the door to the exit.

He sighed. He knew he owed England an apology for running out of the meeting like that, so he may as well do it now…

-

Germany sighed and began to gather his things. As usual, nothing had been solved today, and it was starting to get on his nerves.

Suddenly, a very family pair of hands began to snake around him from behind. "Hey, Germany, Germany guess what?" Italy said in his sexiest voice possible. (Which really just sounded like his normal voice, but he got points for trying.)

"Yes, Italy?" Germany said, straightening his papers and putting them behind the appropriate tab in his binder.

"I wanna hug," Italy said, nuzzling the taller nation between his shoulder blades. Germany blushed and fumbled with his notebook, nearly dropping it as he tried to put it in his bag. "Y-you are hugging me," he said.

Italy shook his head. "No," he said, "a real hug!"

Germany turned around to oblige, only to find that Italy's face was tilted up, his eyes were closed, and he had his lips puckered. Germany's blush grew, but he quickly bent to give the shorter nation a kiss.

...One thing led to another, and somehow they had both managed to lose their jackets, (and half the buttons on their shirts) knocked a bunch of books and papers off the large round desk, kicked over a chair, and Italy was now sitting on top of Germany, trying to undo the remaining buttons on his shirt.

And that was how America found them, the apology he had prepared for England slowly seeping out of his mind to be replaced with the mental image of a half naked Italy sitting atop an equally half naked Germany.

Italy waved. Germany promptly sat up and lifted Italy off of himself and began to get dressed. And America… America decided that he needed a stiff drink.

"You… you guys were kissing," he said.

Italy nodded. Germany cleared his throat, grabbed Italy by the arm, and began to inch around the younger nation to the exit.

"So… do you… like each other?" he asked.

Italy nodded again. Germany raised a brow. "Do you have a point, America?" he asked, clearly uncomfortable with the conversation

America blushed and scratched at the back of his head. Italy grinned. "Oh, I know! America likes someone!" he said. "Tell me who, tell me who!"

"It's nothing like that!" America was quick to deny. Italy and Germany both shared a knowing look. America laughed nervously. "It's just that… I know this person who thinks they might like someone else, but they're not sure, so they don't know what to do and they asked me, because, you know, I'm awesome and I know everything, but, surprisingly this question really had me stumped!"

Italy nodded sagely and stroked his imaginary beard, deep in thought. "That's tricky!" he said. "But I think the best thing your friend could do would be to spend more time with the other person!"

America smiled. "Of course, yea! Why didn't I think of that?" He ran out with a wave. "Thanks!"

"America sure has been acting strange today," Germany commented.

Italy looked up at him innocently. "Can we hug some more now?"

-

It took America an entire day to work up the nerve to get in contact with England, and by the time he did, it was too late; England had already flown home and America was left in, well, America, to kick himself for waiting too long. Bored, he decided to kill time and check his email. Deleting stupid chain-letters some guy named Canada had sent him, he wondered how long it would take him to come up with a good excuse to call the older nation, how long it would be till they got to speak again…

Fish-n-Chips has logged on!

Oh. Well. Turns out, not very long.

Except, he'd be damned if he was going to start the conversation! No, sir. America was definitely a firm believer in playing hard to get. Even if that didn't have anything to do with this situation, and he really ought to stop being rude and just apologize to England for acting like such a weirdo. But still. He couldn't bring himself to speak first.

Fish-n-Chips: …I don't know why I even let you touch my computer. Why is my screen name fish-n-chips?

America sighed in relief, glad that England had finally said something. That had been the most excruciatingly painful forty seconds of his life, and, hero or not, he wasn't sure if he could've lasted much longer without caving in.

Stars-n-Stripes: cause it goes with mine! fish-n-chips, stars-n-stripes, get it? :D

Fish-n-chips: Yes but… fish-n-chips? Couldn't you have picked something more dignified?

Stars-n-stripes: …tea-n-crumpets?

Fish-n-chips: …Let's change the subject. I don't feel like yelling at you over the internet.

Stars-n-stripes: aww ur bein so sweet to me Iggy (＾∇＾)

Fish-n-chips: what the feck is that?

Stars-n-stripes: japanese emoticons! japan showed me :'D

Fish-n-chips: How nice. Listen, there was something I wanted to talk about.

Reading England's last post, America's stomach decided to do a rollercoaster simulation. He quickly typed something before England could say anything. Like reprimand him for running out of the world meeting.

Stars-n-stripes: i just wanted to apologize 4 actin so weird the other day n I wuz wonderin if u'd wanna hang out sometime next week, my treat?

At first England didn't say anything. America frowned and began to type that he had just been kidding when he noticed that in the corner of the screen it said 'Fish-n-chips is writing…'

America held his breath, minimized it, and closed his eyes. He sat like that for a moment, until he realized that he had cut the sound off. Peeking an eye open, he saw that the tab for the chat program was flashing. Swallowing nervously, he restored the page.

Fish-n-chips: It's alright. I would love to, America. Thank you for asking. However, I've been a little busy lately. Would you mind come to England?

Stars-n-stripes: nah, that's totally fine! :D

Fish-n-chips: Right then, that's lovely. I'd like that.

Stars-n-stripes: kay, ttys!

Fish-n-chips: Goodbye, America.

America signed off and did the most awesome and heroic happy dance ever, but stopped mid air-punch when he realized that he had no idea what he was doing. He got the date, but… now what? He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and dialed Italy's number, glad that they were all on a world-wide plan, otherwise all these long distance phone calls would kill.

Italy picked up on the second ring. "America! What's up?"

"I, er, I mean, my friend took your advice."

"That's really good! So are they together and happy and everything now?"

"Er, well, my friend just told me that they're going to go on a date. Well, he didn't say it was a date, but they are going out, so that's a date, right?"

Italy thought for a moment. "Well, sometimes Germany will take me to a really nice restaurant and I'll ask him if it's a date and he'll say it isn't, but he'll pull out my chair and give me flowers and tell me he loves me, so even if it isn't a date, it's still wonderful!" he said. "So I don't think it matters if it's a date or not, as long as you're having fun!"

America nodded. "Yea, that makes sense. But, but what should I, I mean, my friend do on the date? Er, well, when they hang out."

"It depends on what they like," Italy said. "What do they like to do?"

America thought for a moment. "Well, my friend is awesome. Kinda like me, but not as cool. But he likes a lot of the same things I do. And… the person he likes is… well, kinda boring and stodgy. And old-fashioned. And-" America threw a hand over his mouth before he completely gave it away. Italy laughed.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing, they just sound an awful lot like you and England is all."

America sputtered. "Well, well it's definitely not about me and England! That's a stupid idea!"

Italy laughed again. "But, if they're similar to you and England, then all you have to do is think of something that you and England would like to do, and presto, you've got an idea!"

America groaned. That was precisely the problem! Not like he could tell Italy that though…

"How about dinner and a movie or something? Or a walk at the park?" Italy offered. "That's what Germany likes to do!"

America nodded to himself. Germany and England were both stick-in-the-mud types, so if Germany enjoyed it, then there was a pretty good chance that England would to.

"That's a pretty good idea," he said. "Thanks Italy, you're a big help! I'll call my friend back right away!"

"No problem!" Italy said, then with a whisper, added, "if your friend ever needs any tips for the bedroom, I've got plenty of tho-"

"No, that's ok!" America said, really not wanting anymore mental images of Germany and Italy going at it. "I'm, er, he's, uh, we're good!"

-

America had just gotten off the phone with his boss, who thought it was a great idea that he wanted to "personally strengthen his ties with the United Kingdom", and was currently looking for a cheap flight to England when he noticed that he had a voicemail. Speak of the devil!

"I just wanted to let you know that I'll be in Belfast next week, if you still wanted to… hang out... I thought it would be nice if you came here as well, since you haven't been to Belfast in ages. But if you don't want to that's perfectly fine. Just let me know and I'll be sure to make arrangements for you. Hope you're doing well and I'll see you soon. Cheerio."

America scratched his head. England wasn't in England? And where on earth was Belfast? He decided to google it when he noticed that Poland was online and opted to just ask him instead.

Stars-n-stripes: hey poland where's belfast?

Pretty in Pink: isn't that in, like, saudi arabia?

Stars-n-stripes: are you for real?

Pretty in Pink: totally. i saw it on like, the food network this onetime. they've got like, camels and everything.

What the hell what England doing in Saudi Arabia? And hadn't he said something about having plane issues? He called the older nation, completely confused. "Why aren't you in England, England?" he asked before the older nation even had the chance to say hello.

"I've got a meeting in Belfast, and I thought that since you hadn't been here in a while you'd like to see it," he said.

"But… why do you have a meeting in Saudi Arabia?"

"I'm in Northern Ireland you nitwit," England said. He sighed. "Just let me make your travel arrangements, ok?"

-

England was waiting for America at the airport. As promised, he had booked him a flight in economy class. ("We're still in the recession ya know!") And America was late. Really late. OK, so he was only ten minutes behind schedule. But still.

"England, hey!" America ran towards him, holding a piece of luggage in each hand. "Thanks for agreeing to hangout with me," America said, slightly out of breath. England blushed and took one of the suitcases out of his hand. "Come on," he said, "I'm parked outside."

"Can I drive?" America asked.

"Absolutely not," England said. "Remember what happened when I let you drive in Wales?" England certainly did. And it involved a narrow, sea-side road, a lorry driving at about 120 kilometers per hour, and America, cluelessly driving on the wrong side of the road, not paying attention to his surroundings.

America feigned innocence. "No…?"

"Well you're still not driving."

America pouted, but did not push the subject. At first they drove in comfortable silence, but about a half hour into the drive, they both tried to speak at once. America laughed and England blushed. "You go first," the American said.

"I was just going to say that I hope you're hungry," England said. "I recently discovered a quaint little restaurant in a sea-side village. I think you'll like it."

America inwardly grimaced. England's cooking, and consequently his taste in food, was pretty awful. America just hoped that, whatever this place served, it was edible. Maybe if he was lucky they'd have hamburgers. His stomach grumbled at the thought.

England smiled. "I guess that settles it."

"I'm pretty much starving," America said. "The food on the plane sucked. Even the peanuts."

"What, they didn't serve burgers and fries?" England jested.

"No," America said. "It was horrible." The younger nation looked down at the map in his lap and began to seriously examine it. England raised a brow. America couldn't read a map even if someone highlighted the route he was supposed to take. Which England had. Not so much to help America, since he was beyond it anyways, but just as a way to humor him.

"Are we going to Bangor?" America asked.

"No, we're bypassing it. We'll get off A2 and…why?"

America pointed at a sign that read 'Welcome to Bangor'. England cursed under his breath. "Ah well," he said. "Don't know how I missed the exit at that last roundabout, but we can take A2 straight to Donaghadee, it just takes a bit longer this way."

"Shoulda let me drive old man," America said, "your eyesight must be goin!"

-

Forty minutes, three arguments, and two near accidents later, they found themselves at their destination. America's eyes widened; it was so beautiful! There were many sail boats out at sea that day, and not fifty feet away from them stood a lighthouse on the edge of the rocky shore. "Wow," America said.

England beamed. "I thought you'd like it."

They walked down the little street to a homey little restaurant nestled between an antique shop and an inn. Both nations hurried through the door, happy to be in out of the cold. Inside the place was filled corner to corner with wooden tables and chairs, and drawings of cats lined the walls, which made America chuckle. The room was full of the buzz of many quiet conversations taking place at once, and they had to squeeze their way past a few couples to get to the only remaining table in the far corner.

Their waitress, an older woman with black hair and a plump face, came to take their order.

"Lovely to see you again, Arthur, and so soon!" she said, then turned her attention to America. "Is this the friend you were telling me about?"

At that, both nations blushed. She giggled. "Oh, he's a wee pet, isn't he?" She patted Arthur on the cheek. "What's your name, love?" she asked.

"My name's Alfred, ma'am," he said with a winning smile.

"Bless," she exclaimed, "such a gentleman! What will you be havin then, love?"

She scurried away with their order (a tea, a coffee, and two full orders of minced meat pie) and left the two in awkward silence. England had not expected Vicky, their waitress, to remember his offhanded comment that the next time he came by he would bring his friend from America.

"So, you've told people about me?" America asked, cheeky grin firmly in place.

"Oh, haha," England said. "Go on then, take the piss, I don't care." But the furious blush across both of his cheeks told otherwise.

America scrunched his face up. "What are you talking about? I was just making fun of you."

England wanted to slam his head against the table. Why was America so damn daft at times? "That's what I meant," he mumbled under his breath. Why had he agreed to meet with America again? He knew that by the end of the night, they'd be at each other throats. And not in a good way.

His eyes widened at that thought. What was he thinking? Why had that mental image even occurred to him? Of course they would never… not unless, you know, America wanted to. Which wasn't to say that he wanted to!

Oh who was he kidding. If it wouldn't cause a national scandal, he'd throw the younger nation over the dinner table and have his sweet way with him, then and there. Which reminded him…

That piece of paper he had picked up when America had fled the meeting room. Though at first it had left him wanting to sucker punch the little imbecile from here to the moon ("Who is he calling a stuffy old Brit? And why am I in a dress?") after he'd calmed down, it had made him think. Did America… like him?

England cleared his throat and looked up at America, who was busy trying to fold his cloth napkin into an airplane. "America," he said, "I, er, wanted to ask you something."

America looked up at him, "yea?"

"That, um, that paper that you dropped after the last world meeting… was it true?" England looked away; he knew he was blushing like mad.

America, however, was having the complete opposite problem. All of the color had drained from his face. He sat in complete shock and horror, staring at the older nation.

"W-what?" He had a hard time getting his mouth to work and the sound almost got caught in his throat. How did England know about that? Had it fallen out of his binder or something? He mentally kicked himself for having forgotten to check his binder and burn that picture.

England fidgeted in his seat. This was completely unfair! America was the one who should be sitting here, embarrassed as hell at having been caught drawing a silly cartoon, and here he was, blushing like a little school girl! Granted, America sounded as if he was being strangled, but still.

England tried to man-up. Honestly he did. But his "You heard me!" didn't come out quiet as commanding as he had hoped.

America blinked out of his petrified stupor. Was… was England's voice shaking? A little higher pitched and quiet than usual? And… and was that a blush? Come to think of it, England wasn't exactly acting as if he was disgusted by the idea either. He sounded more… terrified that he had thought wrong. America grinned wolfishly.

"Oh, it's not all true," he said, trying not to snigger. "I didn't defeat a dragon that big… But it was close."

England glowered. How dare he mock him when he was… damnit when he was trying to… Well he wasn't sure what the hell he was trying to do, but one thing was for sure, he was going to wipe that smirk off of America's face!

"Well," the Brit said haughtily. "I wouldn't be caught dead doing that."

At those words, America's face fell and he looked away.

"That dress?" England continued. "Hideous. Why would anyone want to wear that?"

America's ears turned pink at that, but he smiled again. England hadn't said anything about the kiss, which meant that he probably wasn't adverse to the idea, which probably meant that… oh my god, were they on a date?

That reminded him. "I'm paying for this, by the way," he said.

England raised a brow. "Why?" he asked.

"Cause…" America mumbled the rest under his breath. England leaned forward and strained to hear what he had said, but America had spoken to quickly and softly.

"Come again?" England asked.

"I said…" America took a deep breath. "I said it's my treat. I don't want you to pay."

England smiled softly and shook his head. "If it'll make you happy," he said quietly. America's blush worsened and he gave a quiet nod.

It was then that the waitress came back to the table with their orders. And when they both reached to grab the salt and pepper shakers their hands accidentally brushed against each others. And, just by accident of course, their fingers intertwined…

"So what happened with your friend?" Italy asked, frowning. "I thought things were going really well!"

"That's what I came to talk to you about," America said, and in all seriousness asked, "what would you do if Germany asked you for a condom?"

Germany sputtered and blushed. "What kind of things have you two been talking about?" he demanded.

Italy smiled. "I'd give him one, of course!" he said. "It's very important to practice safe sex!"

"But what if you thought it was too soon…?" America asked in a small voice. It wasn't like he was a blushing virgin or anything, but come on! They'd only just bee on their first date! What did he look like, France?

Italy just cocked his head to the side, a blank expression on his face. "Too… soon?" he asked. "What do you mean?"

Germany had definitely heard enough of their conversation to last him a lifetime or two. "Look," he said to America. "When someone asks for a condom, just give it to them. End of discussion."

America considered this for a moment. Germany was a very honest and rational person. If he thought that it was a good idea, well, he'd trust his judgment! And… and if England was ready, then so was he! And so it was that America found himself storming back into England's office (after having stopped at a gas station, of course) and handing England a condom.

"Meet me at my place at seven!" he commanded, trying his best not to blush, then swiftly turned around and left.

England blinked and stared, bug-eyed, at the tiny package in his hand. "W-what on earth?" he said aloud, a blush quickly crawling up his neck and across his cheeks. He shook his head vigorously and turned to his computer.

Fish-n-chips: What does it mean when someone gives you a condom?

Le Sex Kitten: Mon cher, it obviously means that they want to sleep with you!

England promptly fainted.

End :'D