Author's Note: Just something I thought might cure my author's block. So, this is what happens when England received his first modern computer. Be warned, there's a very random and super-mushy section along the way. Gag-bags might be required, folks. Hope you'll be able to enjoy it, anyway. ^^

…I wonder what happens if I owned Hetalia.

Things They Haven't Warned You About Internet

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It was fascinating. Simply, utterly fascinating.

It was square-shaped and luminous, England noted, and its flickering screen casted bright light and dark shadows on his face. There were buttons on the bottom frame of the monitor which the country has yet to find the functions of once he explored the device even further. When England wanted the machine to do something, all he had to do was move the mouse or punch in a key from the keyboard and ta-da! It was ingenious.

Now normally, England wouldn't approve of keeping computers in his house. He wouldn't mind either, but from what he had witnessed at a certain idiot's house, it could completely rot your eyes out. It had this dark, hypnotising magic in it (which England thought was actually rather intriguing). Somehow, many people find this gadget addictive. England never saw the reason why until he had bought one of his own.

Shakespeare. That was the first thing England thought of when he explored the Google website. Shakespeare, Shakespeare, Shakespeare. Why go to libraries and bookstores when you could research him up in the comfort of your house? The results were incredible. At least, to England he was. He never realised how many webpages were made dedicated to his literature hero.

What else could he research? The existence of unicorns? Another 1001 Uses for Dark Magic? More home-baked English recipes? He laughed a small, sardonic laugh when he thought about cooking. America—the ungrateful twat—would hate it if England added more to his long list of traditional recipes.

America? Should he search for America on Google? Again, England laughed inwardly. It feels stupid to research the hamburger-maniac on the internet. He'll bet America had created dozens of pages of himself to increase his already annoying ego. But still, it was worth a try. He might find just how reliable the internet was. He typed in 'America Jones' on the Google search bar, then waited patiently for the search results…

…And his jaw dropped instantly. There were at least fourteen pages listed of the aforementioned maniac—and most of them weren't even America's creations. If anything, they were fanpages. America had fans. England's eye twitched; but in disbelief or disgust? This was ridiculous. He wanted to scream, laugh and smash the computer all at the same time. America! Fans!

Just then, a loud bang errupted from the corridor, England jolted from his seat, and a voice which was all-too familiar called out, "Oh, Englaaand~"

It was America.

Shit.

England hastily made a move to the red exit button on the page, willing his face not to turn red. It was disgraceful enough to be searching for the boy on the internet, let alone get caught by said boy. He clicked on it; once, twice, three times… No response. Complete lag.

The thought of smashing his computer just got more pleasant by the second.

"America!" he yelled, shifting to hide the damned machine behind his back, "What in the bloody hell are you doing here?!"

The younger nation merely smiled childishly at his friend's expression. "France told me you bought a new computer. I just came by to check it out. By the way, you really gotta work on your locks, Iggy," America guffawed, "Or else some thief might come to rob your house. Lucky for you you've got a hero as a friend!"

England's nostrils flared, and America had to stiffle a giggle. "Last time I checked my door was tightly locked, secured by a spell and guarded safely by Mr. Jack."

"Really?" England wanted to knock the cocky grin off America's face, "I must be awesome to get past an imaginary giant and a bit of magic, then."

The older country rolled his eyes, not bothered to hide his irritation. "Mr. Jack is real, you blind ninny. Anyway, you can't see my computer right now because it is currently not… um…"

"Set up yet?"

"Ah, sure!" England nodded, relieved by America's conclusion. "It's not ready yet, so I suppose you'd like to come back another day to see it—"

"Liar," America cut in. England nearly choked. "Then what's that behind your back?"

"Err, what's what, America?"

"That," America said impatiently, and then he strode forwards and uncouthly pushed his former-mentor aside to catch a glimpse of the computer. England let out a wail of complaint, trying to push back the younger nation out of his way. America wouldn't budge. Instead, he read the monitor slowly, and England couldn't tell what his expression was due to the glint in his glasses. England let himself flush for a moment as he reluctantly let the ex-colony read the screen.

"Wow, England," America finally said. "I never thought you'd be interested in joining my fanclubs."

"Well, I never wanted to, so you were thinking right for once," England snapped. America laughed. It was a lame retort but England found he could not think straight in a situation like this. "I… I was just seeing if Google was a very sharp search engine or not."

America ignored this and moved the cursor, before realising it was stuck. "Whoops, looks like you're lagging heavily."

"I know. Do you know a way to fix it?"

"Well, I'd usually wait, or I could just…"

England watched as America toyed around with the keyboard, and in a few seconds, the cursor was free to move again.

England tried to conceal his amazement. "How did you do that?"

"It's for me to know and you to find out," America said smugly, winking. England snorted and sat down on the seat in front of the computer. "Pretty slow for a new computer. Where did you say you bought this?"

England felt the colour rise to his cheeks again. "I got it from a garage sale," he mumbled, then in a louder voice he asked, "Does it matter?"

"Aah," America drawled. He shook his head, chuckling, "England, you're one, old-fashioned geezer."

"So I've been told."

America grinned. "Oh, hey, since we're both here and you're searching for my fansites--"

"I am not searching for your darn fansites—"

"—you want me to show ya something?"

Before England could reply, America had reached down for the keyboard and began to type an address in. He felt a swift slap hit his fingers.

"Wait, this is my keyboard, so I have the right to type, thank you," England said, batting America's hands away. The glasses-bearing nation gave a small whine before reluctantly retrieving back his hands from the keyboard. England smiled, pleased. "So, tell me the address and I shall type it for you."

"Um, it's triple 'w'… 'America Is Awesome' dot com. No spaces, of course."

England rolled his eyes once more before he began typing with both index fingers. "Alright… 'W'… Oh yes, I see… America… is… where's the full stop? Ah, no wait, I got it..."

America smirked down at the older country. "Are you serious, England?"

England scowled. "Serious? Of course, I'm serious. Why shouldn't I be serious?"

America shook his head, muttering a small 'nevermind' before diverting his attention back to the monitor. He smiled proudly when he saw the webpage. England merely stared.

It was definitely eccentric. It had a banner which wrote 'America, Heck Yeah!' with a picture of an exaggerated America flashing a thumbs-up at you. The background had the colours of the American flag—blue, red and white, with stars dotted all over the blue sections. When you scroll over a link, a hamburger appears behind the chosen link. Some of the links were named 'Fan Art', 'Fan Fiction' and even 'FAQs About America'. The ludicrousity and loudness of it all made England's head spin.

"America, what is this?"

"It's my official fan page!" America grinned widely. "Pretty cool, huh?"

"God, America. What have you ever done to gain yourself so many fans?"

"I dunno," America replied, shrugging. "I think it's my pure awesomeness, don't you?"

England shook his head slowly, blinking at the screen. "Unbelievable. Absolutely idiotic."

"Hey, don't get sour now, Iggy. Look, you're mentioned a couple of times on my fan page, too!"

England widened his eyes, surprised. He let America dominate the mouse which he moved towards the 'Fan Fiction' section. The Briton tilted his head, curious. Why might he be mentioned in the Fan Fiction area? Still, he kept quiet while he watched the screen change scene again and again until America stopped playing with the mouse. He looked up at America, who was endlessly grinning at the computer.

"Here we are! Have a read," he said.

England squinted, reading the title of the fan fiction aloud, " 'In Which America Proposes'."

Well. That definitely sounded suspicious. Who was America proposing to? Seychelles? Taiwan? Belarus?

England grimaced at America. "By 'proposing', I hope they meant it in a political way? Like declaring a new… rule… or something?"

America laughed heartily. "Just read it. Personally, I think it's one of my favourite fan fic of where you're included. Oops, will you look at the time," he said distractedly, looking at his wristwatch. "I better go to MacDonalds. Need to buy dinner for me and Tony. See ya, Iggy."

With a wink and a flash of his pearly whites, he departed in search of fulfilling his snacking desires, leaving England to stare dumbfoundedly at the computer.

…He had better things to do on the internet. He had no time to be reading a story an odd fan made for America. Hell, why would anyone even get obsessed over the dim bloke, anyway?

But still, he supposed he could just scan through the fan fiction for a minute or two. It won't harm him. Well, much. He scrolled down to the middle of the story and skipped to the nearest paragraph. Half-heartedly, he began to read:

America sprinted through the rain-washed streets, his shoes creating small splashes on the wet concrete. The pavements were illuminated by the sheet of rain which reflected the light of the streetlamps and neon signs of the deserted area. A figure stood at the end of the street, gazing forlornly at a bakery's window. A small smile formed on America's slightly-parted lips. There was still time.

He hurried his pace, dashing despite the hazards of the slippery ground. He wanted—no, he needed to reach out to England, and for various reasons as well.

"England!" he called out. There was a little bit of hope in his voice. "England!"

England blinked, snapping out of his reverie, and glanced at the voice's general direction. At the appearance of the familiar face, England made a sharp turn and walked away quickly. America was the last person he wanted to see right now.

America clenched his teeth impatiently. Why was he so stubborn? Summoning every ounce of his strength, he ran towards England, hands reaching forwards to grab for the man's shoulders. At the sound of his footsteps, the older man quickened his stride, but it was too late. With strong arms, America twisted England around and boldly pinned him against a street lamp.

The Briton began to yell in protest, "America, what the hell are you doing? Let go! "

"Just listen to me, England," America breathed between gasps, "I'm really, really sorry about the argument. I was stupid and foolish, okay? I admitted it. Just please, England," there was something in his voice that told England he was serious, "Please forgive me. Please stay."

There was a moment of silence, and England dropped his gaze on his shoes, a contemplative expression his face. Only the sound of rain was heard through the lifeless streets. It was like a round of applause at the end of a sad movie.

"I don't need your apologies," England finally murmured. He looked up at America with a firm yet fragile look.

"Don't accept them, then," America said, softly. "But know that I don't want your leaving." With a slight hesitation, America gathered the shivering Briton into a warm embrace, and whispered, "I love you."

England closed down the page, barely finishing his read. He turned off the computer, pulled out the plug, and tried to regain the normal pigment of his face back all at the same time. It was undoubtedly the most preposterous thing England has ever read. Why America found this to be one of his favourite fan fictions was a mystery England wouldn't even bother solving.

Massaging his temple and rubbing his cheeks, he set off to the kitchen to cool himself down with a warm cup of earl grey tea.

That was enough computing for a day.

Author's Note: That. Was. Corny.

But still, I enjoyed writing this. Thanks for reading, and comments are very much appreciated! :D

P.S. Have you actually tried going to the 'america is awesome' webpage?