The British Invasion

The year was 1955. And one of the best musical years America had produced so far.

Rock and roll was dominating the charts, followed shortly by blues, along with surfer and girl groups. R&B was in its prime. America had brought a new revolution to the world of music, changing it from its polished and bland past. Natural, for a hero such as himself.

Hell, America was home to none other than the KING of rock and roll, Elvis Presley, and Chuck Berry, one of the most influential black artists the world had ever seen.

Yes, America himself WAS the leader of music. Ever since World War 2 ended, America had bounced back to his feet rather quickly as compared to some of the other nations, and he had now become a major world power. He was to be considered an ideal nation. Ignoring the fact that he was now involved in the Cold War, as well as the "Korean War", which no one really paid much heed to. In fact, the Korean War would later be known as the "Forgotten War" to some, as the fact that the allies won World War 2 and were now fighting communism seemed more important.

America was at the top of his game politically, economically, technologically, and musically. He felt he could take on the world.

Across the pond however, things weren't looking so bright. The entire decade thus far was still in the shadow of World War 2 for England, and though he had won it, he had lost so much in the process it sure look like he'd been defeated. Meat, butter, cheese, sugar, and sweets were still rationed, and though blitzed inner cities still remained, most of their inhabitants had been shipped out to the suburbs and new towns. War seemed to be the center of cinema and imagination, and wartime values were still staple.

Parts of society seemed as they had been frozen in World War 2, and silence was eminent whether you be at a bus stop or a pub. The public behavior was one of dreariness and boredom, and if one were to speak, their was a certain habit of tacitness and reservation.

England had lost his empire, his fortune, and even some of his pride. However, he certainly hadn't lost his spirit.

Though British life had certainly become more reserved and quite, it was most certainly not void or lifeless. Deep within his core, a new sort of "revolution" was brewing in England. As adults had a new found softer attitude towards personal responsibility of wrongdoing, it began to affect the children they were raising. A sort of rebellion was amidst the perceived silence, and as American rock 'n' roll took stage, a new craze overtook the adolescents of Britain. One that would later turn into what is now referred to as the "British Invasion".

It was a rainy day in England, which was fairly usual for the nation famed for its rain. America had paid a visit to England's house, partially because he needed to talk visit, partially because he'd missed the nation who had now been deemed his closest ally.

He had noticed a strange heir to England when he had arrived at his house. He seemed overly composed, and almost a little bit anxious. About what, America had not the slightest clue.

England was sipping a cup of tea, twirling around the cheap tea bag a bit with the small silver tea spoon. America found it strange for the Brit to use a tea bag, as he normally used fresh leaves. He realized England had cut back a lot on his food and such, but he'd never thought that would affect his tea drinking.

"So..." America began, as England had made no attempt at beginning a conversation. "How's...life?" He asked, sweat-dropping a bit at the vague question.

England paused a moment, thinking over his words, and simply settling with a simple, "Fine. How may I ask is yours?"

"Fine." America said simply. In reality his life was AWESOME, and it seemed as if everything was going his way, but somehow America didn't think that was the right thing to say to the green eyed nation at the moment.

England nodded, and took a sip of tea. "May I ask why you decided to visit so suddenly?" He inquired, quickly adding, "Not that I mind, I'm simply curious."

America frowned. Usually England would bitch about America suddenly deciding to show up without any notice, not just simply wave it off. "Um..I have some papers my boss wanted me to give you..." He said, pulling out a yellow envelope, in which contained some military tactics, Cold War-related stuff, and reminders to repay the rather large debt England owed the American nation. England leafed through the pages quickly, and then set the envelope down on his coffee table.

"Tell him I'll be sure to thoroughly look over each document, and discuss it with my boss." England said, more sounding like he was reciting the lines than simply speaking them. "If that's all, then you may wish to take your leave."

America flinched, not wanting to leave, and not liking the disinterested tone to England's voice. "Erm...since I'm here...why don't we like, hang out and stuff? Do something fun! We've been totally consumed in work since the War, so it's about time we did some awesome stuff together!" America said, playfully punching England's shoulder.

England winced, and America wondered if maybe he'd punched him just a bit too hard. "I'm afraid I do not have the..budget, to go about with malarkey. I apologize."

"I'll pay dude, don't worry!" America said, waving off the money issue. He was the richest nation in the world now, so money wasn't really an object.

England sighed, and possibly growled a bit. "I'm already in enough debt as it is America, I can't afford any more to you. And if I were you I'd watch your spending, before all of that beloved money of yours goes down the drain, and you end up in another depression." America laughed, like hell that was happening!

"It's off the record England. I sure as hell wouldn't put your country in debt because I wanted to hang out. Come on, you were less stuffy during the war than you are now!" He said, tugging England's sleeve a bit.

England bit his lip, not wanting to feel inclined to pay back America for any reason, off the record or not. But at the same time, if he didn't, it could hurt his relations with America and that certainly wasn't something he needed. As much as he hated to admit it, he really needed to be on America's good side.

"Well..alright then.." He agreed. "What do you suggest we do?"

America looked surprised, England almost agreed too easily. "Uhh..." What SHOULD they do, anyways? He had no idea what there was to do in England, honestly. "We could...go to my house...?" He asked, rather than said.

"But we're already here.." England murmured. He really couldn't afford a trip to America, and he didn't want to mooch of the other nation anymore. It was degrading really.

"Hmm..true...well..we could listen to music?" America asked, with a shrug. He had brought a few records coming to England, and it would be a good time to pitch his music to the other nation he realized. One of the few things England and America were in basic agreement over was a taste in music, which is why American artists became popular in England, and vice versa.

England agreed, climbing his stairs quickly to go bring down the record player. America pulled his travel bag close to him, leafing through a few of the songs he had. When he eventually decided on one he liked, England was coming back down with the bulky machine.

Placing it on the table in between them, America inserted a Bill Haley record, and soon the sound of Rock Around the Clock filled the air in the Briton's house.

America noted how England's previously spacey and bored expression, shifted to one of intrigue and pleasure.

"This is one of your artists..?" England asked, looking at the American nation in awe. America beamed happily, a sort of pride in having impressed the English nation swelled in his chest.

"Yup~! Bill Haley, he's one of the best rock guys around right now! Though I prefer The King, myself."

England looked at America, confused. "You have a king...?"

America laughed. "Not an actual king. But I do have Elvis Presley, the king of rock and roll, as they call him!"

"What is rock and roll?" England asked, curiosity in his voice.

America was unsure how to explain it. "Er...It's like...a combination of blues, country music, and jazz..with like tricked out guitars and stuff.."

England nodded, and said in a decisive tone, "I like it."

America grinned, he'd hoped for that much. "It's awesome, right? I'm learning how to play guitar myself, I could show ya' a few things if you'd like." He said in a cocky tone, leaning back, pretending to examine a finger nail.

"Okay..that sounds good." England said, and while his mouth was contorted in it's usual frown, his eyes shown with something of excitement.

America bounced onto his feet, grinning from ear to ear, and soon he and England were out the door, looking for a shop that sold cheap guitars.

Heading 8 years into the future, it was now 1963, and England had made remarkable progress into the world of rock and roll. Telstar, by The Tornados had gotten so popular, it had become the first U.S. number 1 single by a British rock act.

England had come out with the newest band to take the world by storm, collectively known as "The Beatles".

And it was in 1963, December 10th to be exact, of which America turned on his television, only to find that Walter Cronkite was chatting it up about some weird thing called "Beatlemania".

"-and in further news, across the pond today was yet another concert by the ever growingly popular rock group known as the Beatles, featuring a song called "I Want to Hold Your Hand", of which has topped charts in London, and may be on its way to America as well. In other news-"

America became intrigued by the group, this was the first he had heard of England doing so well in rock. (Not that he really paid attention to British news, but that was beside the point.) He had indeed taught England a few tricks, and it had turned out the British nation was a natural with the guitar. Feeling glad for his friends success, he indeed hoped that he'd get to hear the song that that band had played.

And his wish came true, maybe a bit too much so.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN MY MUSICS DEAD?" America yelled, in a conversation with one of the big shots at one of his countries many radio stations. It was now 1964, and his music sales had gone down the toilet.

"Dead. As in, kablooey, goodbye, don't let the doorknob hit ya' where the good Lord split ya'." The man said calmly, to the seething nation.

"But this is America! AMERICAN MUSIC CAN NOT DIE IN AMERICA!"

"Ahh but it did. No one cares for your little surfer groups, girl bands, or soft rock. It's all about the British stuff now."

"British..stuff..?" America asked, doubling back while he said it.

"Ya' know, Beatlemania, Dusty Springfield, The Rolling Stones. All that's stuff the latest craze here, there, everywhere. They're callin' it the British Invasion, for Christ's sake!"

America just stared, words not clicking in his mind. "B-British..Invasion..?" He spluttered.

The other man only nodded. "Now if you'd excuse me, I got work to do." He said, turning back to his DJ station. America didn't move, didn't speak, and only stared straight ahead, mouth agape. It was comical, really.

England his music...

England had invaded his soul.

And that just wouldn't do.

A while later, the former empire awoke with a heavy pounding on his door. Wondering who'd be so impatient, at 7:00 am nonetheless, he sprung out of bed, yelling a "COMING!" on his way down the stairs.

When he opened his door he found a seething American standing in front of it.

"YOU'VE INVADED MY RADIO STATIONS UP THE ASS!" he yelled, and England just looked at him strangely, folding his arms.

"What the buggery hell are you talking about, git?"

America was in too much of a rage to realize he'd just been insulted, or the fact that his ally was acting his normal self, as opposed to the repressed version he'd seen earlier.

"YOU KNOW PERFECTLY WELL WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT!" he ranted, causing England to sigh.

"No, actually. I have no bloody idea. Are you drunk or something?"

"THE BRITISH INVASION ENGLAND. THE DAMNED BRITISH INVASION! YOU'VE CAUSED THE FAT DOMINOS TO LOSE WEIGHT, THE BEACH BOYS TO GET SUNBURNED, AND ELVIS TO LEAVE THE BUILDING!"

England paused, not knowing how to respond, and simply burst out laughing. America waved his arms around furiously, and England slammed the door in his face.

Oh, America would have his revenge alright. He would not let England take away his title of the king of rock, at any cost!

A decade later, America had retaliated England's musical invasion with one of his own. Now emerging with new artists, like The Byrds, and having ones like Elvis re-acclaimed. At the very moment, he was standing outside a club, waving around an Elvis flier, dressed up in a leather jacket and ripped black pants, which had become so popular for the rock and roll styles of that year.

However, out of seemingly nowhere England walked past him, black skinny jeans, a t-shirt with something rather profane written on it, chains, and (most noticeably) dyed green hair. When he caught sight of America, he laughed.

"Your still on about old rock? Get with the times old man, punk is the new thing now." He said casually, walking past America.

Had England just called him old...?

America then proceeded to bang his head into a nearby wall, leaving a slight dent in both the wall and his head.

Damn England for invading him. Damn him to hell.

For day two of the USUK communities sweethearts week~ The theme was Pop Culture Shock, and I couldn't help but want to do the British Invasion upon it being mentioned.

So from that came this short and historically accurate little fiction, I did my research, so I think I have a brief overview of the event. And at the end, that was a reference to the Second Invasion. In which America caught up with Britain's rock, only having to find England having moved onto Classic Rock's emo lovechild, punk.

Hope the fiction was good! :3

Disclaimer: Hidekaz Himaruya owns Hetalia, not me.