A/N- Hello everyone! This is my first fan fic for Hetalia, so I hope I got the characters right. The story is based upon a short flash animation I created, which is on the internet for those who'd like to watch it (shameless plug)... I hope you like it- comments are very much welcome, and I enjoy feedback on my work. Uhm, lemme see, what else did I want to say...? Ah, yes! Well, I'm English myself, so this is written in 'British English' so to speak. I tried to use American terms when America is speaking/being described, but if I used something British by mistake, please feel free to correct me!

So, this is rated T for England's foul mouth (which I have to admit is very much like my own!). There is also slight USUK if you wish to interpret it that way (and I won't stop you! Tee hee...)

I think that's everything, so please enjoy!

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England's Spying

Hetalia- Axis Powers

Something tickled England's cheek as he pushed his face further into the bushes, craning his neck to get a better look at his target. His binoculars were pressed tightly to his face as he struggled to clearly make out the scene before him. He was faintly aware of an irritating itch paining his left thigh, but dismissed it as merely a product of the brand new Union Jack boxer shorts he'd purchased the day before. That would be the last time he'd pick a fight with France while over at Greece's house. Those cats were nasty buggers if you accidently stepped on their tails.

Brushing a stray leaf from his hair, he sighed as he lowered his binoculars. It was no good; he didn't have a decent view from here. Still, no-one was better at spying than Great Britain, he was sure of that. With a superior smirk he lowered himself to the ground and slunk forwards, closer to his target.

ooo

"Hey! Germany! Look at this! I got some fresh water by doing that distilling thing like you told me to! Now I can make some pasta for us!"

Germany looked up from the puzzle game he was whittling out of a block of driftwood, quickly shoving it behind his back. He didn't want Italy to catch sight of his Christmas present early, not that he'd want to admit to hand-making a present for the carbohydrate-lover anyway. And if the strange little Italian didn't like it, he supposed he could always sell it at the Christmas Market.

"Italy, we are stranded on a desert island. Even if we do have drinkable water, where the hell do you think you're going to get ingredients for pasta from?"

Italy's mouth shrunk into a small 'o', and the tearful expression on his face stabbed like a knife into Germany's heart. "Since you told me how to get the water, I was hoping you would know where to find the other things too…"

Germany growled in frustration, but then his face turned resigned. "Urgh… I was hoping to save this a little longer and not use it so soon, but…"

With a sigh he reached around behind the log he was perched on and grabbed the small emergency supply kit he'd had strapped to his belt when they'd crash landed (only Italy could bring a plane down by cooking pasta). Undoing the fastening, he tugged out the small packet of dried spaghetti he'd slipped in there a few weeks before just in case. As he turned around with the treat, he saw Italy's face light up in the way that always had him imagining twinkling stars and chime-filled music surrounding the man.

"PASTAAAAAAAAA!" the Italian cried out and leapt forwards, simultaneously seizing the treasure and grabbing Germany in a hug that almost knocked the robust man him off his perch.

As the blond tried to pry the over-enthusiastic pastaphile from his chest, he heard a familiar patter of footsteps heading towards him. He turned his head as the oncomer spoke.

"I did not think that you would use the pasta already," Japan gently chided, coming up and parking himself a few inches down the log from his friends. "I am also curious as to why you are allowing Italy to invade your personal space."

"Ah well, he wouldn't be invading if I had allowed him to, ja?" He gave a more forceful tug and finally succeeded in separating the Italian from himself. "And I just couldn't say no when I saw that sad expression on his face. Like a kicked puppy…"

"I suppose, but still-"

Japan stopped abruptly with a small, surprised gasp as the sound of singing drifted over to them. Turning his head, he saw Italy a few metres away, crouching over a small fire and cooking pasta.

"Draw a circle, that's the Earth. Draw a circle, that's the Earth. Draw a circle, that's the Earth. I am Hetalia…"

He laughed as he sang and his eyes sparkled. Japan couldn't help but understand Germany's predicament now he could see just how happy the small treat had made the Italian. Mind you, he still thought it undeniably strange.

ooo

America sang as he dumped his clothes in a messy pile and stepped into the shower, leaving his glasses on a nearby shelf next to his toothbrush. He ran a hand through his hair as he turned on the water and enjoyed the sensation of the hot liquid running over his aching limbs. As much as he hated to admit it, England's comments about his burger-filled diet and potential (i.e. guaranteed) weight gain had gotten to him. And so, he had just spent the last hour having a really good work out in the gym. Of course, that had left him bathed in sweat and undeniably grimy, which had led to his present situation.

As he reached for the shampoo, however, his hand froze as he was struck by a sudden thought.

"I wonder how England's spying is going? He did volunteer to do some reconnaissance today…"

America's eyebrows pushed together in a frown as he bit his knuckle in concern.

"I am the hero- maybe I should've gone with him…"

He debated this for another second, water dripping past his regretful eyes, before he looked up, a beaming smile commandeering his features. With a small shrug, he leaned over towards the bright yellow rubber duck on a small shelf. "Still, nothing we can do about that now, right Mr Ducky?"

ooo

Meanwhile, the heart-warming realisation and adorable moment the axis had shared was beginning to wear off, and Italy's constant babble was starting to drive the large German crazy as he changed from the black sleeveless top he'd been wearing before into a slightly warmer dark blue shirt.

"So then I ate some pasta, and the lady seemed so lovely in her red dress as she watched me eat. And after she'd gone I was getting really hungry again, so I thought I'd have some pizza too. But I had a craving for both pasta and pizza, you see? And then it occurred to me… why not put some pasta on the pizza? It tasted surprisingly nice, but I'm thinking maybe I should stick to just having them separately. So I decided, next time I feel like both, I'll just eat them one after the other!"

Germany fell, a vein pulsing in his forehead. 'If he says one more word about pasta, I think I'm going to explode!'

"Hey, Germany? What your favourite kind of pasta? For me it's a hard choice between-"

"ARGH! THAT IS IT!" the blond screamed, and without warning he ran over to the nearest tree, roaring a string of incomprehensible German, and proceeded to bash his head repeatedly against the trunk. After a full minute of this he promptly keeled over, a small trail of blood trickling down onto the sand. After a few moments of hesitation, Italy crept closer.

"…Germany?"

ooo

Once again removing his binoculars, a sly smile twisted the corner of England's mouth up. Absorbing the scene before him with his brilliant green eyes, he allowed a small, gleeful mutter to escape his lips.

"Perfect…"

As he allowed the joy of a plan coming into full fruition to wash over him, he thought he heard a sound nearby. But as suddenly as it had appeared, it was gone. Pausing for a moment in puzzlement, he then decided it must've just been the wind, and shrugged it off. With an evil chuckle he leaned forward again and lifted up his binoculars.

Only to hear the rustle once more. Looking up completely this time, he surveyed his surroundings more thoroughly. Nothing in the trees, and he'd already checked through the bushes before coming to this spot. So where the bloody hell was this sound coming from then?

It then occurred to the man in green that he hadn't checked below him. It also occurred to him how stupid that fact was. He also instantaneously decided to never share that fact with anyone, especially America. Or France. Definitely not France.

Looking down, he froze. His mind seemed to ground to a halt, and the mental rant about France's 'smug git' attitude and his desire to punch the rose-toting asshole in the face was cut off abruptly as his body had the sudden urge to flush out his bowels.

"S…snake…"

Green eyes met black, beady ones. A thin tongue slipped out, tasting the air. A hiss echoed through the trees. England whimpered. And then…

"SNAKE! BLOODY HELL IT'S A SNAKE! WHAT THE HELL IS A SNAKE DOING HERE ANYWAY? I THOUGHT I'D CHECKED THIS PLACE! AND THERE WERE NO SNAKES HERE LAST TIME I LOOKED! GET IT AWAY! SOMEBODY GET THIS BLOODY THING AWAY FROM ME!"

And a tiny part of his mind thought- 'How humiliating. I'm screaming like a little girl.'

ooo

Italy looked up.

"Hey, Japan? Did you just hear something?"

The dark-haired man looked up from where he was examining the incapacitated German. "I hear only the sound of an idiot."

ooo

America glanced up suddenly, startled by the strange, strangled noise that had come from outside. "I wonder what that noise is?" Turning off the water in the shower, he decided to investigate. "It seemed to come from the yard. What could be out there? Whatever the case, if it's an animal I should chase it off. I don't want it damaging anything…"

He gave a jolt as the commotion started up again, louder than before. Wasting no time, he grabbed a towel from the nearby rack and wrapped it around his waist as he ran for the door. Slamming it open, he looked down to a sight he didn't expect.

In front of him was a crumpled green heap on the ground which appeared to be moaning quietly. Very slowly, England raised his head, clutching it in pain and muttering about, "Bloody reptiles. I'll shoot them all." His eyes widened as he caught sight of the man in front of him. They widened even further as he realised it was America. They almost fell out of their sockets when he realised that the Yank was only wearing a small white towel.

America himself was just as speechless. When England had agreed to go spying, he had thought the man would be off investigating the Axis. He hadn't thought that the Brit would be spying on him.

England let out a pathetic 'bloody hell I'm screwed' laughed as the long, drawn-out, awkward pause lengthened.

"Oh bollocks."