A/N: Hi all...I've had so many ideas lately, it's crazy. After a severe case of writer's block, it all comes flooding to me. So...yeah. I wrote this about a week ago but I had loadsa trouble uploading it. I got all upset. :(

So...this is a story. About Hetalia, because it's awesome. Like, totes awesome. Apologies if this has already been done, 'cause I certainly wouldn't know.

It's probably going to be really, really, really horrifically bad.

Skate and GO!

Miraculously, it was a beautiful day, despite the large doses of rain recently.

England stared out the window in disbelief, a somewhat happy – maybe some surprise lurking in there – smile crossing his face. The sun shone in his eyes which made them gleam a nice emerald colour and happily he got out of bed, got dressed, and made a mental to do list.

Which he didn't follow, for some reason.

Instead, England sat down and did some totally manly things, such as embroidery, hoop and all. He even used pink thread and made a pretty rose out of total boredom.

For another strange reason, England seemed to have forgotten that the sun was actually out today and there were plenty of things to do outside.

"This is nice," he mused to himself, looping the thread. England looked down at his handiwork, impressed and vowed to complete it – it wasn't going to take him very long. One or two more stitches, perhaps. "The birds are chipping outside, the sun is shining, and there's nobody here to annoy me."

As if on cue, his front door opened and hit the wall with an obnoxious bang.

"England!" a voice way too familiar yelled out, echoing around...probably the whole damn house. "England? You here, man?"

England sighed and put his fabric down, disappointed.

"What on earth does he want?" England asked no one in particular and forced himself to stand up to see the annoying waste of space that was America.

"Dude, you totally have to check this out!"

England was greeted by America's annoyingly loud voice and equally as annoying...skateboard? He blinked in surprise.

"It's a skateboard," England stated sarcastically, crossing his arms. "Very nice. Now, do you have something to say that actually bares significance?"

"You're no fun!" America whined, pouting mockingly. This only caused England to sigh once again – he really didn't want to be dealing with this. With him. "I just wanted to show you it. I could totally show you how to ride it, bro! Wouldn't that be awesome? It's a nice day out there and you're all cooped up inside. You're such a loser sometimes, you know that?"

England didn't feel America was worth a reply, so instead he bluntly shook his head.

"Why not, man?" America looked dejected except his voice contrasted with that – it was still as upbeat as it always was. "It's so beautiful today! And I wanna show you how to ride this! Wouldn't that be so awesome?"

Again, England shook his head, ignoring America's rejected face.

"Not today," England declined, almost walking back to the living room he'd previously been sat in, absorbed in tranquillity...something he was now yearning for. Anything to get away from America. Just for one second. "Maybe another. Perhaps...next year?"

"That's too far away, man!" America laughed, turning England around telepathically. "Pick a date that's, like, closer to this one! How about tomorrow? Or, even better, now? I could totally make room for now. Now is good."

"Or how about...never?" England retorted, a satisfied smirk now on his face. Surprisingly, he was wearing it well and America noticed that.

So much that he decided to run up to him, grab his arm, and practically beg his former brother. Soon, manipulative tears were starting to form in his mischievous sapphire eyes.

"Please, England!" he screamed, or whined, or moaned, or pleaded. Any of those words seem appropriate. "I'm begging you, man! I'm so totally bored at my place and I want to hang out with someone! I've tried everyone, I swear! Please, please, please, please! Man, I'll love you forever and ever and ev-"

"Alright!" England gave in, which only aggravated him even more. "Show me how to skateboard. Not that I'll enjoy it."

"You're just getting old!" America insulted, laughing at his own joke, his expression changing drastically. "Come on, let's go!"

America forcefully grabbed England's hand and practically dragged him all the way to a spacious field somewhere nearby.

"Alright, since you're a total noob at this, you're gonna need a helmet," America explained, holding up a helmet he was carrying somehow. In his pockets, maybe? He certainly didn't have a bag..."When you're a total pro, like me, then you don't need one."

"Regardless of your rank, you should still wear one," England bluntly informed the oblivious hamburger-fucker, an unimpressed look on his face. "I mean, you're still as likely to fall off it and die."

"And die?" America repeated, raising an eyebrow. "Dude, you really are uneducated at this amazing sport! You can't die falling off a skateboard, dumbass!"

England rolled his eyes. "I know that, dumbass. I was being sarcastic. Do you not know what that is?"

America hummed in thought, though it was hard to believe the guy even had a brain or anything worth being able to help America think of things.

"Dude, you should stop all this sarcastic shit and get with my totally awesomely funnier-than-yours humour!" America chuckled so loudly that Japan, taking a nap, could probably have heard him. "Anyway, put this on. You might fall off and die."

England scowled as America put it on for him, tightening it up.

"I'm not five, you know," England enlightened America. "I can put helmets on."

"Well too damn bad!" America almost sounded intimidating. Almost. Luckily, he was only being facetious and England, being the intelligent man he is, saw that. Otherwise, it would have been pretty scary. "It's already on, so frickin' suck it up!"

England subconsciously felt the helmet, putting it into place, brushing his blonde hair out of his eyes.

"Do I need anything else?" England questioned, though he didn't sound as though he was expecting anything or even as though he was asking a genuine question. He just sounded nonchalant about it. America, failing to sense this, glared.

"No, dude," America answered somewhat seriously. Which meant that the apocalypse was happening a year before scheduled. "Unless you want shin pads, elbow pads, maybe something for your dick..."

England shot a disgusted look whilst America innocently smiled at him. It almost looked cute. If he weren't so irritating, that was.

America laid the skateboard onto the ground and stared at it for a few seconds as though it was an unidentified flying object. No, wait – he was America, and if it were an UFO, he wouldn't be so apathetic. He'd be all over the damn place, have the media on the phone, etcetera, etcetera.

"Now, I've gotta help you get on, don't I?" It didn't sound like a question.

"Again, I'm not five," England straightforwardly told America, still in his own little world. Not that England ever was, anyway. He suddenly stared at it and sighed once again. "Fine, but don't try to do anything...ahem, funny."

America didn't know what he meant, but it sure didn't sound good. England himself highly doubted America was conspiring something against him, but still, America was unpredictable and highly spontaneous, so England never knew with him.

England hesitantly put a foot onto the board and it began to develop a mind of its own and moved forward by three inches. This was enough to startle England...quite a lot, too.

"Dude, calm down!" America found this hysterical for some reason he himself couldn't fathom. "You were doing good, anyway. Put one foot on, then hold onto me, and I'll totally help you get the other one on, yo!"

England snarled until he suddenly realised America had complimented him. Sort of. In an America sort of way, which was actually kind of disturbing.

England followed America's oddly rational instructions and put the same foot on again. When it slowly inched forwards, England contained himself and absentmindedly grabbed onto America with such a force America himself moved forwards, losing his balance.

"Woah, dude!" America smirked, ignoring England's slowly growing blush. "There's enough hero to go around, but not until later!" He winked at nobody, though it looked as if it was directed at England – it probably was.

"S-sorry," England meekly apologised in a weirdly quiet tone before realising he was still holding onto America and the other foot was still in the ground. "Ah...ah, I mean, I can't get my foot on here! It's too hard for me!"

America solemnly (hello, 2012!) stood there, the only thing moving were his eyes.

"Don't just stand there!" England sounded as if he was imitating America's dejected voice from earlier. "Bloody help me, why don't you?"

And with that, America corrupted into a hysterical laughing fit that sounded like someone was strangling a cat whilst grating some cheese. Weird analogy, but America sounded just like that.

"What's so funny?"

"You, dude! It's not that hard. Here."

America took England's wrists and pulled him onto the skateboard. Blushing again, England thanked him and winced at his own stupidity.

No way in Hell would he ever be as stupid as this (as England would put it) twat in front of him.

As if that was ever going to be possible.

"See? I told you it's not hard!" America laughed, giving a pointless thumbs up. It was like someone was standing there with a camera asking him to pose for a picture or something. "Or maybe I'm just a totally awesome teacher, right, Iggy?"

England gave a small smile and laughed too. America's laugh always got to him. It was sometimes even funnier than a punch line. Then it dawned on him what America had just said.

"Did you just call me 'Iggy'?" England asked in an elusive tone – it was a hybrid of something between unimpressed and bemused.

"I sure did!" America easily admitted, smiling brightly. His smile was infectious too, and then England suddenly realised both were still holding onto each other.

"Could you possibly let go of me now?" England inquired, using the same tone as before. America simply looked down then looked back up at England.

"Sure thing, dude!" America brushed it off. To think England was actually expecting an apology.

Pfft. He was America, the Hero. And heroes never need to apologise. Not ever.

Especially not America.

"OK, now that I'm actually on this thing, can I go somewhere please?" England sounded fuming but he only intended on sounding impatient, which he was starting to be. And besides, people were staring, and he couldn't have that now, could he?

"Sure!" America smiled, grabbing hold of England again. As he walked slowly, guiding England along with him, America couldn't help but notice how much England was shivering.

"Dude, are you OK?" America asked in a serious tone. Not even in a 'I'm-a-total-hero-fear-my-heroic-voice' tone, but a proper, full-blown serious tone. England could almost hear the terrified people running for their lives in fear of the end of the world.

"I'm fine," England smiled to brighten up the mood, now unaware he was even moving. Of course, they did look a bit strange, but nobody bothered to even question it. "Why do you ask?"

"It's just that..." America then realised England had stopped long ago – he had probably gotten used to the movement by now. "...No, doesn't matter."

Five minutes passed, and they were already near the end of the field. Yeah, this field was pretty huge, and finally they were in an enclosed space nobody ever sat in. Not even on such a gorgeous day such as this.

"You know, this is pretty fun," England commented after a blissful silence. He wasn't sure if he wanted to get America to open his big yap again but still, he missed the conversation. Even if it was America, England was often lonely and in need of a friend.

Not that he ever showed it.

"Yeah, it is," America replied. Being naturally spacey, he didn't notice how the two had just agreed with each other. Oh, but England definitely did.

"Do you think you could let go now?" England kindly asked, giving a cute half smile. For some reason, America almost melted at that sight. Not that he was gay or anything.

"Uh..." America hesitantly replied, his eyes darting all around. For once, England failed to notice this. America was liking this contact – he'd missed it, rather (he'd been pretty lonely too) – and wasn't sure if he wanted to let go or not. But of course, looking good was much more important than what was what he wanted in America's logic.

If that even existed.

"Sure, dude," America reluctantly answered, laughing weakly. Equally as reluctantly, he dropped his hands and followed England as he started to skate freely on his own.

"Hey, you're pretty good!" America called out to him as England started to pick up the pace and speed ahead. Of course, America's oxygen was fast running out as a consequence of his poor diet.

After about a minute of running (which felt like hours in America logic), he stopped, hunched over, and tried to catch his breath. He lost sight of England but could almost sense his presence. Like he was psychic and they were twins, or something cool like that.

After retrieving his breath, America somehow managed to catch up with England until he realised what he was heading into.

A bush.

A really big one that looked hungry and was into British cuisine. Literally.

"Dude!" America shouted (loud enough to wake Japan up for sure) but realised it was no use. England was totally and utterly spaced out, lost in his own world of unicorns, ponies, pixies...you know, the usual boyish fantasies.

"Dude! Watch out!" America tried again but he was falling up short. "You're gonna hit that bush and you'll die and oh my God I can't believe this is happening I need a burger to eat oh my God what am I going to do I can't stop that crazy British madman aah what the hell do I do oh my God somebody help me please I need help." Of course, he said it a lot faster than it looks, and missed out all punctuation, because that's the third rule of America logic. Always miss out punctuation. Especially full stops, because they're really, totally pointless. Who needs full stops when you have exclamation marks anyway?

It gets your point across much, much more effectively than a little dot does.

But anyway. Back to the story.

America, suddenly inspired by being all heroic like he usually is, managed to pick up his own pace and finally got neck in neck with England.

Just as he was about to hit the bush, America grabbed onto him, pulled him off and held him so tight it was like he was embracing him. Technically, he was, but he nor England would ever, ever admit that.

The skateboard wasn't all too lucky and managed to roll straight under it.

"Dude!" America breathed, still holding onto England. "You should slow down, you know."

England smiled, snuggling closer – though he didn't have a clue why. He hated America...didn't he? Ah, fuck it, he thought, he's so warm.

"Yeah," England said as though he was stuck in a dream. Or high. Probably high. "Your skateboard is probably ruined, by the way."

America smiled in a 'I don't give a shit' kind of way. "Yeah. But I don't care."

England pulled away a little, still keeping in America's arms though.

"Really?" England raised one (out of, like, ten) eyebrow and looked up. "Why?"

"Because I saved your ass!" America put on his authentic hero voice. "I'm the hero!"

England rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, whatever."

America figured it was now his turn to smirk, and, doing what all heroes do once they've saved their damsel in distress, he pulled England close to him, crouched down a little to dispose of their height difference, and closed the unwanted distance between the two.

Although it was pointless and would get the two nowhere, probably creating a new life full of embarrassment and ridicule, America smashed his lips onto England and was genuinely surprised when he saw through a half open eye England close his slowly and even begin to kiss back.

England, not surprisingly, was the one to separate the two. He didn't question it and instead smiled.

"Well, thanks for the skateboard lesson," he gave a heart-warming smile enough to make America melt even more. At that moment, he was probably resembling ice cream in an oven. "I'm going to go back inside now."

"Sure thing, dude," America smiled, waving. Until...

"Wait, I've changed my mind. McDonalds?"

"I'm already there, bro!"

And somewhere, maybe on the other side of the world, the first few victims of 2012 had just dropped dead.

A/N: Love it, hate it? Reviews are totally welcome :D Actually it turned out pretty good...I like the 2012 references, I don't know why though. I know this pairing's popular so hopefully...fingers crossed! I'm a reviews whore so make me happy :)

I don't know why the hell I said 'hamburger fucker' but I like it and thus I shall use it from now on.

I'm British (can you tell by all my lovely, wondrous, pointlessly put 'u's?) and I practically adore Americans – yep, a family just died from 2012 – so the terms I used shouldn't be too offensive. Besides, it's Hetalia, which is pretty offensive, right? America doesn't get it too good. Nor does England...so it's pretty equal, right? :D I love how Sealand gets it better than Canada though, that's just...GOLD.

...Always believe in your soul.

OK, so yeah...bye! Remember – reviews are really, really welcome!