AN: So, this is my first fic, so please be gentle! Criticism wanted, flames ignored. (and yes, there is a difference.)

Disclaimer: If I owned hetalia it would be wrapped in plastic and all the characters would get to be lovey-dovey. (or in most cases, tsundere-y)

Enjoy!

The United States of America was in a predicament. He was in love with England. Now I know what you might think, the predicament must be that Arthur doesn't return his feelings, or he isn't brave enough to tell him, or that he's in denial, or England's straight, or something else like that.

But no, his predicament was quite simple, really. And that was that his (no, not his- not yet.) little Iggy was a dense moron.

America had always thought that England was perceptive; he always knew when America was upset before he knew himself, and could sense France from a mile away. He was proven wrong. England was dense past the level of Spain.

~*~(Flashback Time)~*~

Alfred anxiously looked around the conference room. He knew that Arthur always arrived early, so he had set the alarm clock an hour before normal and was now waiting for the older nation. Yesterday he had sent him a vase of flowers- after knowing his feelings for a week Al had finally taken action. He knew that agonizing over it for decades like some of the other nations (cough cough Greece,) would only leave him with either a broken heart or years missed out with Arthur.

So anyway, he had sent him a vase of flowers. They had been Chinese wisteria, he thought roses were too cliché. He had Hollywood in him and all, but really? So he had sent a vase (why he thought sending hanging flowers in a vase was a good idea, we'll never know.) with a small note from "Al" attached. Now to just wait…

"AMERICA!"

Aforementioned personification quickly shot up in his seat and looked guiltily to the newcomer. "He-hey Iggy, what's up?"

"What the bloody hell are these?"

Alfred's eyes brightened at the flowers shoved in his face. "You got my flowers!"

"Now please, git, do tell me how exactly I remind you of absolute femininity?" England growled, poking his index finger into America's admittedly well-toned chest.

"What are you talking about Iggy?"

"Lavender flowers! Lavender flowers! Do you expect me to believe you don't understand what they mean?"

Alfred swallowed nervously, "Of course not! I have no idea about what flowers mean!"

"Zis is true, mon ami. How do you expect zis moron to understand le langue des fleurs?" Wait when did France get here?

"Shut up bloody frog!"

The two promptly got in a fight, trampled the flowers, forgot about America and dropped the subject.

So Alfred moved onto plan b. After Germany had resignedly ended the meeting, America approached England, flashed his brightest Hero Smile and asked if he wanted to get a drink.

England frowned, furrowed his (monstrous) eyebrows and consented. And so, they sat next to each other beer in hand, and England quickly drank himself into oblivion.

"Hey, hey, am-Alfred, wu-why are ya doing that?" he slurred. "Git." He added as an afterthought.

"Doing what Artie?" Alfred said, smiling in a way that quite reminded him of Russia.

"Slamming yur head inter the poor bar… don't it hurt?"

"Why yes my dear, it does hurt. You see precious, I forgot how much of a lightweight you are."

"Oh. Hey- wanna fuck?"

Well at least he managed to keep his weekly quota of one spit-take a week intact.

After this failed attempt, Alfred tried plans c through g, all failing miserably.

Giving him chocolates – Arthur had refused worried about his weight.

Writing it with a plane – Arthur bent down to tie his shoes, getting up moments after it dissipated.

Getting someone else to do it for him – "Come on, you owe me after Justin Bieber." "Fine Alfred, but just this once, eh?" "Who?"

Doing tons of favors for him – After Alfred accidentally shredded a speech Arthur had hand-written America thought he might have actually gotten further from his ideal target.

Literally kissing him smack on the lips – "You know, if someone had dared you to do that you could have just told me." "FUUUUUUUUUUUUU-"

~*~(End Flashback)~*~

So here he is. In a predicament. Alfred sighed and reached for his cell.

"Hello who is speaking?"

"Jeez Iggy, how don't you have caller ID yet?"

Alfred could hear his scowl through the phone. "America. Why are you calling?"

"Can't I call a friend?"

"I hardly consider you a friend."

"That hurts Iggy."

"Don't call me that. I repeat; why are you calling?"

"Haha right. I- I have something to tell you. Can you come over here?"

"You expect me to fly across the pond just so you can tell me something? The phone was invented for a reason you know…"

Alfred sighed. This was it. "Actually, I'll go to your house. I'm actually in London now, so."

"What? Well why didn't you say? Be quick then." There was quick sigh and a click, and all he could hear was the dial tone.

~A Few Minutes Later~

Alfred sat opposite of Arthur in the kitchen, what resembled charcoal resting between them.

"Have a scone, please."

"Huh? No, no, I'm fine." Alfred pushed his chair back and walked over to where Arthur was sitting, he rested one hand on the chair's back and one on the table, enclosing Arthur.

"Alfred, what's going – mmph!" Arthur was quickly cut off by Alfred's lips meeting his, and his eyes widened while his shoulder's tensed. "W-Was that another dare?"

Alfred chuckled and his sapphire eyes quickly met Arthur's emerald ones. "No – no it wasn't, and neither was the other one." He paused here, eyes flickering to the floor and back. "Arthur I love you. And I'm fairly certain I have for a while."

Alfred expected Arthur to blush, stutter, look horrified, faint, anything but what he did do –Arthur smiled. Arthur smiled and pecked Alfred on the lips. "I know." Alfred gaped at him, perfectly imitating a fish, when Arthur's smirk widened. "I'm not completely daft, ya know? Of course I picked up on it, but really. Don't you think simply telling me is the best method?"

Alfred slowly closed his mouth and stared at the nation. "I – I suppose so." He wrapped his arms around England's waist and pulled him out of his seat. "Does this mean you love me back?"

"No Alfred, it means I abhor you."

America frowned and looked at England curiously, "What does abhor mean? It sounds kinda like adore, but you said it in a sarcastic tone, which would mean you actually hate me but then why would you-"

"Alfred! Yes, I love you. God knows why, but I do. I love you."

Alfred grinned and pulled him in for another kiss. He may never understand his(yes, his, finally his and only his!) England- but he would always love him. And he would always love him because of it.

I love you

I used a translator for the french so please tell me if I'm wrong!

Mon ami - My Friend

Le langue des fleurs - The language of flowers.