Written for a USUK DA Contest. Prompt: Sleepy.

Also a belated Happy Birthday to England. Really belated. X3

Tick

Tick

Tick

'Where is that insufferable idiot?'

Tick

Tick

Tick

The clock kept ticking away, reminding England of every second he was wasting. He was all alone in an unused conference room. Fingers drumming on the polished table, he tried to keep his mind occupied by replaying today's events in his head.

The nations of the G8 were gathered in a hotel in Paris for their annual meeting. Japan had just finished a head count, noticing that they were one short.

"Why does this always bloody happen?" England sighed. He started checking off the nations in his head.

'Italy? Present.'

'Germany? Present.'

'Japan? Present.'

'Russia?' "Kol kol kol kol kol…" 'Present.'

'France?' England gasped and turned to smack France, whose hand had made a grab for his rear. 'Present… unfortunately.'

'Um… that other lad…' "Maple hockey!" Canada yelped when Russia moved to sit on him. 'Also present.'

Japan spoke up. "Where is America-san?"

The other nations looked around. There was a distinct lack of McDonald's and hero-talk. Where was America? Granted, he wasn't always on time, but the meeting had started thirty minutes ago (it took that long to get France and Italy settled enough for roll-call).

"That git is probably running late. I will look for him." England huffed as he stood.. America was delaying the meeting, and he probably hadn't noticed.

France draped his arms over the Briton's shoulders and moved to whisper in his ear. "Forget about Amérique for a while. Why don't I show you what the most beautiful country in the world has to offer, mon cher."

"I wonder where America is hiding? It doesn't matter, because you will all become one with me, da?" Russia smiled sweetly as he adjusted himself on his Canadian seat. More yelps of pain escaped from under him, and Canada tried to push the larger nation off.

"Papa," Canada mumbled out, "aide-moi!"

"Oi, Russie, get off mon petit Mathieu!" France released England and stormed over to the northern nations. The Briton sighed in relief. He gave a parting nod to Japan before slipping out of the room.

"Where could that idiot be?" England paced down the halls, stopping the occasional staff member and asking if they'd seen the American. They would respond in barely intelligible broken English, to which the nation would just repeat his question in French. One woman said that she'd seen a man in a brown jacket and glasses sneaking around the VIP rooms on the top floor. He thanked her before heading to the elevators.

The elevator doors opened with a ding and the blonde leaned out. There was no one in the hallway. He decided to check America's room first, in case the nation had chosen to skip the meeting and went back to sleep.

Arriving at door, England knocked twice. "America?" He called. "Are you in there?" He heard some shuffling and assumed that he was right about the American skipping out. His knuckles rapped at the door again, louder this time. "America, you better not be sleeping." The shuffling grew louder. The younger nation must have been taking his sweet time answering the door.

"England!" America called, but not from the direction that the other nation expected. England jumped and let out a loud yelp when America hugged him from behind. The Briton pushed him off and clutched at his chest, willing his heart beat to slow down to a human pace.

"Bloody git! Why did you do that?" He glared at his former charge, who returned a grin.

America poked at the lines on England's forehead, trying to smooth them out. "Because it's fun to see you get worked up." He laughed at the other's now blushing face. "You're cute when you're mad."

England felt himself redden further at the comment. "W-what are you up to here? You're supposed to be at the meeting!" He rolled up his sleeve and showed America his watch. "The meeting started almost an hour ago."

America looked away from him. "Yeah, well, I was busy with some stuff." He looked back to see England's confused face.

"What kind of 'stuff'?"

America grinned and grabbed the other blonde's wrist. "You'll find out later. C'mon, we're already late!" He began to drag England to the elevators. "Oh, and one more thing," America announced before stopping them. He fished out a piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to the Brit. "Meet me here at 11 tonight."

England accepted the paper with confusion. His expression showed that he wanted an explanation, but America only resumed pulling him back to the conference room.

The hour-hand was moving closer and closer to the twelve on that blasted clock. The ticking was lulling him to sleep. It was getting harder to keep his eyes open. 'I've been up since 4 AM getting ready for the meeting. He probably thought that I'd wait up all night for him.'

America wouldn't be wrong though, because here he was, still waiting in the cold room. He felt himself slowly slipping away. His arms folded onto the desk and his head followed, nudging into the crook inside his elbow. He mumbled something about taking a nap before letting sleep take over.

"—gnland. England. Wake up, man!"

The sleepy nation groaned before swatting away the hand that was trying to shake him awake. His eyes opened just enough to see a blurry figure in front of him. "…America?"

"Who else would it be, dude? Couldn't stay up for me, could you?"

"You said eleven o'clock. It's already…" His foggy brain couldn't process the time. "…after eleven." Suddenly, he let out a loud sneeze. England was shivering, which didn't go unnoticed by America..

"Sorry 'bout that. France was trying to save Canada from Russia and I was busy saving Canada from France." He pulled his jacket off and draped it over the Briton's shoulders. England mumbled a quick thanks when he felt the warmth around him. America chuckled and ran a hand through England's hair. The motion was very soothing and America soon heard his breathing even out.

England's sleeping face made America's heart ache. He looked so peaceful in his sleep, unlike when he awake. He was about to pull his hand back when he felt England nuzzle closer to it and saw him pull the jacket tighter around him for warmth. "Mm…merica." He mumbled.

America leaned in and pressed a kiss on the Brit's forehead. He smiled warmly at him before pulling a black box out of his pocket. He placed the box on the desk in front of the sleeping nation's face. America gave himself one last moment to drink in the sight before him, before he removed his hand.

"Love ya, Iggy," He heard a loud bell toll from outside as the clock finally struck twelve, "and Happy Birthday."