A/N: Okay, so this is story was just a little something I randomly started writing without any real thought put into it, and as such, I'm unsure as to whether or not I should keep going. I think I will try to keep going, but it would be great to know how others feel. Should I keep writing? Please let me know what you think! Anyway, this is going to be a Canada X England story because the world needs mor CanUK! Anyway, I hope you'll enjoy! And please feel free to leave positive or constructive feedback!

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia, or any of the Characters! The only thing I lay claim to is my imagination!

Enough is Enough!

A Canada/England Fan Fiction

By Raven Dunbar 2011

"Hey! America!"

The young blond in question stopped but kept his back to the speaker. His left eye visibly twitched, but as politely as he could despite his current foul mood, he responded.

"I'm sorry, England… But I'm not America."

The older nation of England tilted his head slightly and took a moment to look over the younger nation standing just ahead of him. He was about the same height as America, with a similar if not somewhat darker hair colour, and a slightly more slender build. However his hair was a bit longer, with a wave to it, and he spoke with a much softer resonance.

"Oh, Canada, it's you! I'm sorry, old chap! It's just that you two look similar from behind!" the older man replied.

Now, under normal circumstance, the Nation of Canada was normally a polite young man, who was usually rather forgiving, and more often than not, lost his voice when it came to confronting people about their errors and misunderstanding. Instead he would simply reply with a "Oh, it's okay! Really!" or "No worries," along with other just forgiving and sometime apologetic phrases. However, today was different. Everyone had a breaking point, and the young Nation was very near to his. As a result, he gave England a very short, and abrupt response, before stalking off down the hall.

"Whatever!"

It was not the worst reply England had ever received from someone, but knowing who it came from, the Englishman could not help but feel a bit awestruck. He stared after the retreating blond with a dumbfounded expression, until a familiar voice snapped him out of his reverie.

"Oi! England, what are you doing standing here in the Hall? Chatting with your invisible friends? Ahahaha"

The Englishman furrowed his brows, and turned around to face the new comer, who just so happened to be the same person he'd been looking for in the first place.

"No, you sodding git, I was not! I was looking for you, and ran into Canada!"

"Oh, Canadia? He was here? I didn't even notice. Why were you looking for me?"

The Englishman grumbled darkly and shook his head, before shooting a haughty glare at the boisterous young man before him. He liked America (well sometimes), but the guy certainly knew how to push a person's buttons without even trying.

"Honestly, I can't remember anymore… I am, however, now wondering about Canada."

The American tilted his head, looking confused.

"Huh? Why's that? Something wrong with him?"

The Englishman gave a small nod of his head, as he stared back in the direction the Canadian had gone.

"Hm… aye, something seemed off. He Didn't quite seem like himself"

"Oh, what happened," the younger blond inquired curiously.

England then explained the situation, concluding with the rather abrupt response that Canada had given him. America scratched his head, pondering it for a moment. Unlike Canada, he wasn't terribly troubled by the fact that the Canadian was mistaken for him.

"You sure it wasn't Sealand again? Remember that one time he tried dressing up as Canada and…"

England was quick to cut the younger nation off.

"Yes, I remember! And know, it was not Sealand! It was most definitely Canada this time."

America frowned a bit and then scratched his head once more.

"Ah… well, that is weird then. Matty's not usually rude like that, but I wouldn't worry too much about it. Maybe he's just having a bad day?" suggested the American as he referred to his neighbour to the North by his personal name. This was not something the Nation's commonly did unless they were on close terms with each other.

"Indeed," replied England in a flat tone, though he couldn't help but suddenly feel concerned about the Canadian.

"Right! Well, I have some stuff to do, so I'll catch you later, Iggy! If you remember what you wanted to ask me, then just text me or something!"

And so America was on his way again, brushing past England and shouting out to Japan as the dark haired nation rounded a corner. England stared after the two for a moment before moving on his way as well.

As England made his way through the halls of the Conference Centre, he found himself in the main lobby. Outside on the sidewalk, standing under the awning that stuck out over the conference centre doors, Canada stood out of the rain, with a paper coffee cup in hand as he waited for a Valet to bring his car around from the parking area.

Still concerned, and curious as to why the Canadian had been so short with him before, England decided that he would confront the younger man. As he passed through the front doors, the Valet had shown up with Canada's car , which happened to be a deep red, almost brand new Toyota Yaris Hatchback. As the Valet handed the young Nation his keys in exchange for generous tip, England was forced to shout to catch the attention of the young blond. If he hadn't, it was likely that the Canadian would have driven off before he had a chance to speak with him. Turning his head sharply, Canada looked back over his shoulder, to find England walking briskly over to him. In the meantime, the Valet had excused himself. Narrowing his eyes slightly, the younger blond glared out from behind his glasses.

"For the last time, I'm not America!"

As he stepped up close to Canada, the Englishman couldn't help but shoot a bit of a glare back at the younger man.

"Did I call you America, this time, Matthew? I don't believe I did!"

For a moment, the Canadian's true nature came back to him and he bowed his head slightly.

"I-I'm sorry …" he then suddenly became defiant again, " But what do expect me to think, when you're always mistaking me for that loud mouth! What do you want anyway?" As he spoke, Canada moved to the drivers side of his vehicle and unlocked the door, throwing the brief case he had with him into the back seat. Picking his coffee up from the roof of the car, where he'd placed it while paying the Valet, he glared over the top of it at the older nation.

Again, England could not help but return the look, however, this sudden rude behaviour from the Canadian had him rather concerned.

"What do I want? Well, I'd certainly like to know where this little attitude you've got going on right now came from … You're sounding more like America all the time! It's no wonder I mistake you for him all the time." The comment was a bit harsh as it was meant to be, but at the same time it was also rather empty.

The Canadian huffed a bit and then moved to get into his car, shaking his head.

"What do you care? You never cared before, why make an effort to try now?"

Without looking at England, Canada then sat down in his car, slammed the door, and then proceeded to buckle his seat belt. Perhaps he should have been paying attention. Not being one to step down from an argument easily, England defiantly opened the passenger side door and plunked himself in the seat before Canada had a Chance to respond and lock him out.

"Oh, so is that what this is all about?"

Baffled by the sudden move, the younger blond stared at the older blond for a moment, before piping up again.

"Wha-what do you think you're doing? And what are you talking about?"

The Englishman proceeded to buckle himself into the Passengers seat and then crossed his arms over his chest, giving Canada a haughty look.

"What does it look like I'm doing, you git! I'm not getting out of the vehicle until you explain why you're being such a wanker! Is it really because you think I don't care about you, Matthew? Or is it something else?"

The Canadian was dumbstruck. He suddenly found himself at a loss for words, but that only lasted for a moment as his usually waning self-confidence came back to him. Shooting the older man another glare, he started up the car.

"Fine then! Maybe it's about time we had a good talk anyway… and watch who you're calling a wanker, you damn hoser!"

"Good! I agree! And if you keep acting like one, I'll call you a wanker all I damn well please! Now drive!"

To be continued ... maybe?

A/N: Please let me know what you think of it so far! Should I keep going? Or no? Thank you for Reading it! ^_^