A/N- just to prove i'm still alive, i decided to upload this old thing that's been lying around my doc manager for the longest time. orz.

july's over. LOL. /SHOT. whateva, bro. it's fanfiction. time does not existttttttttt!

Playlist- Meet Me Halfway by The Black Eyed Peas. yeah, just listen to the lyrics and think about america and iggy. totally reeks of their muddled lurv.

Disclaimer- i don't own hetalia. now bugger off.

It was the Fourth of July and celebrations over in the United States were going at full swing. There were fireworks lighting up the skies, children running with sparklers, and delicious barbecues cooking. America was happily enjoying himself and reliving the excitement he'd felt when the Founding Fathers had adopted the Declaration of Independence. That was such exhilarating time in his life, back when America had only been a young upstart fighting the battle of his life. Things had been so crazy back then and there was always something to do. Whether it be to fudge up England's military plans or rouse his people to battle. Now things were much different. Politics seemed to be the stage where all conflict took place and economics grew more troublesome by the day.

But for today America would put all his worries aside and just focus on having a good time. It was Independence Day after all. The upbeat nation took another bite from his ever-present cheeseburger. Mmm.

Out of nowhere the thought of England appeared in America's head. He hadn't seen the older nation in a while since he'd been too caught up with world affairs to pay the grumpy man a visit. America thought of how England must be spending the holiday. Probably cooped up in one of his pubs drinking away the past, cursing the day America had decided to leave him. America frowned, that was how England always spent this day, wasn't it? England really had to learn to let go of the past and not let it bother him so much.

However it wasn't like America was all smiles about the day he'd signed his independence from England. Of course he'd had mixed feeling about leaving the nation who had raised him since he was a child. It had been a difficult time in both of their lives and independence was the only viable option America had. He couldn't spend the rest of his life being bossed around by England. America sighed. Even so, that didn't mean America didn't miss old grouch now and then.

America finished the rest of his burger in a single bite and rose up from his comfy, red-white-and-blue lawn chair. He grinned to himself, it was time to drop in on England.

XDXDXD

"Noo, lea'me alone, you t-twit." England sputtered, his cheeks flushed red from the alcohol he'd been drinking. America continued to tug at his old friend's sleeve.

"Aw, c'mon, England! You never do anything with me anymore!" America cajoled. England shot the nation a look.

"Why on earth would I w-want to do an'thing with chu?" he slurred, taking another swig from his mug of beer. America pouted at him, feigning hurt.

"'Cause you love me." the younger nation said with a cheery smile. This made England pause for a moment. Then he grunted and passed the empty glass container back to the barkeep, motioning for another.

"Tha's a good one r'ght there. But no, g-go away now, A-America.." England muttered, a hint of bitterness evident in his voice. America frowned and stepped forward, placing a hand on England's shoulder as he was about to raise the glass to his lips and take another drink. England slowly turned to look at the nation he'd raised from childhood. America's blue eyes were a bit more serious for once and they stared into England's misty green ones. "Whut?" England asked, swallowing down a burp.

"Please, Arthur, please come and celebrate the Fourth of July with me. It'll be fun, I promise. It doesn't even have to be much. Just stay for some fireworks and a small barbeque. Please?" America asked, his lower lip jutting out a bit for emphasis. England pursed his lips and knit his thick brows together in thought. Well...perhaps a hotdog or two didn't sound that bad. And fireworks were always a sight to see. England sighed softly and America knew he had conceded to his request. He smiled. Fuck yeah.

"F-fine...Alfred. But I'm not gonna stay for t-too long...just a hotdog or somethin'. Tha's all." England said, putting his glass down and getting up from his stool. America grinned widely and dug his hands into his pant pocket as England stumbled over to get his coat and hat before they left.

"Haha, 'kay." America said, exiting the small pub with England and walking into the dreary London streets. He looked up to the sky for a moment. Hm, the rain seemed to be letting up for once.

XDXDXD

"S'rsly though, h-how in the bloody hell is t-that s'posed to be a monument to W-Washin'ton, a-anyway?" England asked, still slightly buzzed from the liquor he'd ingested earlier back at the London pub. America chuckled, sitting beside the older nation and shrugged, munching on his thirty-second cheeseburger that day. He and England were sitting on a picnic blanket set up in the National Mall. It was well into the afternoon and the fireworks were erupting up in the inky sky. "S'more like a tribute ta C-Clinton.." he later added. America laughed at the jab England had made about the promiscuity of his past presidents.

"It's symbolism, Iggy. The monument's an obelisk, the ancient Egyptians used them to show respect to the gods and stuff. Plus the freemasons were pretty fond of em." America mused, swallowing his bite of juicy burger. England nodded but America was doubtful the man had even heard him. America noticed the plate containing a yummy-looking hotdog sitting uneaten beside the older nation. He cocked an eyebrow. "Hey, you gonna eat your hotdog or what? I made it all special for you, y'know. It's got mustard, ketchup, sweet relish, mayonnaise-"

"You put m-mayonnaise on your hot dogs, Alfred? What k-kind of loony r-rubbish is that?" England interrupted, peering at the accused hotdog strangely. America gave him a goofy smile.

"Yeah, dude. It tastes pretty good. The guys in Chicago know what's up." he replied, taking a big bite out of his own hotdog.

"Hmm...I see." England murmured, picking up the food to observe it closer.

"Go on and try it. Tastes really good!" America smiled through a mouthful of hotdog and condiments, a small tidbit of ketchup remained the corner of his cheek. England eyed the red smudge blandly before handing America a napkin.

"Fine, I'll try it 'n for God's sake, wipe y-your mouth." he said, promptly taking a rather large bite of his hotdog. England was silent as he chewed, making slight expressions on face as he tasted each individual flavor the hotdog had to offer. Sweet and sour from the relish. Tartness from the mix of ketchup and mustard. A sweet bitterness from the diced white onion. And more delicious sweetness from the mayonnaise among the other things. England swallowed then chewed a bit on his lower lip. Damn, that had tasted really good. But hell would more likely freeze over before England would admit to America that the younger nation was capable of cooking up scrumptious foods while he still could not.

England turned his head to look at America but was confused by the face the American was making. "A-America?" he called out to the nation but received no response in return.

America was completely quiet for once and his body sat stock-still and rigid. His handsome face was drained of color and his blue eyes seemed to be staring off into space. Even his jaw, which had been either babbling on or mercilessly wolfing down food nonstop, was slack and unmoving. While on the outside America appeared emotionless and immovable, in the inside his mind was going a mile a minute. His feeble brain was still trying to process what his eyes had just witnessed. That, of course, being England.

Eating a particularly large hotdog that was just tad too big for his mouth.

But the man had bit the hotdog nonetheless and managed to bite off almost half of the frank off.

Which, to America, was quite impressive. Had it been anything else, the nation would think the Brit was, ahem...deep-throating something.

Also, England had been so distracted by the blank look on America's face that he'd forgotten to take his earlier advice and wipe his mouth with a napkin. Now a tiny bit of mayonnaise remained on the older nation's lower lip. Dear God. Of course it had to be mayonnaise. Alfred swore he heard his inner morale audibly shudder.

Needless to say, America's brain had been fried at the very sight. But even though his brain wasn't working, that didn't mean a different part of his body wasn't going completely AWOL at the moment. Dammit. This was embarrassing.

"Alfred, you b-bloody wanker. An'ser me a-already!" England barked, a small tick mark evident on his forehead. America immediately snapped out of his reverie and came back to reality. And a raging hard-on. Shit. He still wasn't replying to England though and it seemed to be pissing the older nation off a lot. "I s-swear, if y-you do not stop gaping t-there like a bloody l-lunatic, I'm leavin-" England quickly shut up when he found a pair of lips crashing down onto his own. It was America. America was bloody snogging him on the National Mall right now. Dammit, was the man completely insane? There were people all around!

...N-not that he didn't like it though.

America made short work of the Brit, moulding his lips about to perfectly compliment England's so that they both were getting maximum pleasure from the kiss. England had collapsed his sitting position just slightly and was leaning back against the red-checkered blanket, using his bent arms as support for his and America's makeout session. America nibbled lightly on England's bottom lip until the Brit finally gave up and opened his lips just slightly for America's tongue to sneak in and play a game of tag with his own. The two continued their kiss for as long as possible before lack of oxygen became an unavoidable issue. England broke the kiss first, his forehead and America's still touching as he gasped lowly for fresh air. America did the same, closing his eyes as he inhaled the cool air that felt like ice against his flushed face.

Finally when the two had caught their breath again they were silent, still hunched over in the same position. Then America heard England huff as the older nation pulled away from their prolonged contact and crossed his arms over his chest, sporting a bright red blush on his cheeks that was illuminated by the array of colorful explosions going on above them. England furrowed his caterpillar-like brows together and mumbled something incoherent.

"What was that?" America asked warmheartedly, snaking an arm around England's waist. The Brit shot the yank a glance before returning to glaring far ahead at nothing.

"Wanker." he said, addressing America who only laughed merrily.

XDXDXD

Omake

"Mr. Kirkland? Mr. Kirkland? Sir, there's a package here for you!" a voice called from the downstairs of England's household. Rustling from his covers, the top of England's messy, choppy blond hair poked up from his sheets. God, he had such a bloody headache...next time he'd have to watch how much he drank. England's green peepers were the next to appear from out his warm blanket.

"What? What is it?" he called out from his room, rolling out of bed and pulling on his olive slippers and matching robe.

"I don't know, sir. It's quite a large package. I've already signed it for you, it's waiting in the doorway." the man replied. England trudged down the steps, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He gave the man a short nod.

"Thank you, Bartholomew. You may return to your workbitching now." England said, waving off Workbitch Bartholomew as he inspected the large brown box. He noticed the return address on the package. It was from the United States. 'Alfred...' England thought as he went over to the kitchen to fetch a knife. Once the tape had been slit, England half-heartedly opened the flaps of the box, nearly expecting some sort of confounded instrument to arise from it. Luckily, no such thing did. England dug into the excess of small chunks of white styrofoam and found several dozen packets of extra-large hotdogs...and a note. With a twitching eye, England read the message on the Lady Liberty card.

Dear England,

I sent you some hotdogs. Lots of hotdogs. I know how much you like them...*wink-wink*.

Love,

Alfred F. Jones aka The Mofo United States of America

PS- Please send me some pics of you eating the hotdogs. I need something to jack off to until I come over for another 'visit'. Thanks! :DD

A/N- alfred fuckin' jones. he came, he saw, he did. *nod* gotta give a dude respect, man. and yes, workbitch bartholomew is REAL. go google him. he even has a facebook like/fanpage. i should know, i'm a part of it! =w=)b ehh. wish i could say i did wrote this fic all in one sitting but i didn't. had to go and eat me some din-din. italian sausages. BWAHAHAHA. (please don't kill me germany! DD,:) so how was it? good, bad, shit-tastic? :D kills me to say it, but i actually like this fic. that's a fuckin' first coz usually i can't stand the bullshit i type up. :PP

but anyway, tell me whatcha think. cobalt's curious. also, in case anyone asks. Q- how did alfred get rid of his hard-on? A- i cut off at 'wanker' for a reason, guys. otherwise this fic'd be rated M for maturreeeeee *cough-hack-SEX-cough* we good? kk. now go review, fav, etc. this fic.

peace. (because the world needs some more of it)

PLEASE REVIEW! YOU'LL MAKE MY DAY IF YOU DO! :DDD