Just a story I felt like starting XD That only reason I am though is because I'm expecting it to be rather short XD In comparison to the other plot bunnies I've been getting...I've got about eight separate ones, and I can't start them because of my other ongoing stories which I am nowhere near finishing…I've noticed that they're all USUK o_O I'll probably need to find another Hetalia pairing obsession at some point XD I'll stop talking now...

England slammed the door behind him, peeling off his drenched coat. That damn yank! How dare he try to embarrass me like that! He thought angrily, throwing his coat to the ground and kicking off his shoes. At that moment, he didn't care about being neat or acting like a gentleman.

A few anxious fairies fluttered to him, but England was too wrapped up in his own rage as he stormed through his house to notice them. They would have asked him what was wrong, or maybe even why he had left the house without an umbrella when the weather clearly said that there would be torrential rain, but they also knew that England was extremely unpredictable when he was like this, and it'd be better to let him calm down first.

England scowled to himself as he entered the kitchen, throwing open a set of cupboards. He growled as he realised they were empty. Great. Not only was he absolutely furious, he was also out of alcohol.

(Unknown to him, the fairies had hidden anything considered even mildly alcoholic after his last 'little' rampage. They were starting to feel relieved that they did, since dealing with an England that was two types of pissed was more difficult then they liked to admit...)

He sighed, pushing his fringe back so that it'd stop dripping into his eyes. He really hated that damn American. Not only had he called England out at a ridiculous time, but had then tried to humiliate him like that...He glared again. He was never going to forgive America. No matter how many times he had said that in the past. He really meant it!

The British nation stomped out of the room and up the stairs, not as forcefully as before but still very irritably. He collapsed onto his bed once he reached his room, not bothering to remove his soaked clothes. England felt his anger fade as fatigue took over, only to be replaced by a sort of depression.

To do that...England thought sadly. America must really hate me...He clutched his bed sheets suddenly, trying to hold onto some form of anger. Well, good! I hate him too! He's an ungrateful, dependence declaring brat that wasted a huge amount of perfectly good tea!

And England really did hate him! Especially recently, he found that his hate for the annoying American had grown somehow. Whenever he saw him, England felt weak, probably a way for his body to say that it really didn't want to go near that yank, and his mouth would go extremely dry. He could barely even speak to him, and could only ever say a few stuttered sentences. He also always found himself staring at America when he should be listening in the meetings, obviously to make sure he wasn't doing anything stupid that would bother the other nations the way the younger nation's entire existence did for him.

And there was also that the fact that whenever he thought about America, which ended up being a lot, for some reason England didn't know, his chest hurt and imagining America's stupid, conceited grin was enough to put him off eating and sleeping.

If none of those meant that he hated America with every fibre of his body, then he didn't know what did.

And yet, despite his obvious hate for the younger nation, America always insisted on 'hanging out' with him. They were all just plots to make England embarrass himself in public, like that night. Why else would America always call on him?

Of course, it was harder to reject America's invitations when he dragged Japan along too. England considered Japan as a good friend, and felt sorry for him when America forced the Japanese nation to go with him. That was the only reason he would go out with them when America appeared on his doorstep with a sheepish Japan. Even if he had heard France mutter that England had only been looking for an excuse to hang out with America that didn't affect his pride.

Mysteriously, France had lost all memory of saying that and the week before after losing a large amount of blood from a vicious attack. The attacker was never caught, and all France had ever been able to say about the incident was something about 'large hairy caterpillars'...

His dreams had usually been about America too. They were generally the same though. Either 'that fight' in the rain during the American Revolution, (which usually resulted in him coughing up blood and feeling ill the next day) or America ridiculing or looking down at him. England could never remember the exact details of those dreams, couldn't recall what had been said. All that mattered was that America was jeering or even sometimes looking at him with an expression of such disgust...as if whatever he had told the younger nation was too appalling to even think about.

Even though he didn't know what he could of possibly said, the idea of America being sickened by it...it felt like America was breaking his heart all over again.

England was snapped out of his sad, half asleep thoughts, by the familiar melody of Amazing Grace. His phone. Damn. And he had actually been about to fall asleep too.

He mumbled a quiet 'thank you' as a few fairies who noticed he wasn't in the mood to leave his bed brought him his mobile. England scowled as he read the caller ID, ignoring the slight flutter in his chest.

"What do you want, America?" England asked, making sure his voice was as cold as possible. America was the last person he wanted to talk to at that moment.

"Hey, Iggy!" America replied brightly, almost as if he couldn't detect the obvious icy tone "Er...Hey, you do know it was only a joke earlier, right?"

'Only a joke'? America called making a fool out of him a joke? "Sure...A joke" England said flatly.

"Good, so everything's cool between us!" America said cheerfully, continuing before England could say that no, everything wasn't cool. "I was worried, since it would make things really awkward if you stopped talking to me or something like that. Oh, and another thing, after you stormed out, did you walk home? In the rain? I seriously hope you called a taxi or a bus or whatever, 'cause otherwise you're either completely stubborn or completely stupid...Seriously, as Japan would probably say, you'd probably come down with a cold or something. Ah, never mind...Hey, you wanna hang out tomorrow? Japan's busy, and everyone else just ignored me when I asked, so how about it?"

England huffed quietly. Of course America would only want to spend time with him if no one else would...

"Oh, and did you take notes at the meeting the other day? I kind of forgot to listen so I need to borrow them. You don't mind, right? You can show them me tomorrow, but if it okay if you come to my house? That shouldn't be a problem, right? Oh, and-"

"America," England cut in. "Shut up." He heard a quiet "Well" in the background that almost made him smirk. "Look, I'm tired. And I am still angry with you. All I want to do right now is sleep"

"Oh...I see..," Why did America sound...disappointed? America hated him, and England hated him back. "Well...I'll see you tomorrow, Ig-"

England pressed the button, cutting off the call. He sighed, placing his mobile on the nightstand. Didn't that America have anything better to do then annoy the Brit?

He blinked when he realised his heart was beating faster than usual. Was it because of that short phone conversation? Was that the reason his chest was hurting?

Maybe it's some kind of allergic reaction...England mused. Is it possible for one person to become allergic to another? But what else could explain my actions around him?

"Wow," England chuckled weakly "I must really hate that yank..."

Short chapter X3 So, yeah, I came up with this when I was reading the online comic. I was reading 'The Battle for America' and one of the strips was called 'England the Flag Crusher', and the translation note said that a flag crusher was someone who is oblivious to
or unknowingly turns down affectionate and/or romantic advances on themselves. I thought this sounded super cute X3 And then I thought that 'what if England was oblivious to his own feelings?' So...Yeah, he's lovesick without even realising, mistaking his own emotions for hate XD Um...Please review and tell me what you think ^_^