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everythingismagicTitle: Easter Eggs on Monday [FF.NET LINK]
Pairing: AmericaxEngland
Rating: PG
Genre: Romance/Humor
Word Count: 3,323
Summary: The White House Easter Egg Roll was open only to families with children under ten, and England briefly wondered if he and America, two young looking men on their own, stuck out like a sore thumb. When America took his hand again a few moments later, this concern intensified. “They probably think we’re a pair of bloody weirdoes.”
Note: Takes place during the White House Easter Egg Roll, which occurs tomorrow. You can see general information on the Egg Roll here and on specific aspects I've mentioned in the fic here and here.
“England, what the hell are you wearing?” America stifled a laugh. He’d just met England on the South Lawn of the White House, where they were hosting the annual Easter Egg Roll. It was the first one under the newest administration, and America was excited because he knew things were going to be a little bit different this year. In his anticipation, he’d invited England as a guest.
England frowned, glancing down at his pale yellow sweater vest, white dress shirt, and spring green tie. “It’s festive, you idiot.”
“Ah no offense but it looks kind of…” he scratched his head and looked for the word, “um… metrosexual?”
He rolled his eyes. “Do you not even know the etymology of the slang you use, America?”
America looked bewildered. “Um… umm… OH RIGHT. No, no that’s not the right word for you then. How about…”
“Dear god, America. You’re my partner,” England interrupted with a fierce blush. “Why yes, in fact, I do like men.”
“I don’t dress like that.”
“Well excuse me for dressing in clothing appropriate for the holiday. I thought you’d want me to look nice, considering this is a big event here.”
“Nothing wrong with what I’m wearing!” America gestured to his clothing. He wore a dress shirt, half unbuttoned and revealing a white t-shirt underneath it. The t-shirt was emblazoned with a star, much like the one on his bomber jacket. “Besides,” he paused and pointed down to green high-topped converse, “my shoes are festive.”
England huffed and turned away, his brows furrowing in frustration. “If it’s such a problem, I’ll just leave. This is hardly an important diplomatic event I’m required to attend.”
America’s eyes widened and he snatched England’s hand, turning him around to face him. “I-I’m just kidding England.” He flushed and looked down. “You look nice.” He’d clasped England’s hand in his and was rubbing at the top of the older country’s palm absently.
England pulled away from America’s affectionate gesture and crossed his arms. He looked warily at the crowds that surrounded them- hundreds of families with rambunctious children. “Nice, right.”
“It’s an attractive look… for you.” The younger country rolled his eyes. “Do I have to reassure you that I like the way you look?” America crossed his arms as well.
“This is far from the first time you’ve mocked my clothing choice,” he scoffed.
A child nearly barreled into America, his Easter egg tight within his grasp. He swerved swiftly to avoid the boy. “C’mon England, it’s Easter. Let’s just have fun, okay?”
“Technically it’s Easter Monday.” His lips quirked up into a half-smile. “But all right.”
America pulled an egg out of his pocket and tossed it in his hands. “My boss made the souvenir eggs eco-friendly this year. They’re made from sustainable forests with vegetable inks or something like that.”
“Ah.” England pulled his own egg out. His was green and America’s was yellow. Both featured the printed signatures of America’s boss and his first lady. “So you care about that now?”
America frowned. “I’m trying, England.”
“Trying to care about it?”
He shook his head and looked away, nervously. “No… ah… trying to change.”
England smiled lightly. “That is the mantra now over here, isn’t it? To acknowledge you need to do so is the first step, and a big one for someone like you.”
America didn’t know whether to take this as a compliment or an insult. He gaped a moment, before formulating a reply. “’Course it’s not like I’m not completely awesome already.”
“Highly unlikely.”
America sighed, not in the mood to get in another fight with England. The temperate spring air was pleasant and refreshing, and he inhaled it with relish. He’d spent a lot of days sick lately, but he felt perfectly well on this early afternoon. He wanted to enjoy that.
In addition to the kids shuffling about their hard boiled eggs and the parents chatting animatedly amongst themselves, White House staffers in costume ushered and told stories and many children waited in anticipation for the appearance of the Easter Bunny.
The White House Easter Egg Roll was open only to families with children under ten, and England briefly wondered if he and America, two young looking men on their own, stuck out like a sore thumb. When America took his hand again a few moments later, this concern intensified. “They probably think we’re a pair of bloody weirdoes.”
America shrugged, tightening his grip on England’s hand when the older country tried to pull away. “Well maybe you, but then they’d be right.” England scowled. “But seriously, no one could get in here unless they’d been allowed. Security isn’t exactly loose. I’m sure they think we just umm--- “
He cut himself off when a young girl, no more than five years old, tugged his khakis. Her pigtails bounced as she looked up at him with wide brown eyes.
England shook his head. This was not that unusual an occurrence. Kids loved America, and England presumed it was because he was such a child himself. And he just radiated that. They’d take one glance at him and see a potential playmate. It was both endearing and a bit annoying. There were a lot of aspects of America that were quite like that.
“Hey!” America exclaimed, looking down at her with a grin. “What’s up?”
The girl shuffled her feet. “Um… how do you do it? Roll your egg?”
America pulled away from England without a second thought and joined the girl at her side. He placed his hand on top of hers and positioned the plastic club in her fingers. “It’s like that. Hold it like that and you’ll be awesome at it.” They rolled her egg forward together.
England’s eyes were glued to America, his arms casually crossed. He allowed himself to smile as he watched, and his cheeks even flushed a bit.
“Are they yours?” A voice interrupted England’s reverie. He turned to the source and blinked as his gaze met with that of a middle-aged woman.
“Excuse me?” He took a moment to register her words. “Oh them? You mean are they… “ Ah yes, the White House is inviting same sex couples for the first time this year. He’d spotted many of them, hundreds even, throughout the day. You aren’t supposed to be here without a child, so it’s natural she’d assume such a thing. “Y-yes.” He blushed. “But we’re not… you know...” England trailed off and glanced back to America, trying to hide the fondness in his expression.
“You’re gonna win the race when it’s your turn, right?” The younger country gave the girl a winning smile. She gave him an enthusiastic thumbs up in return.
England turned back to the woman when she spoke again. “Oh, I understand. Your time will come. My, you two are young. Eventually you’ll be able to do that wherever you want.”
“Perhaps.”
“How long have you two been together?” He didn’t find her series of questions that odd, even if a bit discomfiting. People tended to be curious about the two of them when they went out together- the stodgy Brit and the laid back American formed an undeniably unique pair.
“Sixty.” He cursed inwardly at his error. Brilliant, you’re maybe twenty-five at the oldest to this woman. “Sixteen years,” he corrected rapidly. How long he and America had been together was an impossible question to answer, more than a bit complicated. He'd given her the first time they’d consummated their relationship.
“Sixteen? But you’re so young.”
England cleared his throat. “Yes well… childhood sweethearts.” He considered his thick British accent and added, “Our families knew each other, and I moved to America for university.”
“Good for you two then.” The woman beamed. England looked down and blushed as America jogged back over to his side.
“Hey.” He placed his hand on the back of England’s shoulder.
“’Allo,” England replied, eyes averted to the woman as opposed to America. The little girl was still practicing her egg rolling a few meters away from them.
“Oh, I never did introduce myself. Megan Hastings.” She held out her hand and England shook it politely. America took it next and gave it a loose, casual shake.
“Alfred Jones,” America introduced himself with a grin, using his human name as he always did when interacting with the general populace. “This curmudgeon here is Arthur Kirkland.” England grumbled as America reached up and ruffled his hair. He then gestured to the pigtailed girl “And that’s, Rose.”
“Nice to meet you then,” she replied. “I’ve actually got to go now. My husband just texted me that it’s our boy’s turn in the egg roll.”
America waved enthusiastically as she walked away, then leaned his elbow on England’s shoulder. “Sooo… childhood sweethearts then?” There was a hint of cheek to his tone.
England’s face reddened. “Y-you heard all that?” America merely nodded. “Well what else was I to say?”
“Ah, nothing. I just found it amusing.” He pressed a finger to England’s blushing cheek. “So d’you want kids?”
He swatted America’s hand away, his face growing even brighter. “Th-th—stop saying such ridiculous things.”
“Yeah, you’re right. I mean we know how much you suck at raising kids.”
England harrumphed and shoved America away entirely. “Well that explains a lot about you.”
The younger country sighed and slipped his hands into his pockets, giving up on his attempts at any physical intimacy with England for the moment. The two stood in silence for a snatch of time.
“Where are Rose’s parents? Is that even her name?”
America shrugged. “Yeah, I asked. She’s Rose and she’s four and a half years old and she’s from Richmond, Virginia. It’s funny how you ask kids one question and they give you twenty answers.”
The older country suppressed a small smile. “And her parents?”
“They’re around, I’m sure.” They continued watching her roll the egg. “We can look for them if they don’t show up in a minute or so.”
England watched as a young couple ran up to the girl, the man swiftly picking her up and swinging her in his arms. “Rose! There you are.”
“Ah, that must be them.”
Rose turned her head as her father walked away with her in his arms. Her eyes were wide and she gave him a “Bye America! Thanks for the help.”
“Bye! You’re gonna win the race, right?”
She nodded. “I will, ‘cuz you’re awesome and helped me.”
Her mother shot America a bewildered look, and the pair and their daughter were soon out of sight.
“Because you’re awesome?” England cocked an eyebrow. “You are corrupting the children of your nation.”
America rubbed the back of his head. “Hey, what’s wrong with a little bit of patriotism?”
“If that’s what you want to call it.” His eyes widened in realization. “You introduced yourself to that girl AS America?”
He laughed. “She’s not even five years old. I don’t think it matters.” He slung his arm around England’s shoulders, only to be spurned and pushed off again.
“Do you mind? We’re surrounded by thousands of people for Christ’s sake.”
America frowned, that pitiful pout that England hated to see. He just found it too hard to resist. “Let’s go inside then. We can watch the races from the balcony. My boss should be up there.”
England agreed and the two walked to the White House, passing through security clearance and heading upstairs to watch the festivities.
The younger country pushed open the heavy door leading to the yellow oval room and plopped down onto one of the two couches. England sat down next to America and crossed his legs.
“You look like you’re in high spirits today,” said America’s boss from across the table. He smiled genially at his nation and offered him a cup of coffee. America took one excitedly, but England turned the offer down.
“I’m feeling pretty good,” he replied with a confident grin. “The weather’s helped a lot.”
The President nodded. “Well hopefully we’ll soon have you feeling well all the time.”
England looked over to America. One thing he liked about America’s new boss is that he didn’t just care about America as a country, as was a requirement for his job. He also cared about America as a human being, or whatever you wanted to call the personified nations. England wasn’t quite sure himself.
“America’s never ill on holidays,” England piped up. “I’m sure he’d will himself to get better if he had to.”
“Who can blame him? Who wants to be sick on a holiday?” America’s boss laughed.
England shook his head. “For him it’s more that he can’t bear to miss out on a day where he’s given things for free.”
America nearly spat out his coffee. Instead he just put it down and nudged England roughly in the shoulder. “You don’t have to say that kind of crap in front of my boss!”
“I had been warned that you liked presents quite a bit.” The President reached under the nearest chair and pulled up a paper bag with plastic handles. He handed the bag to America.
“Huh?” He took the sack from his boss and slipped his hand into it, pulling out a box that held an elaborate chocolate egg. “Wow, thanks! It looks awesome.” He peeked into the bag again. “Ah, there’s two?”
“I assumed England would be here, so I picked one up for him as well.”
England’s eyes widened and he thanked America’s boss profusely. “That wasn’t necessary, sir. I’m not your nation. You don’t need to---“
America tossed him the egg and grinned, leaning his head back on his hands. “Good diplomatic relations, and besides, we’re ‘full partners’ now, right?”
The older country’s face exploded in a blush, which he tried to force away, cursing himself for reacting in such a manner in front of America’s new boss. “T-thank you, Mr. President.”
America stifled laughter at England’s behavior, and then moved to put an arm around his shoulder. He stiffened.
The President cocked an eyebrow. “I’ll be heading out to the balcony now. Do you two want to come along?”
“Yes!” Piped up America.
England bit his lip. He’d relaxed into America’s arm now. “Perhaps it’s actually not such a good idea. We’ve been out there a lot today and… spoken to people about certain things that aren’t necessarily true.”
America frowned. “Ah, right. We’ll just go back outside then, okay?” The older country looked unenthused. “Dammit England, fine. Go to the Queen’s Sitting Room and read a book or something. See if I care. I’m sure if you stop by the kitchens, they’ll even make you some tea.”
The younger nation’s boss pushed himself up from the couch and shook his head, leaving the pair behind. He was sure he’d see them out on the lawn within minutes. That’s just how the two of them worked.
England looked down at his lap and fidgeted with the box that held his egg. “I didn’t bring anything to read, so I suppose I have no choice but to come back down to the festivities with you.”
America slapped him on the back and smiled widely, snatching England’s hand and pulling him up. The taller country had placed his egg back into the bag and he followed suit. They’d come back and retrieve the sack later.
He held England’s hand tightly, not as willing to let him wriggle away with a cross of his arms, a huff, or a shove this time. It took until they were about halfway down the stairs before England relaxed his hand in America’s. His frown melted into a small smile as he watched America stride forward excitedly, long legs loping down the stairs. Damn you, America.
They passed a few secret service men and office staffers once they reached the bottom of the stairs, and America waved at them congenially. He was a familiar sight at the White House, so most of them waved back in recognition.
America and England were almost outside on the grounds when England pulled America into the corner of the South Portico. The pillars shadowed them from view. “Eh, England?” He had him pressed against one of the pillars. “Maybe not the best time…”
“Oh shut up,” England grumbled and flushed. He placed his hand on America’s chest and began buttoning up his dress shirt.
“You’re putting my clothes on?” America smirked.
England pulled at the top button, nearly choking the younger country. “Oh belt up, would you? You just could… look a bit classier.”
America shrugged. “Whatever, England.”
“I don’t understand,” England began as he attempted to press wrinkles out of America’s shirt with his hands, “why you insist on being so touchy-feely out there.”
His blue eyes grew large. “Is it such a problem?”
“It’s awkward.”
“I just…. Well today,” he paused and averted his eyes, “for once we don’t stand out.”
England’s hands froze on America’s chest. “I-I’m sorry?”
“I said that we don’t stand out, okay? So I thought it wouldn’t bug you if we—“
The older country moved his hands up to America’s shoulders and pushed himself up so they were face to face. His perpetual frown melted into a warm smile. “Is that it?”
“I wasn’t trying to embarrass you or anything England, really.” Their noses were nearly touching, and their cheeks were pinked.
“I see.” England cleared his throat. “I suppose that’s fine then.”
America grinned. “Well we’ll look better together now that we’re both so ‘classily dressed,’ right?”
“Quiet, you idiot,” England breathed into his ear. He closed the distance between them, and their lips crashed together. He took in the scent and taste of America as he wrapped his arms around his neck, running his fingers through the younger country’s soft blonde hair. America returned the favor quite enthusiastically, his hands running up and down England’s back. England leaned into him a bit more, and America almost fell backwards, the pillar just blocking his fall.
It was America that finally pulled away, a dopey grin on his face. “England, keep it to PG. There are a thousand kids out there.”
England’s face bloomed red and he crossed his arms. “Well sorry.” America just laughed, and soon England joined him. He grabbed the younger country by the crook of his arm and pulled him out of the portico and onto the lawn.
He dropped his hand to America’s wrist, and then snatched his hand. America returned the gesture with ease, and swung their arms back and forth a few times. England paused for a moment, as if working up the courage to do what he wished to do next. A minute later, America felt England’s head resting against his shoulder. He looked down at his partner with a fond smile and wrapped his arm around his shoulder.
They continued to walk, past parents and children of all types and sizes. One booth caught America’s eye. “Cooking lessons?” He cocked an eyebrow at England.
“Eh?”
“They’re having cooking lessons. You should go. It could be fu--- “
“You should try for subtlety sometime,” he groused but didn’t pull away.
“Huh?”
“They have a cooking booth, England. We should go. It could be fun,” England offered.
“…That’s barely different from what I said,” America countered.
“The sentiment is totally different. One is ‘England your cooking is terrible and so we should try and fix that.’ The other is ‘it would be a blast to go and cook something at that booth!’ And as I love cooking, I would say yes to the latter.”
America just blinked. “Um, thanks for coaching on me on how to make my insults to you more veiled.”
England smirked. “No problem.”
“So can we go to the cooking booth?” He asked again.
England wrapped his arm around America’s center, adding another level of physical contact. “That sounds brilliant.”
Pairing: AmericaxEngland
Rating: PG
Genre: Romance/Humor
Word Count: 3,323
Summary: The White House Easter Egg Roll was open only to families with children under ten, and England briefly wondered if he and America, two young looking men on their own, stuck out like a sore thumb. When America took his hand again a few moments later, this concern intensified. “They probably think we’re a pair of bloody weirdoes.”
Note: Takes place during the White House Easter Egg Roll, which occurs tomorrow. You can see general information on the Egg Roll here and on specific aspects I've mentioned in the fic here and here.
“England, what the hell are you wearing?” America stifled a laugh. He’d just met England on the South Lawn of the White House, where they were hosting the annual Easter Egg Roll. It was the first one under the newest administration, and America was excited because he knew things were going to be a little bit different this year. In his anticipation, he’d invited England as a guest.
England frowned, glancing down at his pale yellow sweater vest, white dress shirt, and spring green tie. “It’s festive, you idiot.”
“Ah no offense but it looks kind of…” he scratched his head and looked for the word, “um… metrosexual?”
He rolled his eyes. “Do you not even know the etymology of the slang you use, America?”
America looked bewildered. “Um… umm… OH RIGHT. No, no that’s not the right word for you then. How about…”
“Dear god, America. You’re my partner,” England interrupted with a fierce blush. “Why yes, in fact, I do like men.”
“I don’t dress like that.”
“Well excuse me for dressing in clothing appropriate for the holiday. I thought you’d want me to look nice, considering this is a big event here.”
“Nothing wrong with what I’m wearing!” America gestured to his clothing. He wore a dress shirt, half unbuttoned and revealing a white t-shirt underneath it. The t-shirt was emblazoned with a star, much like the one on his bomber jacket. “Besides,” he paused and pointed down to green high-topped converse, “my shoes are festive.”
England huffed and turned away, his brows furrowing in frustration. “If it’s such a problem, I’ll just leave. This is hardly an important diplomatic event I’m required to attend.”
America’s eyes widened and he snatched England’s hand, turning him around to face him. “I-I’m just kidding England.” He flushed and looked down. “You look nice.” He’d clasped England’s hand in his and was rubbing at the top of the older country’s palm absently.
England pulled away from America’s affectionate gesture and crossed his arms. He looked warily at the crowds that surrounded them- hundreds of families with rambunctious children. “Nice, right.”
“It’s an attractive look… for you.” The younger country rolled his eyes. “Do I have to reassure you that I like the way you look?” America crossed his arms as well.
“This is far from the first time you’ve mocked my clothing choice,” he scoffed.
A child nearly barreled into America, his Easter egg tight within his grasp. He swerved swiftly to avoid the boy. “C’mon England, it’s Easter. Let’s just have fun, okay?”
“Technically it’s Easter Monday.” His lips quirked up into a half-smile. “But all right.”
America pulled an egg out of his pocket and tossed it in his hands. “My boss made the souvenir eggs eco-friendly this year. They’re made from sustainable forests with vegetable inks or something like that.”
“Ah.” England pulled his own egg out. His was green and America’s was yellow. Both featured the printed signatures of America’s boss and his first lady. “So you care about that now?”
America frowned. “I’m trying, England.”
“Trying to care about it?”
He shook his head and looked away, nervously. “No… ah… trying to change.”
England smiled lightly. “That is the mantra now over here, isn’t it? To acknowledge you need to do so is the first step, and a big one for someone like you.”
America didn’t know whether to take this as a compliment or an insult. He gaped a moment, before formulating a reply. “’Course it’s not like I’m not completely awesome already.”
“Highly unlikely.”
America sighed, not in the mood to get in another fight with England. The temperate spring air was pleasant and refreshing, and he inhaled it with relish. He’d spent a lot of days sick lately, but he felt perfectly well on this early afternoon. He wanted to enjoy that.
In addition to the kids shuffling about their hard boiled eggs and the parents chatting animatedly amongst themselves, White House staffers in costume ushered and told stories and many children waited in anticipation for the appearance of the Easter Bunny.
The White House Easter Egg Roll was open only to families with children under ten, and England briefly wondered if he and America, two young looking men on their own, stuck out like a sore thumb. When America took his hand again a few moments later, this concern intensified. “They probably think we’re a pair of bloody weirdoes.”
America shrugged, tightening his grip on England’s hand when the older country tried to pull away. “Well maybe you, but then they’d be right.” England scowled. “But seriously, no one could get in here unless they’d been allowed. Security isn’t exactly loose. I’m sure they think we just umm--- “
He cut himself off when a young girl, no more than five years old, tugged his khakis. Her pigtails bounced as she looked up at him with wide brown eyes.
England shook his head. This was not that unusual an occurrence. Kids loved America, and England presumed it was because he was such a child himself. And he just radiated that. They’d take one glance at him and see a potential playmate. It was both endearing and a bit annoying. There were a lot of aspects of America that were quite like that.
“Hey!” America exclaimed, looking down at her with a grin. “What’s up?”
The girl shuffled her feet. “Um… how do you do it? Roll your egg?”
America pulled away from England without a second thought and joined the girl at her side. He placed his hand on top of hers and positioned the plastic club in her fingers. “It’s like that. Hold it like that and you’ll be awesome at it.” They rolled her egg forward together.
England’s eyes were glued to America, his arms casually crossed. He allowed himself to smile as he watched, and his cheeks even flushed a bit.
“Are they yours?” A voice interrupted England’s reverie. He turned to the source and blinked as his gaze met with that of a middle-aged woman.
“Excuse me?” He took a moment to register her words. “Oh them? You mean are they… “ Ah yes, the White House is inviting same sex couples for the first time this year. He’d spotted many of them, hundreds even, throughout the day. You aren’t supposed to be here without a child, so it’s natural she’d assume such a thing. “Y-yes.” He blushed. “But we’re not… you know...” England trailed off and glanced back to America, trying to hide the fondness in his expression.
“You’re gonna win the race when it’s your turn, right?” The younger country gave the girl a winning smile. She gave him an enthusiastic thumbs up in return.
England turned back to the woman when she spoke again. “Oh, I understand. Your time will come. My, you two are young. Eventually you’ll be able to do that wherever you want.”
“Perhaps.”
“How long have you two been together?” He didn’t find her series of questions that odd, even if a bit discomfiting. People tended to be curious about the two of them when they went out together- the stodgy Brit and the laid back American formed an undeniably unique pair.
“Sixty.” He cursed inwardly at his error. Brilliant, you’re maybe twenty-five at the oldest to this woman. “Sixteen years,” he corrected rapidly. How long he and America had been together was an impossible question to answer, more than a bit complicated. He'd given her the first time they’d consummated their relationship.
“Sixteen? But you’re so young.”
England cleared his throat. “Yes well… childhood sweethearts.” He considered his thick British accent and added, “Our families knew each other, and I moved to America for university.”
“Good for you two then.” The woman beamed. England looked down and blushed as America jogged back over to his side.
“Hey.” He placed his hand on the back of England’s shoulder.
“’Allo,” England replied, eyes averted to the woman as opposed to America. The little girl was still practicing her egg rolling a few meters away from them.
“Oh, I never did introduce myself. Megan Hastings.” She held out her hand and England shook it politely. America took it next and gave it a loose, casual shake.
“Alfred Jones,” America introduced himself with a grin, using his human name as he always did when interacting with the general populace. “This curmudgeon here is Arthur Kirkland.” England grumbled as America reached up and ruffled his hair. He then gestured to the pigtailed girl “And that’s, Rose.”
“Nice to meet you then,” she replied. “I’ve actually got to go now. My husband just texted me that it’s our boy’s turn in the egg roll.”
America waved enthusiastically as she walked away, then leaned his elbow on England’s shoulder. “Sooo… childhood sweethearts then?” There was a hint of cheek to his tone.
England’s face reddened. “Y-you heard all that?” America merely nodded. “Well what else was I to say?”
“Ah, nothing. I just found it amusing.” He pressed a finger to England’s blushing cheek. “So d’you want kids?”
He swatted America’s hand away, his face growing even brighter. “Th-th—stop saying such ridiculous things.”
“Yeah, you’re right. I mean we know how much you suck at raising kids.”
England harrumphed and shoved America away entirely. “Well that explains a lot about you.”
The younger country sighed and slipped his hands into his pockets, giving up on his attempts at any physical intimacy with England for the moment. The two stood in silence for a snatch of time.
“Where are Rose’s parents? Is that even her name?”
America shrugged. “Yeah, I asked. She’s Rose and she’s four and a half years old and she’s from Richmond, Virginia. It’s funny how you ask kids one question and they give you twenty answers.”
The older country suppressed a small smile. “And her parents?”
“They’re around, I’m sure.” They continued watching her roll the egg. “We can look for them if they don’t show up in a minute or so.”
England watched as a young couple ran up to the girl, the man swiftly picking her up and swinging her in his arms. “Rose! There you are.”
“Ah, that must be them.”
Rose turned her head as her father walked away with her in his arms. Her eyes were wide and she gave him a “Bye America! Thanks for the help.”
“Bye! You’re gonna win the race, right?”
She nodded. “I will, ‘cuz you’re awesome and helped me.”
Her mother shot America a bewildered look, and the pair and their daughter were soon out of sight.
“Because you’re awesome?” England cocked an eyebrow. “You are corrupting the children of your nation.”
America rubbed the back of his head. “Hey, what’s wrong with a little bit of patriotism?”
“If that’s what you want to call it.” His eyes widened in realization. “You introduced yourself to that girl AS America?”
He laughed. “She’s not even five years old. I don’t think it matters.” He slung his arm around England’s shoulders, only to be spurned and pushed off again.
“Do you mind? We’re surrounded by thousands of people for Christ’s sake.”
America frowned, that pitiful pout that England hated to see. He just found it too hard to resist. “Let’s go inside then. We can watch the races from the balcony. My boss should be up there.”
England agreed and the two walked to the White House, passing through security clearance and heading upstairs to watch the festivities.
The younger country pushed open the heavy door leading to the yellow oval room and plopped down onto one of the two couches. England sat down next to America and crossed his legs.
“You look like you’re in high spirits today,” said America’s boss from across the table. He smiled genially at his nation and offered him a cup of coffee. America took one excitedly, but England turned the offer down.
“I’m feeling pretty good,” he replied with a confident grin. “The weather’s helped a lot.”
The President nodded. “Well hopefully we’ll soon have you feeling well all the time.”
England looked over to America. One thing he liked about America’s new boss is that he didn’t just care about America as a country, as was a requirement for his job. He also cared about America as a human being, or whatever you wanted to call the personified nations. England wasn’t quite sure himself.
“America’s never ill on holidays,” England piped up. “I’m sure he’d will himself to get better if he had to.”
“Who can blame him? Who wants to be sick on a holiday?” America’s boss laughed.
England shook his head. “For him it’s more that he can’t bear to miss out on a day where he’s given things for free.”
America nearly spat out his coffee. Instead he just put it down and nudged England roughly in the shoulder. “You don’t have to say that kind of crap in front of my boss!”
“I had been warned that you liked presents quite a bit.” The President reached under the nearest chair and pulled up a paper bag with plastic handles. He handed the bag to America.
“Huh?” He took the sack from his boss and slipped his hand into it, pulling out a box that held an elaborate chocolate egg. “Wow, thanks! It looks awesome.” He peeked into the bag again. “Ah, there’s two?”
“I assumed England would be here, so I picked one up for him as well.”
England’s eyes widened and he thanked America’s boss profusely. “That wasn’t necessary, sir. I’m not your nation. You don’t need to---“
America tossed him the egg and grinned, leaning his head back on his hands. “Good diplomatic relations, and besides, we’re ‘full partners’ now, right?”
The older country’s face exploded in a blush, which he tried to force away, cursing himself for reacting in such a manner in front of America’s new boss. “T-thank you, Mr. President.”
America stifled laughter at England’s behavior, and then moved to put an arm around his shoulder. He stiffened.
The President cocked an eyebrow. “I’ll be heading out to the balcony now. Do you two want to come along?”
“Yes!” Piped up America.
England bit his lip. He’d relaxed into America’s arm now. “Perhaps it’s actually not such a good idea. We’ve been out there a lot today and… spoken to people about certain things that aren’t necessarily true.”
America frowned. “Ah, right. We’ll just go back outside then, okay?” The older country looked unenthused. “Dammit England, fine. Go to the Queen’s Sitting Room and read a book or something. See if I care. I’m sure if you stop by the kitchens, they’ll even make you some tea.”
The younger nation’s boss pushed himself up from the couch and shook his head, leaving the pair behind. He was sure he’d see them out on the lawn within minutes. That’s just how the two of them worked.
England looked down at his lap and fidgeted with the box that held his egg. “I didn’t bring anything to read, so I suppose I have no choice but to come back down to the festivities with you.”
America slapped him on the back and smiled widely, snatching England’s hand and pulling him up. The taller country had placed his egg back into the bag and he followed suit. They’d come back and retrieve the sack later.
He held England’s hand tightly, not as willing to let him wriggle away with a cross of his arms, a huff, or a shove this time. It took until they were about halfway down the stairs before England relaxed his hand in America’s. His frown melted into a small smile as he watched America stride forward excitedly, long legs loping down the stairs. Damn you, America.
They passed a few secret service men and office staffers once they reached the bottom of the stairs, and America waved at them congenially. He was a familiar sight at the White House, so most of them waved back in recognition.
America and England were almost outside on the grounds when England pulled America into the corner of the South Portico. The pillars shadowed them from view. “Eh, England?” He had him pressed against one of the pillars. “Maybe not the best time…”
“Oh shut up,” England grumbled and flushed. He placed his hand on America’s chest and began buttoning up his dress shirt.
“You’re putting my clothes on?” America smirked.
England pulled at the top button, nearly choking the younger country. “Oh belt up, would you? You just could… look a bit classier.”
America shrugged. “Whatever, England.”
“I don’t understand,” England began as he attempted to press wrinkles out of America’s shirt with his hands, “why you insist on being so touchy-feely out there.”
His blue eyes grew large. “Is it such a problem?”
“It’s awkward.”
“I just…. Well today,” he paused and averted his eyes, “for once we don’t stand out.”
England’s hands froze on America’s chest. “I-I’m sorry?”
“I said that we don’t stand out, okay? So I thought it wouldn’t bug you if we—“
The older country moved his hands up to America’s shoulders and pushed himself up so they were face to face. His perpetual frown melted into a warm smile. “Is that it?”
“I wasn’t trying to embarrass you or anything England, really.” Their noses were nearly touching, and their cheeks were pinked.
“I see.” England cleared his throat. “I suppose that’s fine then.”
America grinned. “Well we’ll look better together now that we’re both so ‘classily dressed,’ right?”
“Quiet, you idiot,” England breathed into his ear. He closed the distance between them, and their lips crashed together. He took in the scent and taste of America as he wrapped his arms around his neck, running his fingers through the younger country’s soft blonde hair. America returned the favor quite enthusiastically, his hands running up and down England’s back. England leaned into him a bit more, and America almost fell backwards, the pillar just blocking his fall.
It was America that finally pulled away, a dopey grin on his face. “England, keep it to PG. There are a thousand kids out there.”
England’s face bloomed red and he crossed his arms. “Well sorry.” America just laughed, and soon England joined him. He grabbed the younger country by the crook of his arm and pulled him out of the portico and onto the lawn.
He dropped his hand to America’s wrist, and then snatched his hand. America returned the gesture with ease, and swung their arms back and forth a few times. England paused for a moment, as if working up the courage to do what he wished to do next. A minute later, America felt England’s head resting against his shoulder. He looked down at his partner with a fond smile and wrapped his arm around his shoulder.
They continued to walk, past parents and children of all types and sizes. One booth caught America’s eye. “Cooking lessons?” He cocked an eyebrow at England.
“Eh?”
“They’re having cooking lessons. You should go. It could be fu--- “
“You should try for subtlety sometime,” he groused but didn’t pull away.
“Huh?”
“They have a cooking booth, England. We should go. It could be fun,” England offered.
“…That’s barely different from what I said,” America countered.
“The sentiment is totally different. One is ‘England your cooking is terrible and so we should try and fix that.’ The other is ‘it would be a blast to go and cook something at that booth!’ And as I love cooking, I would say yes to the latter.”
America just blinked. “Um, thanks for coaching on me on how to make my insults to you more veiled.”
England smirked. “No problem.”
“So can we go to the cooking booth?” He asked again.
England wrapped his arm around America’s center, adding another level of physical contact. “That sounds brilliant.”
