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There we go again. My third fanfic for the Sweethearts Week. Enjoy it.^^

„Please Iggy, pretty pretty please.“ America begged his partner. He even went as far as going down on his knees. “No way in hell git. And spare me those puppy-eyes. You’re not a child anymore.”
Was England’s resolute answer. He’d learned that it was better to be strict with America or else he would regret it later.
“Aw come on. I’m sure it will be a lot of fun.” Sadly the younger nation wasn’t one to give up easily. He clung to England’s leg, still whining. “Just this once. I always wanted to go there but Germany usually doesn’t invite me. England please.”
“I said no. End of discussion. I don’t see what’s so interesting about the Oktoberfest anyway.” The Brit huffed. He’d went there before and didn’t see what could be so special about it. Really, as if his festivals were so boring that he needed to cross the channel and that bearded bastard’s house in order to attend Germany’s festival. Germany’s of all people.
“But Iggy…they all say that the food is awesome. And I really want to try that beer he’s always bragging about.” England sighted deeply.
“You don’t even like beer. Not to mention that you can’t handle alcohol at all. I remember the last time where you…” By the time he had said those words the younger blond had stood up and covered his mouth.
“Don’t you dare start with this. How many times did I handle you while drunk, huh? Always whining about how ungrateful I am and things like that. But I never complained. And now you’re blaming me for getting drunk once.” America pouted. “That’s not fair at all.”
He had a point there, England had to admit.
“To hell with it…ok we can go. But I won’t let you go around and eat whatever you get between your greedy fingers.”
The older nation had wanted to say much more about this issue but America just hugged and kissed him happily. //Oh well…guess it won’t be too bad.//
England tried to tell himself, enjoying the other’s affectionate behaviour.

Two weeks later he found himself in Munich, right in the middle of one of the greatest festivals in the world, accompanied by his grinning lover.
“Ok one more time, why do you have to wear those ridiculous leather pants again?” England asked for what felt like the hundred time.
“Because that’s important. It gives you the right spirit. You should try it too. They aren’t too bad when you get used to it.”
“Oh really? That’s what they say about your cars too and I didn’t find any truth in that till now.”
Arthur said sarcastically and began to elbow his way to through the crowd.
The couple had only two more hours before they would meet up with Germany and some other nations that were invited. England could have face palmed himself. Now he remembered why he didn’t like this stupid festival. Too many people. And this year was worse than all the years before.
“Isn’t it awesome that we were invited to the 200 years anniversary? I mean, this is epic. I want something like that too.”
America beamed.
“You already have those. “ The Island nation tried to remind him. “I know. But not that big. I could build a theme park twice as big. Doesn’t that sound brilliant?”
The older passed on saying something about this “marvellous” plan and just shrugged to show that he’d heard but didn’t care.
A couple of minutes later they managed to get to the first takeaway America wanted to try.
And America wanted to try a lot. As soon as he’d finished the Bratwurst, they went on to Hendl (chicken), Schweinsbraten (roast pork), Schweinshaxe (grilled ham hock), Stekerlfisch (grilled fish on a stick), Brezn (Pretzel), Knödel (potato or bread dumplings), Kasspatzn (cheese noodles), Reiberdatchi (potato pancakes) and Sauerkraut.
By the end of those two hours England was sure that America would burst any minute, but apparently he felt well. The older nation could have thrown up just from looking at his lover devouring all those things. “You sure you don’t want any? This stuff is so good.”
America asked with some sweets in his right and some ice in the other hand.
“No thank you. I’ll wait for the beer.” The older nation refused, glad that they finally entered the tent where they were supposed to meet up with Germany and the others.
Luckily the host nation was found easily. Or rather his obnoxious brother. Prussia sure was a loud fella, especially after a couple of beer.
England had to admit that the beer really was delicious but he choose to ignore the prizes. That was daylight robbery he thought. But well, at least he wouldn’t get drunk this way.
Which he couldn’t say about his partner. America already gulped down his sixth glass of beer.
//I knew it was a stupid idea to leave him alone with Prussia.//
The Brit scolded himself. All he could do now was hoping that the American wouldn’t get into a fight and destroy the tent like last time when he took him out drinking in one of his Pubs.
On the other hand, the younger nation always got rather clingy while drunk which mostly let to a certain situation. Maybe leaving him with Prussia wasn’t the worst idea. It sure would be a great pleasure to free Alfred from those tight leather pants in the evening.
He hummed a little at that thought and continued to talk with Japan. Oh yeah, maybe attending to the Oktoberfest once in a while wasn’t too bad.

[SWEETHEARTS WEEK] Pop Culture Shock

Here's my second post for the Sweethearts Week. I hope everyone enjoys this.^^

There had never been a time when America had not loved England. He’d loved him from the first moment until now. Through their good times and their bad times. His feelings towards the older nation never changed.
He loved everything about England. His appearance, his culture, his lovely accent and of course his voice. America was also quite fond of the Brits tea, but he wouldn’t let him know that.

But what the younger nation loved the most about his lover was his calm and refined attitude. Sure he teased him about his behaviour all the time and called him an old man. But when he was honest to himself, he loved it more than anything else.
Even though America hated to admit it, these so called modern times stressed him greatly. He felt worn out and sick, like he was already much older then he actually was.
The constant rush his people lived in assigned to him as well. Therefore he was glad for every weekend he could spend with England. The older nation always made him feel calm and relaxed.
And because of that, America liked that stiff and proper attitude of the Brit.

But from time to time, this attitude changed. And Alfred really really feared those times. As much as he loved Arthur, sometimes he simply hated his people who were so easily seduced by new trends and hypes. Especially when those trends concerned music.
America had lived through every damn era England’s people came up with. He’d managed the Britpop and the British invasion. He’d survived Punk (which was a living hell) without crying too much. And everything before and after that. But the worst of all carried the name “New Wave of British Heavy Metal” or NWOBHM for short.
If anyone would ask him what his worst experience in his relationship with England was then his answer would certainly be the NWOBHM. America had always known that the older nation was quite addicted to everything dangerous and illegal. France was so right when he accused England of being a delinquent. He sure was when he got a hold on certain things like alcohol or drugs.
Anyway, when the new wave of heavy metal began America had hoped that his lover might not notice it. He even prayed for it at night but it was no use. One day the Island nation had approached him an excited smile on his face. “Let’s go to a concert. There’s this amazing new band. Iron Maiden. Everyone is talking about them right now.” He said and grabbed the younger mans arms to drag him along. “There will be a huge party afterwards. Come on. But we need to dress you properly first.”
About half an hour later Alfred found himself dressed in a tight leather jeans, wearing a ripped up shirt and some spike gauntlets. He looked at the mirror, shocked, and then to England.
“Are you serious? I look awful.” America protested.
“Bullocks, you look great. A bit tame maybe but that’s ok.” The formerly blond, now green haired, nation grinned and placed himself in front of the mirror fumbling with something the American couldn’t identify at first.
“Ahm…Arthur…are those piercings?” He asked, unsure if he wanted an answer to that or not.
“Sure they are. Totally love them. I always thought it was a pity that I could only wear them for Punk concerts. But that changed now.” England smirked and finished his task. Alfred sighted.
“Are you drunk?”
“Nah, I barely drank anything in the last…two hours. Now let’s go or we’ll miss it.”

And so they went to see the concert. Well, the music wasn’t too bad. America thought, even though he had a really bad headache at the end of the concert. But at least it was kind of fun.
The real problem came afterwards. Not enough that his head hurt like Russia had hit him with that damn pipe of his for hours, no he also managed it to get separated from England.
It took him almost an hour to find him again, totally wasted in the middle of a group of young people.
He seemed to have a lot of fun, but the way Arthur danced with a couple of those guys made him furious. He decided that it was time to go home now.
So America tried to get through the crowd, which was quite hard, but somehow he found a way. He grabbed his, not really amused, lover by his wrist and dragged him outside.
“Hell Alfred…whatcha think ya doin?” He slurred, unwilling to leave right now.
“We’re going home. You need to rest and come to your senses.” Alfred sighted, he already knew that this wouldn’t end peaceful.
“Ya bloody wanker…lemme…don’t wanna go now.” England protested angrily but it was no use since the younger nation had more strength.

The drive home wasn’t actually a pleasant one. England kept on complaining the whole time, insulting America with words that would even make a sailor blush.
Most people would have kicked him out by the time they reached the highway. But Alfred was more patient then one might think. He knew that this was a phase, and that it would end sooner or later.
When they reached the driveway of England’s house, the older nation got out of the car first and cracked the door shut. He stomped, or rather wavered towards his house furiously.
In order to save some time, the still blond man grabbed his spare keys, opened the door and went inside.
The rest of the evening was a disaster. England had picked a fight sometime between taking a shower and changing his clothes. They had yelled at each other for about two hours. Saying things that probably should have stayed unsaid. In the end, America had grabbed some blankets and left the house to sleep in the car. Luckily fall had just began and the nights weren’t that cold yet.
But it was still far away from being pleasant. Unlike Arthur he wasn’t drunk or drugged and his headache got worse by the minute. So, no matter what he tried or how often he turned around, he simply couldn’t sleep.
When the sun already began to rise, he heard that the door of his car was opened but didn’t shift from his current position. Soon, a smaller figure cuddled close to his back, wrapping his arms around him.
“I’m sorry.” England whispered faintly. “I didn’t mean what I said. You were right with everything. Please…come back inside.”
The older nation pleaded and peppered kisses on his lovers neck waiting for a reaction.
Alfred sighted. “You really are an ass when you drug yourself. And a slut at that.” He said, still jealous because England had danced so sexily with those strangers.
“I know…sorry. Let’s go inside ok? I already prepared some Aspirin for your headache.”
He smiled shyly and America turned around and kissed him softly. “I really hope that this whim of yours won’t last long this time.”
The younger man grinned tiredly and they went back to the house.
“But you know what…I don’t mind the clothes too much. You look downright sexy in black leather.”
This is my First fanfiction I post here. As the titel says it's for the Sweethearts Week. I hope you'll like it.^^

England had had many kisses in his very long live. Some of them were passionate, wild and lustful while others were soft, gentle and almost shy. England had enjoyed most of them, but some he had hated more than anything else. But in the end, most of them weren’t worthy to be remembered for longer than a few decades anyway.
When the Island Nation was still young and oblivious he’d always thought that a kiss must be something special you only share between lovers or persons you care for. He’d believed that his first kiss would be a kiss of pure love, like it’s supposed to be. Well, it wasn’t.
As England grew up he learned that feelings were something very complicated and a kiss mostly nothing but a habitual gesture.
The centuries passed like seconds and when England first set foot on the shores of the New World, he already felt like an old man who was already tired of living. He had come here in order to take control of the new found nation, a child called America.
He complained at first, but when he heard that France was also after the boy he was eager to do everything in his might to prevent that.
Not that he cared about the boy, not really. He’d never liked children that much, even though they seemed to like him. He just didn’t want France to get a hold of America. It would weaken his own position after all.
So they fought about him day after day without a clear victory. England was frustrated and angry. Now that the fight went on for so long, he wanted to win even more. He wanted to have America by his side no matter what.

In the end, the two European nations saw no other way then to ask America himself which one of them should become his older brother.
When France came and brought some of his fancy food Arthur was sure that he already had lost. He sat down on the ground, angry and frustrated. He began to cry a little, something he usually didn’t do, especially not in public. After a very short time he was about to get up and leave the place when he felt a tiny hand touching his arm. “Are you ok?” A soft voice asked him and he turned around to see little America’s worried face. “No.” Was his short reply. Did he look so miserable that a young child like this began to worry about him? England thought and sighted inwardly.
“You’re hurt?” The boy asked again and England, almost unnoticeable, nodded.
“I’ll kiss it better then.” America cheered and placed a gentle kiss on the older nations cheek. “Feeling better?”
“Yes, thank you America.” The blond man smiled a bit unsure. It felt strange but comforting. He patted the boys head and got up. From that day on England was his brother, his caretaker. And he was more than happy about it. Not because he had beat France and got what he wanted, no, just because he learned how to treasure the live of this innocent little boy, who soon would become the most precious thing in his world.
But the peace England felt while being with America faded away too soon. His little colony grew up to be a strong nation himself that wanted to be free from any rules others forced on him.
And those cute, innocent and comforting kisses they used to share, that both had treasured greatly, were forgotten for a long long time.
It was after the Blitz when England and America first met again. The older nation stood on a hill and looked down on his burning capital. His body was covered in bloody bandages, bruises and cuts. He had been shot several times but all that didn’t matter right now. So many houses were destroyed, so many people died, and were still dying. And he could do nothing about it but staring helplessly at the flames that devoured London, that devoured his body and his heart. He felt useless and weak but more than all, he felt alone.
Silent tears ran down his dirty cheeks and a soft sob left his throat. He didn’t hear the footsteps of a stranger that approached him. It was a young man in a green military dress and a brown bomber jacket. He stood next to England silently, waiting for the older man to notice his presence.
“Why are you here?” Arthur asked with a hoarse voice that sounded like he hadn’t used it in a very long time. “I don’t need your pity. I can hold my ground. I always could.” He said with the strongest voice he could manage. “I don’t need any of those so called allies. In the end they weren’t able to do anything. Bloody useless frog and the others. Don’t need any of them. Especially not you.”
England turned around to face America. His gaze strong and unwilling to give up. He expected the younger nation to laugh at him. To tell him how miserable and pitiful he was. But he wouldn’t show any weakness in front of that ungrateful brat. He would show him, that the British Empire would remain no matter what.

But whatever England might have expected, it didn’t came. No laughter, nor teasing, no sarcastic comment. America simply stood there and watched him with his sad blue eyes.
“I know.” Alfred whispered after a while. “You’re strong and unbending. You did what many others couldn’t have done.” He said with a soft voice and wrapped his arms carefully around his former caretaker.
“If you know that…then why did you came here?” It took all of England strength to keep his voice steady so he was unable to protest against the embrace. And deep inside his heart he felt happy to be hold like this. His tired body leaned closer to America grateful for the warmth.
The taller man lifted his chin a little and placed a soft kiss on his forehead and cheek.
“I came to ease your pain.”
England had had many kisses in his very long live. Some of them were passionate, wild and lustful while others were soft, gentle and almost shy. But none of them were as precious as those innocent, comforting little pecks he shared with America. And even though there was no romantic meaning behind them, England had never felt more loved in his live.