Hetalia - Axis Powers Fan Fiction ❯ High Hopes ❯ Part Two ( Chapter 2 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

:Englands Anger:

When America woke later that day she found herself on the receiving end of England’s glare. “What!?” America shifted slightly to make sure she was fully covered by her sheets and blankets as she stared up at him.

England noticed the movement, “Where are your things?” His voice was gruff.

“I, um. Left them at Antonio’s. All I have is what I came in, at the moment.”

“Which means you have nothing on right now.” England glowered. “You never did like underskirts and shifts and such.” He sighed as he left the room, “Hurry up.”

As soon as he shut the door America relaxed and put a hand to her racing heart. Slowly she got out of bed and got dressed, making sure she was socially acceptable before she left the room. She found England in the front room looking at a book laid out on a small table, “You look like that book just told you that Miles was your mother.”

“Close enough.” England snapped the book shut. “Would you mind explaining your choice of a name to me?” England’s teeth were clenched.

“That’s what you’re so mad about?” America was lost.

“That? That!? Yes, THAT! Do you have any idea-. Any,” England’s face was turning purple, “Anything?!” He expelled completely furious.

America felt like he’d just shot her best friend. “What’s wrong with it?”

England’s ocean dark eyes snapped onto hers. “Everything!”

America flinched, “But, you and Miles gave it to me.” Her voice was small and unemotional.

England looked disconcerted. “What?”

“When I was eleven Miles was always calling me La Belle, at the time I didn’t get that he was calling me “The Beauty”, but I always thought it was nice. And Smith is from all of the American’s whose name is Smith. It seemed very American to me.” America looked so sad that England didn’t know what to do.

Abruptly England turned and went to the kitchen, “Why is she ALWAYS so cute!”

America sniffed back her tears and looked at the now closed book. She glanced back toward the kitchen and then moved over to the small table and opened the cover. “What?” America couldn’t believe some of the hearsay that was written in the news clippings, but even more startling were the comments about her so-called actions done by England’s own hand in the margins. America flipped to the last page: ‘God, please allow me to meet this amazing woman just once!’ was written next to her latest big splash, one that was in fact true. The noise of frying eggs came from the kitchen; America closed the book and went over to the front window and pulled back the curtain. The lawn and road out front were pristine white and more of the fluffy chill was falling as she watched. “So much for walking back to Antonio’s and getting my stuff.” America turned away and saw the quilt still laid out before the fireplace, she smiled to herself and went to pick it up. It seems England was being rather untidy lately; America held the quilt to her face and breathed in the smell of England, closing her eyes in pleasure.

England was greeted by the heart-stopping sight when he came out to get her for breakfast; he simply stopped and stared for a while before clearing his throat. America’s eyes popped open and she lowered the quilt guiltily, “Breakfast is ready America.” England sounded mechanical even to his own ears and cringed as he turned back into the kitchen.

America frowned and folded up the quilt placing it on the stool before going off to the kitchen, “Is there a reason you’re grumpy with me? Besides the obvious tracks about me leaving and then coming back here unannounced to ask for a place to stay.” America stood by the table her fists on her hips.

England glanced up at her from his seat and had to resist several urges to kiss and strangle her before he could answer. “Well, now. Aren’t we just being tottie? Would you just sit down and eat America?” England didn’t know what to do with her, really; he knew what he wanted to do with her, but that was out of the question.

“What is wrong with my name Andrew?” America ground out, tapping her foot on the floor as she waited for his answer.

“Nothing, why?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because you were chewing me out about it a couple of minutes ago and you have yet to use it!” America would never admit it, but she was very hurt by that.

England stood and left the room, his breakfast in hand.

America slumped into a chair and ate her breakfast in defeat, when she was done she washed all of the dishes used for breakfast and put everything away. She sat at the dining table for a long time hoping England would come back, but he never did. America finally picked herself up and went into the other room, the quilt was now gone and there was a fire going. America went and sat on the stool in front of the fireplace, the area still smelled of sea foam; which made her extremely angry, so she went to the ‘cleaning closet’ and got out some cleaning supplies and started scrubbing the smell out of England’s chair, being careful not to harm her dress. America had just finished drying out the chair and making herself presentable again when the bell rang at the front door. America peeked down the hall at England’s closed room and then went to answer the door.

The sight that greeted her was rather unwelcome, “Oh, well I see Andrew moves fast.” Netherlands blinked at the stunning young woman before her.

“What are you doing here Netherlands?” America was annoyed.

“Wait a minute! That fact is highly confidential!” Netherlands was shocked and slightly angered. “England must think a great deal of you Miss Smith.” Netherlands seethed.

“Yes, I’m sure he must Katrina, I’m sure he must.” America grinned benignly; it seemed Netherlands didn’t recognize her as America at all. “Though I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you.” And here America’s face fell. “Do come in. Andrew is in his room. I’m sure you know where that is.” America said pointedly as she moved to sit in the big chair she’d so recently cleaned and put her feet up on her usual stool. Effectively cutting off the other country’s preferred seating options.

Netherlands was quite upset with the treatment until she remembered that Bell Smith was an American and they had no manners. Netherlands smiled devilishly and walked down the hall to England’s door. She didn’t bother knocking but just tried the door, it was locked.

America hung her head as she heard Netherlands simply try the door, proving that what America had thought about them being together was true. Then Netherlands started knocking and calling for “Sweet little Andy” to be a ‘dear’ and open the door for her. All remaining hope America had held onto about herself and England drown in her tears.

Netherlands tried for hours to get England to open his door to no avail, America was trying rather hard not to laugh about or be sick over how the redhead was acting.

The doorbell rang again so America hopped up to answer it. “Morocco! What are you doing here?”

The small dark-skinned beauty looked up at America and smiled mischievously. “America! You are so grown up! You are truly lovely my dear.”

“Misa” America smiled and hugged the smaller woman when she opened her arms.

Suddenly there was a loud screech from down the hall. “Ah, Katrina is still here then.” Morocco grinned when America rolled her eyes. “England called me up and asked if I wouldn’t mind taking France’s slut back to him. And that I was to tell Miles that the bad blood between the three of us would be forgotten as long as Andrew never has to hear or see Katrina ever again.” The smaller country chuckled like a school girl as she walked down the hall.

America couldn’t believe it; England had actually called on Morocco for help. She blinked, stunned for a while before closing the door and peering down the hallway. Morocco was yanking on Netherlands’s long hair and pulling her down the hallway. Morocco simply grinned up at America and gestured at the door when she and the banshee got to her. America opened the door for them and watched with a bemused smile as the four-foot-flat country drug the six-seven hell-cat out into the snow.

“You should probably close the door now Bell.” England said, coming up behind her.

America jumped and looked over her shoulder at him. “Right.” America closed the door and watched through the window as Netherlands was hauled along the street.

England grinned behind her, “I knew there was a reason I had wanted to marry Misa.”

America twitched, “So why didn’t you?”

“Because of you.”

America whipped around to see him moving toward his chair. She marched over and planted herself on the stool while England tentatively sniffed his chair. “What is that supposed to mean? I’ve always loved Misa! And it would’ve been nice to have another woman around.” America huffed.

England was staring at his chair, “Hello. You going to answer me or what?!”

“You, you cleaned my chair.”

America blushed and looked at the fire, adding some more wood to the dying flames. “Yeah, well, I thought you would be back.” She repeated quietly.

England smiled down at her as he sat down, “I think we need to work on our communication.”

America turned a questioning gaze back at him. “What do you mean?”

“I love you.” England said simply.

America looked at him confused, “I love you too?”

“No. See, you don’t understand what I mean.” England covered his face with his hands, “I need you. -” The ringing of the bell shattered the moment and England swallowed the rest of his words as America went to answer the door.

“America! I brought your stuff.” An unfamiliar man in Spanish formalwear announced cheerfully.

America blinked several times, “Antonio?”

The man giggled abashedly, “Uh, yeah, hi.”

“Oh, wow. Oh! Do come in,” America grabbed one of her bags and led the way to the side closet. “Thank you for bringing my stuff.”

“No es problema. I had errands to do today so I thought I’d stop by here when I was finished. I thought you wouldn’t want to ruin your special dress by walking over and getting it all yourself.” Spain’s eyes looked hopeful, much like the look a dog has when waiting for approval.

“Yes actually.” America smiled. “Would it be awkward now for me to hug you?”

Spain’s eyes bugged, “I…” He blinked, “I shouldn’t think so, no. We are still best friends yes?”

America grinned and hugged her oldest friend, well oldest next to her twin. By this time England had stood up and come over to the doorway, looking over America’s shoulder Spain suddenly stiffened.

“What’s wrong Toni?” America looked up into his clearly frightened chocolate eyes. America looked over her shoulder and couldn’t stop the laughter that bubbled up at England’s greedily over-protective expression. Her laughter broke the stillness and Spain straightened and said good-bye to both of them and closed the door on his way out.

“What exactly is so funny Miss Smith?” England asked mock anger in the stressed title.

America looked up into England’s clear blue eyes, “Your expression my Lord. What else?” America asked innocently before she busted up laughing again.

However, in her laughter she missed the gleam in England’s eyes before he swept her up in his arms and sat down in his chair settling America on his lap. America’s giggles ceased as she looked down at him. England raised his hands to America’s face and gently pulled her mouth down to his. The kiss was slow and searching, light; as though England was afraid she would pull away from him.

America’s first response was surprise, but when she realized she wasn’t dreaming she leaned into him, placing her hands over his slowly racing heartbeat and closed her eyes, kissing him back.

“Mmm.” England groaned and slid his tongue across her lips tracing them.

America parted her lips slightly and sneakily rested her own tongue at the opening, waiting for a taste. When England’s tongue found hers she sighed in bliss and the war started.

England pulled back to replace his oxygen watching as America sleepily opened her eyes and smiled.

England paled, “Shit.”

America blinked at him and frowned as England placed her on the stool and then headed off to his room again, locking the door behind him.

Incredulous America got up and took her suitcases to her room and locked her own door before going to bed.


:Next Morning:

When America awoke the next morning the sun was just newly risen, so she set her plan in motion. Obviously England didn’t want her, the previous night proved that. So now she was going to be annoying until he either got the point or married someone else!

“The git was probably imagining that I was Misti! God I hate that woman, that… whore!” America shouted angrily as she redecorated her room to a style that fit her life as a mature female as opposed to the frills of her girlhood.

America never left her room throughout the sunlit hours; she ignored England’s pleas and even those of her friends when England called on them for help. Hunger got the better of her after the sun had set and she ventured to the kitchen, made some soup and went back to her room. America had just finished the last touches to her abode when she heard a vaguely familiar voice out in the parlor.

“She’s been holed up in there all day! She came out exactly once to eat and she completely ignored everyone when she did so!” England was highly upset.

“Well what did you expect her to do? She came back here because she’s in love with you and what do you do? You kiss her only to act like it was the biggest mistake of your life!”

Only one person knew that fact, other than herself. America walked over and unlocked her door and opened it a crack as silently as possible.

“I’m surprised she hasn’t decked you yet, any other American would have by now. Heck, ‘I’ feel like punching you! Yer just a stupid ol’ man after all eh?”

“Roy!” America launched herself down the hall and into her twins waiting arms.

“Hey Bells! Causing the ol’ man trouble, eh?”

America smiled up at Canada, “You finally got taller than me did you?” She giggled.

“I am so lost.” England threw up his hands and went to make tea.

“So how come you’re here?” America asked.

“I am here because I have been called by England, Spain, Belgium, France, Morocco, Netherlands, Finland and Czechoslovakia; because they are all worried about you.” Canada stated pointedly, “I was also called up by your boss last night.”

“What?! Why? What’s happened?” America was a bit frantic.

“Take a chill-pill. Geez. He was worried about you actually. Apparently with the Reconstruction there’ve been some issues cropping up with immigrants.”

America’s eyes widened, “Oh, no! That’s awful! I really need to get myself under control.”

“You do. But so does England and Netherlands.”

England stormed across the room from the kitchen door, “Me and Netherlands have to do what?!”

America laughed outright while Canada stared at England in amazement.

“It’s ‘Netherlands and I’,” America corrected England’s English. “And you need to control yourself. Apparently the upheaval I’ve caused here has been getting into the attitudes of our peoples.”

England was speechless for a few moments, “Then maybe you should work on that.”

Canada knocked him for a loop.

“Roy! What was that for?” America couldn’t believe what her peaceful sibling had just done.

“Because he deserved it.” Canada went in and finished making the tea while America flung England over her shoulder and carried him to his room. When she didn’t come back Canada got worried and went after her; what he saw was unbelievable.

Drawings filled the walls of the normally plain room, all of them were drawn by England himself and all of them were of Bell Smith. They were obviously done by description, but they very much resembled his twin.

Canada spotted America leaning over England looking at something on the nightstand across England’s bed. America didn’t seem to notice him as he came around the bed to see what was so interesting. There was a small box on the stand next to a drawing of England himself proposing to Bell, Canada snatched up the box and opened it. Inside were two wedding rings and an engagement ring. Canada looked over at his sister, who was still looking at the picture; she was crying.

“What’s wrong?” Canada had thought that she would be happy with the development.

“He wants Bell Smith.”

“Yeah, and?”

“But not me.” America fled the room as England came to. Canada smashed his face in again and walked out.


:Without Her:

When England woke again it was morning and the house was entirely too quiet. He got up and went to find out just why the hell he’d been knocked out, not once, but twice the night before, marching to Canada’s old room first. There was nothing there. He went to America’s room and pounded on the door, when he didn’t get an answer he tried the door. It opened on an empty room.

England just stood there, “She, she left again. And she’s not coming back at all this time.” England hung his head and went back to his room.

For the first time in months he really saw it, all of the drawings he’d done that he now realized he’d been basing more off of photos of America than the descriptions of Bell in the news. England looked down at a recent drawing on his nightstand and noticed that the ring box was gone. England panicked and tore apart his room looking for it. Leaving the mess he checked every room, finally coming to the kitchen. The box was setting on the table; he lunged for it and checked for the rings. All of them were there, along with a baby ring. He stared at that small promise for hours before seeing the note on the table.

‘I hate you. You can keep the baby ring; I certainly don’t need it anymore. ~America’ Was all it said.

The bell at the door rang and England went to answer it in a trance.

“Bonjoure mon ami! Canada came by and told me that I should give you this.” France held out a letter, England took it; it was addressed to him from Canada, not America like he’d hoped. When England looked back up France was gone, turning a corner halfway down the street.

‘Hey, Old Man! Does your world look bleak yet? Honestly, my sister is almost as stupid as you are. Anyway, America has come to the conclusion that you will never see her as anything except a child you feel obligated to take care of. Do you have any idea how much she loves you Andrew? Any idea at all!? She’s wanted to marry you since she was four! You always thought she was joking and after you met Misa, Bell convinced herself that it was all a joke as well. Well here’s the deal moron! It wasn’t a joke. America wants you to be happy and she’s convinced that either Misa or Katrina will do better than her, so she’s not going to bother you anymore. She even mumbled something about ‘you having Misti if nothing else, so whatever.’ God! I’ve never seen her so depressed, not even her recent Civil War did this to her, and then she had a goddamned split personality! So anyway, I just wanted to let you know that I hate you. ~Canada’

“Bloody fucking Hell!” England ran to his room and got dressed, raced to the kitchen to grab the ring box, and then he was gone; on a plane to the United States.


:Marry Me:

America was back at work in the ‘White House’, as it was generally referred to as. She was methodically going through bill after bill separating them by issue covered and importance of said issue to the people, then by the date they were submitted. The oldest ones were the once she was going to go at first. Rectifying her Constitution always made her feel funny, she could feel the changes happen as soon as the ink dried on the papers.

“Hey! You can’t go in there! She requested we keep EVERYONE out!” The yelling was coming from the hall to her office.

“Like I give a bloody fig! America, Bell Smith, La Belle, I don’t much give a shite what she calls herself! She’s damn well going to listen to me!”

America’s eyes widened, she didn’t even have time to stand up, let alone run away, before England angrily threw open her door. The prissy country was livid; his face flushed and eyes blazing. America froze, “You just stay there!” England yelled at her as he slammed the door and locked it. England prowled across the room to her and leaned toward her over her large mahogany desk, placing his palms flat in front of her work space. “I am sick to death of being told that I am hated-”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t be such a prick.”

“-or that I think a certain way. But what I really don’t like is that you are the one who said it.” England began, ignoring America’s flippant remark. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small ring encrusted with sapphires, diamonds and rubies. “This is something you are not at liberty to give away.” England pulled a cord off of his wrist, slid the ring on it and tied the cord around America’s slender neck.

America stood up, “Get out.” She pointed to the door.

“No.” England came around the desk, grabbed America by her arms and pushed her back into the wall and kissed her with all the frustration in him.

America resisted and pushed him away, “What are you doing!? Get away from me! DON’T touch me.”

England paused, “But that’s all I’ve ever wanted to do.” America’s eyes widened. “I used to sit next to you and watch you sleep just so I could touch your hair or your hands, rub your back when you were sick. As you got older I had to resist the urge to kiss you more and more often. You were only a child, I wasn’t allowed to touch you and I felt horrible that I wanted to so desperately.” England’s ocean blues lowered, he couldn’t look at her anymore.

“Did you know that I was Bell Smith the whole time?

The odd question made him look up. “No, why?”

“All of those drawings you did, even ones where you couldn’t have had that great of a description. They all looked like me.”

England looked down embarrassed, “I based them off of pictures I had of you.”

America walked over to him from the window she’d escaped to. “Andrew,” England looked up, startled by how close she was. “Kiss me.”

England’s blue eyes softened, he leaned forward and did as he was bid. Capturing America in his arms he kissed her until he was dizzy from lack of air. “I love you.” He sighed looking into her forever-green eyes.

America smiled, finally happy. “I love you too.” She rose up and kissed him again.

They pulled apart at a knock on the door, “America?” President Johnson’s voice was concerned.

“Yes? Oh, hold on, the door’s locked.” America moved over and unlocked the door swinging it open. “Yes?”

“I was told England was here.”

“He is.”

England came up behind her, “What can I do for you Mr. Johnson?”

Johnson grinned, “You can marry this silly young woman!” He pointed dramatically at America.

America’s eyes bugged, but England just chuckled as he wrapped his arms around her from behind. He rested his head on her shoulder, “I can do that.” England’s eyes twinkled mischievously. “However, her agreement IS required for that one.” He turned America around to face him, “Beloved, will you marry me?”

America blinked. The pause was long enough that president Johnson’s face fall as he lost hope. Then America threw her arms around England and kissed him soundly. “Absolutely!”