And then I go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like…
“Some party, huh?”
England turned to look at him, and America smiled as he settled against the wall next to England with his glass of wine. England shook his head and turned to look at the congregation again with a furrowed brow. America followed his gaze to where many of the others were drinking, dancing and generally having a good time. It came as no surprise to America that England was scowling in a dark corner instead.
“Quite.” England went quiet and America turned to look at him again. England swirled his glass, leaving America to wonder what number drink he was on, and then shifted away from the wall. “If you’ll excuse me, America, I need some fresh air.”
“Ah—wait, I’ll come with you!”
England gave him a funny look but didn’t comment, instead stepping away from the excitement to stand on the balcony instead. America followed and took a deep breath, the cool night air a relief. He turned to look at England, but immediately had to look away. The light of the moon was very flattering on England, emphasized by the fact that he was wearing a nice suit and had attempted to tame his wild hair.
“Shouldn’t you be back inside, America? I noticed you…dancing with Ukraine earlier. Poor girl looked terrified.”
America chuckled nervously, though he continued to stare intently at his wine. “What about you? Didn’t Prussia try to get you to leave to do something else instead? With more booze or something?”
England huffed. “There are very few things that would be less appealing to me than spending an evening with that idiot. But then, standing out here with you is hardly my idea of a perfect evening, either.”
America turned to look at England again, even knowing he shouldn’t, and he immediately regretted it. England had a small smile on his face, not malicious, and America stood staring, transfixed. England, in his nice suit with his attempt at tamed hair and the light of the moon shining on him just so and that smile—
He could say something sarcastic and snappy at England—that there was no better way to spend one’s evening than with a hero like him, for one thing—or he could say something cool and suave to make England melt. He’d practiced many times before, after all. He’d been practicing for just that kind of moment where they were alone together and England wasn’t angry at him so he could say just the right words that would communicate his feelings to England. Every time he thought about acting on his feelings, something would come up or he’d justify to himself why it wasn’t a good idea. England was much older than him, so he’d probably heard thousands of confessions and didn’t think anything of them anymore. England may have teased him and gotten flustered because of him, but that didn’t mean he was also in love.
But England looked perfect and he was perfect and America had to catch himself before his mind turned to mush and he started thinking about how England was wearing different cologne and it was only adding to the image he was projecting.
America opened his mouth, prepared to change the subject, but then England’s smile widened just a bit and America’s mind went into overdrive.
“I love you!!”
America froze and England froze, as well—at least at first. Then his eyes widened and his mouth fell open and the glass in his hand slipped out and shattered against the ground. The sound of breaking glass made them both snap to attention.
Rather than wait for England’s response, rejection or otherwise, America also dropped his glass before he turned and fled. It was the most uncool, not heroic thing he could possibly do, but he didn’t want to face the repercussions of ruining a perfectly good moment by saying something completely idiotic like that.