Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Russia was on a mission. It was a dark, dangerous mission- one that would hopefully be cloaked by the shadows of night- one that, if caught in the act, could cost him his job and life and any semblance of pride and dignity. Because here he was, preparing to climb up the castle walls, a delicate blue flower clutched in his hands.

Dipping his head, he took a deep breath, then gave the flower a gentle kiss. He stepped back, narrowing his eyes- before tossing the flower up. Miraculously, it landed on top of the wall and stayed there. That was good. A miracle was just what he needed. Perhaps twenty miracles, but all in due time.

Just as he was about to haul himself up- a voice from the other side of the wall said, "Woah! Magical appearing flower? Where'd you come from?"

There was the sound of a jump, and the heart-dropping sight of someone snatching away the flower.

Russia stared ahead blankly. Well... um... mission failed? Maybe now he could go back home.... get some sleep...?

No. He hadn't come this far just to turn away. So, with narrowed eyes, he took a deep breath and began scaling the stone wall, prepared for whatever flower-stealing demon awaited him on the other side. Once he reached the top, he jumped down into the darkness, landing rather roughly on the ground, and waiting.

And he didn't have to wait long.

Within moments, a slim shadow darted forward, wielding a sword and waving it around, "aHA! A robber? Not on my watch, you- oh. Wait. You're not a robber- you're the gardener."

Russia froze, face-to-face with Japan, the palace guard. She furrowed her brows, studying Russia, then glancing down at the flower in her hands. Then, it dawned on her.

"Oh... Oh!" With an excited gasp, she sprang forward, "You- you tried to climb up the wall and get into the castle and deliver this flower to someone special- a secret lover, perhaps?"

Russia choked on air, "N-no, we're not- there's no- it's not love!"

"Honey, you scaled a stone wall and risked getting sliced into bits by a guard, just because you wanted to deliver this tiny flower to someone. If that's not love, I don't know what is."

Russia drooped, ever so slightly, "Do you really think it's tiny?"

Japan squinted, studying the flower, "Well... it's small... and pretty I guess. In a 'peasant who has time to stare at every petal and dewdrop' way."

Russia sighed, "It's the same color as hi- as their eyes, I thought-"

"Honey, this mysterious lover of yours isn't going to look at a magically appearing flower and think 'Wow! That's the same color as my eyes! How lovely! I should find whoever gave me this and marry him!'"

Russia shifted awkwardly, "That's not what I'm expecting..."

"But it's what you've probably dreamed of. And love is but a dream that two people choose to come together and make a reality.”

Russia sighed. He hadn't even made it into the castle and he already felt like a stupid failure.

"Now, I'll tell you what..." Japan tilted her head, studying the flower, “You go into the castle and give this flower to the man of your dreams-“

“Man???” Russia nearly choked on air, “How do you know it’s a man?”

“You look gay. Anyways-“

Russia sputtered, reaching for some argument he couldn’t find.

“Anyways, tomorrow- you come back. With a bigger flower- something more romantic and direct, like a rose. You keep building it up, night by night, until you’re laying bouquets by his bed, and trust me, he will grow obsessed. He will have thoughts and eyes for no one else- he’ll travel to the ends of the Earth just to solve the mystery of who you are.”

Russia stared, “Uh- thank you, but- how will I get into the castle so many times?”

Japan smirked, “Leave it to me.”

“You’ll help me??” Russia asked, seeming a bit stunned.

“Love advice from the greatest, and a free nightly entrance into the castle-“

Russia’s eyes brightened.

“All for a tiny, little, itsy bitsy price.”

Russia sighed, eyes dulling again, “… what is it?”

“Tell me who has you so infatuated- who I’ll be working to pair you with.”

Russia looked away, “Guess.” He said, somewhat stiffly.

“Prince America.”

“How did you know????”

“Well, it couldn’t have been some servant cus you could just approach them at normal hours without skulking around in the dark- no one would mind a gardener and servant getting together- so it had to be someone higher up, more distant, someone socially forbidden. And, considering your age and- uh- preferences, one of the princes. Australia seems too eccentric for you. Canada seems too sweet and kind and ignorable- but America is bright and loud and flashy and dreamy- plus his eyes are the right color.” She nodded at the flower.

Russia sighed, picking up the little pale blue flower, taking a deep breath, “Is it really that obvious?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

Russia looked like he was regretting his life choices as he faced a door that would open the castle, and the first chapter of his love life.

“No turning back now. You better cause lots of romantic drama.” Japan smirked, before opening the door and shoving Russia in.

.

.

.

America yawned, lazily lying back in his bed, bedsheets and heavy quilt tangled around him, an unnecessarily large pile of pillows scattered around him. He was kinda just chilling, wide awake in the dark at this hour. He couldn’t sleep.

Ideally, he should be doing his work in every waking hour, but- eh- he was a procrastinator! And if what he was procrastinating was the fate of his kingdom- so be it.

As he sat there, silently procrastinating and thinking about how much he wanted a giant, fluffy dog to pet, there were footsteps coming down the hall. What kind of madman was awake at this hour?? … well, besides himself… and the night guards.

He sat up, and in the cover of darkness, a tall, shadowy figure appeared in his doorway, freezing and gazing straight ahead at the awake America.

Both stared, a moment longer, both wondering why the other was awake- before the figure dropped an object onto America’s desk and bolted.

“Hey!” America shouted.

But the figure had run out of the room and down the hall. America should have chased after them, and figured out who they were, but he was feeling pretty lazy, so instead, he reluctantly pushed down his warm blankets, shuffling over to his desk- where he found a single, tiny, pale blue flower.

At once, his mind was whisked away and swarmed with scenes of mystery and romance and some secret admirer, lurking around- who was this person? Was she an admiring servant, perhaps? Watching dreamily from afar? Or was she one of the palace guards, spending her life protecting this castle, now wanting to display her secret, protective love?

Was… was she even a woman? That figure seemed pretty tall, and America didn’t like the idea of a woman taller than him. A man, on the other hand….

America shook his head, as if he could shake away the intrusive thoughts. He couldn’t, so instead, he settled back into his warm, cozy bed, holding the flower by its delicate stem and staring at it.

He severely doubted he would be getting any sleep, anytime soon.

Chapter Text

"Dude." America leaned closer, voice dropped to a secretive whisper, his pale blue eyes wide with alarm.

Canada flinched, glancing back with a nervous look, "A-America, what is it?"

"Someone's in love with me." America whispered, voice filled with wonder, even as his eyes remained wide open, as if spooked.

Canada carefully blinked, his eyes glancing back and forth, as if searching for something he evidently didn't find, "... what makes you say that?"

"No, dude, so I was sleeping. Minding my own business, just sleeping, right?"

Canada nodded quickly.

"And then this- this entire person just. Comes into my room and plops down this. Tiny little flower."

Canada furrowed his brows, "Who was it?"

America leaned closer, voice nearly impossible to hear, "I have no idea."

"Didn't see their face?"

"It was night. What part of 'I was sleeping' do you not understand?"

"If you were sleeping than how did you see them come in?" Canada countered swiftly.

"I was supposed to be sleeping." America countered with a sheepish grin, "But dude, this is so cool! Someone's obsessed with me!"

Canada's face paled, "Someone's interested in you... clearly a bit withdrawn and private... but they were able to make it all the way to your room..." At once, he grabbed America's shoulders, red eyes wide with alarm, "America, this isn't safe! Who knows what this person has in mind? They could just be testing the waters and planning something bigger- we have to let Mom and Dad now and set up guards near your-"

"No way, dude!" America snapped, pulling away, "You're going to scare away my mysterious possible love interest! Don't tell anyone!"

"But America, this is dangerous! No one should be able to make it all the way to your room anyways!" Canada protested, "What were the guards doing?"

"... sleeping?"

Canada huffed, rubbing his temples, "America, please, you have to see this logically-"

"No way." America crossed his arms, offering a haughty sniff, "I think you're just jealous."

Canada stared, blankly, "... what?"

"You heard me right~" America replied in a sing-song voice, a grin stretched across his face as he tapped Canada's nose, "You're jealous, cause I'm so hot and awesome that someone's visiting me and leaving me flowers, while you're all alone-"

"You know-" Canada replied, a bit defensively, rubbing the spot where he'd been roughly tapped, "I actually prefer being alone in the safety of my own room at the dead of night. Away from creeping shadowy figures and incompetent guards."

America laughed, "Whatever, you can deny it all you want, but you're jealous, cause no one loves you!"

Canada looked away, biting his lip, "America, that's enough-"

"You're so bad at romance, dude, you need to start taking charge! Otherwise one day you'll be the one crawling around and leaving people flowers!"

Canada sighed, crossing his arms, "Are you done?"

"Think so."

"Okay. Good." Canada took a deep breath, "I won't tell Mom or Dad- but I will let Japan know-"

America inhaled sharply, about to intervene, but Canada beat him to it, "She'll remain quiet and watchful. If there is any kind of threat, or if she hears any kind of suspicious noise, she'll intervene- alright? Otherwise, you can.. continue your... little storybook romance."

"Jealous~" America smirked, leaning closer, "I have a secret admirer and all you have is Mom!"

Canada huffed, looking away, "Go brag to someone else. I'll bet you tell half the castle by night."

"if I go fast enough I can do it by afternoon!" America replied confidently, glancing back with a grin, "Gotta go, Can Man, see ya around, loser~"

With that, he gave a playful salute before childishly running off, eager to tell his great mysterious secret to at least fifty other people in the next hour. Canada sighed, his fingers moving up to rub at his nose, feeling a hint of pain. Maybe not there, where America had touched him, but somewhere deeper, at something America had said.

... was he jealous? Was he, really? He preferred feeling safe, preferred sleeping without knowing someone could come creeping into his room, but- a flower. A declaration of love, from someone. Done with such care and secrecy... it was romantic. It was beautiful.

When was the last time Canada had been part of a romance? The last time he'd had a set of eyes gazing lovingly upon him? The last time he'd been kissed by anyone besides his Mom? When he'd been younger, a little lovable boy, there had been sweet little girls they'd played with, the children of other noble families- but as they grew, the older they became, the more withdrawn they were, the girls becoming more coquettish and fake, eyes on his ranking, not him.

Was this person just hoping to snare America for wealth? Hoping to win him over by appealing to his swooning love for feeling like a main character? Canada knew he wasn't a main character, knew he was always on the side, the middle child, not the bold, brave oldest, not the sweet, loved youngest- but just once, he'd like to feel like he was on the spotlight. Just once, he'd like eyes on him. Just once, maybe, please just one time, one moment he could cherish for the rest of his life-

He didn't want to be alone.

.

.

.

Russia couldn't help feeling distracted as he tried focusing on work. Keyword: tried. Every time he lowered his head to focus on gently tending to a bush, every time he stood up and peeled off his gloves, every time he took a few steps back and studied a patch of dirt, tried considering what needed to be added to make something beautiful-

His gaze slowly, hesitantly trailed up, higher, towards a balcony three floors above him, so high up, so distant that he felt small and lowly. A little ant gazing up at a bird's nest, a hollow in the tree, the very tree that the ant built its pathetic little life around, the bird flew around with ease. Maybe if he worked hard enough, climbed high enough, he could find his way there. But he didn't belong there, did he? It wasn't his place.

Yet, his hands shook as he struggled to focus on patting the soil around a newly planted sapling flat, as he realized that somewhere inside the Prince's bedroom was a tiny, pale blue flower he'd tended to and carried and placed down with his own hands.

Had the Prince even noticed? Had he seen it? What had he thought? Surprise, maybe. Probably. Did he think it was romantic? Did he like that it was romantic? Did he want it to be romantic? What if the flower had been so tiny that he hadn't even noticed, hadn't even cared-

Or worse, what if he'd laughed at the pathetic naivety of someone offering a tiny blob of a feeble stem and delicate leaves and soft petals, what if he'd tossed it away without second thought, and there had been no impact. No whispers in his mind. No wondering about whoever had left behind the gift for him. Not a moment of consideration, hesitation.

If he didn't care, then it was over. And worse, how would he know? What if he went, night after night, following Japan's advice, and every night America ignored his advances? What if he grew mad, offended by his pathetically bold insistence? How would he know? It wasn't like news from the castle, from the tree, reached all the way to the ground quickly, or even at all, especially not something so secretive and-

"Russia!!!"

Russia was jolted from his thoughts, stiffening and whirling around, eyes wide- before relaxing at once, a hesitant smile crossing his features as Belarus ran up to him, her scarf tossed over her shoulders.

"Sister-" He dipped his head, "What is it?"

"Have you heard the rumors?"

Russia sighed, "Bela, you know I hate gossip. What is it this time? The Queen's makeup was a bit smudged? The King leaned against his cane too much? One of the nobles burped?"

"No, this is about Prince America!"

Russia perked up instantly, his eyes glowing.

"Hah!" Belarus gave him a playful shove, "I knew that would get you interested!"

Russia sighed, face flushed as he gazed down at his dirt-covered gloves, "Alright, alright- what is it?"

Belarus grinned, eyes bright as she leaned closer, "So apparently... last night... someone left a flower for him. In his bedroom."

Russia stared.

"I'm sorry brother, but there's someone else who really seems to like Russia- and that someone seems to have made quite an impact." Belarus laughed, "Maybe it's time to move your crush to a different unreachable noble- or, better yet, find someone else you can actually marry. Realistic goals, my brother. Realistic goals."

Russia bristled, feeling a strange, swooping sense of pride, and an odd need to claim this victory, "... that was me."

Belarus stared, "... what?"

"At night. I went to his room. I left the flower." Russia said in a quick, hushed voice.

Belarus gaped, eyes wide, "You could get in trouble!"

"It's fine, it's fine!" Russia held up his hands, "Japan agreed to help me!"

"Japan's helping you???" Belarus wailed, "Why? What's happening???"

"I don't know, I-" Russia hesitated, falling silent.

"Do you really think he'll... fall in love with you...?" Belarus asked warily, "Even if he likes the flowers, he doesn’t know they're from you. He probably doesn't even know you."

Russia huffed, "Yeah, yeah, don't remind me."

He glanced back at the dark, crumbly dirt that had been somewhat patted down around the sapling, before sighing and peeling his gloves off, tossing them out and taking a seat on the bench, Belarus lowering herself besides him.

"Brother, what are you doing..?" She asked in a quiet voice, "I thought you understood he was just a fantasy. Not real life. Not attainable."

Russia looked away, "I don't know." He admitted, "I don't know what I expect to happen. Don't even know what I want. I just... love him, that's all I know."

"But Russia-"

"Bela, please. I may not know what I'm doing, but I know it'll be fine. I'll stay safe, I'll-"

"I'm not scared of you being caught. I know you're smarter than that. Better than that." Belarus looked away, "I'm scared of him hurting you. He's rich, Russia. He's rich, and powerful, he- he's at the top, and we're at the bottom. We're nothing to him. Maybe something will come out of this, but maybe it's just a novelty to him. I don't want to see you get your hopes up, only for him to toss them all the way down, as if they're nothing. As if you're nothing. You're my brother, and you're an amazing person, and you don't have to try reaching him for that to be true- there are so many people- I know this really sweet serving girl, maybe if you two met-"

"Bela, stop. Please, just stop." Russia broke in, feeling almost betrayed by the onslaught of logical advice, "I- I just." he bit his lip, looking away, "Please, just let me do this. I want to. I need to. If I don’t, I'll spend my whole life wondering what could have happened. Wondering whether there could have been anything more."

Belarus frowned, slightly, nestling her face into her scarf as she considered this, "... be careful, please. You shouldn't let your life revolve around him, give him the power to... break you. He already has all the power he needs. He already-"

"Please, just stop." Russia tried.

"He's up there, Russia." Belarus turned to gaze at the balcony, "All the way up there. Don't you understand? I-"

Realization was starting to dawn on Russia's face, like the rising sun, harsh and searing and filled with light that shone on every shadow and dreamy night and revealed every painful truth, "... you think he's too good for me."

"Russia, listen, please-" Belarus protested, eyes flashing with a hint of alarm as Russia's eyes narrowed.

"You think he's too good for me, just because he's a Prince?" Russia's fingers curled into fists as his very own insecurities and worries were played out into the open air, as if they'd become the cold, unavoidable truth, "Well- well I may just be a poor, filthy gardener-"

"Russia, please-"

"But I love him for who he is, and he- he's kind, and nice, and funny, and he's a wonderful person, not just some figment of wealth and corruption- I love him, and I have as much of a chance as anyone else-" Russia insisted, voice low and angry, though there was a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, a flicker he did hs best to push down.

"Russia, I'm just trying to protect you!" Belarus protested, voice rising, "He's- he's at the top, and- I don't want you to try reaching him, and- and fall- you can't fall if you don't fly."

"We're already on the ground." Russia replied coldly, "What else is there to lose? What else is there to do? Marry some servant? As if that's my place? Mill around as if, just because I'm here, and he's there, everything's pointless? I love him, and I'll do whatever I can to reach him. I won't just sit back like you, as if it's my place to just be a nobody, as if it's my place to never get what I want, never even work for it."

Belarus was silent, for a long moment. Then, another whisper, "I'm just trying to be realistic.."

"Realistic?" Russia demanded, coldly, "I don't need you to stand here and tell me what the truth is. The world is what we choose for it to be."

"What if we don't have the power to choose?"

"We have as much power as we work towards! Instead of dragging me down, why can't you just let me be?" Russia snapped.

Belarus bit her lip, shifting nervously, before looking away.

Russia sighed, his gaze trailing across the rows of flowers and bushes, trees towering behind them like fences- his gaze trailing higher, and higher, up to the balcony, up to a world, far above, that one day. Maybe, just maybe. If he worked hard enough, loved hard enough, believed hard enough- a world that could be his. That could be theirs.

.

.

.

America sat at his balcony, idly twirling the flower between his fingers, chin resting on the edge of his armchair as he sat backwards on it, gazing down at the garden.

He could hear shouts. Poor people fighting. Poor people fought a lot, he'd learned. Being poor probably just sucked.

Today, it was the gardener and a girl who was probably his sister. What were their names...? The gardener was... Russia. Yes, America had heard of him before, passing a few times in some conversations on the castle staff.

The voices were getting louder, and America knew he should probably just go inside, but it was past the afternoon, he'd reached his quota of telling half the palace about how awesome and loved he was, and he was feeling pretty tired and bored. Nothing a bit of drama couldn't fix.

"What else is there to lose? What else is there to do? Marry some servant? As if that's my place? Mill around as if, just because I'm here, and he's there, everything's pointless? I love him, and I'll do whatever I can to reach him."

America perked up instantly. The gardener-Russia-dude was in love, with someone up there... up where? America watched him gesture in a direction, towards the palace, evidently not noting him pointing at the balcony. And he was determined. He was poor, but he wasn't letting that get to him! He wasn't depressed and moody!

That was... pretty cool. America could respect that. Possibly.

He hummed thoughtfully to himself, twirling the stem back and forth between two fingers as he watched the gardener and his sister fall silent. The gardener had some spunk, that was for sure. He had a personality. Well- he was, afterall, a person. A person named Russia. He was right outside of America's window...

America sat up straighter as the sister hesitantly left, and Russia turned back to his plants. He glanced down at his little blue flower, then, further down at the distant shape that was Russia.

He was intrigued. And, he was no longer bored. Most of his energy to bounce around and scream about his secret mysterious romantic admirer had faded into the weariness of afternoon. He was curious, and content enough to lean the front of his body against the back of his armchair, and watch Russia quietly move around the garden, tending to each and every plant with gentleness and care, an almost absentminded grace.

The garden was pretty- he could appreciate the towering trees, filled with glistening green leaves and wide spread branches- sheltering colorful flowers that hesitantly peeked towards the light. He'd strolled along those paths before, but it was easier to notice the little details as he watched the man tend to his plants, realizing that everything in the garden was under his thoughtful command, the strange power to mold dirt and seeds into something bright and beautiful.

America tilted his head, quiet thoughts flickering through his mind. He glanced down at his blue flower, his eyes then landing on a little clump of similarly colored flowers at the edge of the garden.

Hm...

Chapter Text

America snuggled up into his blankets, contentedly closing his eyes- before remembering that he was not entirely content. He was anxious, and excited, and confused, and hopeful, and above all, he was wondering- wondering and dreaming about Mr. Mysterious Person Who Gave Him Flowers.

... he needed a shorter title. Mr. MPWGH. That didn't even sound good, maybe more vowels.... what words started with vowels? Mr. Mysterious Flower Human. Mr. MFH. Like mfffffhhhh- a kind of muffled noise- some kind of metaphor for secrecy- America didn't know. If it worked, it worked. And if it distracted him and made him spend more time while he sat here, waiting for Mr. MFH, then it also worked.

... when had he decided that the person was male, again? They'd been tall... and that was pretty much all it took. America was slightly intimidated by the idea of a freakishly tall woman creeping around and watching him sleep- but a tall, strong man, softened by love, watching him with gentle, loving eyes- the idea that he could turn someone from big, buff, and stoic, to a soft, mushy mess-

America rolled around, hugging a pillow to his chest and nuzzling his face into it. God, he wanted to meet this man so much- there was every chance it was some creep illegally breaking into the palace and entering his bedroom at night, but if it was a hot creep....

America pressed his face further into the pillow, whining like a child- he was tired, and sore all over, and he wanted to sleep, but he couldn't sleep anyways, he hardly slept, and he wanted to be here in the magical moment where the mysterious figure returned- he wanted to find out who it was, or at least wanted to sit there and watch with wide eyes, part of him feeling that, by being there, by being awake, he'd be letting Mr. MFH know he was noticed, know that America wanted him here-

America sighed happily, rolling onto his back and stretching out his limbs and feeling that beautiful pulling feeling, right at his joints, the feeling of actually moving, of pushing himself to his pathetic limits as he should be. He really should be more active, but-

He rolled around, onto his stomach, blearily sticking out his tongue. He was a lazy boy. And he was fine with that. He was, afterall, a Prince- something flashed into his mind as he sat up, eyes wide with alarm. This man.. what if he just loved him because America was a prince? Just because he was rich? What if he was doing all this wonderfully romantic stuff to lure America in, and trap him- the same thing so many foreign suitors had failed to do? How would he be able to tell- he'd practically fallen for this man already, and he hadn't even seen him yet!

One flower! One, tiny, measly flower? Was that all it took to win over America's love?? No. America was rich, and powerful, and funny, and quirky, and lovable- he wouldn't be bought with something so feeble and cliché and... so goddamn romantic and mysterious.

With a groan, he hugged his knees to his chest, burying his face into his hands- almost missing the slow click, click, click.. heeled boots slowly striking the ground.... America looked up at once. Darkness. Dim light. A shadow approaching. A tall shadow. A familiar shadow. A shadow that stared at him, silently, pausing- before almost bowing, and dropping something onto his desk.

America stared with stunned silence as the figure slowly backed away, blush slowly crossing his features. The tall... shadowy... mysterious man, he- was walking away.

"W-wait!" America leapt up, "Can I at least have your-"

At once, the figure bolted, America all-but screaming in frustration, stomping his feet against the ground- before whirling around and freezing as his gaze landed on the object on his desk. A rose. A deep, blood-red rose. The most traditionally romantic thing in existence.

Still, as America cradled the rose to his chest- he felt something bright, eager, hopeful, twisting through him. Excited dreams for something new.

.

.

.

"I just...." Russia exhaled deeply, slumping down.

He'd retreated to the wall for his break- sitting down besides Japan, "It's fine Russia- you're doing great." She offered him a reassuring smile, "You've really caught his attention."

Russia hesitated, "Do you think he'd feel the same way about me... if he knew I was... a gardener?" He glanced down at his hands, smudged all over with dirt.

Japan gave him a gentle look, "Come on, Russia- once he really falls for you, it won't matter who you are. He'll love you the same way you love him."

Russia looked away, "And how long does this go on? When do I know I can stop... lurking around in the shadows, and actually.... be... with him?"

"You'll know when the time is right-" Japan tapped her chin thoughtfully, "Normally someone will... send a letter or something, but considering America... I don't know what to expect. I'm sure it'll be fine though, he's pretty easy to read."

Russia sighed, leaning back, "I guess you're right... it'll be fine, won't it?"

"Of course. It'll be fine."

.

.

.

America was boldly walking down the hall, head held high, eyes bright, rose tucked behind his ear- so what if it made him look gay? With all honesty, the assumption wouldn't be too far-off...

He hummed happily to himself as he turned the corner- pausing as his eyes met Canada's, "Oh! Hey!" He offered a wave, "Dude, you'll never believe what ha-"

"Shh!!" Canada hissed, grabbing his shoulders, "Did you hear?"

"H-hear what?" America blinked, drawing back slightly, "What happened?"

Canada's voice dropped even lower, leaning closer, "Don't panic... and don't tell anyone that you know, but... dad's planning on marrying you off."

"What?????"

"He- he found a kingdom- I don't know which yet, but apparently he really likes them, and wants you to marry their princess- and this isn't, like, an open offer- he's actually planning on marrying you off."

America gaped, hands trailing up the side of his face, fingers brushing against the rose, "B-but- it's a woman???"

Canada nodded, eyes wide, "I walked into Mom's room- she was writing out a guest list for parties we're throwing for them and all that, and she told me- I-" He looked away, "Maybe.... maybe you should stop it, with your secret... admirer. Person, I mean." Canada's expression softened, "This could actually be a good oppurtunity- a princess- she's probably amazing if even Dad is so intent on it- normally he hates anyone... from anywhere..."

America scoffed, "You think I'm going to give up on my mysterious, dramatic, secret admirer for some rich, spoiled lady?"

"You're a rich spoiled man! At least you know who you'll be getting with- this- this admirer could be anyone, trying to do anything- this is for your own safety, and happiness. At the very least, you can count on her to be loyal and treat you well, even if she's not- ... America?"

America had already turned away, mind spinning, "What if- what if I scare her off, like I did my other suitors? What if I use horrible manners, and- and burp at the table, and do stupid things, and roll around in the mud, and put worms in her bed, and- then she won't want me! She can't want me if I do all that....? Right?"

Canada stared, "So that's what you did to get rid of Saudi...."

"He was asking for it-" America winced, "Bro was way too cringy.... and he acted like an old person-"

Canada scoffed, shaking his head, "Okay, I just- decided to let you know in advance, okay, so... whatever you need to do-" he gestured vaguely, "Do it, I guess, preferably without shaming our kingdom- or putting bugs in the beds of royalty."

America nodded, "No worries, I'm using a snake instead."

Canada gaped, before sighing and looking away, "You know what? I'm not getting caught up in all this- just... do what you think is best- and don't tell Britain that you know, okay? I wasn't supposed to tell you."

America nodded, drawing his fingers across his lips in a zipping motion- Canada relaxing. As soon as he stepped out of view, America lifted his fingers and slowly unzipped his mouth.

"Show time..."

.

.

.

"Dad!!!!!!" America screamed, bursting into the throne room, Britain flinching back-

"Jesus Christ, America, there's something called knocking a door-"

"Dude!!!" America stomped up to the throne, Britain tensing, shifting his position from casual lounging to a more stiff seated position, "You're trying to marry me off???"

Britain paused, "Who told you that? Canada?"

"You think I'm too stupid to figure out on my own?"

"So it was him..." Britain sighed, "I told France not to tell him- he's a good boy, but he can really run his mouth sometimes..." He sighed yet again, fixing America with a cold look, "Though not as much as you."

"Dad, what the heck???" America demanded, "I don't want to marry some random princess!"

Britain leaned back, elegantly arching an eyebrow, "You know you'll be in a political marriage eventually- why not now?" His gaze softened, growing somewhat more distant and dreamy, "And anyways.... this is a wonderful family... leading a wonderful kingdom..."

France glanced over at him, scowling slightly. It was clear that whoever this wonderful kingdom was, she wasn't all too fond of Britain's infatuation-

"And anyways, with all the rumors flying around about this secret lover of yours-"

"He's not my lover!" America protested- before pausing, "Well not yet, but he will be soon! He's- super awesome, and mysterious, and romantic, and he's been leaving me flowers-"

"He could be a serial killer for all we know! Or worse- one of the servants!" Britain shuddered, "I am offering you another royal! Someone intelligent, and dignified, and befitting of a prince such as you! Remember your place, America, remember your purpose."

America glared, "Oh yeah? She may be befitting of me, but I'll make sure she knows I'll never be befitting of her!" He released a furious screech, whirling around and stomping out of the throne room, the guards awkwardly opening the door as he stormed outside.

France glanced over, "Do you think he even knows what the word befitting means....?"

.

.

.

"What? What is that??"

"You were talking about letters as the next step in a relationship-" Russia explained as he jotted something down on his scrap of parchment, Japan leaning over his shoulder and trying to read.

"It's been two days, Russia... you're moving too fast..."

"It's nothing big, I swear!" Russia held up the paper, "It's just a small letter- with a heart- and 'I love you' written on it... a few times..."

Japan leaned back with a more relaxed smile, "Okay... that's cute, but where do you think this will go?"

"I'll write bigger, and more romantic letters-"

"I mean from his side? This has to become reciprocated at some point!"

"I guess... maybe he'll write back..."

"How? He doesn't know where to find you... and you don't want to make a move and reveal a location too early..."

Russia furrowed his brows, considering, "Maybe when he feels ready, he'll leave a letter on the desk.. so when I drop off a flower, I can take it..."

"And what if he takes advantage of the oppurtunity and grabs you?"

Russia shook his head, "I'll be quick- he's usually half asleep when I come around, everything should be fine."

Japan nodded slowly, "Okay... just be careful... I want a really good romcom out of this, okay? You hafta make this last."

Russia smirked, rolling his eyes, "Right, right, you're just here for the drama- well I'll be sure to get you plenty of that-"

Japan smiled, "You better-" She stood up, dusting herself off, "Good luck with the prince-"

"I don't need luck-" Russia sighed, flopping onto his back in the grass with a dreamy smile, "When I can have love-"

Chapter Text

Russia stepped into the America's room, carefully, squinting and trying to make out the outline of the other person through the darkness. His shoulders slumped with relief as his eyes finally traced over the bundled up lump on the bed- slowly, slightly rising and falling with every breath- gentle snores leaving his mouth.

Asleep. Finally. How wonderful- trying to stay up early had clearly exhausted him....

With a smile, Russia gently placed down today's gift, nearly giggling as America let out an especially loud snore. Briefly, he glanced back at the bed, at the curled up shape that was America- his impulses taking the better of him as he slowly walked up to the bed, eyes wide as he leaned closer, slowly reaching out a hand-

"aHa!" America's hand shot out, grabbing Russia by the wrist, "Got you, Mr. MFH!!"

What???? Panic, terror, blush from the close contact, and above all- confusion flashed through Russia, eyes wide- this was too early, way too early-

"Uhhhh- lemme just-" America blindly prodded at the wall, trying to find the light switch, "I need to.... if I just- you stay still, uh-"

Russia blinked, slowly furrowing his brows as America took longer and longer to turn off the lights- with a sigh, he wrenched his arms away, America releasing an alarmed yelp as he bolted. Part of him, in that moment, wanted to freeze at the mournful sound America made- wanted to stop and be revealed and spend the night with America but it was too soon, he needed to play it safe-

America finally found the light switch, flinching as he flicked the switch, light instantly flooding the dark room, chasing away all the shadows- and Mr. MFH. Mr. MFH was gone too.... but-

America perked up as he spotted a little bouquet of tiny, white daisies, tied together neatly with a piece of red ribbon, and- a letter??

Interest instantly piqued, America hopped off the bed, making his way to the table- holding up the flowers and carefully opening the folded piece of parchment- at once, his eyes were assaulted with a cluttered mess of hearts drawn in dark ink, paired with the words 'I love you, I love you, I love you', written everywhere- never mind that anyone else might consider this creepy stalker behavior- someone loved him- with such deep passion and emotion that it spilled onto the page in such a heartfelt manner-

America swooned, flopping onto his back on the bed, kicking his legs and hugging the flowers to his chest- feeling his heart pounding faster and faster, face heating up, a ridiculously stupid smile crossing his features-

I love you too, Mr. MFH....

.

.

.

"It's real, it's absolutely real- it's love!" America squealed, eyes bright and dreamy, Canada giving him a slightly concerned look, "If he was just doing this for money, or my rank, he would have done something fake- nothing this emotional and honest!"

Canada squinted down at the peace of parchment, covered with scribbled hearts and 'I love you's. It looked like a mess, the poor sheet of paper drowning in this person's supposed affection- yet, it did seem genuine enough. Desperate, maybe.

"It's beautiful..." America sighed, smiling down at the daisies. Canada opted to remain silent as the two stepped out into the light, walking besides eachother on the path into the garden, "Anyways, what's up with yooouu~?"

Canada rolled his eyes, "Nothing that could even start to compare to your wonderous love life-"

America smirked, "And you know it- this is awesome because I'm awesome-"

Canada's gaze lowered to the ground, trailing over a bush filled with pink roses, briefly wondering what it would be like for someone to give him a flower, declare their love- I don't want a flower anyways- he thought bitterly, for a brief moment.... before imagining holding the delicate stem, fingers brushing against the soft petals, looking up to meet the gentle, loving eyes of another person who loved him-

"I kinda wanna get him a flower too-" America blinked curiously at some five-petalled white flowers, dusted with deep blue speckles, "But I dunno how I'd give him one...."

Canada offered a distracted nod.

"What flower's are romantic? I don't wanna be super cliché like a rose- but something recognizable so he knows I like him back- maybe then he'll stop hiding..." America mused, coming to a stop in front of a clutter of six-petalled, deep pink flowers, "These are pretty."

"Orchids." A voice behind them said.

Both princes whirled around, eyes wide as Russia stood there- his dramatic, 'I'm behind you' voice quickly simmered down into social anxiety, "U-um- they're orchids. Very nice flowers, if you wanted to give them to someone- that is what you want to do.... right?"

America nodded, eyes wide, "D-Dude, I have this super cool secret admirer who leaves me flowers, and now a note-" He grabbed Russia's hand, the latter flushing as he was tugged closer, the parchment shoved in his face, "Look-"

Russia nodded slowly, "Whoever that is must really love you... truthfully and with pure genuity.... such emotions should be reciprocated..."

"Yeah, totally, dude!" America grinned.

"U-um... so, what do you think about.... this guy...?" Russia mumbled, starting to fidget, "Is this... moving you, at all? What do you think abou-?"

"What do you want?"

Now Canada, America, and Russia whirled around, eyes wide.

Belarus stood there, arms crossed, eyebrows raised, expression venemous.

"Who are you....?" America furrowed his brows, offering a puzzled look.

She scowled, grabbing Russia by the arms, "His brother-"

Russia gave her an almost pleading look as she glared at America, "What do you want??? Hurry up, he has work to do-"

"U-um- I was just thinking maybe I wanted to get my secret admirer a flower or gift-" His voice dropped, lower as if seeking out secrecy, yet loud enough that everyone could hear him clearly, "As soon as he's close enough, I'll turn on the light and see his face-"

Russia nodded, slowly, in appreciation of America's proud, excited face- handing over a pink orchid, "I'm certain this plan of yours will definitely succeed...."

.

.

.

America was curled up in bed, nearly trembling with pure anticipation, closing his eyes tightly- any moment now he'd hear footsteps, and see that figure enter his room- this time he'd felt out where the light switch was- this time. He was prepared. And he would succeed. Russia had given him a pretty orchid to leave on the table, agreeing that his mysterious admirer would feel it as he placed down his flowers, and certainly be distracted enough by it for America to have time to turn on the lights-

Nothing could go wrong. America was finally going to figure out the identity of Mr. MFH, and the two would solidify their love, and America would carry him bridal style into the throneroom and declare their marriage and screw whatever fiancé Britain had for him, because America was in love and someone loved him back and everything was about to be wonderful-

The familiar sound of beautiful, familiar footsteps began echoing through the ground, seeming so much more loud, so much more shaking in the darkness and silence and strange solemnity of night- America tensed, nearly squealing, bunching his fingers into excited fists, resisting the urge to tremble- he had to play it cool- not fake sleeping like he had before, but- sitting up, seeming casual, as if waiting for Mr. MFH to drop off the flowers- no hidden agenda- of course not- no agenda-making had taken place- there was no agenda-

America nearly gasped as he saw the shadowy outline appearing at the doorway- soon enough, this man would cease to be a shadow, a simple figment of his lack of sleep, a wistful, distant shape that came and went and left behind a trail of flowers and love- soon enough, he would look this man in the eyes, and hold him close, and hear his voice, and maybe figure out whether he was actually a man, and what his real name was-

But he was getting ahead of himself here- Mr. MFH approached the table- slowly- America's shoulder shifting, hand prepared to reach out and turn on the light switch, as soon as needed to bring his love into light- America could see him place down the bundle of flowers- could see him draw back slightly-

"A-HA!" At once, America shot forward, flicking up the light switch- the sudden flood of searing white brightness blinding even himself for a moment- as he rapidly blinked away the light, his gaze landed on...

A dude?? Wearing a black cloak and hood, with a black cloth mask covering his face-

"Hey! No fair!!" America whined, jumping out of bed- the figure flinching back, blinking in a dazed manner, before simply backing away. America pouted, "Dude- don't leave me again- can't you just tell me who you are? I'm not gonna hurt you, or anything- I just wanna know-"

The figure tilted his head, as if considering for a moment- before snatching up the orchid and bolting. America yelped, chasing after him for a moment before pausing, a disappointed sigh escaping him as Mr. MFH disappeared, once again, into the darkness.

He turned away, expression brightening a bit as he spotted the three tulips- yellow, pink, and blue- on the table, tied together with a sleek white ribbon, a folded piece of parchment attached-

He stepped forward, picking up the flowers and leaning them against his chest, fidgeting with the ribbon as he freed the paper, unfolding it- and nearly gasping as his eyes scanned a much longer letter, filled with scrawling words-

'I love you, you're so beautiful, I could listen to your voice all day, watch you smile all day, I want to see you happy, want to see you feel loved, want to see you love me, you're an angel-'

America wheezed, releasing a noise similar to a boiling tea kettle as he stiffly flopped onto his bed, staring with huge eyes at the letter, teeth gritted with the effort to hold back weird happy noises-

Then, he began to squeal, rolling back and forth across his mattress with utter glee, blushing and kicking his legs-

"America, what the fuck."

America froze, looking up- Canada stood in the doorway, looking exhausted, shadows under his eyes, squinting through the light, "Turn off the lights- and stop making weird noises, we're trying to sleep-"

America sat up, eyes wide, "C-Canada- look-"

He held up the paper, sighing and scanning through it- pausing as his eyes processed the words in front of him, an undecipherable emotion crossing his features, "... wonderful. Now go back to sleep."

"It's beautiful!" America swooned, snatching the letter away and flopping back onto the bed, kicking his legs and screeching, "He loves me, he loves me, he loves me!"

"You don't even know who he is! Why is this making you so happy, he could just be some creep for crying out loud-"

"He's wonderful, he's romantic, he's mysterious, and he knows how to communicate!"

"He's creeping around in the dark and leaving flowers and letters. That's not proper communication."

"You just don't understand romance!" America scoffed, "Listen to this- You are larger than life, so distant yet so near as I reach out to you- the light flows around you, from you, and in your shadow, hopelessly yet without despair, I revolve around you, content to be small in the face of you, content to be nobody near you, for compared to you, I could never hope to be anything more than desperately in love-"

Canada stared, blankly, before looking away with a scowl, "I-It's not that cool, he's just being dramatic-"

"Exactly! He has a flair for the drama! I'm the loud theater person, he's the graceful poet, I'm the actor- the muse- he's the writer, the painter- it's meant to be!"

"Well, he already loves you, so.... I don't see why you two haven't just met face-to-face yet. This all seems unnecessary."

"He's obviously just too cool for that. I'll get him eventually-"

"... can you just go to bed?"

"I can't sleep-" America sighed dramatically, "Not with this beautiful, truthful thing in my face-"

"Can you at least turn off the light?"

"No!! I shall never return to the darkness!"

"Good grief..." Canada sighed, rubbing his temple, "Just-" He hesitated as America rolled away, his gaze trailing over his brother's exhilarated face, "... okay, just keep your voice down so we can sleep- good luck with him, I guess...."

America offered no reply, hugging the letter to his chest, eyes tightly closed, lips turned upwards into a blissful smile.

.

.

.

America giggled, all-but skipping along the path, turning to skip backwards so he could face Russia as the two walked through the garden, "It was just amazing, the letter, I- I love him so much! And he loves me so much! It's all so awesome! We're so awesome!"

Russia offered a gentle laugh, "And how did trying to catch him go?"

America sighed, "He had a mask on, like he knew what I was about to do- like he heard my plans- crazy, right?"

Russia nodded with a knowing smile, "Yeah, crazy..."

"It's just such an amazing letter.... if I could find this guy, and be with him, and spend time with him, and just really get to know him, I think everything could be perfect. I think I could really love him. I cou- what's wrong? Why's your face so red?"

"H-huh-? Oh-" Russia rubbed his cheek self-consciously, America grinning, "Uhhh- just- I was in the sun for too long-"

"C'mon then!" America grabbed his wrist, dragging over to a nearby tree, "Let's rest in the shade-"

"B-but- I have work to do, I- I can't-" Russia stammered, eyes fixated on their intertwined hands, face somehow more red despite the fact that they'd moved into the shade.

"I'm the Prince, and I'm giving you an order-" America chided, hands on his hips.

"O-okay...." Russia blinked, eyes wide, before the two carefully settled into the grass- America looked around with eyes full of wonder, gazing up at the tree's outstretched branches, decorated with leaves that shifted and dappled in the gentle breeze, hints of golden light shining through at every turn, everything so alive, and shining- his hands pressed into the ground below him, the soft blades of grass, and softer, crumbly soil below-

Russia stared at the mystified look on the Prince's face. He wasn't just some rich brat, he could recognize the beauty of nature, and appreciate it, and- and he was inches away from Russia, and- and-

America stretched his jaws into a wide yawn, "I'm kinda sleepy-"

Russia gave him a gentle, sympathetic look, "Didn't sleep much last night, did you?"

"I couldn't-" America pouted, "Not after all that..."

"Maybe your secret admirer should leave you alone so you can get some sleep..." Russia mused playfully.

"No, no!" America gasped, "He can't leave! If he leaves I'll never sleep again-"

"Woah, calm down-" Russia cautiously patted him on the shoulder, "It's fine- you're fine-"

America blinked, sighing and leaning against the tree, "I just- I wanna keep getting flowers and letters- I wanna keep knowing that someone loves me-"

"Lots of people love you, America. You're a Prince."

"I know, but not like this- they'd give me gifts, and come from other kingdoms, but none of it was real and genuine- they all just wanted money or ranking or trade agreements, and- I don't want that- I want someone who really loves me just because they do, someone who'll try reaching me and caring for me even if they don't think they can get anything out of it-"

"Well." Russia smiled, "Seems like you've found that person."

America smiled back, eyes bright, yet soft with hints of exhaustion, "Yeah.... I guess I have."

He curled up against the tree, eyelashes fluttering down, "just gonna... take a quick nap... being the most loved person ever is- kinda exhausting-"

"I know." Russia leaned back, watching as America drifted off into sleep- his face growing calm, a satisfied smile still on his face-

Russia bit his lip, trying to keep himself under control- slowly, he reached out a hand, nearly sobbing as his fingers brushed against America's soft skin, against the side of his cheeks- and slowly, he placed a gentle kiss to his forehead, "I love you, my angel..."

He leaned back against the tree, close enough that their shoulders brushed together, his eyes fixated on the man that finally- finally he could be close to- everything inside of him fizzing with love and excitement-

They stayed like that for an hour, at least, Russia certain he could spend his whole life simply gazing down at this man, America certain he could spend his whole life napping in the shade of a tree-

Until another shadow fell over them- Russia looking up, eyes wide as a guard stepped forward, abruptly reaching out, grabbing America's shoulder and shaking him back and forth-

Russia yelped, standing up and jumping to the side, the guard ignoring him as America woke up with a screech.

"Prince America. The King and Queen are requesting your presence. Your fiancé and her family from the Spanish Kingdom have arrived."

Chapter Text

"W-wait, but- I was just-" America jogged alongside the guards who took wide, striding steps- he urgently glanced back again and again at Russia, who stood with visible shock, still under the shade of the tree, left behind in the shadows, "U-um-"

"Hurry, you're already an hour late- everyone was looking for you!" One of the guards huffed.

"Well you should've looked faster, or maybe someone should have maybe let me know what was going on? Honestly!"

"If you'd known, would you have refrained from wandering off, and actually gotten there on time?" One of the guards asked incredulously.

America offered a sheepish shrug, "Maybe?"

The guard sighed, "Just- get inside, and make a good impression."

"I know, I know, you don't have to baby me-"

"Do I?"

"No. No you don't." America sighed, pushing open the double doors to the throne room, "Wassup, people?"

At the center of the room was a small congregation- Britain, France, and King Spain had been in the middle of some conversation over what looked suspiciously like a treaty paper- because obviously, they were selling him for a piece of paper and some words in ink- and to Spain's right, was some.... woman. Her flag was red, white, and green, with a brown eagle in the center, and damn if America didn't love eagles, but-

Her light green eyes met him- she was pretty, elegant, sophisticated, with a perpetually bored face- probably not because everything was boring- but because she was the boring one- she looked like she read biographies and did sewing and tapestries and woke up early every morning and dusted the house even if there wasn't any dust-

Spain and Britain stood up at the same time, exchanging smiles at the gesture- France scowling in the background- before Spain stepping forward and enthusiastically shaking America's hand, "Ah, so this is the handsome Prince- I've heard plenty about you from your parents- though, I wouldn't say it was all the most flattering-" He teased, voice dropping.

America blinked, before slowly squirming his hand out of the grip, "U-uh- yeah- you too-"

Spain stared blankly, his charming smile dropping.

"What my son means to say-" Britain swept forward quickly, "Is that he apologizes for arriving so late and certainly has a reason to do so, yet is willing to accept all blame for the presumptuousness he showed by putting other things above this meeting."

"What are you, a mindreader?" Spain smirked, Britain's lips curving into a smile- 'Dad is smiling, what the fuck, I have never seen Dad smile', America gaped at them with huge eyes.

"And, of course- the Princess!" Britain stepped forward eagerly, gently tapping the woman on the shoulder, as if signifying America of her existence, "This is Princess Mexico of the Spanish Kingdom."

She dipped her head, eyelashes fluttering down as she held up the skirt of her dress and dipped into a low bow, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Your Majesty."

"Ehhh- I wouldn't be so sure of that-" America rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

She gave him a half-puzzled, half-outraged look, sticking her little nose in the air and turning away, "Are simple niceties too much for you to handle? A simple it's a pleasure to meet you too?"

"Unlike you, I'm not a liar-" America scoffed.

Mexico's eyes flashed, "I didn't lie! Unlike you, I'm not an arrogant, stuck up, spoiled little brat who thinks he owns the world and can ignore people for no good reason!"

"Hey! At least I'm not some basic, boring princess-"

"Oooohh, let me guess, you're sooo special and quirky because you don't follow society's rules- all I see is a pig lacking any basic manners and decency! I hope you die alone!"

"In case you haven't noticed, we're getting married- if I die alone, it's because you died first!"

"Or maybe it's because I abandon your pathetic ass in my last moments and find a guitarist to replace you with!"

"A guitarist??? You think a guitarist is better than me???" America could have accepted her hate- but the idea of being replaced by some sleazy guitarist with a stupid accent and stubble and dark, twinkling eyes-

"Anyone's better than you!"

"Then I have a proposition-" America's voice dropped, shifting into his diplomatic tone, "You tell your father you don't want to marry me- I tell mine I don't want to marry you- if we're both unwilling then, really, they're not going to force us into it-"

Mexico elegantly arched an eyebrow, considering for a moment, pursing her lips, ".... no-"

"What??" America gaped, "Why not? You hate me, I hate you-"

Mexico shrugged, "I enjoy arguing with you and look forward to the prospect of making your life a living hell." America sputtered "And you're not that ugly to look at- and considering any other political marriages I might be pushed at, having a father-in-law who adores me more than he cares about his own son is a bonus-"

America stared at her, "You're just doing this to make me suffer."

"Don't flatter yourself- I get to make you suffer and live my best life here- a double-edged sword, I suppose."

Britain took a slow sip of tea as America fumed in the background, "Someone with fire and unapologetic brutality. Lovely. You raised her well."

Spain smirked, leaning casually against his seat, "They'll be a wonderful couple- for entertainment purposes, at least-"

As the two chatted and joked, Britain's usually stiff and meticulous positions relaxed into something more calm and content- France scowled from besides them, carefully adjusting her tiara and glaring silently at the wall. To her right, Canada gave her a sympathetic look, his eyes then moving to Mexico and America.

So this is what happens to politically arranged partners. There's always someone they like more, someone they were meant to be with- someone gets hurt.

His gaze couldn't help but harden as it fixed on Britain, who made no attempt to hide how he leaned closer and closer to Spain the more he talked, the two growing more loud and rambunctious, if such a word could ever apply to him-

"Dad-" America suddenly pulled out of.... strategically retreated from.... his argument with Mexico, heading over to Britain and interrupting his escalated chat with Spain.

"What??" Britain demanded, a scowl crossing his features

America leaned closer, voice dropping into a whispered whine, "Dad, she's an arrogant, insensitive, rude and stupid little jerk-"

"So you two are similar! How lovely."

America groaned, "Dad, please- why are you doing this to me??? I already have someone I want to be with-"

"Your stalker?" Britain scoffed.

"Stalker?" Spain sat up, eyes wide, "Someone's stalking the prince??"

Britain's eyes flashed, and he slipped on a friendly smile, "Of course not, everything's fine-" He gave America a sharp look, quickly drawing his finger across his lips as if to say shut up and don't say anything stupid. Which was a nice warning, despite the fact that America never shut up and always said something stupid, "How about you and the Princess take a moment to get to know eachother.... somewhere else. Show her around!"

"Take me to your room." Mexico crossed her arms, "I wish to have deeper insight into what kind of person you are."

America huffed, rubbing his temples, "There's something called privacy-"

With a sharp, sweeping motion, she drew out her fan and spread it, America flinching back, "If we are to be wed, I want to know everything about you- now!"

As America was all-but shoved off, he glanced back desperately at Britain who, for his part, offered a smug smile and light wave.

"This is going to end wonderfully."

.

.

.

"Unmade bed." Mexico muttered with distaste, slowly walking around his bedroom, "Tacky tapestry. Clashing color scheme. Too many soft and squishy things. This looks like the room of a barely matured child who has yet to learn how to take care of himself."

"I don't need to take care of myself- everyone takes care of stuff for me!"

"Precisely. You're a giant child."

America scowled, "Yeah, so tell your dad you don't want to-"

"It's adorable." Mexico stepped daintily around the room, peering at a half empty bookshelf.

America gaped, "What???"

"Much better and more enjoyable than being with a strong, tall, aggressive male who would possibly beat me into submission if need be." She hummed thoughtfully, drawing her finger along the shelf, seeming pleased at the small layer of dust, "I think I would enjoy taking care of you." She smiled and sat on the edge of his bed, "I'm staying."

"Dude! No-" America whined, "You're doing this to spite me- you hate me!"

"Maybe, but this is a good opportunity.." She fanned herself, eyes scanning the room with an analytical eye, landing on the little pile of flowers and parchment, "What's this?" She asked, curiously picking up one of the letters.

"Hey!!!" America dove forward, pushing her hand away, "No! Don't look at those! That's private!"

Mexico slowly, elegantly arched an eyebrow, "I'm your future wife. I think I have a right to see."

"No!!" America wailed, flopping weakly onto his back on the bed, expression beyond despairing, "Don't- just- leave me alone-"

Mexico gave him a surprisingly sympathetic look, "You'll be fine. This won't be too bad."

America sniffled, "Y-you don't understand- I don't want this at all- I wanna find someone I love-"

"I could love you, if need be- you could love me too. Even just as close friends, the longer we spend time together-"

America shook his head, "I don't want to love you- I wanna love someone else-"

Mexico raised an eyebrow, "You have someone?"

America shrugged, "... maybe."

Mexico sighed, "Well you're a royal- it's your responsibility to marry for some political purpose- you can cling to this mysterious man-"

"Man??? Why would you assume it's a man?"

"You look gay."

America scowled, "Do not! I look like a strong, capable man!"

"You look like a twink."

"Hey!!!"

Mexico smirked, "You're so easy to antagonize, it's amusing-"

"I can't just be a tool for entertainment!"

"No- we could entertain eachother." She gave him a surprisingly gentle smile, "We could make this work. Whether you want to or not is up to you, but this is better than other options that may come up-"

"Like what?"

"I almost got married to someone twice my age. And a jerk at that. An arrogant in a snotty and dismissive way, treats people like garbage, kind of jerk. If anything happens between us- our parents know eachother, we'll both be treated well. This is honestly the best case scenario for an arranged marriage."

"The best case scenario would be it not happening."

Mexico rolled her eyes, "So what? You think that someone loves you just because of your oh-so-wonderful personality?" Mexico scoffed, "Even if they believe that, it's your ranking and wealth that are propping you up- you'll never know for sure how truthful they are-"

America fell silent, staring at the pile of flowers, ".... he loves me. I'm sure he does."

Mexico gave him a soft smile, "Maybe he does. But it's not right. You know it. You can't make it a reality."

America sighed, ".... I still hate you, you know-"

"And I hate you too!" Mexico beamed, standing up sharply, "Now make your bed!"

"Huh?"

"Make it! Now!"

America scowled, "What's the point of making it when I'm going to sleep in it?"

"And what's the point of arguing with me when you know I'm going to win anyways?"

"As if-" America scoffed, "I'm the man here-"

Mexico stepped up to him, calmly, and whapped his face with her fan.

America screeched with utter indignation, falling back on his bed, "Hey!!! You can't- that's domestic abuse!"

"Apparently not when a woman does it! Now make your bed, you pig! Or else I'm grabbing my shoes-"

America yelped, instantly leaping up and tugging up his blankets, "Okay, okay, sheesh, I'll do it!"

Mexico smirked, leaning back against the wall, "Next pick up everything on the floor- and dust your bookshelves- and windowsills- actually, while you're at it, wipe down the windows too-"

"I thought you wanted to take care of me!!!"

"I think it's better if I teach you to take care of yourself, don't you think?"

"No. No I don't think." America muttered.

"Yeah, I can tell-"

America scowled, "I hate you so much..."

Mexico hummed, smirking as he began smoothing out his bedsheets, "Believe me, the sentiment is shared-"