Subtext
They were in the middle of a summit on the environment. Another one, Prussia moaned inwardly, leaning back in his chair as he listened half-heartedly to the United States of America babble on and on about how replacing all automobiles with giant robot public transportation systems would not only be more fuel-efficient, but awesome too.
Prussia knew awesome. Giant robots were not it. (Well, okay, maybe they were a little, but not nearly on the scale of awesomeness required to fix the ever-growing environmental problems of the world.) He didn't dare complain aloud. Last time he did that, West had taken it upon himself to remind Gilbert that he was, in fact, not a nation (or a real member of the EU, just showing up on his little brother's coattails to every meeting) and thus wasn't required to attend. He'd even said it threateningly! Despite his level of awesome, Prussia needed a place to crash, and his younger brother was the only one willing to provide it, so he usually avoided anything that'd make his brother too angry.
He was growing more and more bored by the minute; the present ensemble of nations had already heard this plan at least three times each, whether in official summit meetings or in private, forced to listen as America recited and tweaked his speech. A flash of sympathy for his drinking buddy shot through him- everyone knew that whenever America wanted to edit his old spiel, he made England sit down and listen to him.
Now, the fact that England was willing to do this raised suspicions in everyone's minds. Prussia remembered the day Spain ran up to him, crying, "The terror of the seas has been tamed by a child!"
His cheek hurt after he asked (innocently, mind you!) if he had finally gotten Romano in the sack. How was he supposed to know that the southern half of Italy had been standing there, listening? And that the Latin nation hadn't been referring to himself, but the good ole British Empire? That was, what, three hundred years ago now? Good times, he mused, propping his chin in his palm as his eyes started to flutter shut…
His doze was interrupted by the sounds of giggling beside him. Raising an eyebrow in surprise (all of the female nations had been firmly situated at the opposite end of the table, after all), he glanced at where his two partners in crime sat, heads tucked together. Looking over his shoulder to make sure that West was occupied taking notes for the meeting and [trying to] stop Italy Veneciano from wandering out of the conference room, he scooted his chair over to catch the last words of France's sentence.
"-me up, babe."
"What's going on?" Prussia whispered, keeping a wary eye on his stodgy younger brother.
"Because he knows him so well, France is telling me what England really means whenever he tells America off! It's very enlightening!" Spain chirped, falling silent as England burst out at America's plan yet again.
"And how exactly do you plan on replanting all of Brazil's rain forests? And have you informed the girl of this yet?"
France nodded sagely, and mocked, in a poor British accent, "I'd like to explore your forest, Alfie-dear."
America scoffed in response, completely unaware that the three European nations in the back of the meeting room were doing anything but paying rapt and adoring attention to him. Well, they were rapt, in a sense… "I already know it'll make her happy! Besides, it's not like she could complain about it if it didn't- this part of the world belongs to me."
Prussia bounced in his seat. "I can handle this one! 'Pay attention to me! I'm trying to make you jealous!'"
Shaking his head, England snapped, "Oh, shut the hell up on your bloody Monroe Doctrine already! That era's long over!"
"Love, it's already working."
Hand slammed on the table, America shouted, "Well, do you see anyone else representing my part of the world here? Maybe if they were invited, I wouldn't have to speak for them."
Prussia started. "Hey, what about Canada?" He glanced over to where the nation being crushed by Russia was turning more invisible by the second. His two friends stared at him in confusion, when recognition dawned on France's face. Before he could comment on it, however, they were both drowned out by a sudden increase in the volume of the argument going on at the other end of the table.
"Maybe if you let them develop their own economies, they'd be able to show up!"
France marveled on the sheer luck they had in the fact that Switzerland missed the meeting today, staying home to watch over Liechtenstein, whose cold had worsened over the past week. And what with Germany having given up on the two bickerers years ago, there was no one willing or able to prevent the argument (and ensuing perversions) from escalating.
America bristled. "Oh, that's rich coming from you!"
"Do you know what else I'd like to see come from you?"
"And what the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"I'd totally be on top!"
"Well, Mr. I'm-not-going-to-let-any-of-my-colonies-talk-to-anyone-except-me, I just think you're being just a bit hypocritical!"
"Don't be stupid! I'd be!"
England sighed, exasperated. "It always comes back to that! A couple of stupid little taxes that you blew completely out of proportion and revolted over for no good reason!"
"Why did you leave me, Allllfred?"
"And everyone's better off for it. Why can't you just let it go already? My independence was better for everyone in the long run!"
"BECAUSE I'M IN LOVE WITH YOU, AMERICA."
Everyone's heads spun towards Spain, who was standing in his seat, face burning with passion and arm raised in triumph. Next to him, France was trying to pull him down, looking ashamed, muttering, "You're supposed to wait until they say something, Tonio" while Prussia dissolved into peals of laughter, collapsed on the table. Romano jumped out of his chair and stormed out of the meeting room, unnoticed, and both America and England were slowly turning red, for very different reasons. All of the other nations were staring in a mixture of confusion, amusement, and surprise.
The resulting silence was finally broken when America managed to splutter out, "Erm, that's very nice and all, but I don't feel the same way about you. Sorry."
Across from him, England was seething and his fingers twitching. "You better not."
Spain seemed honestly surprised. "No, no, you don't understand, mi amigo. France, Prussia, and I were playing a game in which-"
He was cut off when the aforementioned nations jumped on him, covering his mouth and dragging him towards the door. "What he meant," France tried to smooth over, "is that he's trying to make Romano jealous. And it looked like it worked, so he's going to go after him now. Right?" The last word was dangerously slanted, but the threat it carried seemed to affect everyone except for its intended recipient.
"Qué? Lovi left?" With that, Spain rushed out the door, calling the Italian's name. His voice and footsteps slowly faded away, and the awkward silence returned to the room. America coughed.
"I think now's a good time for a lunch break."
The meeting room was empty within moments, Prussia and France being the first two out. They had both seen the look on England's face after Spain left, and had collectively decided that they weren't taking whatever revenge the Brit had planned on their friend's behalf.
America and England were the only two left, hovering near the head of the table. England slipped his hands into the pockets of America's bomber jacket and pulled him close. "You know," he drawled, "there are some perks to having you as a full-grown nation."
Raising an eyebrow, America asked, "And what would those be?"
"Well, I feel a lot less guilty when I do this." He pressed his lips against the younger man, drawing him deep into a kiss.
Smirking, America wrapped his arms around England and broke the kiss. "You know, about that Declaratory Act…"