You glanced at the barista at Starbucks. She had thick, black-rimmed glasses and bright red lipstick. Stifling a giggle, you leaned into America's ear.
"Hey, Al." You whispered. He whipped his head around and almost hit you with his glasses. "Why did the hipster burn her tongue?" America glanced at the barista and guffawed, not bothering to disguise it.
"I don't know, dude. Why?" His goofy grin made you even more confident in your pun.
"She drank coffee before it was cool."
"What are you bloody idiots doing at my house?" You smiled innocently, knowing England would be more polite to a lady.
"Well, the barista at Starbucks thought we were disrupting the peace and stuff so we came here to see you~!" He rolled his eyes and stood away from the opened door.
"I'm only letting you in because it's...cold outside. You twits should have brought coats!" With that, he let you two inside his apartment. It may be because you and America had been colonies of England, but he seemed to have a soft spot for you two despite being his supposed least favorite countries.
"Hey, Iggy!" You said loudly. He turned on the slight heel of his dress shoe, to your amusement.
"Don't. Call. Me. That." You looked at him expectantly. Sighing, he continued. "What do you want?"
"Why didn't the pirate learn the alphabet?" He frowned at your immaturity, drawing out the "Why?" like it was the most torturous thing on the planet. You motioned the two blondes to come closer, looking as if you were going to tell them a horrible secret.
"They can spend years at C." You said in a low tone. England laughed, but quickly masked it with a well-practiced scoff. It wasn't very easy to pick out of America's loud laughter anyway.
"Why did the mermaid wear seashells?" America asked with a grin. England shot him a look of disapproval, mouthing "You already told me this once, you wanker. Don't repeat it in front of a lady!" America turned to you.
"She grew out of her B-Shells." You smacked his arm lightly, amusement dancing in your eyes.
"You've been hanging out with France too much." You said with a smirk. Without any of you really realizing it, you had gathered around the dining room table sharing jokes. England sardonically replied to all of them instead of replying with jokes of his own, but you both knew he was trying.
It was always nice when England tried.
"Who shaves 20 times a day?" You began.
"A hairy man that never finishes something all at once?"
"Don't look at me, dude!" Your eyes crinkled in laughter, you said the punch line.
"Nope, a barber."
Your eyes widened as America's lips met yours. America…was kissing you.
HOLY SHIT HE WAS KISSING YOU. You closed your eyes and kissed back, wondering why you hadn't done this sooner. It was an awful lot of fun.
"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL?!" You smiled sheepishly, remembering that your father figure was in the room. America scratched the back of his neck.
"Well, this kind of seemed perfect and stuff because I was hanging out with you and we never hang out and _______ was being funny. But then I thought of what could make it more perfect. So I did it."
This time, you were kissing him.
"OH MY GOD, GET A BLOODY ROOM. FROGS."