It was always the same routine with meetings: America would attempt - and fail miserably - at tying his own tie, and would saunter, tail between his legs, to England to do it for him. For the hero to submit to defeat at the hands of a necktie was laughable, but Arthur often pondered, as he currently was, why the boy couldn’t just learn.
“Honestly, Alfred,” Arthur sighed in a slight scolding, patiently tying his beau’s meeting-time accessory, “to think you haven’t learned how to do this after a century is remarkable.” Green eyes briefly peered into blue; a heavy eyebrow rose. “You set the standard for stupidity.”
As always, Jones had a comeback for Kirkland’s snarkiness. “Would ya take me any other way?” the American retorted with a cocky smirk and a wink. An abrupt tightening of the tie made him gag and hushed him quickly. Comfortable quiet settled between the two countries. Yet, after a thoughtful moment, the American spoke again, softer. “Why would I ever wanna learn, when I got you here to help me?”
England’s fingers paused and he glanced at the now smiling America. His typical lop-sided grin was as boyish, goofy and warm as ever. A smaller, yet equally soft smile appeared on the Brit’s lips in response, and he returned to his simple chore. “… For once, you have a good point.”