Love or Lust (Hetalia/Fruk or USUK?)

New Year: I will

Britain sat in his room, staring out the window. His head was full of thoughts about his two best friends. He had gotten too close to France after his bad dream, and America had kissed him after the Christmas party. He didn't know which one he wanted to spend new years with.  America had sent him a text the following morning, asking if he would want to attend another party. England had other thoughts. He stood and grabbed his phone to make a few phone calls. He sat in the comfy brown chair by his old oak desk and dialed America's number. "Yo Brit! What's the haps?" He felt a smile tug at his lips when he heard the American's happy voice. "I'm throwing a party." He stated, waiting for America to get excited. Instead, America laughed loudly. "You? You're not much of a partier. What are you doing?" He laughed again, making England scowel. "I'm throwing a new years party, and you are invited. I'm making a new start with everyone." He calmed down and leaned back, looking at the painting of him and America many years ago, on a pirate ship. America was silent for a moment, no doubt thinking about the old days as well. "A new start? Why so serious Artie?" The use of Alfred's nickname for him made England's heart ache and he didn't reply for fear of his friend hearing the pain in his voice. "I'll go." He said, and hung up. 

France was sitting at the kitchen table, staring at the window as usual when the Brit entered. He looked up briefly, then returned to his wine. Things had been tense between the two ever since the Christmas party. France may not have seen the kiss, but he knew something was up. Despite the attitude he put on, France was smarter than the other countries thought. "I'm throwing a party Thursday night if that's okay with you." England spoke cheerfully as he sat across from his roommate at the table and took a sip of the wine on the table. France nodded. "Parties are fun." He smiled faintly and sipped more wine. "You okay?" England asked, grabbing his friend's hand." France looked up, a spark in his eye and smiled. "Of course darling. I'm as chipper as a bird." He took a long pull of the wine and stood to leave. "What's wrong?" England asked, still grasping the Frenchman's hand. France kissed the back of his hand and let go. "I'm fine. The question is, are you?" He gave England a sad look and left the brightly decorated kitchen, leaving England confused. "It seams he knows..." England muttered and put his head down on the table. 

...

Thursday night came quickly, despite France avoiding England. He had spent every second decorating, and France had cooked. No one wants the food Britain makes. They say it's as bland as plane rice, and often cooked wrong. "it's not my fault!" The Brit growled as France took a spoon from England. "Stop trying." France smiled softly and kissed England's cheek. 

The guests arrived, bringing party favors and wine, Which France drank the most of.  There was lots of laughter, and lots of arguing. Russia nearly killed Alfred, and China slapped him on the head for it. "No Aru!" Which caused the taller man to blush. Britain nearly strangled France twice, and Italy clung to Germany, who drank all the beer he had brought to cope with it. 

Finally at 11:59, they began the count down. Right when the clock turned to midnight, America put an arm around England's waist and kissed him hungrily. "Will you start the new year with me?" He asked, a reassuring smile on his lips. England grinned back. "I will."