America isn’t sure why or how it’s happened, but really he doesn’t actually care because his fingers are too busy rubbing at the soft fur of a sharply pointed ear as he watches England squirm.

"S- stop— stop that, you insufferable—,"

The protests fall flat, however, because the smaller nation’s back is arching slightly as he curls his nails into the cup of the unnatural little fold where fur meets scalp and he swears there’s a soft sort rumbling noise but god knows England’ll deny the hell out of something like that.

A hand tugs his away with a sharp yank and, if he hadn’t the mind to loosen his grasp, he’s almost afraid he would have pulled that cute thing right out from those unruly locks, but venomous slit-eyes are glowering at him and he’s momentarily distracted by their eerie sheen.

England really does make an adorable cat.

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