Seven Minutes In Heaven or Hell-Sealand

    "Go on, pick one!" America laughed, waving the hat under your nose. You sighed. The only reason you'd come to America's party was because Sealand had dragged you here, insisting that the nations would only let him in if he came with someone else, as they didn't consider him a nation. You had grudgingly obliged to your friend's wishes. Now, late at night when most of the countries had left, America was making everyone play Seven Minutes In Heaven or Hell. You yourself had never played this game, and were rather apprehensive. Not just because you were about Sealand's age, which made most of the countries a fair bit older than you either. You dove your hand into the hat and selected one of the pieces of paper. You unfolded it, and your stomach tied itself into a knot.
    "S-sealand," you read as dread began to well up inside of you. America laughed, grabbed your wrist and Sealand's and shut you both inside the nearby closet.
    "Peter?" you whispered. You couldn't see anything in the pitch darkness.
    "I'm here, _____!" Sealand replied, poking the tip of your nose. You rubbed it in slight irritation. "Why did America shove us in here?"
    "You mean you don't know the rules?"
    "Not at all!"
    You mentally facepalmed. Then your heartbeat picked up as you anticipated telling your friend the rules of the game.
    "W-well," you stammered, "after you go into the closet with the person's name you picked, you're s-supposed to..."
    "Supposed to what?" the micronation pressed.
    "Kiss," you whispered. Your cheeks burned, and you wondered whether or not Sealand could feel the heat radiating off of your face what with the close proximity.
    "Kiss?" he asked.
    "Really, you can do whatever you want. I-it's just that kissing is g-generally what people do in the game..."
    Sealand was uncharacteristically quiet. Your heart sank. This was what you had been dreading. He didn't want to kiss you. He only thought of you as a friend, while you saw him as something more...
    This thought process vanished, however, when Sealand wrapped one arm around your waist, bringing you closer to him, and put his other hand on your cheek. You squeaked in surprise, more blood rushing to your face. Your heart went ka-thump ka-thump ka-thump in your chest.
    "P-peter, what are you d-doing?" you asked.
    "Playing by the rules," he answered. Your eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and you could see his expression now. It was slightly nervous, his ocean-blue eyes clouded with uncertainty.
    "U-unless you don't want me-" Sealand began.
    "No!" you gasped. "I mean, yes! I mean...dammit, just kiss me already!" You saw his cheeks flood with colour.
    "_____...h-have you ever kissed anyone before?"
    "N-no." Damn that stutter!
    "Me neither."
    Before you could respond, Sealand had closed the gap between your lips. The kiss was gentle, but it still sent your head spinning. Sealand's thumb gently caressed your cheek. The two of you broke apart, filling the need for oxygen.
    "_____," Sealand panted, "I need to ask you something."
    "What is it?" you asked impatiently. You stared at his lips, wanting to feel them on yours again.
    "The game's called Seven Minutes In Heaven or Hell, right? So which one is it for you right now?"
    "Wh-what?"
    "D-do you feel like you're in Heaven or Hell?"
    "Heaven," you answered, kissing him again.
    You just simply could not get enough of this boy. Sealand's lips tasted like salt and the ocean air and-burnt...scone...? Well, to be fair, he was England's younger brother.
    The closet flooded with light, and you and Sealand broke apart with a small pop. America was standing in the closet doorway, mouth slightly agape, as if surprised by the sight that met his eyes. Then his signature "hero" (read: stupid) grin spread across his face and he laughed.
    "Time's up, little dudes!" America said. "Get outta there!" You blushed like mad and sat back down in the circle of nations, Sealand seating himself next to you.
    "I didn't know you knew how to play this game, Pete!" America laughed, taking off Sealand's hat and ruffling his hair good-naturedly. Sealand snatched his hat back.
    "I didn't, actually," he corrected America, putting his hat back on. "_____ taught me." He grinned at you, and your cheeks flushed a darker shade of crimson.
    As a collective chuckle rippled through the nations, Sealand entwined his fingers with yours and squeezed your hand. You smiled softly and kissed his cheek, not much caring if everyone else saw.