AN: So yeah. When inspiration hits! I love Hetalia, by the way. I'm Canada XD. Enjoy
After 911, America went deaf. Not permanently obviously, but he still went deaf. The countries all felt horrible for him, of course. But England felt worse. America was his little brother, his son almost. And even if America didn't feel that way anymore, England always had. So, when he heard about the attacks on the news at three o'clock in the morning, he was extremely worried. He called America immediately. "Are you okay?" he asked. America wasn't deaf yet, that came later, so he answered, "Yeah. Yeah I think I'll be okay."
About twenty minutes later, the other plane hit. England was still on the phone with America, watching the news when it happened. He heard a gasp of pain and some sounds that sounded like retching. "Eng‑ England. I need you. Please. Help me."
England used a reliable teleportation spell he had and was in America's house in seconds. America was on the couch, clutching his stomach and gasping in pain. There was blood on the floor and on the corners of his mouth which lead England's theory to be correct. He rushed over to the young nation.
"America?" He whispered frantically. America looked up at England with tears threatening to pool over.
"This is too much," he moaned in response. "I," pant "can't." He vomited on the floor again. England rushed to the kitchen to get him some water. He heard America vomit again. He was back to the boy in seconds, water in hand. America nodded in thanks and slurped it down faster than England could blink. They went back to watching the news. The Pentagon is struck, causing America to wince. They watch the news for another half an hour about. Then, the South Tower collapsed. America's chest was torn apart. He was screaming and writhing on the floor in absolute agony. "ENGLAND! ENGLAND HELP ME! HELP ME PLEASE!" England gathers the country into his arms, rocking him back and forth, whispering empty reassurances to him. America weeps into his shoulder, whimpering.
They stay like that for about half an hour. Another wince when the plane crash lands. Then, the North Tower collapses. America screams into England's shoulder as his stomach starts to rip open. "THERE'S SO MANY! THIS IS WORSE THAN PEARL HARBOR ENGLAND!"
After that, England switches off the news. America doesn't notice. He cries and screams for so long after words. Neither of them know for how long. America doesn't notice that he can't hear England's faint whispers. America doesn't notice that he no longer hears his own voice. America doesn't notice he doesn't hear the phone ringing as the other nations call to check on him. All America notices is the extreme pain in his body, the most pain he'd ever felt. England doesn't seem to notice the blood and tears ruining his usually impeccable clothing. If he does notice, he does not care. And lastly, America does not hear England tell him he's going to look for bandages to wrap America's wounds. And that's when he realizes.
America is deaf.
"England!?" America tries to be quiet. He tries to remember what it feels like to whisper yell. He achieves his goal somewhat, though he cannot hear. England pops his head back into the room.
"Yes America?" Though the words are lost to his ears, America reads his lips and says in what he hopes is a quiet tone, "I can't hear you. I'm deaf. These attacks have taken my hearing."
England gasps and rushes back into the room. On the way he grabs a pen and some paper from America's cluttered desk. He begins to write.
"How do you feel?"
America replies with a question of his own; "How stupid do I sound trying to talk deaf?"
England cracks a ghost of a smile, "You sound just fine. Don't worry about it."
America nods. "Everything hurts," he says. And I'm hungry. And worried. Really, really worried. And hungry." "Even amidst tragedy, America can still think of his stomach. Speaking of stomach..." England thought. Looking down at America, he noticed the blood seeping through his now scarlet t‑shirt. "Oh yes, bandages." He scribbled down a quick "be right back" and rushed to find those bandages again. He came back a couple of minutes later, arms laced with various things meant for healing. America saw said things and pushed his back against the couch. He hated that crap. The stinging alcohol, the sticky Neosporin©, the itchy bandages…
"America," England chastised. America didn't need to hear him to imagine the tone. "We need to stop the bleeding, silly git." He wrote this time. America nodded, rolling his still misty eyes.
England gently unbuttoned the previously white shirt and revealed the deeps cuts on his body. He cleaned them as gently as possible while trying to be quick, as the sight was beginning to make him nauseous. America did his best not to wince. After that, healing stuff was smeared onto his cuts, and England began to wrap the gashes. After he was complete, England went up to America's room and retrieved another shirt for the country. England knew how proud America was so he let the boy put the shirt on himself.
"God, what am I gonna do?" America questioned. "The president is obviously going to want to talk to me, I'll have to fill out some things, talk to people…"
England placed a hand on his shoulder. He wrote, "Deal with that later. For now, rest. I know it's early here, but you must be exhausted after that."
England helped America trudge up to his bed room. After tucking him in like he used to when America was little, England turned towards the door. When he was halfway across the room, America whispered "England? Will you…" he bit his lip. "Will you stay with me. I can't be alone right now." He blushed, looking down.
England smiled a very small smile and nodded. America scooted over and made room for England. They settled down. America fell asleep quickly, cuddling next to his former guardian slightly. England stroked his hair and sighed. "He's already been through so much for someone so young."
Sighing again, England closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.
AN: Pretty short. I've always thought of their relationship more fatherly. Sure, I've read USUK fics I've liked (though rare as they may be) but mostly I lean towards family. So, do you like it? Review! They make me so joyous!