England's POV:

The rain was still pouring when I finally got inside my flat. I took off my Captain's hat, the white feathers hanging limply off to one side, and my soaked long red coat and hung them on the hat stand by the door. I then took my trusty cutlass and flintlock pistol and placed them on the top shelf, against the wall and out of the reach of curious little hands. I only had a few moments to relax and catch my breath before I heard the familiar pitter patter of little feet rushing toward me.

"Engwand!" a little boy shouted with joy, his blue eyes brightly shining as he stretched his small arms toward me. "You're home!"

I chuckled as I knelt down and opened my arms, letting the little boy wrap his small arms around me in an embrace with such force that I had to stifle a wince from the pain. "I told you I wouldn't be long." I smiled trying to distract myself from the sharp ache in my side. I turned the little boy around so I could look at his face, "How've you been, America? Staying out of trouble?"

America grinned as he nodded, "Yessir! I've been doin' ev'yting jus' wike you taught me!"

I chuckled again as I ruffled his golden locks, "I'm glad." I was just about to stand back up when America tugged on my sleeve, making me pause.

"Engwand? I wanna pway. Will you pwease pway wit' me?" America asked, his large blue eyes gazing up at me in a silent plea.

I hesitated for a moment, thinking about all the fresh wounds that I had sustained from my recent adventure; and even though I was strong-willed ruffian out on sea, at home, I couldn't deny those sapphire gems that held such hope. "Of course," I smiled, "What would you like to play?"

America cheered with excitement, his eyes sparkling from glee. "Yay! I wanna pway horsey!"

I felt my stomach twist; out of anything he could've wanted to play, he just had to pick that one. I let out an inner groan as I worked my mouth into a smile, "You wanna play horsey? You wanna play horsey?!" I placed my hands palms flat on the cold hardwood floor and straightened my back as best I could. I let out a neigh, "Hurry up and get on then!"

America squealed as he scampered onto my back, "Yay! Let's go Horsey!" He then began to happily jab his little heels into my sides, which wouldn't have been so bad under normal circumstances; however with each kick, he sent a sharp pain racing throughout my entire body and it was difficult for me to keep my limbs from shaking.

I grit my teeth against the pain; I reared up and neighed, "Hang on tight!" I then began to crawl across the downstairs of my flat, if somewhat a bit clumsily, all the while America was giggling with laughter and joy. I managed to last for about an hour until I couldn't take the pain anymore.

"Okay America," I panted, my limbs shaking horribly as I tried to keep from collapsing. "I think it's time for bed."

"Aww…" America whined as he hugged my neck, "Can we pway a wittle bit more? Pwease?"

I shook my head, "Sorry, no can do." I panted. I then turned my head so I could look at him, "Tell you what though, if you can get ready fast enough, I'll read you a bedtime story before you go to sleep."

"Yay!" America cheered, jumping off my back and running upstairs. "Stowy! Stowy! Stowy! Stowy! Stowy!"

After I was sure he was upstairs, I carefully straightened up. I then went to the laundry room and gingerly took off my shirt to look at it. I let out a sigh of relief when I gazed upon the still clean cloth. "Thank goodness," I mumbled to myself, setting my shirt on top of the washer. "Nothing seeped through." I then looked down at myself, underneath my shirt were bandages, lots of them, wrapped around my entire torso. I had wrapped multiple extra layers before I got off the ship just in case—and I'm glad did—it seems like the blood hasn't seeped through.

"Engwand!" America called from somewhere upstairs. "Engwand! I'm dwessed!"

"I'll be right there!" I shouted back, quickly throwing on my shirt; I winced from the pain. "Ju-just go ahead and grab what book you want me to read and get into bed." I quickly went out of the laundry room and made my way to the bottom of the stairs. I looked up at the seemingly long flight of stairs and I could already feel the ache anticipating in my side. I took a deep breath and gritted my teeth as I carefully made the painful trek up to the second floor; my thick soled boots synchronizing with the slow drumming of agony in my side. When I finally made it up to the top, I had but just a moment to catch my breath until America came bounding out of his room toward me with an old and fairly large leather bound book hugged tightly against his little chest.

"C'mon slow poke!" He yelled at me with a grin. Then he held up the dusty tome up to me, "Dis one! I wan' dis one!"

The corners of my mouth twisted up in a nervous smile as I took the book from him, "You sure?" I asked, flipping through the yellowed pages. "It doesn't have a lot of pictures."

America nodded happily, "Yeah, I don't need 'em. I'm a big boy!"

I let out a chuckle, "Well, alright then; if you say so…" I then closed the volume and began walking toward America's room, with America not far behind.

I turned the corner and entered the familiar deep blue room. Inside, I pulled up America's little mahogany chair from his coloring desk and sat down; happy that I was able to rest my wounds a little.

"No!" America whined when he saw me. "I wan' Engwand!" he complained, slapping his red and white bed with his chubby little hand.

I blinked in confusion for a few moments, "You…what?"

Seeing I wasn't understanding him, America grabbed me by my sleeve and guided me over to his bed.

"Sit!" he ordered with a pout, his finger pointing to the bed.

I smiled as I kicked off my boots and gently situated myself on top the covers, "Alright, America. And I'm only reading you one chapter tonight, you got that?"

"'Kay!" America grinned as he crawled onto his bed. Then he took the book that was still in my hands and made himself comfortable in my lap, causing my wounds to throb as he moved about. As both he and my pain settled down, I went to take the book so I could start reading.

"I wanna hold it!" he exclaimed, clutching the dusty volume to his white night shirt.

I chuckled, "Alright… now, open to page one."

I soon found myself getting caught up in the story of a brave young knight whose mission was to save his country from the mighty fire breathing dragon. I had already read halfway through the book when America spoke up.

"Engwand?" he interrupted, his voice was soft and completely out of character.

"What is it? What's wrong?" I asked curiously.

America turned around and stared at me with his large blue eyes, "You're bweedin'." He muttered softly, his eyes turning dewy.

I quickly tossed the book toward the foot of the bed and looked at my shirt; he was right, the whole side of my shirt was stained a dark red. I silently cursed myself before plastering a smile on my face. "Oh that? That's just some wine I spilled earlier, nothing to worry about." I lied, looking everywhere else but the pair of questioning blue eyes.

Before I knew what was happening, America quickly grabbed the end of my shirt and lifted it, revealing the multitude of bandages I had wrapped around my torso. He then looked up at my shocked face with tears beginning to fall.

"You're hurt." He murmured, "Did I hurt you?"

"Of course not!" I exclaimed quickly. I could almost feel my heart stop for a moment at the very thought.

"Did someone hurt you?" He sniffed. America then rubbed his eyes with the end of his sleeve, and I noticed a small red stain on his night shirt where my blood must have soaked through.

I stayed silent, wondering what I should do…wondering what I should say. I then let out a sigh and picked America up despite my protesting wounds, "C'mon, let's get you into some clean clothes. It's already way past your bedtime."

As I was getting America all washed up and into a clean set of pajamas, as well as myself, we were both silent. I then went to go tuck him into bed and he spoke up.

"Engwand?" he mumbled softly, looking down at the end of the sheets he was twisting between his little hands.

"Hmm? Yes, what is it?"

He looked up from the sheets, "I wanna…I wanna go wit' you nex' time."

I was taken back for a moment, "Wh-what!? Why, the bloody hell, for?!" I exclaimed before I could filter myself.

"'Cuz!" America whined, sitting up, "I wanna help you not get hurt anymore!"

At America's words, I was lost for mine. Was he really that worried for me? A strong country like myself?

I let out a sigh as I gently sat down next to America, "I'm sorry, but you can't go sailing with me. It's dangerous for a little tyke."

"But I'm stwong! I can help!" He insisted, tugging on my sleeve.

I smiled gently, "Yes you may be strong, but you're still a bit young to go out pillaging and looting and whatnot."

America then slowly let out a smile, "Then when I get big, I'll become a stwong countwy like you! I pwomise no one will hurt you eva again!"

I chuckled, "Yes, you'll be my little hero." I then softly kissed his forehead.

"You smell wike wimes." America giggled as he wiped his forehead with his sleeve.

"Oh I do, do I?" I grinned as I began blowing raspberries all over him much to his annoyance; however, as he tried to get away from me, America couldn't help but laugh.

When both America and I were out of breath, I went and tucked him in for real this time.

"Goodnight, America." I murmured as I went to turn off the lights. "Pleasant dreams."

"Night night, Engwand." America yawned back as he turned over on his side to face his little Union Jack nightlight.