This idea was killing me. XD Finally got it out. Not sure whether I will continue or not, depends on how much you guys like it.
This version of Romania belongs to me! (Yes, I know there is an officail character, but this was written before then).
America was board, and a board America was at rather strange America. The blond country tossed his video gaming remote away as his character died another horrible death via zombie infestation. Sighing he scooped up his cell phone off the floor and glanced at the time. He groaned. It hadn't even been two hours since he had started the zombie shooting cursade. He dropped his hand over the side of the couch and staired at the ceiling. It wasn't like he could go and bug the other countries. He was pretty sure that none of them, expesially England, didn't want to see him until the next UN meeting.
Suddenly, his phone blared the Romanian national anthem, signalling that one of his closest friends was texting him. He lazily picked up his arm and flipped his phone open to read the message.
'Sup, Al? :)' it read. Romania wasn't one for formalities, despite her crush and older bothers pushing. She was spunky and loud, much like America himself. If only her brother wasn't the crazy bastard that he was.
'Board out of my mind here. U?' England would probaly have slapped him for not using proper grammar, but it was the twenty first century! Old man had to get with the times!
The music started up again as America looked at the reply. 'I'd come & hang out, but i'm on some imortiant buisness w/ the boss man. Srry!'
'Np, Carmen. Ill just go die somewhere :(' He loved to tease the Romanian, for her temper was a funny thing to witness. And her wit.
'Oh, e de rahat pentru a vă fi. G2g, in meeting.' So, irritating Romania via texting was off his list of possible things to do. Now what?
Maybe he should clean like England always told him to do...nah. America hualed himself off the couch and trudged into his kitchen, looking for something to eat. He opened a cupboard, only to stare into a very empty cabnet. The next three were very much the same, much to the blonds dismay. The fridge had only a few leftovers, one of which he could not identify. He reeaallly needed to go grocery shopping. America pulled a can of coke out of the fridge, not even bothering to find something edieble.
He trudged back into his living room, ready for another round of senseless zombie violence...until he tripped over a hungover Tony, who was laying in the middle of the floor. America put his hands out in reflex and caught himself before he fell flat out on his face. And his coke spilled all over the front of his shirt, througly soaking it. Tony grumbled some, rolling over, but didn't wake.
America sat up, pouting about his spilled coke and poking at his wet shirt. That would most likely stain, but it gave him an excuse to do laundry. He stripped himself of the wet peice of clothing and looked for a clean shirt. He picked one up off the back of the couch. It looked clean, but that didn't mean anything. The blond brought it up to his nose and sniffed.
"Sweet motherfather! That reaks!" The shirt smelled of rotting fruit and month old gym clothes. It was tossed away from America as he gagged and tried to clear his nostrols of the horrendous smell. After his near death by stench, he continued his search for a clean shirt. In the end, he found none. All eather smelled like the first or had questionable stains on them.
And then his phone started to go off again, blaring the same tone as before. Romania was in a meeting wasn't she? He searched for his phone, which had been abandoned before his slight accident. He soon found it, under the shirt that smelled to high heavens. After his second wiff of the day, America read the text.
'Ideer 4 u, invite others over 4 game, like truth or dare or something. g2g agin, boss man glaring at me D:' If America could have, he would have kissed her. That was a great idea! Despite most of the countries hating his guts and others not wanting to be in the same room with the American more than they had to, none of them would pass of the opportunity to get their friends and rivals to embarass themselves! He quickly sent out an invitation text to as many countries as the could think of (and actually remember) and went about preparing. He had to get food, drinks (perferably the alcoholic kind, for drunks were always more fun), and actually clean.
"Oh, boy, here we go!"
America was rather proud. He had found a clean shirt under his bed and several of the countries he had contacted had sent him back acceptence responses. Then again, many also had sent him rather rude texts declining his offer, too. He had also bought enough food to last him the next decade and the party. The drinks were a little more difficult. Every country liked a different form of alcohol or a different brand of beer, so choosing the right stuff for the party was challenging. But, he was the hero! There was no way this little delema would stop him from hosting this party!
Loaded down with dozens of bags with food and several different brands of beer, wine, rum, vodka, and so on, the American entered his house. Tony had moved to claim the couch and the games, but America had no time for that. His house looked worse than when he had left it. He eather didn't get out enough to see actual clean stuff, or the mess was bigger than he originally thought. He dumped the bags in the kicthen, not even bothering to put anything away and went on a cleaning rampage.
As he cleaned, he idoly tried to think of the word England always used when he messed something up. What was it? Buttox? No. Bollocks? Yah, that was it. He mumbled the word under his breath as he cleaned. It sounded weird without the accent England had, but it was still a funny word. "Bollocks." He giggled childishly as he imagined Arthurs face if the Brit heard him right now.
It was a half an hour before party time when he finished, he was tired and thouroughly disgusted with himself. How the hell did he let his house get so bad and not even notice? He plopped down on the couch, now that Tony had moved to sit right in front of the TV.
Alfred looked weakly at him. "Dude, if you'll burn your eyes out of you sockets if you sit that close."
The grey being didn't respond. Suddenly, the American found the rancid smelling shirt sitting on his face. He shot up waving his hands in front of his nose, coughing and gagging. He glared at the alien through watery eyes. "That was mean!"
Tony turned and stared at him.
Alfred pouted. "Whatever." He glared at the awful shirt and then realized something. He had forgot to clean the living room! Glancing at his watch, he noted that he had about fifteen minutes until the others started to show up. "BOLLOCKS!" Tony jumped as the American shouted the word. Alfred hadden't ment to say it, but it just slipped out. Maybe from saying it so much earlier. British slang aside, the blond rushed around the room and grabbed any clothing and other items laying around. With the pile in his arms, looked for somewhere to hide it all. He spotted an ajar closet door down the hall and half ran half jogged to it, shoving the pile of things inside. He leaned against the door, forcing the now over stuffed closet shut.
He sighed and slowly made his way back to the living room. Mission acomplished with two minutes to spare. "Not bad, huh Tony?"
He looked around the room, noting that the grey life form was absent. Alfred shrugged. The alien probaly was drinking again or something like that. The American was just about to settle down on his couch and wait for his guests when the doorbell rang. He jumped up as if his couch was spring loaded. "Boo-yah! Let's get this party started!"
America beamed at his gathered guests. Not a bad turnout! There was Germany and Prussia, having a rather loud conversation near by, England, Russia, and Japan, who were chatting casually in the living room, Italy, Romano, France, and...uh, someone who's name eluded him for the moment, all in the kitchen doing whatever, and Hungary, Austria, and ,surprisingly enough, Turkey. The Turkish man most likely only showed up to rub it in a certian Grecians face later. It all really didn't matter to Alfred, he just wanted to start humiliating people.
"Hey guys! Let's play a game!" Alfred called over the general riff-raff that was usually assosiated with this many countries getting together at once. Many turned to stare at him, others compleatly ignored him.
England glared him down from the other side of the room. "What? It better not be one of your silly video games."
Alfred frowned. "Nope, and my games aren't silly. They're awsome!"
"I'll tell you whats awsome-OWW! WEST! What was that for?"
"Shut up and listen." Germany growled, holding up his fist threateningly to his brother.
Alfred regreated his choice in words, seeing that Gilbert was present. He continued on, undeturred. "Anyways, Romania suggested that we play Truth or Dare!"
He saw Russia perk up at the mention of his youngest sister and a creepy smile spread acrossed his face. Arthur snorted. "Ha, such a childish game!"
Alfred pouted, leaning on the shorter mans shoulder and forcing him to hold all of his weight. "Aww, come one Iggy! It'll be fun!"
Many of the others had also protested, but ones such as Italy and Hungary soon convinced both Germany and Austria to play. The only other two objecting were Ivan and Arthur. Alfred figured it would only be a matter of time before they gave in.
Gilbert was seemed to have been prepared for a moment like this. "Who ever doesn't play gets hog-tied and locked in a room with Francis!" He laughed. "Kesesese~! The awsome me will see to it!"
Said French man was immedeatly alert. "Oh ho ho ho~! Please do refuse!"
Arthur and Ivan glanced at each other. There was no way in hell that they'd agree to that. Both quickly decided to play, much to Francis's dismay. Alfred directed them to sit in a circle, some on the couch, the chair, and the rest on the floor. He retreaved one of Ivans empty vodka bottles and set it on the floor as a spinner.
He grinned at the gathered countries. "Rules are simple. Ask anything you want, dare or other wise and if you refuse, you have to drink a whole bottle of liquor of the darer or askers choice. Got it?"
The gathered group nodded, slightly fearing how the minds of some of the other players worked. This would most likely get very werid and very, very messed up.
Alfred took the pleasure of spinning the first turn. The bottle whirled, everyone praying that it would not land on them. No one wanted to be on the receving end of one of the Americans crazy ideas. It spun and spun, and the anticipation rose. It slowed, landing on Sadiq. The Turk looked blankly at Alfred, who was snickering. "Truth or dare?"
Sadiq frowned. There was no way he was going to wuss out due to the fact that he was the first player. He snorted. "Dare."
Alfred paused as the gears in his head started to turn. A grin slowly spread acrossed his face and Sadiq's frown deepened. "I dare you to carry Russia around the room..."
The two nations glanced at each other. Both were realativly tall, but Russia still had a few inches on the other. Turkey then snorted. "No problem! He's not that big-"
"...on your back."
Oh~ Cliffie in the first chapter? :D R&R plz.