"So nice of you to finally join us."
England and France were sitting in a trench. (well I say sitting) trying not too look to happy or miserable. And failing at both. England's eyebrows seemed bushier than usual and his hair was greasy and messier than ever, protruding from under his helmet. While France's usually bouncing golden locks hung limp and lifeless. They also seemed to have lost a considerable amount of weight. Both being incredibly thin. And they were head to foot coated in mud.
Not that America particularly took this in.
"Of course! A hero was needed, so here I am! I'll save you!"
"Shhh! Not so loud. You dolt! `They'll here us!" England jerked his thumb towards No Mans Land. Signalling that he meant the Germans.
"But Iggy-!"
"Don't call me that!"
"They can't be that close!"
"They can actually."
"Oh yeah?"
"Mhmm. We had a nice conversation with that bastard Germany the other day, didn't we France? France? What the blazes are you doing!" But England knew very well what he had been doing. All this time France had sneakily been sliding behind America's back, trying to get to what was on his back.
The food.
England sighed, the pit in his stomach nagging at the corners of his brain. He stepped up onto the raised patch of mud, poking his gun over the top of the trench, resuming his post.
"Amerique, mon cher… Would you like me to take that.. Heavy load for you~?" France's voice was sickly sweet and had almost a begging tone to it.
America looked flummoxed for a second and England lost his patience. Firing, swearing and then snapping: "The bloody food, America. Give him the bloody food!"
"Ohhh! That food! I hate it on the way!"
Simultaneously England and France's jaw dropped, just as a large explosion went off close by, sending mud and shrapnel flying over the trench. France and England ducked instinctively, still shocked.
France grabbed the pack off the grinning American and rooted around inside, eventually pulling out a small slab of cheese, some half eaten bread and..
"TEA!"
France groaned, why couldn't it have been coffee? And now he had to drink the stuff because the puddle water tasted disgusting. At least he wouldn't have to put up with these two for much longer. Now America, although an idiot and slightly annoying. They were sure to win. Even though the Russia situation wasn't too good (France would be glad to see the back of him. That man gave him the creeps), the Germans were vastly outnumbered. It'll all be over in a few months.
He stared into the murky brown battered tin mug of tea, looking back at his own exhausted features, he sipped the disgusting substance. And realised, he was starting to like the substance.
He needed to get out of here, and fast.