Author's notes: This fic was a Christmas present for Ellethwen Celtica. I've just finished it today (two months late) because I am a bad person.
Anyway, I have tried to steer clear of a long gun-control debate here, because I don't want to repeat the arguments you can find basically everywhere else on the internet because that would be boring. This fic is from America's perspective, but I am a Brit who knows next to nothing about guns. Bear that in mind as you read. :)
Also, because I know this fandom: I really had a platonic relationship between the UK and US in mind when I wrote this, but if you want to read it with shipping goggles on, be my guest. :D
BANG.
BANG.
BANG.
The United States of America raised his right arm, cocked the gun in his hand, took aim at an empty baked-bean tin perched on a rock around eighty metres away, and fired a fourth shot. Scowling as his shot glanced off the rock with a 'ping', America put another bullet in the gun and raised his arm for a fifth attempt, only to be interrupted by an irate voice behind him.
"Oi!"
America rolled his eyes, lowering his gun and turning around, resisting the urge to shoot his friend for ruining his concentration. "What do you want?"
The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland ran up to America, warily eyeing the gun in his hand, and glared at him. "Some of us are trying to read," he hissed, brandishing a particularly thick hardback. America winced involuntarily; the last time he had interrupted the UK's reading he had found himself bopped on the head with a copy of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. Really, he thought, a fridge might have been less painful.
"Eh, you'll get over it," America eventually decided, cheerfully, before raising his arm and taking aim again.
The UK, however, sighed heavily and clamped his spare hand around America's wrist, forcing it down until the gun was pointing at the ground.
"Dude," America said. "Never touch a guy holding a loaded gun. That's like the first rule of gun safety!"
"Isn't the safest thing you can go with guns to ban them entirely?"
America blinked, certain that the UK was joking. "Haha, good one, dude!" he exclaimed, clapping the UK on the back. "No, guns are really fun! You can use them for sport, self-defence..."
The UK raised an eyebrow and turned around so he had his back to America. "Perhaps you wouldn't need to defend yourself from anybody if you weren't such an irritating little man."
"Wait, Britain, you were serious?" America asked, incredulously, staring at his friend's back. "Hmm. Well, perhaps you would agree with me if you actually tried firing a gun? I promise you'll enjoy it!"
"No thank you," the UK responded stubbornly, beginning to walk away and waving his book over his shoulder in a half-hearted gesture of farewell. "I'll be reading Dirk Gently if you need me."
America frowned at the UK's retreating back, before adopting a wicked smirk. "You know," he said, slyly. "You really don't need to be afraid of the gun. In the right hands it's completely harmless..."
"I'm not afraid."
The UK had stopped in his tracks and was clearly fighting hard not to turn around. America grinned.
"Yeah, you are."
"Am not."
"Are too."
"Am not."
"Are too."
"Am not..."
"Well, prove it, then!" America demanded, marching over to the UK, and offering him the gun. He resisted the urge to grin smugly as the uptight nation snatched up the gun, an expression of deep irritation on his face segueing into a look of intense concentration. "Don't worry if you don't hit the can the first time, I have more ammunition..."
BANG.
America stared in disbelief as the tin he had missed four times was knocked off its perch and onto the pebbles at the foot of the rock in the distance.
"Lucky shot," he grudgingly conceded, handing the UK another bullet. "Now reload and hit the can again."
The UK exhaled pointedly as he followed the instructions, the second bullet once again finding its mark with a noisy 'clang'.
"I told you I wasn't scared," the UK muttered, handing back the gun and beginning to walk away, leaving America standing in utter bewilderment.
"Dude," America eventually breathed, his eyes wide. "That was, like, totally freaking awesome! I had no idea you could shoot like that!"
Not even bothering to turn back, the UK gave a short, humourless laugh. "There are a lot of things you don't know about me."
"I guess there are," America grinned, a particularly crazy thought suddenly coming to him. "Hey, you didn't get your mad shooting skills by, like, becoming a pirate or something, did you?"
America laughed as the retreating figure of his friend shuddered. "Nah, I guess not."