Ohio. That one territory was what tore a family apart. It started in 1753. New France, or Canada as he was known to his twin brother America, had marched from his snowy home and claimed it from right under everyone's noses. Of course, Britain wasn't going to let that one happen, land hungry like the rest of them. And so the teenage twins were set against each other. But the boys' allegiance wasn't what was in question, but that of their mother, Native America. She was kind and gentle most of the time, her body deceptively soft and warm. But when she was provoked, she was scarier than most men, and in this situation she'd have to choose which on of her boys would have her help, and inversely, which one she would have to fight.

In the end, she chose the quiet, calm one. Canada got their mother's love, merely pushing America farther away and into Britain's arms more securely. It wasn't long before the two met on the field of battle in Virginia. America was lead my General George Washington, a young man who would one day lead a revolution, but today led a co-operative mission. The goal, to get the damn French out of American territory.

"Are you ready, America? This is your family, after all." The Brit was harsh, but not heartless, and he knew that this had to be tearing the boy apart inside. Even when it had been lifetimes since he and France were friends, it still hurt him to hurt the pervert.

"You're my family now, Britain. They abandoned me in a heartbeat, but you're here next to me." He smiled, but it was pained, an expression that Britain hated to see in his little colony.

"Well then, with that, let's go to war." He smiled and they charged, muskets ready to open fire. But America did something unexpected in this kind of warfare. He didn't stop with everyone else. He kept going, always being a more head on kind of person. Instead of firing his musket, he started spearing enemies on the end of it, and only fired one bullet when he was close enough not to miss.

He knew that this strategy would only work if he could manage to get to the other side of the fray before they got through the shock and shot him dead. So he used that super strength he had been born with to jump up above them, and jump from head to head until he hit the back of their ranks. This way they either had to pay attention to the army in front of them, or the madman behind. But this didn't work out too well, when he saw the people who were leading from the rear. His brother, France, and his very own mother, with two muskets and a tomahawk pointed at him.

"What cowards. Too afraid to stand in the front where you might get hurt, so you just hide in the back." He spat, hate in his blue eyes.

"And you are too foolish to realize that if we kill you, that little Canada here will take over your territory." France laughed, ready to squeeze the trigger.

"Not so fast." Britain's voice rang out, and blood exploded from the Frenchman's hand as a pistol shot went through it.

"Well if it isn't the British empire himself." Native America snarled, aiming her weapon at him instead. The sound of the second volley of musket fire was heard as she threw the ax, and was followed by the sound of sharpened stone on flesh. But the green eyed nation was unharmed. America had shoved him out of the way, and taken the wound for his own.

"What are you doing, you git!" Britain shouted, and pulled out his second pistol, shooting the injured boy's mother in the head, her surprised brown eyes growing dull with lack of life.

"A-Al?" Canada took a tentative step toward his brother, only for a stray musket ball to hit him in the shoulder. He fell, injured but not nearly as much as his brother.

"America, don't you dare die! Wake up! Wake UP!" Britain shouted, tears streaming from his eyes.

"Don't worry, Britain. I'm the knight, I have to save the princess." He smiled, holding a hand to the empire's cheek before passing out from blood loss, and going limp.

"If you want to live, I suggest leaving now, before I'm unable to control my temper." England growled, crouching over his charge.

"C-come on, Canada. We'll settle this another time." France said, completely willing to retreat into his fort again.

And it was settle later. After seven years of Britain carving a bloody path through Europe and North America, Ohio was his, but America had yet to wake from his coma.

After the treaty was official, he went to see the sleeping colony. Then he noticed that something was off. The hands that had been perfectly by his side for the past seven years were instead out of position. One was on his chest, and the other was over his head, as well as his head being faced toward the side. When the door clicked shut, his heart jumped at the sight of those eyes clenching before slowly opening.

"Hey, Britain." He said, softly, but excitedly. "They tell me that you won the war while I was out."

"Yes. I did." He didn't want to tell the lad that it would require colonial taxation to pay for it.

"Cool. So we can go back to being buddies like before, right?"

"Well, there's something else, America. You may not like it, but I assure you that it is necessary."

"What is it, Britain?" his eyes were those curious, but cautious eyes that he'd had ever since he was a child. Full of innocent wonder, and certainty in the fact that no harm would come to him as long as his big brother was there protecting him.

"The British parliament has decided that to pay for the war, we'll need to tax the colonies. You'll have to help pay for it."

"But dude, I'm already broke, and I doubt much has changed since I've been out."

"but I can't keep accumulating debt on your behalf, I'll end up like Spain with Romano."

"I went against my own mother for you! I took a tamahock to the fucking chest, and you tell me I haven't paid for it yet? You joined the war to get back at France! You don't give a damn about me, do you?" America stood, obviously fuming. "Then fine, I don't need to be your little brother if you're gonna make me buy you off." America said, storming from the room.

"I knew he wouldn't take it well." Britain said to nobody as he sighed.

But he had no idea how badly America would take it. He took it so terribly that he revolted, and, due to a massive world war with France and Spain, he won. Not only did he win, but after world war one, he was left as a world power, and Britain wasn't. They constantly fought, and England was thoroughly convinced that his greed had cost him the person he cared for most. He had nightmares of the rainy evening that the child he'd raised like a son, and then come to love in a completely different way, pointed a gun at him, and for the first time, looked down upon him, instead of up.

And then the time was world war two, and Germany was on the run. Italy had already surrendered, and the Two English nations had cornered the uptight blonde.

"Just give up already, dude. I'll have that nuke in like a week, and Italy is already on our side again. It's a loosing battle bro." America said, doing his annoying hero laugh.

"I've never been one to surrender, that was always Italia." He was bleeding from a gunshot wound to his left side, and he still showed no signs of giving up. It was because of this determination, he aimed a gun at England. America's bespectacled eyes went wide, and his body moved on it's own, perhaps remembering that time in the seven year's war. He shoved his former mentor aside, the bullet ripping through him instead.

He fell to the floor, clutching the wound as blood poured out of it.

"Veneziano!" They heard an Italian voice call, and then rushed footsteps. The younger Italian brother came flying through the hallway, latching onto the german.

"Please just surrender, Doitsu! You can't win, so what's the point? I don't wanna see you get hurt anymore!" Feli shouted, tears running down his face.

"Why are you here, kid? We told you to stay at the base." America said through teeth clenched in pain, and yet, that seemed to be what the stubborn nation needed.

"Draw up the paperwork." He said, hugging the Italian closer.

…

"Why would you do that, you bloody wanker? What if you had died?" Britain continued to lecture as the American sat in the hospital.

"Because, this hurts a hell of a lot less than when I see you in pain." He said, flashing his cocky smile.

"What?"

"I only declared independence so that we wouldn't be brothers anymore, and the feelings I had wouldn't be creepy. But then you stopped laughing with me, so I figured that you hated me. But I don't care anymore dammit. When the hero saves the damsel in distress, he's supposed to get a kiss and ride off into the sunset, not end up alone while the Damsel hangs out with the dragon."

"Damn git. If you had just told me that before, things would have been so much easier." America was shocked when he felt small, soft lips on his own.

"Dude, totally worth it." America said, pulling the Brit down for another, steamier kiss.

"America I-" Canada walked in right as tongues came into it, kind of ruining the mood. At least he would have if they had seen him. But no one ever did, and what he saw in that hospital room will haunt him forever. He had no idea that England was so flexible.

A/N- this is for my friend, who knows exactly who she is because she's the only one awesome enough to receive a gift fic from me. Also, I couldn't help but put a little Gerita into it, and if mien friend wishes, I'll add in the lemon later. I hope this is enjoyed by everyone, but mostly her.