Reassurance

England lay down in his bed with a sigh. Today had been long but it had been one of his happiest times with the young America. Getting up at the crack of dawn, he'd taken the youngster on a picnic, played with him, and done all sorts of silly things he earnestly hoped would never come to light to any other nation. The child had fallen asleep after a number of stories about his country's heroes, and was tucked up in the next room. Outside, a muggy stillness had settled over the land, leaving the air thick and oppressive. England recognised the signs; a storm was on the way. Even as he undressed to sleep, a distant rumble of thunder could be heard. He slipped beneath the blanket, idly wondering if he really needed it in such warmth, and was soon asleep. Outside, the storm drew ever nearer, much needed rain soaking the parched earth and clearing the air of the muggy heat. The thunder sounded more frequently, lightning bolts flashing across the sky and striking random places. Slowly, the warmth decreased and it became cooler.

In the next room, the young America woke up with a start as a particularly loud rumble of thunder jolted the child awake. He looked around the dark room with fear; everything looked so different at night. The things so familiar to him in the daylight took on a totally alien look in the meagre light, and he huddled up, wanting to get back to sleep. After lying in his bed for several minutes, he felt as if he was just about to nod off when another thunder crash startled him. Feeling scared, the child climbed out of bed and opened his door, padding in bare feet to England's room.

England was not exactly a deep sleeper, but gradually the sounds of the storm outside took on a new note; between the gusts of wind and rumbles of thunder, a soft, sporadic tapping began to make itself known. After some five minutes of this tapping he woke up, looking annoyed at being roused from his slumber. Seconds later the tapping came again, like something knocking on the wood. He got up, lit his bedside lantern, pulled on a dressing gown and walked to the door. He opened it to see the young America stood outside, his blue eyes running with tears. His irritation at being woken up fading on the spot, he leaned down to the crying child. As soon as he was low enough, America threw himself on the older nation, hugging him. Any protests he may have made died on the spot; he embraced the small child warmly and stood up, carrying him back to his bed. America quickly cried himself out; being hugged by England was always nice and a surefire way to calm the younger nation. As England sat down on his bed to tell the youngster another story, a loud rumble of thunder made the child jump and cling to him even tighter. England could tell that America didn't want to be alone that night, and quietly lay down in his bed with the child still huddled next to him. Pulling the blanket over them both, America stopped quivering and lay still. England blew out his lantern and settled down, ignoring the storm outside as he hugged the youngster. In minutes, the boy was sound asleep. England smiled, kissed the boy's head and fell asleep himself.

Present day

England looked at his drinking partner, inebriated. America held his alcohol far better than his old friend, and was still relatively sober. He felt a tear trickle down from his eyes as he remembered a night he'd hugged the boy close and been there for him when he needed someone.