Everybody knew America was a party animal of the weekend. A weekend warrior, some would call him. And this weekend was no exception. America had been out with the Bad Touch Trio just Friday night, and the Nordic Five all day Saturday. But now it was Sunday night and he was trying to decompress. He was exhausted from drinking with Denmark and teasing England with France. It was about three thirty in the morning, and he was just getting to the home he shared with his brother Canada. The door creaked slightly under his hand, and he stepped inside on the carpeted hardwood floor. The exhaustion really was bad, but it felt like it was getting worse. He felt himself just sort of fall over onto the floor.
Something was odd though. The floor seemed so much closer than what it would've been normally.
He stood up, feeling somewhat better, and looked down at the floor. The floor was now linoleum tile, and it was so much closer to him than it had been before. He looked around. It wasn't decorated with stupid posters and figures anymore. It looked elegant and classy, with a dim gold glow from the chandelier above illuminating fancy paintings and vases. Something happened, and he didn't know what.
He moved one foot, and fell. He couldn't find it in himself to be able to walk, so he crawled as far as he could until he came upon a low-setting mirror that he could see in. He looked so small, so cute, so… childish. It was clear what had happened. He had become a baby again.
It made almost no sense. He remembered everything perfectly, which wasn't normal if you were a child. His thoughts were interrupted by a voice lilting from the staircase right next to him. It was England, and he looked so young and excited.
"Come now, child." He picked up the small country from where he sat and held him up close. America didn't understand what was going on: he couldn't form any words and he couldn't find himself to move. "Time for you to get to bed so you can grow up strong."
America still didn't know what happened. Did England cast a spell on him? He didn't know. He struggled a bit and started to cry at his own helplessness. England brought him up close to himself and rubbed his back soothingly.
"Calm down." His voice was gentle and loving. "I'm not going to drop you, trust me."
The young blonde sniffled and lay against England's chest. It was comforting, despite the fact that he was so confused about everything. He closed his eyes and let the other carry him upstairs to a familiar room. There were blue walls, with animals painted on them, and toys on the floor and a crib at the end of everything with a bottle, a pacifier, and blankets in it. He remembered this place, but just barely. He was only a little kid when he last saw it, and now he was returning as a little kid.
The older male set him down inside and covered him with a blanket, and kissed the top of his head before leaving the room.
America snuggled up under the blanket. He really didn't know what was going on, or how to tell England that he was a grown adult now, but sleep sounded good after a long weekend.