A Nightmare

America pinched his eyes shut and turned over on his side, trying very hard to fall asleep. Lately he had had a hard time falling asleep, and he usually ended up having a cup of coffee while watching a movie.

Tonight was no exception. He cracked his eyes open and sighed, staring into the wall. Slowly he pushed off the duvet and got out of bed. He made his way to the bathroom. Putting on his glasses, he caught sight of himself in the mirror. The shades under his eyes were just getting deeper.

Another sigh.

As usual, he went to the kitchen and made a cup of coffee, before heading for the living room. He turned on the lights and scanned his shelves, looking for something suitable to watch in the middle of the night.

His gaze skipped from the movies to the few pictures and decorative stuff he had put on the upper shelf. Amongst the stuff, was a small toy soldier England had given him once a very, very long ago – and there was an old yellowish photo where they were standing side by side. America picked it down to have a better look at it. They were wearing their usual clothes, but both of them were grinning from ear to ear, and he himself was shorter than England.

Those were nice times. The moment he realized what he had been thinking, he hastily put the picture back, chose a movie on the whim and turned it on. No way was nostalgia hitting him, of all people!

When the first sunlight peeked in through the window, America was half-asleep on the sofa with a cold cup of coffee before him and the remote control in his lap.

He groaned slightly and opened his eyes. The clock at the wall showed about 6 AM. He got up, leaving the coffee and the remote control as he went to throw together some clothes. Barely half an hour later America was fully dressed, standing outside his house and locking it. He put the keys in his bag and headed for the airport.

Right on time. He snorted and shook his head. What was up with him? He knew people called him noisy and overzealous, but now he did not feel as neither of them. He felt like… what to call it?

He stared up at the house before him. It was a really long time since he had visited. He would certainly not be expected this early in the morning. Letting out a deep breath that showed in the air before him, he climbed the stairs and rang on the doorbell.

For a some time there was no answer, and he wondered if there were nobody home. Then he heard the sound of someone moving towards the door, before the clicking of the door being unlocked told him he should take a step back so not to get the door in his face.

"Good morning, what can I-"

Silence.

"America?"

"Hi, England."

England looked as though he thought he had not woken up yet. "What are you doing here?" Not accusing, just wondering. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a small voice told America he had just surprised his "big bro".

He shrugged. "Was in the area, so I thought I could drop by. You're not busy, are you?"

England hesitated for a moment. "No", he eventually decided, and let America in.

America glanced about the entrance hall. It truly was a long time since he had been there last. Quite a few things had changed.

"Here, let me take that."

He let England have his jacket, gloves and hat. A moment later, he England showed him to the living room.

"Would you like something to drink? Maybe a little to eat? Have you had breakfast yet?"

"Just something to drink", America replied, slightly distracted by the fact that, above the chimney, a painting of England and himself was hanging. He had to admit it was rather… cute.

England's voice drifted in from the kitchen as he talked on about how the morning had been. For a moment America felt as though he was a small kid again, and England had brought him home.

What's up with the nostalgia? He frowned at himself, before dropping the bag by the door and heading for one of the sofas he just knew was wonderfully soft. He sighed and closed his eyes, leaning his head back.

"America? Are you all right?"

He sat up straight. When had England stopped talking?

England placed a tray with a cup of coffee and a cup of tea on the table, before narrowing his eyes at America to have a proper look at him.

"You don't look good. How are you feeling? You're not getting sick, are you?"

"Nah, I'm fine, dude!" America tried to put on his usual cheery smile, but even he heard how terrible fake it sounded. He winced in silence at the look England was giving him.

"Don't try to fool me, America. Have you had enough sleep lately?"

"… no." He knew he had not. He just had not planned his visit to take this turn.

England sat down beside him, keeping a little air between them. "What's bothering you?" he asked, taking a sip of his tea.

America left his coffee at the table and leant back on the sofa. "Dunno", he replied.

Silence. The only sound was when England placed his tea on the table again.

"Why are you here, America? I don't believe that you were "in the area"."

America let his eyes slide shut. Why was he there? "Dunno." A lie. He could had smacked himself, but this would not be the first time he lied to England, would it?

A gentle touch to his shoulder made him go rigid. "Just… relax." He let England pull him down on the sofa, with his head in England's lap. It felt… strange. This was how it had been when he was a kid, was it not?

He closed his eyes as England gently brushed his hair out of his eyes, and kept on running a hand through his hair. He relaxed. His body felt heavy, and it was somewhat comfortable to just lay like that… England talked in a hushed voice, but his words gave no sense anymore.

England removed his glasses.

His body felt really heavy…

A tender kiss to his temple.

…the reason why he came…

…this was the reason.

America sat up abruptly. Light flooded in through his bedroom window. He stared just before him, still lost sleep. Then he got out of bed. He picked up the phone and made a call.

"Hello?" came the monotone reply from the other end.

"Hi, Japan! Dude, I just had the worst night mare ever."