The Power of Friendship
AN: Something I wrote in retaliation to my friend's story in which she made America kill France because I pissed her off by making a list of 10 reasons why I preferred FrUk over UsUk… so I posted it here for you to enjoy too! So… anyone want to hear my highly logical 10 reasons? xD jkjk..
"Yo, French dude!" America hollered, running to his friend in the alley. France was chuckling to himself dissonantly. He had a purple aura to rival Russia's, but America didn't notice it as he was unable to read the atmosphere. He tried to hug his sexy-haired friend, but was instead pinned to a brick wall.
To America's horror, France pulled out a knife and slashed a hole in his bomber jacket. "What the hell, man?" the younger nation whined, just now noticing France's blank eyes. He was in full rape mode now. France raised the knife again.
"You think you're so cute, with your aeroplanes and motor cars! Well I'm here to tell you that HE'S MINE! You shall not have mon ami! We've known each other since the beginning of time, and you can't just come in and take mon Angleterre!" the Frenchman exclaimed. America caught his wrist.
"Dude, not cool! I'm America, and I can totally have what or who-ever I want!" the younger nation shouted, shoving France off with his ssuper-strength.
"I will cut your silly American wanker right off!" he replied indignantly, flipping his sexy blonde hair back. The two began an odd sort of fighting; America obviously tried to imitate a professional wrestler, while France pretended his switchblade was a full-size foil. Suddenly, they were interrupted.
"Hey! HEY!" England shouted, stepping into their sights. He put his hands on his hips in a way that drove France crazy (in all ways possible). He looked like an angel with disproportionate eyebrows, standing at the mouth of the alley with the sun to his back, "Stop cutting up the kid, you bloody frog! And America, I thought I raised you better! Really," he said, shaking his head in gentlemanly disapproval. "If I told you once, I've told you a thousand times, I'm straight."
France and America gasped. This was the first time they could remember hearing this.
"I'm straight for Belarus." The named country stepped into sight, wrapping her arms around her boyfriend's waist. The knife tucked in her waistband was bigger than France's, but England didn't seem to mind. She sort-of glared at the two men in the alley while also making puppy eyes at England. He started laughing and walked away, arm-in-arm with Belarus.
"What?" France exploded. "I can't believe this!"
"AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA," America laughed hysterically, "British dude is totally in love with fat commie dude's kid sister!" He was close to tears of mirth, despite his recent rejection. France simply sank down on the brick wall of the alley. America leaned on the wall agaist him once his hysteria had subsided.
"So, wanna make out?