Disclaimer: I own nothing

Rated: T

"What in the Queen's name...?!"

The situation surely called for more of a reaction, but England seriously could not think of anything that would be appropriate enough at the moment.

"Yo, Iggy!" America's dreamy smile turned into a grin and he waved happily at the gaping Briton, "Was wondering when you'd get here! What took ya so long?"

"W-what...?" England blinked, wondering if his eyes were playing tricks on him, but the scene didn't change at all after a few more forced blinks, "What the fuck is all of this!?"

"You suddenly go blind or something?" America snickered as his arm wrapped around a small trembling form (not that he noticed the trembling or anything), "It's exactly what it looks like."

"What the hell does it look like!?" England snapped, staring at the numerous blonds America had gathered around him and most of them looked pretty damn unwilling at that, "Is this why you have been bothering Norway and Romania as of late!?"

"Well, duh," America rolled his eyes, sighing dramatically as if England were stupid, "It's not like you were gonna help me."

"Can you let me go?" A quiet voice asked, but wasn't really heard as the two nations stared down each other (one utterly smug and the other in complete rage), "Err–?"

England gaped again when America was suddenly flying into the ground from a harsh punch to the face. He unconsciously took a step back and to his horror, felt a rush of excitement when he noticed those heated indigo eyes (sadly not directed towards him, but to America).

"When a lady speaks to you, you best answer," A dark annoyed, yet still feminine voice stated and America was staring wide-eyed as she stood tall over his crumpled form, "Now, tell me where the hell I am."

America, being America, didn't seem to sense the danger with his less-than-stellar reading the atmosphere abilities, "You're gonna be a part of my harem, Dark!Maddie!" He answered cheerfully.

A dead silence eerily enveloped the entire room.

That is until a heavy boot suddenly landed on America's stomach, "Harem?" The voice was irritated, low, and just downright dangerous, "You think I'm going to be your bitch?"

America, if he was in any pain, certainly didn't let it show externally, "Well, if you wanna be that blunt about it, yeah, pretty much," He said airily, as if his ribs weren't straining underneath the boot, "So, which Canada are you?"

Eyes flashed underneath black sunglasses and a vicious smirk slowly spread across his face, "You like pain?" He asked casually and America blinked up at him, "Let's see if you're a masochist like my bitch Al."

"I-I don't think violence will solve anything!" That quiet voice from before spoke up once again and everyone was looking at a pretty blonde, who long hair was tied back in twin red ribbons, "U-umm...!" She blushed when she noticed everyone's attention was suddenly on her.

England gawked, and was about to say something in response to the blonde's statement, but let out a noise of surprise when something slammed into his chest, "Bloody hell!?"

"Mr. Arthur!" A familiar, yet younger than what he was used to, voice called out excitedly, "Do you think America has finally surrendered?"

The redcoat sent an immediate wave of nostalgia through him and he felt his cheeks flush hotly when those eager eyes looked up at him, "M-Matthew?" He asked weakly, wondering why he was staring at a younger Canada from the American Revolution days.

"Yo, Mattie, you're hugging the wrong guy over there!" America wheezed, still straining under the boot planted firmly on his abdomen, "You're a part of my harem, not Iggy's!"

Revolution!Canada glanced back, his eager face turning into something more passive, though both England and America could see the underlying aggression in those gleaming eyes, "How many times do I need to tell you I will never become one of your 'states', America." His voice was pleasant, yet it somehow still sent shivers down both their spines.

Another boot dug into America's middle, though this one smaller than the first, "I still want an answer and have yet to receive one," That dangerous feminine tone sounded and England swore he was staring at Canadian twins with their mountie getup, "You see, I don't want to be late for lingerie football with Emily."

Good Lord, what the hell were Norway and Romania thinking in helping America!?