"Sealand, drink your milk."
The micro-nation glared at the glass in front of him. "No."
America sighed. Why had England asked him to look after the kid? He had better things he could be doing right now. Like playing Black Ops 2 with Tony, for instance. "Look, just drink the stupid milk so you can go do whatever."
"I'm not drinking it. It looks disgusting."
America sighed again. He wished Belarus was over; one glare from her, and one would do anything she asked.
Unfortunately, she had business to take care of today. She said she'd come over tomorrow, but that didn't solve his current dilemma.
"Look, it's not like England made it. You'll be fine."
"How do I know Jerk England didn't make it?"
America glared at the child, then turned to the fridge and yanked out the milk carton. Pouring himself a glass, he chugged it down, then glared at the small child. "See? I'm fine. Now, drink it."
"But you have a stomach of steel from Jerk England's cooking. How do I know it won't be hazardous to me?"
Fed up with Sealand, America slammed his hands down on the table, glaring at him. "Drink the stupid milk! Seriously, don't you want to grow?"
Sealand opened his mouth to argue, then shut it, looking somewhat confused. "…Milk makes you grow?"
America blinked, surprised. "Yeah. Didn't you know? It makes you stronger and stuff."
Sealand looked at the glass with a newfound interest, gears of his small brain churning. "So… If I drink this… I'll grow more?"
"Yeah…"
"And if I grow… I'll become my own country, right?" Sealand asked, looking up at America with shining eyes.
America blinked, not sure what to make of this latest statement. "Uh…"
The thought was apparently good enough for Sealand, because he picked it up and chugged it down in seconds. Wiping his mouth, he held the glass out to America. "More."
America stared at the child for a few seconds. Once his brain processed what had happened, he responded in annoyance, "What's the magic word?"
"Fine. More, please."
Snatching the glass, America went and retrieved the carton, refilling the glass.
At least that solved that dilemma.
"Sorry that I had to dump Sealand on you," England apologized to America as the superpower dropped the micro-nation back off with his "brother". "I would have sent the brat to Finland or Sweden, but they were both busy. You were the only person I could think of."
"No worries. The hero got him to cooperate," America said, flashing England a smile.
England nodded curtly. "Good."
As England turned to head into his house, America added, "Oh, by the way… England…"
"Yes?"
"You may want to stock up on milk. Like, pronto."