What happens when a fun game show goes horribly wrong? How will the duo of America and England work it out to get out of the horror? Humor and Angst follows. This isn't really a pairing/romance. However, brotherly love will be a present in this story.
NOTE:I DO NOT OWN HETALIA NOR THE CHARACTERS. HIMA-PAPA IS AMAZING.
"Go ahead then, do-"
Thunder grumbled above their heads, silencing the blue-coated soldier. With a determined glare, he straightened himself, chest heaving with adrenaline. The red-coated soldier was frozen in a defensive stance, the cocked gun trembling in his unstable hands. The rain beat down on both of the figures, soaking them from the strands of their hair to the tip of their boots.
The blue-coated soldier spoke again. "I said do it. Shoot me, England." His azure eyes bore down on the Englishman.
England fixed his eyes on his musket, gritting his teeth. Could he shoot him? Could he actually shoot America? The Briton would deny it over and over, but even an idiot could point out the winning side. England was outnumbered. The redcoats were defeated, even if he fired one more shot.
His emerald eyes flickered up to meet the American's hardened stare. The Englishman rested his index finger on the trigger, the end of the musket meeting America's face. All it took was one pull of the finger. One more win before it was over.
"England! England!" A beaming boy burst through the door of the house, turning a corner, and running down the hallway. At the end of the hallway was a door. The blond-haired boy screeched to stop. His little, grubby hands jumped for the doorknob in hopes of reaching it.
Behind the office door was a grinning male with dark, emerald eyes and absurdly thick eyebrows. Quietly, the male turned the doorknob, showing himself to the boy. "Ah-ha!" he cackled, scooping up the little boy into his arms. "I've got you! Raaah!" The Englishman tickled the boy in the stomach, causing him to squeal with delight.
England grinned widely, satisfied that he made his little brother laugh. "Alright, little man." He lifted his brother off himself and onto the ground. "I have some work to finish up. I'll see you in awhile. Be good, alright?" The British country turned and headed back into his office.
The boy's laughter died down, and he stumbled after his big brother, pouting. "England! England, wait!"
England turned around, his eyebrows raised. "We've talked about this, America. Big brother has some work to do, so I need you to play alone for a bit."
"I know," Little America began, "but come here! I need to tell you something!" He gestured for the Englishman to sit down.
Obliging, the Briton sighed and sat down by his younger brother. In return, America sat on his lap and touched England's cheek, smiling. The country smiled softly, his little brother's innocent smile warming his heart. Then, the little boy pointed at England's eyes. "They're green," America then pointed to his eyes. "and mine are blue."
The Englishman chuckled. "What an interesting observation, America."
"Green and blue!" His little brother pressed, clipping off each word. "Like the colors of a rainbow! Green and blue! We're right by each other! We'll always be together!"
England blinked, astounded by the 6-year-old's thought. "Th-That's right, America. No matter what happens, we'll be by each other's side."
A sudden crackle of lightning broke through the memory. England gasped, his vision blurred from the pouring rain. The world suddenly became more muddy and gray, and all the more the Briton wished he was back inside his head. Suddenly feeling nauseous, England looked back at the swampy ground. Why did he think of shooting America? How could he have thought shooting him? It seemed too impossible now.
The redcoat looked back at the colonist's face. With his jaw set, America looked like he was still waiting for a response. England couldn't do it. He couldn't shoot his little brother. Not now, not ever. Slowly, he lowered his musket to his side. The American colony looked so surprised, that the Englishman wanted to tease him. But England couldn't do anything right now. He couldn't really explain what he was feeling. All the mighty British country felt now was...numb.
"C-Can't," the redcoat choked back a sob, finally feeling the accumulation of tears forming in his eyes.
America didn't say anything, but only stared.
"There's no way I can shoot you." England stated, his voice dripping of anguish. "I can't."
The Englishman dropped his musket. Then, without warning, he dropped to his knees. "Why?" England cried, holding his face in his hands. "Heavens, why? It's not fair!"
The colonist finally spoke. "I know it's not fair. But I'm not sorry it had to be this way."
Startled at America's reply, England looked up and gawked. The American had his musket aimed at him. Grinning sadistically, America threw his head back and laughed. "Together forever, eh? What a stupid idea!"
England froze, silent tears dripping off his cheek. His younger brother then did what the English country could never do. Flicking back his index finger, the last shot was finally fired.
BOOM! England yelped, shooting up from his bed. His fists clenched his bedsheets. Only a dream. Reluctantly, he laid back down, curling up into his blankets. Like his nightmare, it was raining heavily outside. Raindrops drummed against the Briton's bedroom window and thunderous claps shook his room. The country closed his eyes, get drowsier by the minute.
DING DONG! The Englishman frowned, wondering if he heard right. Was that his doorbell ringing? No, it couldn't be. It's past midnight, for God's sake.
DING DONG! Wait...what?
DINGDONGDINGDONGDINGDONGDINGDONGDIN-
"Alright, alright! I'm coming!" England shouted, throwing off his covers. He sat on the edge of his bed, grumbling. "I swear, I'm killing anyone who comes to my door at this hour." The English country grabbed his blue robe that laid on the side of his bed and hurried down the stairs. Finally reaching his front door, he flicked on the lights to his porch. Then, England peered through his peephole, trying to find out what bloody bloke had dared to disturb him.
The Briton's eyes widened, and unlatched the door. He opened it, revealing a dirty blond-haired male trying to unlock his door. Upon sensing a presence, the blonde straightened up, sheepishly grinning. "Uh, oh, hey England! You're looking…well!"