Hey guys, I'm still doing my other fanfictions it's just that I came up with this idea and I really wanted to start writing it straight away. So hope you enjoy. Also this include Nekotalia and Nyotalia.

The forgotten book

On a book case in the middle of a certain American's house was a book. Not just any book but a magical book. The book held fairy tales and magical stories that once filled the rooms around them, but now they had been locked away as the days went on and sure enough the book had been forgotten and remained untouched for years. However we have a story here that will relive the fairy tales that had remained unsaid, but with a little twist.

The door opened slowly as light fled into the darkness of the room. The floorboards creaked underneath his weight as he proceeded forwards. He ran his hands against the wall until he came across the light switch and flicked it on. The room busted into light. There wasn't anything special about the room. It was an old storage room that had been piled up with stuff that the owner didn't need any more but dreaded to get rid of. The said owner was an American with blonde hair and sky blue eyes, to some he was Alfred F Jones but to others he was the personification of the United States of America. America crossed the room and stood in front of a white sheet that had covered a very old and dusty wardrobe. Hide behind the white sheets where the most painful memories that the American could think of. Sadly most of them involve around a certain British gentleman. America grabbed onto the sheet and yanked it off. Dust particles filled America's lungs making him cough. He waved his hands around the try and clear the air. He leaned forwards and grabbed onto the door handles, opening them to reveal the hidden secrets inside.

But there wasn't many secrets to see or long lost treasures to rediscover. No. Instead there were books after books and boxes after boxes of pointless just meaningful things. A big box on the second shelf of the wardrobe had the words ENGLAND written on it in a red marker. The box contained all the little gifts that England had either given to America or had left behind when he would leave and return to England. America lifted the box down from the shelf and sat it on the floor. He took out a pocket knife and undid the seal. He opened the box with more dust coming out. He looked down at the box. Inside the box was a set of toy soldiers that England had made for America. He had broken his arm in the progress but carried on non the less. A neatly folded up suit was under the toy soldier. It was a little small for America now but he still kept the suit. It had been the first one that he had every gotten and he promised himself that he would keep everything that the older nation had given him. Not that he would tell him that.

There were also same letters and books and a few old photos that had been scattered in the box. Each item had there own memory and America smiled as he thought back on the times when England had come to visit him. It was the last item in the box that America had been searching for. It was an old brown leather book, A thick one as well. The book was filled of old fairy tales and magic story's that England would read the him as a child. He didn't really have a favorite one, well to be honest he couldn't remember much about the story's that were told to him as a kid.

He picked the book up and brush off all the dust - really what was up with old places and dust- well America had to admit that he had been putting of cleaning the storage room out for a while now but after being reminded that hero's never give in, he grabbed his dust pan and brush and headed to his storage room.

"I guess i should give this back to Iggy, i does belong to him after all," America whispered to no one.

He clutched the book to his chest before packing away the other items that had taken out of the box. He re-sealed it and placed it back on the second shelf where he had taken it down from. America stepped back, closing the wardrobe doors. He picked the white sheet up, that had been thrown onto the floor and folded it up, placing it on a red chair.

America turned on his heel and marched out of the room. Making his way to his bedroom to get ready for the meeting that was going to be held in New York City.

America made his way down the streets of New York. His boss had offered to phone him a lift but it was a nice day and even though it wasn't very hot, there still was a warm breeze that welcomed him. He looked up at the sky and took in the surrounding sounds of the busy streets. He really loved it here. America had a few other houses and apartments in different states such as Nevada and California but his house in New York was his favourite. He loved Times Square at night and the busy noise of the traffic rushing back and forth was somehow...soothing.

It was moments like this when he would go into a deep thought and start thinking about things that had happened in the past and the main ones were whether it had been a good or bad idea about getting independence from England. He known that it was the right thing to do but he couldn't help but question his action. He didn't see the older nation as a 'Big brother' he saw him as a friends, maybe even more of a friend.

A car zoomed past America, a little to close to the sidewalk causing him to came back to reality and out of his dream state. America glanced down at his watch and noticed that he had 3 minutes to get to the meeting hall. With the old leather book placed under his arm and his brief case in his right hand, he ran as fast as he could, dodging shoppers, families and couples as he made his way to the meeting.

America had made it to the meeting with about 15 seconds the spare. He could already hear the loud noises of arguments from outside and they grow louder and louder as he stepped forwards towards the big meeting room at the bottom of the hall.

As America entered the room a chair smashed into the wall beside him missing his head by 2 inches. He stopped dead and looked into the room and to no surprise saw England and France had already started to fight. It seemed that they had skipped the arguing and gone straight to throwing books and pens and anything else that they could grab at each other.

"Come on Mon petit lapin, I was just saying," France laughed at one side of the room

"I don't care if you were 'just saying' that's not going to stop me from castrating you frog," England hissed back.

America had noticed that a few other nations in the room and shivered when England and finished his sentence.

"Hey dudes," America cheerfully said giving the nations in the room a thumbs up "What's going on in here?"

"Angeltere and I where just reminiscing about the old days, where England used to follow me around like a little lost puppy, ohonhonhonhon," France laughed again before ducking another chair that England had sent flying at his direction.

"SHUT UP FROG! I never did anything like that," England's faces was as red as one of Spain's tomatoes.

"Do not lie, mon ami, you used to chase after me. I sometimes wonder what happened to mon petit lapin, you where so cute," France races over to the other side of the room and practically threw himself at England. England let out a (manly) scream as both him and France toppled to the floor.

"Get off me you bloody wanker," England said wiggling under France's body.

The other nations around them just signed as they watched the fight that normal occurred between France and England. However America soon found himself moving on his own. He walked over to the pair on the floor and picked France up by the scruff of the neck before pushing his backwards. France tripped over his own feet and landed on his bottom. He stared up at the America, his mouth open slightly.

"you didn't have to do that," England muttered as America helped him to his feet. "I can take care of myself,"

"Oui, you didn't need to thrown big brother just to..." France stopped and looked at America and England. He saw how close America was standing next to England.

"What are you smiling about, frog," England snapped

France looked between England and America. "Oh nothing, nothing at all" He stood up, brushing himself of.

"Oh that reminds me," America said giving England and France is hero's smile "I brought this for you," America reached for the book that was under his arm and handed it to England.

England took the book from America's hands and turned it over so that the front cover was facing him. He stopped dead. England looked up at America with his green forest eyes filled with shock.

"W...Where did y...you get this?" England stuttered

Both America and France were a little taken back by the look on England's face and how he spoke.

"What do you mean, you left it at mine ages ago," America laugh trying to lighten the mood of the conversation.

"I've been looking for this book for years," England ran his right hand over the cover of the book, feeling the old leather under his slender fingers. He couldn't help but let a small smile spread across his face.

"Dude are you smiling?" America couldn't believe the look on England's face and for some reason he felt a warm sensation in his chest. but he just brushed it off, ignoring it.

England's face fell and was replaced with a scowl. "I was not smiling you dolt,"

"But...,"

"We are starting the meeting now so please take you seats," Germany's booming voice interrupted America.

The three nations went their separate ways towards their personal seats.

I'm pretty proud with this so far and I hope to actual finish this fanfiction

Reviews would be appreciated

I hope to update this as soon as possible