"Ow… my head…" England groaned as his eyes danced themselves open as he pushed himself up from the cold, concrete floor. His head felt as heavy as it was when he started losing consciousness and this made him feel groggier. "This is the worst hangover without the aid of alcohol," The Briton rubbed his eyes before focusing them on his surroundings. Confusion started in his mind as noticed that the walls and floor was the shade of concrete grey with a small, barred window located high on the wall. A shower cubicle sat in one corner of the room with a porcelain white sink stood next to it. The toilet was situated in the other corner and a silver, metal door stood at the end opposite the wall with the window that shed some natural sunlight. England rubbed his eyes in hopes that he was just imagining what he was seeing but everything he saw stayed in their places. "How the bloody hell did I end up here?" He muttered to himself. "I don't remember getting drunk and disorderly."
"That's what I want to know," a new voice moaned.
England spun his head around to find another man sat up slowly near a bunk bed. As he raised his head, his shoulder length, gold locks pulled back like curtains to reveal a startled expression. Both eyes locked onto one another for a brief second as if they didn't expect the other one to be there.
"France!"
"Britain!"
"What are you doing here!" They both yelled in perfect unison.
"What the bloody hell is going on here!" England inquired.
"How am I supposed to know!" France's hand floated to his own chest covered by his pale pink pinstriped shirt. "One moment I was holding a bouquet of irises and then the next thing I knew, I was being attacked by some mad man!"
"You were attacked?"
"Oui!" France nodded his head. "The door bell rang so I answered it and there was a bouquet of irises on the floor with no messenger. I took them into my house thinking they were from a secret admirer, only to be knocked out with someone armed with chloroform!"
"Now that you mention it, I answered the door at one point last night but it was America and he only came by to see if I was alright." England placed his hand under his chin.
"That was awfully kind of him," France tucked some hair behind his ears. "Considering that you were the one who started the fight."
"Yes, I thought his behaviour slightly odd when he said he was checking up on me," England suddenly perked up and scowled at the Frenchman. "And what do you mean, I started it! You were the one who had a go at me first!"
"Just because I didn't agree with you, you had a go at me!" France shot a dark look at the Englishman.
"That's a load of bollocks, you prick! As soon as you knew I was right and you were wrong, you had to shoot down my opinion!" England shot to his feet and jabbed his index finger at the Frenchman. Not to be intimidated by him, France stood to his feet as quickly as the Briton did.
"I made plenty of valid points! You just couldn't accept that and started making stuff up!" He retaliated.
"I was making stuff up!" All at once, both of the countries started tugging at each other's hair. "You deliberately tried to mislead everyone else to believing that what I said was utter nonsense!"
"You don't even know what you were talking about half the time!" France shouted. The hair pulling turned into face slaps and they in turn escalated into a fist fight. None of them cared about how much time had passed, as long as they had the stamina to defeat their foe; they weren't going to back down easily.
In fact it was only a day later that they started to falter with their punches. They could barely pant their insults but in the end, they laid on the floor huffing and puffing. They didn't even have enough strength to haul their weary bodies back up so they spent another day asleep on the floor.
By the time they both woke up, their muscles ached and their moods weren't any better than when they first arrived. Finally, England had enough strength to stand on his two feet.
"This is getting me nowhere," He grumbled. "I've spent a whole day wasting my energy on you when I could have easily used it to make my escape."
"And what dare I ask do you plan to do?" France climbed onto the bottom bunk of the bunk bed.
"Isn't it obvious, toad? I'm going to break the door down and murder whoever drugged me in the first place." The Briton strode up to the metallic door and began kicking it with the sole of his foot.
"What are you doing?" France stared at the Briton with an annoyed expression.
"If there's one thing I've learnt about breaking down doors, it's that you have to kick them at the lock where it's most fragile." England explained between the bangs. "In just a few moments, the door will no longer stand in my way of escape." France rolled his eyes as he watched the Englishman booting the door. Five minutes later and England began to tire while the door stood strong without so much as a scratch.
"So much for the door breaking down in a few moments," France snorted. England glowered at him when he heard the comment.
"If you think you can do better, you try kicking the door down! Or if you have anything that you can turn into a key that will be much appreciated!"
Before France could react, a small port hole opened at the top of the door. Both of the countries responded to the sliding sound by watching a cream envelope flutter through the hole before it shut itself again. England thumped the door with the palm of his hand.
"Hey! Who are you! What's the big idea locking us up in here!" He bellowed before slumping in defeat. France got up from the bed and picked up the envelope that sat next to England.
"Maybe whatever's in this envelope will help shed some light on our situation," The Frenchman tore the sleeve and unfolded some pieces of paper.
"So what does it say?" The Briton gazed at the concentration on France's face.
"It says: i'To France and England. You two are most likely wondering why you are inside a cell together/i."
"Too bloody right we are!" England spat while France continued.
"iA lot of people have had enough of your constant bickering. We felt that by locking you two up together, this would hopefully get you to settle your differences. For the next three weeks-/i Three weeks! They must be mad to think we can stay together for one day let alone three weeks!" France's eyes widened in horror as England took the letter from him.
"iFor the next three weeks, you will learn to tolerate each other in this cell; which only has one way out and that is through the titanium door that can solely be opened from the outside. So your leg is most likely aching if you've tried kicking the door down. And before you decide to use the window to escape, it's not big enough for either of you to crawl through. And I very much doubt you would have any equipment to remove the bars; since we've confiscated anything that can assist you with your break for freedom. So your only option is to get along for three weeks and hopefully this will give you some valuable experience. And to make sure you do cooperate with each other, we will be setting tasks which require you to work together. Succeed in each task and you will be rewarded with an evening meal. Failure will ensure you get no dinner at all. We sincerely hope that these twenty-one days will enhance your relationship in a positive way/i."
"Does it say who it's from?" France peeked at the letter while fidgeting with the extra pieces of paper.
"No, it doesn't. Cowards," England grumbled as he furrowed his brows. "There's more; iP.S: Your first task should be attached to this letter/i."
"That's probably what I've got here," France's eyes focused on the piece of paper. "iFor your first task, you have been provided with a pen each and a pair of blank lists. You are to come up with ten things that apply to both of you. However, to make sure you don't boost your egos, you will be writing ten things about each other./i"
"Hah! This will be a piece of cake!" England laughed as he searched through the envelope for a pen, grabbed one of the lists from France's hand and climbed onto the top bunk of the bed.
"Hey! How come you get the top bunk!" The Frenchman complained.
"Because France, you've already made your decision about where you want to sleep," England made himself comfortable on the bed. "Besides, I think it's more appropriate that you sleep at the bottom. Britain has always been on top in warfare, cricket and on any geographical map."
"That doesn't account for anything!" France snapped as he reluctantly settled himself on the bottom bunk. As he studied the paper he heard England let out a curse.
"France! Have you read this!"
The Frenchman stared at the paper once more until his eyes widened with horror.
"Ten good things I like about England?" He whispered as he sat up.
"Ten good things I like about bloody France!" The Briton shrieked as he hung his head over the bed to glare at France. "How am I supposed to think of one thing let alone ten good things about you!"
"I'm not the one who thought of this ridiculous idea!" France yelled. "Besides, I haven't had any food for two days and I'm not going to skip another meal just because you can't be bothered to do the task!"
"I haven't had any food either!" England whinged. "If we don't get anything to eat tonight, I'm holding you responsible!"
"Then that makes two of us!" France retorted as he turned to the piece of paper in front of him.
"Fine!" England let out before he climbed back to his bunk.
Both countries pored and strained their eyes on the empty pieces of paper. It was at least an hour and a half later that they decided to break the silence of their concentration.
"How many have you got so far?" France tapped his pen on his knee.
"Just the one," England rested his pen against his chin.
"One!" The Frenchman looked up to England with a frown. "You mean to say after goodness knows how long; you could only come up with one nice thing about me?"
"Then how many have you got then?" England looked down at the blonde with a similar expression.
"I have two; which means I'm doing better than you!" France smirked.
"Let me see!" The Briton climbed down from his bunk and leered over the Frenchman's shoulder. "Hey, you crossed that comment out! You still have one like me!"
"Fine!" France pouted. "But you show me your one comment about me and I'll show you mine!"
"Alright!" England pulled away and held his paper in front of him whilst clearing his throat. "France has… very nice hair."
"Is that it!" The Frenchman exclaimed. "You've spent all that time and came up with that!"
"Well you must have something a lot better if you think my comment is that bad," England snorted sarcastically. France meekly hunched his shoulders.
"Um… England's eyes are a nice shade of green."
"What! That's not any better than what I had! And you tell me off for commenting on your hair!" England yelled.
"This is getting us nowhere!" France scowled. "We'll never be able to finish this list!" England slumped onto the bottom bunk away from the Frenchman who buried his face into his hands. After a few seconds of thinking, the Briton's head jerked up.
"How about instead of trying to write about each other, we should write about what we like about what we have our country." He said in an eccentric tone. "There's nothing in the letter that said we couldn't do that." As much as France wanted to argue with him, he was concerned about how empty his stomach had been. If it meant him having to go along with an idea that his enemy bought out, he would have more of a chance of survival in the cell.
"D'accord," He breathed out. "We'll try that."
The two countries started scribbling for the first time in a while; their faces focussed and were full of concentration. Their hands rapidly sliding across the page as one by one, the list began to fill itself. It was only a few minutes later that both of them had finally filled out the pieces of paper that were once empty. The countries breathed a sigh of relief.
"Voila, fini…" France exhaled. England gave a small chuckle before turning to the Frenchman.
"Um… is it alright if I read what you wrote for me?" He asked.
"But of course," France passed his list to the Englishman. "I am curious myself as to what you wrote for me." England nodded in agreement as he extended his arm for France to take it. Both men's eyes scanned the page intensely until they both looked up at the same time.
"You think the Eiffel Tower is nice in the day and at night?" France started.
"Well, during the day it's an impressive structure and I think it's a perfect representation of what Paris is; an iconic city that has a culture quite unique from the rest of the world," England spoke with his hands trapped in between his legs. "But when night comes, the lights on the tower make it a glorious sight to behold. And it still stands out from the rest of Paris." France stared in a state of surprise. Never had England admitted anything like that to him before arriving in the prison cell and this made France speechless for a moment.
"Uh… so you like the London Eye? You've been before?" England's voice snapped France out of his frame of mind.
"Is that what it's called? I thought it was called the Millennium Eye," France looked down sheepishly. "To be honest, I like all of the monuments you have in London but the Eye of London, as you call it, gives you a chance to see everything from a different perspective and the view is breath taking once you reach the top. It's simply inspiring to think that everyone can have access to see your capital city in all its glory."
"Wow." England was taken aback by the comment. "I know a lot of people like it and all but for you to say such a… provocative thing is quite stunning."
"I think because it's such a new thing for the both of us to be flattering each other instead of fighting, we're just not used it," France crossed his legs on the bed as he read the list again. His eye brows suddenly rose. "This comment hasn't anything to do with any part of my culture you like. iFrance always lend an ear to those who are in need and from a logical point of view, he always gives out good (?) advice/i. Why did you put a question mark next to 'good'?"
"Well, some of your advice is somewhat questionable," England turned to France. "Like that time on your radio show, someone wrote in asking how to get people to like them. Your advice to them was to use pick-up lines like, 'can you direct me to your bedroom?' when you ask someone for directions. I don't think that answered their question, but you are willing to listen when you want to even outside your radio station."
"I guess it's because I'm one of the older nations and they see me as someone with a lot of experience," France bragged.
"In life or sexual activities?" England smirked.
"I have you know my experience comes from a lot of observation of people's behaviour," France wafted his hand rejecting the Briton's last comment. "As a Frenchman, I have to know if I can move in on a pretty girl and her body language is the thing that gives me the answers."
"You read body language?" England said as though he didn't believe him.
"I do it all the time in the meetings we have when I'm bored," France placed his hands behind him on the bed. "Par example, America's confidence is highlighted by how much of his giant burger he eats. When he gets cocky, he takes huge bites and when he is not so confident or he feels uncomfortable he takes little nibbles out it."
"Oh, I thought he took large bites because he was being greedy." England placed his index finger under his chin.
"Well, it's that too but now you know," France shrugged his shoulders. "Keep an eye out for it next time."
"Okay, what else happens in the meetings?" England giggled in amusement.
"Bien, everyone knows the signs of Germany's agitation, right?" France casually pointed his index finger.
"Of course;" England rested his head on his hand. "The furrowed brows, the angry expression, not to mention the face palm-"
"Which he subconsciously does to cover his twitchy nose," The Frenchman finished his sentence.
"Twitchy nose?" The Briton burst out laughing. "How do you know that?"
"I have caught him off guard before when he was scolding Italy once," France explained. "But he doesn't know that he does it, which makes it more amusing for me when he covers it up."
England let out a few more laughs before he managed to reduce them to chuckles by holding his stomach. "That'll give me something to entertain myself from now on." He cleared his throat as he turned to the Frenchman. "Um… is there anything I do in the meetings that I'm not aware of?"
"Well there is one thing I've seen you do which I think is cute," France started. "You know when babies or young children rub their ears to express tiredness? You do that when you're starting to get bored during the meeting. Sometimes it even caused you to fall asleep without even realising it." At that moment, England ruffled his straw like hair and blushed with embarrassment.
"I… I really don't know what to say," His voice wavered. "I can't believe you can see all these things going on."
"How do you think I manage to stay awake in meetings?" France winked at England which in turn made him turn to his list.
"Hold on, you wrote something about me personality wise too," England blinked. "iEngland has an invincible amount of determination, which serves him well when he is fighting for what he believes in/i. Wow, you think that?"
"You are very stubborn I have to admit, but that has prevented you from being conquered by other countries including myself." France leant forward.
"To be fair, the Normans and the Vikings conquered us," England corrected him. "But I guess that's where our fighting spirit comes from."
"And that fighting spirit made sure no other country took control of yours ever since," France added. "You could say that I envy you for that. Now if you could learn to be quiet when told to, I'd respect you more."
England opened his mouth to answer back when three knocks struck the door, catching their attention.
"Who would knock on a cell door for us?" France muttered as England picked the letter up and read it.
"Ah. This letter says to put the lists back in the envelope they came from and hand it to someone who will knock three times. When you have the envelope ready, knock three times at the door and pass it through the gap." He said.
"Well we better do it before whoever it is leaves," The Frenchman suggested.
"France, let me give the envelope to them," England extended his arm to France. With a puzzled expression, France handed the list to the Briton and watched him fold the pieces of paper into the sleeve. England stood up from the bed and made his way to the door. He tapped the door as instructed and the latch opened. As the foreign hand grabbed the envelope, England seized his chance and caught the sleeve off the owner of the hand. There was a yelp as England's grip tightened.
"Help! Help me! I'm being pulled in! Please don't hurt me!" The voice cried. Once the Britain recognised the voice by the insistent begging, he pulled their arm further into the cell.
"Italy… so you're a part of this little charade!" He snapped.
"I'm sorry it's true! But it was all Germany's idea! He was the one that built this cell and planned to capture and thrown you two in there together! America, Japan, Russia, the guy with a polar bear (whose name I can't remember) and I were only following orders from him!" The Italian squeaked in an incredible speed.
"Those sneaky bastards…" France stood up, uttering under his breath. Meanwhile, England kept a firm grip on the Italian's blue sleeve.
"Alright, next question; how many days have we spent in this cell so far?" The Briton demanded.
Italy at this point started mumbling non-coherent words which didn't correspond with his question. With every second Italy spent gushing out gibberish, the volume of England's growling became apparent. Finally, he had enough and slammed the Italian's cheek against the cold metal using his trapped arm.
"Answer the question!" The Briton bellowed. "How long have we spent here?"
"Three days! Three days!" Italy immediately responded with a scream. "Please stop it! You're going to dislocate my shoulder!"
Watching the Englishman interrogate Italy as he did made France feel slightly uncomfortable and, dare he said it, frightened. He knew England can be a fearsome opponent given the chance, but he concluded that being locked up in a cell with his mortal enemy has put a bad taste in his mouth.
"And who can blame him?" France thought. "They threw us both in here against our freewill." As much as he wanted to calm England down, he was afraid that some of the Briton's anger would be inflicted on him and because he was trapped in the cell with him, it made him uneasy. All France could do was watch England taking his anger out on the poor Italian weeping at the other side of the door.
"One last question," England said in a calmer tone but not without a tinge of annoyance. "What does Germany hope achieve with this plan of his?"
"That's enough!" A new forceful voice rang from the other side of the door. The arm that England had clenched onto suddenly disappeared with one immense pull. Before the Englishman had a chance to do anything, he caught a glimpse of a pair of icy blue eyes which were quickly obscured by what appeared to be a spray can. Without any warning, a spray of its contents gushed directly at his face. This made England's hands smack straight onto his face as he let out a piercing cry.
"AAAAAGGGHHH! IT BURNS! IT FUCKING BURNS! FUCK!"
France immediately rushed over to the Englishman who collapsed onto his knees. As he helped him to his feet, he couldn't help but barely hear the chilling words of the German accent that spoke while England cursed.
"This is what will happen every time you try to pull a stunt like that. Not only that but your efforts for this task become null and void, providing you with no evening meal."
The latch shut quickly before France had a chance to react and England's bawling quickly reminded him of what his priority should be.
