And The Problems Begin


England didn't try to start a conversation with Germany again . . . or Italy . . . or even America. He sat Indian-style with a plate of pasta in hand, slowly winding the noodles around his fork, and then quickly shoving it into his mouth. The Italian food certainly was delicious - surpassing even his own culinary skills. But that was to be expected since it was Italy cooking, and Italy was a damn good cook, especially with foods in the pasta category.

Pointless conversation from America and Italy reached his ears but nothing did make it to his brain.

Germany also didn't seem to be comfortable, which at least made England a little more relaxed about his own personality. He was not too uptight. Or socially awkward.

Shoving another mouthful of pasta into his mouth, England mentally cursed. So what if he had just been talking to a unicorn? It certainly didnot give America the right to talk about his mental stability. He had half the mind to shove the blonde's head into the pasta dish.

Nah. He'd probably only start eating the contaminated food. So America-like.

"Oh my God! Guys! I just had the most totally awesome idea ever thought of! And we're gonna do it!" America's exclamation almost made England choke on his fork.

"Bloody hell, America! Are you trying to kill me?!" With the coughing and sputtering England was going through it was nearly impossible to form just that sentence and say it in a semi-threatening manner.

America laughed. "Ha, sorry." Damn right he wasn't. "Anyway, we all should play a picnic game! Ya know, since we are having a picnic and all I thought it would be appropriate to do something like that. Don't you guys think so?" The blinding smile on his face showed that he knew nobody would have anything against playing whatever game he had in mind. Just wait until he heard England. That smile would be gone before-

Hold up a minute, England. What the hell are you thinking? Aren't you, oh I don't know, supposed to be trying to get on America's good side today? Yes, yes you are. Now stop being a prick and do whatever he wants!

You know it's sad whenever you start having arguments with yourself.

"What do you even want to play, America?" England, considerably more controlled than before, asked, holding back the bitterness that wanted to follow along with it. He had to stay cool today and let whatever America wanted happen. That would make the obnoxious nation happy.

A stupid smile planted itself right on America's face. "Hide and Seek!"

Good thing England expected something idiotic to come from the other's mouth, or else he might of face-planted right in his pasta.

"Seriously?" England didn't wait for an answer right after he said that. "You want to play that? Here? Why on earth would you want to do something so childish?" Easy: Because America was a child at heart, no matter how many wars he had gone through. England only wished the nation could act a little bit more adult-like.

The annoyed voice of England must not of reached America's ears. "Sure! Who wouldn't wanna play? You want to, right Italy?"

"Sì! It sounds fun!" Italy turned over to Germany, brown eyes shining. "You wanna play too, Germany?"

Obviously Germany couldn't just say no. "Ja, I guess so."

Great, England had to agree now. "Fine, but I'm only playing once."

America rolled his eyes. "Wouldn't want to strain yourself considering how old you are."

It took so much willpower to not punch America in the face.

"Anyway, guys, we'll do this a little differently! We'll play in pairs!" he declared, fist pumping the air to make a point. Probably. "Italy, you and Germany will be one and me and grumpy-brows over here will be the other pair! We'll hide and you two try and find us!"

Well, "grumpy-brows" was a new one. England frowned. "America, you do realize what you just said doesn't make this Hide and Seek anymore, correct? It's something similar but different." England stated, trying to make the American see sense.

All that happened was America furrowing his eyebrows slightly. "Then it'll be called Seek and Hide."

"That's not-Never mind." England didn't even try.

"Great! Let's do it!" America, who rarely ever left when food was present, hauled England up to his feet with ease and took off towards a clumpy tree area on the other side of the lake, shouting over his shoulder as he did, "Wait one minute before coming to search for us!" And then they disappeared into the trees in an excited, cursing, blonde mess.

Italy blinked.

"Germany, what just happened?"

Germany didn't have an answer.


Back in the forest-like area of the park, England was pissed. So what if he wanted to have America in an extremely good mood for today? That didn't give the other nation the right to practically drag him into the trees all the while laughing at England's sailor mouth as he did. Nope. England was now ready to put a shotgun to the American's head - but of course he'd never shoot; how could he ever possibly do that? But he was going to give the childish nation hell if anything at all.

"America!" he hissed, keeping his voice low.

Said nation, who was currently peaking out from behind a tree, turned back to England. "Hmm?"

God he was ever the blunt one. "What the hell?! You don't go around dragging people! Who does that?!" England swore his muscles were having a spasm on the inside.

America gave him a look. Just a look. "Dude, what's your problem? I was just having some fun. You're such a buzz kill half the time, you know that?"

England spoke through gritted teeth, "I don't care what you think I am. What I do care about is how you're ever going to have a proper country with the way you act."

"It's going fine now."

"There are difficulties in life."

"I know; I've already dealt with some."

"There are far worse ones."

"Worse than the Depression?"

"Yes."

"Then I'll deal with those when they come."

And that's how you have a conversation with America.

"Fine, whatever. Let's just start this thing already." England rubbed the palm of his hand against one of his temples, not caring to continue arguing over something so important about taking care of one's country.

"Great! Now help me find us a proper hiding spot!" A bright smile lit up America's face once again. He charged off deeper into the woods, not really waiting for England, who wasn't in the least interested in finding a place to hide.

"Maybe we could hide in a tree, or behind a tree, or near a tree. It has to have something to do with trees since there are a lot of trees around here. What do you think?" Pausing near a (gasp) tree, America glanced back at England, eyes startlingly serious with the mission of finding an ideal place to hide. It worried the elder.

"Why don't we just use a bush or something? There seem to be plenty scattered around here."

The frown on America's face reminded England of a student getting a bad grade. "But England, we can't!"

"And why's that?"

"Because . . ." America drew out that word pointlessly. "There are more trees than bushes."

England raised a brow skeptically. "And that means . . ?"

"We must use the trees, else there will be an apocalypse." His face didn't even contain an ounce of amusement.

Briefly wondering if this was the America he tried to raise so properly, England shut his eyes and took a deep breath. He opened them when he heard small gasps coming from America. "Now what is it?"

"They're coming! Quick! We have to hide before it's too late!" America was stuck between having a stroke or a seizure. His face looked pretty constipated. "C'mon England! They'll get you!" Grabbing England's arm, America bolted for the other side of the forest. Well, he tried, but this time England was prepared for it and didn't move an inch - he could be strong when he wanted to, thanks.

"There's a bush right there America. Just use that."

The look America threw back at him was of sheer desperation. It was like he thought his life depended on whether or not he could hide in a tree.

"Do you want to die? Think for a minute England!"

"Think about what? There's a bush so use it!" What did go on in America's mind? England didn't really want to find out. If anything, it would probably scar him for life, unlike the scars on his back, which were from America. Because he scratches. Hard.

"No!"

There was no way England was dealing with this today. "America, get in the BUSH! Now!"

"I don't wanna!"

It was like America had a freaking phobia. England wasn't asking something irrational, but America just wouldn't cooperate. Why? That's not his style. No, his style was to refuse everything England said to do.

"It's not going to kill you!" England took a step towards America, who in turn stepped back.

"How do you know?"

"It's a bush. You see them every day!"

"Not in Antarctica!"

"You don't live in Antarctica."

"What if I did?"

"Does it matter?! Just crawl in the bloody bush!" England wanted to strangle something, preferably America. He instead tackled him to the ground, resulting in the both of them falling into the bush. Branches scratched both America and England's face but none of that mattered to the latter when he successfully completed the task with blood trickling down his face - adding to the demented effect. America squirmed like a child beneath him, pushing uselessly at his chest to try and escape. England didn't let up on his grip in the slightest.

"Deal with it." England smiled at his accomplishment. America whined.

"But I don't want to! I want to hide in a tree!"

Again with the tree thing. "What's your sudden interest in them? Why do you need to hide in one so badly?"

America stopped struggling to look at England like it should be obvious. "'Cause they're around here, duh. Why choose a bush when you're surrounded by trees? Think about logic for a minute, would you?" Oh, how he wanted to slap him.

"Me? Think about logic? Yeah, okay. I don't think so. Maybe you should."

The look on America's face was like England had slapped him. "I should think about logic? Are you nuts? You know I don't think."

That was true. "Yeah, I guess so." His green eyes narrowed again. "But that doesn't give you the right to argue at me over trees! Trees!"

America grinned a bit sheepishly. "Ha . . yeah. I'm not certain where that came from."

That whole in your head you call a brain, England mentally said, not daring to speak it, but really wanting to.

England let out a breathless laugh, not having a response to that. His sanity was also wearing away bit by bit. But that was to be expected when living with the idiotic nation. So he stayed there on top of the other, a strained smile on his face while on the inside he was going through various phases of mental stability. America was off in la la land, staring blankly into space as England laughed above him. The two were a pair of hopeless idiots, but that was a well-known fact. They were so absorbed in their own little worlds that when the bush rustled around them neither noticed.

"Germany! I found them! And I think England was trying to rape America! Is that bad?"

Both did snap back into reality, however, when they heard Italy's exclamation.

"Italy!" For the third time that day, England almost had a heart attack.

"Hi." America didn't have anything, nor did he even act remotely startled.

A few seconds passed before a head of bleach blonde hair moved to stand next to Italy, looking down at the duo with bored and uninterested blue eyes. "No, Italy, they're just going through phases different from normal people."

Italy blinked, then smiled. "Oh, goody! That's nice."

How anybody could think of that as "nice" did not process in England's head.

Jumping off of America faster than light, England dusted himself off and put on the whole nothing-happened-so-what-are-you-looking-at face.

"Can I talk to the both of you? In private." That sentence just sort of came out of England's mouth without any consult with his brain, but it is what was needed to be said. He glanced down to see America in the middle of getting up and almost tumbling back down, confusion written over his face. England grabbed the other's hand before he could fall back. "And could you go on back to the picnic blanket? I'll be done here in a minute." England didn't wait for a response when he let go of America's hand and turned to face Germany and Italy, a serious look painted on his face, emerald eyes set.

America was about to press England for answers but a little part in his mind kept him from doing so. He turned back and walked away from the trio, not looking back in favor of wondering why England was being so harsh.

England, who hadn't realized America was taking his intentions the wrong way, was nearly clinging to Germany's shirt. "You need to help me!"

Germany would've backed up if it wasn't for the tree behind him. "W-why?"

"I DON'T KNOW HOW TO PROPOSE!" Dramatic tears lined the corners of England's eyes. "This day has not been going as smoothly as I wanted it to and now I don't even know if America will accept! I screwed this up! All of it! Everything! Even if it isn't my fault, it is!" Germany was never good at comforting people, but to comfort England was like eating a cactus. Completely unthinkable. But he did put a hand on the Englishman's back, patting him rather awkwardly.

"It's, er, alright?" Eh, he tried.

"NO IT'S NOT! IT NEVER WILL BE! Oh God, what do I DO?!"

Germany feared his shirt would be ruined by the time England regained his bearings.

And that's when Italy took over, ever the romantic.

"Just switch around how you're acting!" Blunt and to the point, Italy offered a bright smile.

England detached himself from Germany - who thanked whoever was watching - and turned to the Italian. "What do you mean?"

"Be the way America would like you to be, and be SUPER nice, and then he'll be just fine!"

"That does make sense." England concluded.

"Doesn't it?" Italy rapidly nodded his head. "Yeah, yeah! It does!"

England sighed, eyeing the ground. "But I still don't know how I'll ever ask him . . ."

"That's easy! Just do it!" Sometimes, in those rare moments on earth, Italy could be smart. England realized that.

"You're right! Who cares how it's asked? I shouldn't be stressing over this silly little thing; I should be ready for it! And why wouldn't he say yes? I'm an idiot for even thinking he'd say no! How absurd!" England rejoiced in his discovery while Italy happily swayed from side to side and Germany looked sadly down at his tear-stained shirt. "I'll do it now, how about that? Come on mates, let's go back to the blanket!"

England confidently led the way, the others trailing a few paces behind him.

He was so full of himself that he didn't notice anything until he was right in front of the blanket, ready to speak, only what came out of his mouth wasn't what he had been planning to say.

"Where's America?!"


A/N this is a story I had been writing with a friend and she decided she wanted out, so she let me post it on my page and continue it