"Up and down and up and down." Britain gurgles as he flings the light of the flashlight around the dark cave.

"Would you please quit doing that, I can't see where I'm going!" Britain hiccups and throws the flashlight in the air, just barely caching it as it plunged downward.

Britain has been acting a bit… strange for a while now. He has been singing and laughing at absolutely nothing at all. France was afraid that the needle he had given him earlier had made him loopy (I mean, it was meant to be given to an alien after all). It was also hard for him to keep a look out for Steve, having to deal with Britain.

Suddenly Britain trips and flings the (not so super) hero flashlight against the wall of the cave, causing it to break.

"I can't see! Am I blind?" Britain asks. "And where'd the flashlight go? It's not in my hand anymore." Britain spits.

"You're not blind and you broke our only source of light, connard!" France hisses, face palming.

"Shut it wanker! I need to go and find the light, I can't see!" Britain squawks, twirling into France.

"YOU BROKE IT! You can't use it anymore." France yells into his ear, causing him to flinch.

Britain laughs and lets out a long, "OOOOOHHHH!" Britain then searches around in the darkness for any part of France so he wouldn't lose him. He ended up grabbing hold of a large portion of France's golden locks.

"Don't touch my fabulous 'air! You'll mess it up." France shrieks, pulling at Britain's hand.

"Hey, it's ok! I gotcha!" Britain coos, hiccupping again.

"Let go of my hair! Angleterre!" France gasps as Britain pulls down, ripping a few hairs from his (gorgeous) scalp. A tear forms in France's eye as Britain gazes at the Frenchman, barely able to see him in the extreme darkness.

"You're a stupid frog." Britain giggles fruitily. He let's go of France's hair but instead of keeping to himself, he slaps him across the face.

"Why?" France mutters.

"Because a bloody man's 'otta do what a bloody man's 'otta do!" Britain slurs, totally oblivious to the random shit he's been yelling at ol' stupid cheesy-monkey.

France just ignores him. He grabs his hand and begins to drag the delirious brit farther into the cave. Britain uses his other hand and slaps France again.

"Would you please?" France smashes him in the face with a cold fist, causing Britain to fall over.

"Why'd you hit me?" Britain feebly asks the Frenchman towering over him. Britain raises his hand up and grabs hold of France's arm. "I didn't do anything to you!"

France ignores him again but thinks to himself you slapped my beautiful face. Britain raises his hand to his split lip, rubs the blood off onto his hand and wipes it on his pants.

France puts his hand in front of him as he gropes his way through the pitch black, the brit gripping onto his other arm. And he wasn't going to lie, other than his stinging face; the Frenchman enjoyed the close contact with Britain. He just wished he could his face. They've been in the cave a while and France was afraid of never seeing light again, therefore never seeing Britain's face. Damnet, where's a flashlight when you need one!

Then, he got an idea. Instead of seeing him, he could feel him. A hug. He pulls Britain into his arms, causing the ignorant brit to yell involuntarily. "Don't touch me! Froggy!" he complains, voice muffled by France's shirt.

The familiar feel of Britain aroused France. He had to use large restraints to keep himself from digging into Britain like a (sex) starved animal. He just had to try and savor this hug as much as humanly possible. If only Britain didn't smell so amazing…

France pulls himself away the bickering and flustered Britain despite himself. I mean he was Britain after all. The totally disgusting man that he hates, even despises. Even if that is true, he still somehow loves Britain with a great passion. Britain hiccups, for the tenth time, his face becoming very red (though either of them noticed because it was dark).

"Pervert." Britain says shakily to France as he warily grabs onto his arm again in the darkness. France laughs.

Suddenly, they both trip. Britain fell first then France on top of him. Figures. France was heavy on top of Britain, causing him to lose all of his breath. France lifted himself up just a little so Britain could breathe. That isn't much though.

Britain flails under France whose face was getting closer and closer to his every second. "Get off me, Francy-pants!" he yells.

"What?" This idiotic nickname given to him shocked him a bit, being used to the usual 'bloody frog' or something like that. Britain pushes up right at that moment, and somehow manages to push France off.

He quickly stands up. "Ha, stupid wanker!" Britain almost falls over again as he yells at the Frenchman who was still trying to get up. He giggles.

France decides to just ignore him again and starts to look around for what tripped him. "Ah." France says as he picks up the culprit. A flashlight. What a coincidence!

He turns it on and to his surprise, works. The cave lights up with bright light. Not only did it work, it worked greatly. France looked down at it and noticed the familiar design of an American flag on it. This flashlight belonged to the one and only America. This made France worry, it would've made Britain worry but when France mentioned the situation to him he just asked, "Whose America?"

So if America's flashlight was there, that meant that America was there too. Somewhere. France grabs Britain's (rather warm) hand and begins to go farther into the now brighter cave. This relieved France a lot, he could see. That means… he could see Britain's face again.

He quickly turned around and looked at Britain's face. "You look so nice." France says but adding not as glorious as me though in his mind. And he sure was lying like hell to say that.

Britain's face had grown blue spots on it, circling his eyes and nose and mouth. Horror filled Britain's eyes as the (horridly obvious that something was up) smile played across France's twitching face.

Due to the fact that he was delirious, as Britain began to get scared, he forgot why. France tried to convince himself that this ludicrous image of Britain that stared at him was absolutely bogus. He blinks a couple times then looks at him again, the spots were gone. Good, it was just his imagination.

So the two continue their search for America again. Well mainly France's search because Britain currently didn't know who America was. France wasn't even sure if Britain knew who he was.

"I'm tired!" Britain whines, bumping into France, who was beginning to become slightly annoyed with the brit. France was tired too.

"Ferme ta gueule." France says.

"What was that?" Britain asks.

"Nothing." France says, smiling.

"Oh ok." Britain chuckles, forgetting about the little argument already. "Can you hold me?" he turns to look at France with big eyes.

"I think not." France puffs.

"I think yes!" Britain then jumps up and attempts to climb onto France's back. Irritated, France pushes him off. Britain tries again and this time France just sighs and gives in. After the squabble of getting Britain up and on his back, they continue on their search piggy-back style.

France decides that he enjoys this more then he hates it. Even if Britain is incredibly heavy and is singing random stanzas from phantom of the opera loudly into his ear, he still enjoys the close contact immensely. It also sent shivers down his back when Britain's hand brushes against his chest (daringly close to his nipple).

"Wee!" Britain snorts between laughing and singing. "Go faster!" this comment hit France in a somewhat weird way. It made him feel… not good.

"Ok!" France says sarcastically. But, instead of going faster, he bends backwards so that Britain would have to hold on tighter. This only ends up causing Britain to fall off him.

"Oww! That bloody hurt! You're stupid." Britain grabs France's arm again instead of going through the whole process of climbing up on France again.

Then all was silent. As they continued walking, France became more and more tired.

"Are you tired?" France asks Britain, hoping that he was so that he could take a rest.

"Shut up. I'm going to sleep!" Britain says, somehow already on the ground, eyes closed, laying in fetal-position.

"Well then." France curls up next to him, somehow falling asleep quickly despite the hard and pointy ground. Even though a Steve could be lurching around the corner and attack at any moment, France's thoughts blanked, leaving him completely vulnerable.