Author's Note: So, our little America isn't so little anymore and that's bound to cause future problems.
Where was that boy? It was nearly midnight and he still wasn't back from his little escapade with his other colonial friends. He had been given stern orders to return punctually, or his privileges of going out for fun would be taken away for as long as seen appropriate. He usually abided by the rules fairly well; never passing his curfew by more than twenty minutes, but obviously tonight was not going to be one of those nights. The boy was nearly two and a half hours over the time he had been allotted.
England was seriously beginning to worry. Perhaps, something horrible had happened. What if his colony had been hurt, had fallen ill, or been kidnapped? Worst case scenarios whizzed through the nation's brain as he paced around the living room, pledging that if the boy wasn't back in five minutes, he was going to go out and drag him home himself. Panic ate at his chest, his breaths growing more and more labored as seconds transitioned into torturous minutes.
Having had enough, England picked up his lantern and trench coat, reaching for the doorknob precisely when a sharp knock filled the house. Setting the lantern down on the side table, and hanging his coat back up, England opened the door quickly, hoping it was who he had been expecting so that he could give the boy a proper thrashing for worrying him to no end.
His prayers had been answered, but certainly not in the way England had expected. On his doorstep, stood an outraged Mr. Bennett, who happened to be his neighbor. His right hand was firmly gripped on the back of America's woolen sweater, the knuckles just above his fingers an ivory white. America was staring helplessly at his boots, sun-kissed hair veiling his face from England. He looked very much like a frightened pup that was hiding its tail under its rear after causing some serious mischief.
"Mr. Kirkland," Bennett began, his lips pursed firmly together, "I believe this young vandal belongs to you."
England stared down intently at his colony, green eyes boring holes in his head as he tried to get the child to face him. As suspected, jittery, oceanic eyes soon rose to meet their brother's, though they shifted around nervously, unable to focus on anything in particular for more than a second. If England thought he was going to give the boy a thrashing before, he was definitely going to get a proper throttling once this situation was cleared up.
But England managed to remain stolid; his temper cool and even. "Yes, Mr. Bennett. Thank you for escorting him home. I was beginning to grow worried. I do hope he hasn't caused too much trouble."
"Trouble? TROUBLE? My cat has been scarred for life! He'll never come out from under that couch for as long as he lives cause of this boy and his little posse!" Bennett shouted, eyes ablaze with resentment.
England's eyes grew wide even through his attempts to remain stoic. What had America done this time? Sure, neither of them liked Mr. Bennett very much, and they would never be bosom friends with him, but that didn't grant America permission to run around terrorizing his cat.
"I apologize for Alfred's actions. May I ask of the damage he has caused?" England interrogated coolly. This time, he was the one who was determined not to meet his brother's eyes.
"I walked out onto my porch when I heard firecrackers bein' set off in my yard by some other boys. I chased 'em off real quick, but while I was distracted, this one, shaved my cat! Shaved him to the skin with a blade! My cat ain't never done nothin' wrong to nobody!" Bennett ranted madly, shaking America as he waved his free arm sporadically while speaking with that awful, colonial accent.
"I see," England hissed through clenched teeth. "Right, I shall handle the situation accordingly. I apologize for the harm done to your cat, Mr. Bennett. I'll stop by in the morning to discuss a way in which Alfred can earn his retribution. I'm sure he would be more than happy to make up for the mutilation of your pet."
"No, I don't want nothin' from this boy. Just keep him away from my property!" Bennett growled, releasing America and storming off into the dark night. His muttered swears sliced through the air as his figure disappeared down the road.
America cowered under England's towering stance, feeling like he was merely a naughty toddler again. He hadn't expected his friends to ditch him in the middle of the prank, leaving him to take all the heat for what had been done, which made him seem all the more liable. He'd take this one for the team without ratting out those backstabbing chickens, but they were going to owe him big time.
"Get inside, America," England finally commanded bitterly.
"England, I'm—"
"I don't wish to hear your frivolous pleas right now," England interjected venomously. "It's much too late at night for this, America. Get. Inside. Now."
America nodded morosely, sidestepping past his brother to get into the house. He removed his soggy, dew covered boots and placed them in the corner where they belonged before beginning to make his way up to his bedroom in an attempt to escape England's wrath. After all, it was late and maybe his brother would be merciful enough to let him sleep for now. The lecture could wait until tomorrow, couldn't it?
"Not so fast," England remarked, shutting the door and locking it. "Have a seat in the living room. We're going to have a nice talk."
No such luck.
America fought his urge to scoff. He certainly wouldn't have used the word nice in that context. He adhered to his brother's instructions, walking back down the way he'd came and over to the living room couch, waiting for the long scolding to ensue.
England stood in front of him, eyes glaring down at him in a way that made him fidget uncomfortably.
"You shaved his cat?" England cried out, running a tired hand through his hair.
America folded his hands and wiggled his thumbs restlessly before responding bluntly, "Yes."
England was thoroughly dumbstruck. Out of all the things America had done in the past, this was by far the most creative.
"You missed curfew, planted firecrackers in the man's lawn, and then shaved his cat? What the bloody hell were you thinking?" England fumed. "You were lucky he didn't call the authorities on you! He could've had you arrested! Did you ever think twice about the consequences that would come from—"
"It was worth it," America cut in roughly. "That cat almost clawed my hand off last time I was walking by Bennett's lawn. He's lucky I didn't slit its throat."
England's eyes grew darker. "Hold your tongue while I'm speaking if you can't keep quiet! You are grounded until further notice. You will never see sunlight again if you ever do something like this again, do you understand me? I will keep you locked in this house for as long as you live if that's what it's going to take to keep you out of trouble! I was worried SICK! I thought you'd been killed! You were supposed to be home nearly three hours ago!"
"I'm sorry; I didn't mean to worry you. I just—"
"You will not speak until you are told to do so. Am I clear? Oh, you are never going to see those ruddy friends of yours again as long as I'm around."
"That's not fair!" America exclaimed, temper rising. "You can't tell me what to do anymore! I'm not a baby! Bennett deserved what he got and you know it! He's been the most miserable neighbor in the history of the planet. His monster-cat keeps slashing through the flowers in our yard!"
"Firstly, I can tell you what to do. I am your guardian and I know what is best for you. Secondly, if you're growing into such a mature adult as you claim, then why are you still pulling childish pranks on others and throwing temper tantrums every time you don't get your way?" England finished rhetorically.
The boy stood up from his place on the couch, still about a head and a half shorter than his guardian, considering he was only about eleven years old physically. He hadn't reached much of a serious growth spurt yet.
"It was just a joke! It's not like I killed the thing! Oh, but sorry, I forgot that you don't know how to have a little fun," America snarled, still frustrated that he was going to be held captive in this house for a while, with no friends to converse with. Heck, those kids weren't even his friends anymore. They ran like the wind when he'd been caught by Bennett.
"That's it, young man! You do not use that tone with me. Nose in the corner, now," England ordered, pointing to the corner by the stairs.
"What?" America gawked, cheeks flaming red in embarrassment. "You can't put me in the corner! I'm way too old for that!"
"You're rants are becoming irrational and childish. You will stand in the corner like a good lad for the next thirty minutes until you can act more respectably. A time out is just the perfect thing for you right now until I can figure out what to do with this new display of disobedience. I can't lecture you at this hour, you're too grouchy from the lack of sleep," England explained calmly. "Now, you can either move to the corner voluntarily, or I shall move you. It's your choice, but you will be standing in that corner regardless of whether or not you choose to be difficult."
America scowled lividly, stomping over to the corner and crossing his arms in silent fury. England sighed wearily, sipping on the cold tea he had abandoned over his worry for his colony's wellbeing. He drank the rest with a frown, sitting down in his armchair and picking up a good book to read for the next half hour. He knew that both he and his colony needed some time to cool off. It was much too late to start a heated argument and result to rash decision-making.
America took his time brood and think things through, determined to stay angry at England for as long as he lived. It wasn't fair that England was giving him such a harsh punishment. Overall, the prank hadn't been that bad. He hadn't hurt anyone, including the cat. He'd been sure not to cut him accidentally, though the cat had managed to sever America's hand a good number of times as revenge. At least now, he could guarantee that the cat wouldn't be harassing him next time he walked by that wretched house.
England just didn't understand that the little demon spawn had finally gotten what it had deserved. Personally, America disliked cats for the most part anyway. Dogs were much more loyal while cats were just plain vicious and stubborn.
But as time passed, America began to grow more and more sleepy, his legs hurting from standing in place for so long. His eyes drooped as he continued to face the wall, lethargy taking over. Suddenly, all his anger at Mr. Bennett, his cat, and England had dissipated into thin air. By the twenty-five minute mark, he was nearly nodding off, completely willing to just apologize for everything and move on with his life. Finally, time was up.
England stood up from his chair befittingly. He had promised thirty minutes of corner time and stuck to his word, punctually coming to turn America around from the wall he had been forced to face.
Drowsy eyes met England's, blinking slowly at the taller figure in front of them.
"M'sorry, England… Won't do it again… You were right…" America mumbled, stifling a wide yawn.
"Yes, yes, I know," England sighed exasperatedly. "'Sorry' is always your favorite word, isn't it? Hurry along, let's get you changed and in bed. Ultimately, I'm going to have to be the one to clean up this mess, but thank you for apologizing, nonetheless."
America's head dipped in affirmation before he followed England back to his bedroom and took a seat on the mattress, lazily tugging off his sweater.
"Let me help," England offered, reaching over to slide the itchy, woolen item off his head. He muddled through America's dresser as the boy took off his grass-stained t-shirt. The colony gratefully accepted the flannel nightshirt his brother proffered him, pulling it on hazily.
"You're becoming such a handful, my dear boy," England murmured as he pulled out a pair of pajama bottoms and tossed them over to America, who hastily switched into them and collapsed onto his pillows.
"Am not," America disagreed habitually, turning on his side and getting comfortable as England tucked him in.
"Yes, you are. Soon you're going to be a big, bad teenager, causing trouble all over the place for me. I think I'm getting too old for this kind of melodrama, lad," England complained, patting America's leg as a sign to get him to scoot over.
"I don't want to cause trouble," America grumbled. "It just sort of happens."
"Alas, trouble finds you," England gave an exhausted smile as he took a seat next to the child.
"Am I still grounded?"
England chuckled. "Yes, you are. Your puppy eyes aren't going to make me more lenient with you this time. You did something very foolish and reckless today, but I must admit that I've always hated that horrid cat as well."
America flashed his usual, cheeky grin.
"Do you promise not to cause any more trouble for me?" England asked half-heartedly as America's eyes began to close by themselves.
"I can't promise that," America stated seriously, but smiled nonetheless, mischief glinting in his eyes.
"Wrong answer," England replied with a smirk. "But don't worry; you can make up for it while you're helping me around the house tomorrow."
"Ugh, chores?" America mumbled into his pillow. "Do I have to do the dishes?"
"Yes."
"And sweep the floors?"
"Yes."
"And water the garden?"
"Yes."
"And play by the river?"
"Nice try."
"Aw, man," America pouted, shutting his eyes and clutching his pillow closer to his chest.
"Goodnight, love. I'll see you in the morning and then you're going to apologize to Mr. Bennett." England stood from the bed and made his way out of the room.
"Being a big, bad teenager won't be so bad if you're still going to be with me, England," America whispered after his retreating form.
England felt something flutter in his heart. "R-Right… Go to sleep, now…"
Bring on the terrible teens.
