Don't own.


Mattie was angry with him. He was scowling.

So, why, he thought, why didn't he feel an ounce of remorse? Maybe because the white-haired menace had screwed the rest of the positive image his boss still maintained, despite his best efforts.

He had wanted to destroy that alone, damn it!

Or might it be because he had proudly declared Mattie's house as his own - The nerve - or ...no, that wasn't it. It was because Prussia had somehow gotten his brother to believe him that he was serious about their relationship. He scoffed quietly. As if. That guy was a goddamn player! Just you wait until he found the two of them a nice, gloomy, dark dead-end and then...

'Al.' His brother interrupted his dark musings, toneless. 'You're humming again.'

'Oh? Do I?' He replied airily, before taking another sip of his er, lunch.

Prussia stared at him from across the table, well, out of the single eye that wasn't swollen shut of course. Their little gang was a rather strange assortment for a movie, he noted absently. Besides the two Lovebirds (KIL), there was Russia sitting next to him and Hungary who'd brought Lichtenstein with her for some reason - which meant essential, Switzerland and Austria were there too. They were currently sitting at the dinner table next to them together with France who had joined in, after a short whispering with their brunette organizer and last but not least; England. And somehow he had the feeling; he'd seen Japan crouching around behind the counter for some random reason. What were they still doing here, anyway? Couldn't they watch that damn thing in their own cinemas?

'You're still angry with me, America?' Prussia said, strangely timid. 'I mean, I know it was unawesome that I didn't ask you first before uploading that thing, but-.'

Yeah, yeah, yada yada etc. etc. He suppressed a growl. Fucking sucker could shove his sucking-up there where the sun don't shine.

'No.' He said, in a voice that told the exact opposite. 'Why are you asking?' His brother gave him another annoyed look. Better not risk it.

'Nun, because you didn't got yourself any hamburgers. I thought you loved them.'

He stared at the man, face carefully blank. Oh, yeah that would go so well with the two of them. Best buddies and all that. Maybe he should invite Red Eyes to the Yankee's next match. And then shove him down the stands.

Accidentally, of course.

He'd be absolutely devastated to see his new brother-in-law lying flat as a pancake on the ground. It would simply shatter his black, little heart.

'Your point being?'

Prussia laughed upon that, uneasy. 'Just saying.'

Hah. Really now.

'And I though you dislike my love for hamburgers.' He replied merrily. 'And there I wanted to spare you from my, err, obnoxious table manners, - you called it?' He added, mimicking slight puzzlement. Prussia paled. And he desperately wanted to pat himself on the shoulder, but, alas, enough was enough. Mattie wouldn't forgive him otherwise, now would he?


Darkness settled in the room, slowly the illuminations dimmed, the conversations ceased, silence...and the screen flashed white for a second before progressing to show them the absolute cliche of a beginning scene of an horror movie; all in somewhat off-colors what gave the whole a slightly dreary atmosphere. America quivered in his seat, retreated into the upholstery as much as he could. The lights weren't even out for a minute and the man was already terrified, he wondered - maybe the origin of his phobia wasn't so much the movie but the cinema? Well, the soundtrack could certainly make someone anxious, at least that, from what he read on the movie poster it wasn't such a new story. Only with more blood.

Minutes later, he was tackled. He shoved the arms off, lapidary. He'd expected that when he'd seen that nobody wanted the seats directly next to America. Besides France, but that was why England had apparently come along, since he had dragged the other off to the far end, by his ear.

'Popcorn?' Hungary asked on his other side. America shrieked high-pitched. 'You want some too?'

'W-What?' The man sounded absolutely terrified. He didn't get it; the movie hadn't even reached the scary part. They were only having dinner, for Steve's sake!

'Popcorn.' Hungary said again, offering them the box. He could see America shaking his head in the negative, wildly, during a sequence where the screen wasn't totally dim. He took some out of the box, watching one of the main actors entering? an apparently empty room at the upper floor.

'Don't go in don't go in don't go in' America chanted next to him, trembling in his seat.

'Da, he's quite idiotic, isn't he?' He commented unconcerned.

America screamed again.

That was actually fun... During the next minutes he went on making the odd semi-loud comment which, to his glee, startled America every time he did so. Hungary giggled, offering them the popcorn box again. On the screen, a blonde twenty-something - why are they always blonde – got stabbed to dead in a very messy way which he would've actually enjoyed watching if not for the constant tucking on his left arm. America had grabbed his sleeve sometimes ago and as much as he tried, he couldn't shake his hand off. Out of the corners of his eyes he saw Prussia and America's brother doing something entirely else and from then on he didn't look in that direction anymore.

And somehow, he was a tad glad the other was far too caught up in the supposed horrors of the movie to notice anything else. That would prevent the bouncer from having to point them towards the exit because America threw furniture around again.

Several shrieks and a mass of popcorn later, the movie finally reached the part that he would find at least moderately interesting. The villains, having cornered their last victim, had taken up the hunt. Through a dark forest, of course, he thought, not in the least surprised.

They were never really that imaginative with where they got their templates for their stories.

Suddenly, he felt himself being grabbed by a pair of arms from left and picked up. And then he was sat down again. Slowly, he turned his head.

'Any special reasons why you deem your lap more comfortably for me than my seat?'

He could hear Hungary chocking on her spit. But America clung to him like chewing gum to a shoe sole, as he found out when he tried to get back to his seat.

'Please...' The blonde whimpered against his back, tightening his hold even more. What was it with him and being manhandled lately? He sighed, patting the arm around his torso, awkwardly. 'I can't breathe.' But in that very moment, somewhere on the screen the main actress finally lost it, starting her own murderous rampage with very wet background noise. Well, it served its purpose. America squealed against his back. 'Oh god oh god oh god∼'

'America...' He said, slowly. 'It's not that scary, just very bloody. Nothings gonna happen. Come on; let me go, I really can't breathe.' Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say for America clung to him as if he was the last straw between him and a bottomless abyss.

'NOOOOOO∼'

And as if to aid the panicked man who would soon have squeezed him to death, another actor made her exit in a particularly gory way, accompanied by bloodcurdling screams, the shrill shrieking of misused kitchen tools and a fanfare in the background.

'OH MY GOD∼'

He sighed and then wiggled until he sat more comfortable. If America thought he needed him as some kind of safety blanket, then he would have to life with the fact that he would use him as a seat pillow. 'Eliza?'

'Yeah?' Hungary said hesitantly.

'Pass me the popcorn, da?'


don't worry, I haven't lost the plot of this story.

Jet.

And as you might have noticed, my versions of those two are assholes.

*Please don't kill me...*

(To silverheartlugia2000: Update : I looked for the spelling/grammar mistakes. I found them. Now, just let me die of embarrassment in the corner over there...)