Rivalry

Part 6

Stupid bloody frog.

England needed tea. That was the only way he'd ever discovered of dealing with the stupidity of the bloody frog. Yes, a nice cup of steaming hot Earl Grey tea sounded splendid.

That is, until he walked into his kitchen and suddenly remembered that he had the only country that could rival the frog in stupidity waiting inside of his home.

Damn it. If he wanted his tea, he'd have to deal with the American.

For a few minutes, he stood in the doorway, trying to decide which was worse. Going without tea or dealing with America.

It was an incredibly difficult question.

Which was answered when said American suddenly turned, denying him the ability to escape without being noticed.

Tea it was, then.

"What are you still doing here?" England asked, as he marched intothe kitchen and made his way to the cupboard where he kept his tea, not even flashing a glance at America. He opened the doors, glancing over the very well-organized stash of at least seventy types of tea, before he realized that he'd just asked a question and hadn't received a response.

America hadn't said anything yet…

He must not have heard him. England glanced over his shoulder curiously as he pulled down a half-empty box of Earl Grey. "I said, 'what are you still doing here?'"

America still didn't answer.

...Well, that was weird.

England turned, setting the box on the counter, and walked over to his former charge. He stood on his tiptoes--don't think too much about that--so he could reach up and feel his forehead. "Hey, are you sick or something?"

"AH!" And at that, America seemed to wake up. And proceeded to panic when he saw the face suddenly much too close to his.

England jumped back in response, hitting his head on the still-open cupboard behind him.

"Ow…damn it, what was that for?"

"What were you doing?" America exclaimed, pointing a shaky finger toward him.

"I was checking your forehead to see if you had a damned fever. What did you think I was doing?"

America wasn't sure what he thought England was doing. His mind was basically only playing the same sentence over and over again...

Iggy has a tattoo. Iggy has a tattoo. Iggy is dating Prussia and he has a tattoo.

He wasn't sure why he was so fixated on the idea of England having a tattoo. Shouldn't he be more confused by the fact that he was dating Prussia of all people?

Actually, in all honesty, that didn't really surprise him that much. He knew that Prussia and England had a long history and, when England wasn't furious at him for doing something stupid and getting them arrested, they seemed to get along pretty well. They went out drinking all the time together, after all.

It kind of irritated him, though. Why hadn't Iggy ever told him about this? And why was Iggy dating Prussia?

"Are you okay? Do you need to sit down?" England was now really worried. America was never this quiet. Normally he'd be tearing his kitchen apart in order to find the box of coffee that England kept for his arrival—England had given in on that because if he didn't have coffee readily available, he'd have to listen to America's whining for hours on end.

"I'll make you some coffee."

No response. America seemed completely off in his own little world, almost like he was in shock.

What in the world was going on here?

"What if I—" he almost had to pry the next words out of his throat "go over to McDonald's and get you a hamburger?"

Still no response.

That did it. Something was seriously wrong with him. America refusing a hamburger was like Italy refusing pasta or Romano refusing tomatoes. It meant that something was seriously wrong. Like 'the end of the world is upon us' level of wrong.

England was out in the hallway at a speed that would have even put a retreating Italian army to shame.

"Bloody frog, I think America's dying."

England had never been entirely sure why France was always the person he called when there was a crisis. Probably force of habit caused by his many many calls to the frog threatening him with war, the police, a restraining order, or Russia.

"Mon cher?" France sounded slightly surprised to have England calling him again, particularly after he'd just been hung up on after a well-placed attack on his fairy hallucinations. Still, he wasn't going to complain.

"I just offered to buy America a hamburger and he refused. I think he's dying." What in the world should he do? Call the hospital? The police? America's boss?

He wasn't sure what exactly he would say to the president if he did happen to call him. 'Yes, so I think that there's something seriously wrong with your nation. Yes, Alfred just refused a hamburger. Yes, I think that this could be called a national emergency—maybe even international.'

Somehow he doubted that an explanation like that would fly with the man. It was one of the annoying aspects of America's system of government. Every four—or eight—years he'd get a new boss and you'd have to explain all of this--the fact that there were nations, the fact that said nations were generally quite human, all of that--to them again. Most of them took their entire term just getting used to the idea, while some never did and would just pretend that Alfred and the others didn't even exist. This one was too new to even understand the gravity of this sort of situation.

"Don't panic, mon cher. I'm sure that Amérique is fine," France's voice came soothingly through the phone. "Why don't you let me talk to him?"

"All right." England started to cross into the other room, attempting to think through what could possibly have caused this weird behaviour. But then he froze.

America was gone.

"Al—America? Where are you, you bloody git!?"

A/N: Huzzah! I've updated again! So this should've been up a few days ago, but I haven't had a chance to edit it til today cuz I've been ridiculously busy, so it took me longer. But it's here finally!

So remember how waaaaaaaaaaay back in one of the early chapters of Leunung, I mentioned how I really was craving gelato? Well, I've FINALLY had some. And it was amazing. Although, the only reason I got gelato was because I got ridiculously lost while trying to find the riverbank one night and randomly passed this little Italian restaurant.

Oh well, getting lost was so worth it for gelato.