The bushy-browed country walked wearily into his home, falling down onto his cushioned couch. The sweat that clung to his dirty blonde hair and torn clothes spoke of a great tribulation. The bloody gashes across his body told it to be a battle. Though the wounds were artificial, the exertion had left him with no strength to even feel the dull aches.
"England!" A voice called from the direction of the front door.
The wounded country froze as he recognized the voice, and he cursed under his breath. He couldn't handle America's ninnyhammer personality right now.
"What do you want?" He demanded as America came into the living room.
"I was just stopping by to see – woah! You're all beat up!" The blue eyed nation ran over to get a closer at his friend.
"Yes. Good job at pointing out the obvious. Now, if you were here on some frivolous task, be gone already," England said, noticing a concerning spark light up in America's eye.
America could not pass up the chance. He shoved England down while jumping on top of him and began unbuttoning his wrecked uniform, England struggling all the while underneath him.
"America, what the hell?"
"Someone has to bandage up those wounds," he responded, fighting against his older brother who was trying to disengage his fingers from the already open jacket.
How the bloody hell does he manage that so fast? England wondered, a blush starting to touch his cheeks. "They don't need attention, they're only scratches, you git!"
Suddenly, a loud ripping noise tore the air. In the struggle, England's already ripped shirt tore completely in half, revealing a muscular bare chest, and something that caused America to do a double take.
"Is that a guitar tattooed to your chest?"
England was beet red by this time, "Yes." He mumbled, avoiding eye contact.
"When –"
"Don't ask!" He cut in.
America just stared at him for a moment, debating whether or not he really should leave it alone or chase it. Making his decision, he said, "Well, I think it's really cool," and he ran his fingers over it. The goose bumps that kissed England's skin did not go unnoticed, but, to America's sadness, neither did the small flash of pain in his green eyes. He quickly glanced at the other country's bare torso and found the offending wound that had begun to bleed once more.
Leaning down, carefully to avoid the painful gash, America lightly nipped at the strings of the guitar, savoring the way England trembled underneath him, and then he leapt up, grinning at his adorably embarrassed face.
"I'll go get some bandages. It seems France hit you once harder than you thought!"
"How did you-" England started to ask, but America was already out the door.
As his heart calmed down, he finally noticed what someone else had before him. A sharp pain was beginning to rear its head. He knew he should at least get up and wash it, but he just laid there, stuck in the position the younger country had left him in. His mind replayed the scene and he felt his face grow hot once more. He rested his arm over his eyes, while the other one softly touched his tattoo where America's teeth had been moments before. America was so frustrating, always noisy and pushy, in total disregard for personal space, but he couldn't but love that.
Ten minutes later, America came back in, quietly this time. He couldn't help the humongous grin that broke his face when he saw England.
"Was it that nice?" America's voice startled England. He hadn't realized that that much time had passed already. "I barely did anything, and yet you got so excited. Oh, I wish you weren't hurt right now!" America squealed with barely contained restraint.
"Shut up, you bloody git!" The green eyed country yelled, sitting up.
America grinned wildly as he walked over to him, setting down the bag with the needed medical items on the floor. He began to open a tube of Neosporin.
"What are you doing?" England asked.
"Fixing your nasty wound there."
"I can do it myself!" England yelled, trying to grab the medical gel from him, but America pulled it out of his reach just in time. The action had the opposite effect that the older country wanted. It opened hs wound further, causing him to wince in the pain.
"Right, I'm doing it," America nodded, and began applying the stuff to his side.
England noticeably relaxed as the Neosporin cooled his flaming wound, soothing some of the pain. As America put the cotton pad over it, and wrap the medical tape around his torso, he rested his head on America's shoulder, sleep overcoming him.
The blue eyed country moved slowly, more to make the moment last longer than to keep from jostling his head. Soon enough, America had tied the knot to keep the bandage on, and was about to announce it, when he heard a small snore from England. He could've burst out in a joyous laughter then and there.
Instead, he slowly moved England until he was lying on the couch once more. Glancing around, he found a throw designed after England's flag, and gently laid it over him. Taking in one last look of the country he loved, America turned and silently left for the day.
A/N: So, I'm actually not a huge shipper of these two XP My OTP is America/Belarus, but after listening to England's end song and hearing him talking about having a guitar tat, I just had to write this lol