do not own Hetalia, Hidekaz Himaryu made it. I do not own the characters, places, events, habits, places, anything. Thanks to all those who inspire me! And please review if you read!

2. Making Mistakes

"And dude," America said quickly. Anyone who was caring enough to listen would've said he needed to slow down when speaking, his words seemed to blur together. Everyone could agree that it wasn't as bad as Italy's constant ramble, but it was almost the same. He scooted closer to England on the couch, who managed to restrain himself from visibly cringing away. "I was thinking about getting a motorcycle when I get back home. Wouldn't that be, like, awesome? Couldn't you see a person like me on a nice, sleek black Harley?"

England set down Russia's excuse for tea. It wasn't that bad- but he didn't have enough milk or sugar, and he had been forced to take it practically black. America's question reminded him of the time he had presented England with an airplane crafted in the shape of a shark- positively ridiculous. "I don't think that's a good idea, America," he said grudgingly.

"Dude, why not?" America cried, clearly shocked. He always was when someone didn't agree with him.

"Well, one, the number of accidents on those contraptions are far worse than those automobiles nowadays," England explained calmly as America silently fumed over it. "And two, I already know you're not going to wear the proper headgear for the safety of the thing, which would only raise the risk factor. And with the cost of fuel going up more and more these days, it'd just be a waste of money."

America snorted. "Helmets are for losers. And gas has always been expensive. I'll have that thing in Libya sorted out in no time."

"Is that what your boss told you?" England grumbled into his cup, glad that America hadn't heard it. He glanced up to the little clock sitting on the mantel above the fire, and saw with a shock that in the time they had been waiting for France and China and Russia- who was their host- that the minute hand had made it halfway around the clock. "What's taking them so long?" He wondered. "It's been almost a half an hour."

"France is probably just fashionably early, as usual," America joked, and leaned back in his chair.

"Oh, stop that. You and I both know you would've completely forgot about this entire thing if you and I hadn't decided to come together," England snapped.

America leaned back in retort to England's harsh answer. "What's your problem, man? That's what he would've said."

England wasn't surprised that his teacup started to rattle as he glanced around the room. "You're right. I guess I'm just a little anxious because we're the only ones who have turned up so far. This is Russia's house and all, and no matter how pleasant it is, I can't understand why he hasn't joined us yet. China and France I can understand since both of them are probably caught up in something, but why wouldn't Russia be in his own home?"

America cross his arms. "He's probably making some nuclear weapon to chase me out with. He and China probably have some multi-billion dollar weapon down there ready to explode us straight to Siberia."

"Really, listen to you," said a rough voice. England and America looked up. "We came here to reunite the Allies, right? Not revisit that awful dispute from the eighties."

Standing in the doorway was a sleek-looking young man with a bit of a shadow under his chin and shining gold hair. He was dressed in a fancy pink suit- coral pink. Though neither America nor England could deny that France could pull it off, and even look good in it. He walked in with an air around him that smelled thickly of expensive cologne that could choke someone if too much was used- but of course France had on just the right amount. America gagged just to try and upset him, but he earn a wink as France sat himself between the two of them.

"And how is the adorable England these days?" France asked jeeringly, and he crossed his legs. "I haven't heard anything exciting about you lately. Still have that lady on your throne?"

England's cup made a loud clink as he set it on the table. America scooted down the best he could on the couch. "Yes, as a matter of fact. And she's doing quite well."

"She still hasn't decided who's going to succeed her, has she?" France continued. "Personally that adorable engaged couple deserves a shot at it before they get too old. Really, England, you can't expect her to decide all by herself."

England sighed. "I'm sure she'll do quite all right on her own. And besides. My politics aren't nearly as exciting as America's." England leaned over and smirked at the country. "Right, America?"

America's eyebrows knit. "Shut up."

"Oh, that's right! Those hooligans in Wisconsin really do create a riot, don't they?" France chuckled. "Take it from an experienced man. And calm down those Cheeseheads, really, or else they'll go on strike like my people."

England finished the tea at last. Obviously there was more in the kettle, and Lithuania had encouraged them to help themselves to it, but he didn't want to see rude. He left his empty cup on the table. "Why are you so late, France? Does Russia have anything to do with it?"

"Russia?" France looked around. "No. I thought I had missed him and you two were just waiting for me. Why, has he not shown up?"

"No," America grumbled. He slouched down on the couch almost to the point where his chin dipped onto his chest. "We've been waiting for hours."

"Sit up," England scolded. America didn't, as usual. "And it's barely been forty-five minutes now."

America mimicked him by mouthing his words and sneering, then letting his tongue slide out of his mouth. England ignored it.

"Well, with all that alcohol he drinks, he's probably having stomach problems. Who knows what that vodka does to your bowels-"

"That's disgusting, France!" America cried, jumping away from him, standing now. He backed up, hit the coffee table as he did, then glanced behind him. He sighed. "Listen, I'm really just sick of waiting here, dude. Can't we go home?"

"That would be incredibly rude," England said. "And besides. Some good can come out of this meeting if everyone shows up. I think we can all agree we need to spend a bit more time together, that way we won't all actually need to team up again."

"Dude, don't worry," America said. "There's no way I'm teaming up with Russia. EVER." He turned around and stepped around the coffee table, then walked up to the door to the living room and opened it.

"America," England gasped. "Really, you can't leave!"

"I'm not leaving," America sighed. "I'm hungry. I was going to go see if they had some…I dunno. What's some good Russian food?"

France and England were silent. Neither of them knew. France chuckled. "You and your stomach, America. Really, it'd be too easy to starve you out in a war."

"Right," America said. He stepped outside. "I'm just going to go ask if they have anything I can eat. Is that okay, mum?" He was pointedly looking at England when he said this.

England's face went hot. He fumbled for words for a moment. "Alright. Well… go ahead I guess…"

"Cool," America confirmed, then disappeared through the door.

"It's really funny, you know," France pointed out. "Even after his independence he still waits for you to confirm his every action sometimes."

England wanted to deny it. "He was just being a smart-alec," he protested. "Immature. As always."

"Well, maybe that's your fault," France taunted. "For bringing him up like you did. All those scones you fed him when he was young probably made something go wrong with him. If I had brought him up, I'd still have him under my wing, even now."

England paused. He looked down at his hands. "I don't think so," he whispered.

France got a hold of England's suddenly serious attitude. He knew England was still a bit touchy on the Revolutionary War subject. The playful smile left his face. "Why is that?"

"He's too strong," England said. "His economy is horrible and his debt is huge, but even if someone like Russia were to attack him, he could still take him down."

France set his chin on his hand and softly smiled. "You're right. He's still young, We're all like that when we're young."

"That's true," England laughed. "But I don't know how much longer he's going to get away with being so arrogant. All the eastern nations could come at him, and somehow he'd come out on top, but how long will his energy last?"

"Come now, Britain," France laughed. "As long as he has something in his belly, he'll have enough energy to take them on. But you are right. Someone is going to get fed up with him at some point."

"He wouldn't listen if we told him to watch his back."

"No. But would you have listened to me at that age if I told you something like that?"

England laughed, and he nodded, relaxing a little. "You're right. And he'll have to make a few mistakes on his own." Going against his earlier judgment, he poured himself another cup of watery black tea.

Americapeeked around the corner carefully. He wouldn't ever admit that he was a little scared wandering around Russia's home by himself, but his stomach was leading him.

The dim hallways were long and tall, which was only suitable for a gargantuan country like Russia. He swallowed, walking past more of the horrifying paintings. Stuff like this didn't usually scare him, but most of them reminded him of a video game he had recently played, that had gave him nightmares. He wished he had stayed in the living room, not caring if France was in there or not. He didn't want to be in Russia's house without at least a gun, and when England had caught him lading his favorite to take with, he had made America put it back.

He wrung his grey hooded sweatshirt and stuck his hands in the front pocket. Nowadays he dressed more casually, in jeans and t-shirts rather than army uniform, but he didn't part with his leather jacket. He had worn it to Russia's house, but it was hanging up in some closet now.

"This is scary," America whispered to himself. A scratching noise came from the other end of the hallway. He could only guess that a place like Russia's was invested with rats- but the noise of their nails on the wood floor made America's entire body feel like a popsicle. The hollowness of Russia's home only added to the scariness of the situation, and America glanced behind him anxiously as the cracked living room door. The sound of chatter from France and England was dim, but still audible. He focused on that, and continued down the hallway in hopes of finding Lithuania or Estonia so they could lead him to food- but the only other conversation he could hear was coming from all the way down the hall.

Thump! America whirled around to the noise. His heart seemed to be it's echo, and as he stood, turned, in the hallway, he could only imagine the images from his previous nightmare, and as a figure rounded the corner, he froze, his mouth unable to move until an utterly loud cry rang out from it.

"!"

America booked it up the nearest flight of stairs with the speed of a wild animal. Tripping over the banister, her barely had time to make it up the stairs before he fell flat on his face in the middle of the hallway.

Meanwhile-

"What's that noise, aru?" China glanced up the stairs as he hung up his coat.

Meanwhile that-

Belarus looked at the door as a loud scream interrupted her long chain of daydreams. They were gone in a second as a loud series of thumping footsteps sounded on what was the stairway. Was it Russia? Her heart swelled a little.

She sat with her knees drawn up to her chin as the minutes had ticked painfully by. Whatever was taking Russia so long had to have a reasonable explanation; she was beginning to get extremely impatient.

Or maybe it was Lithuania's mistake. Maybe he had got the message wrong. Maybe there was a hidden meaning in the message, she thought. She mumbled a little curse. All this time she'd been daydreaming about when Russia would get there and she hadn't thought about that. Let's see. She figured that Russia could've meant not to go into the bedroom. He was planning a meeting with those other nations, so maybe there could be a trap he planned to lure them into in here. She slid on leg off the bed thoughtfully.

But, then again, maybe her imagination was getting away from her, she thought. She paused on the side of the bed. Why would he try to give her a hidden message in the form of "wait for me in one of the bedrooms." What more could that mean? And how long was he expecting her to wait?

She bit her lip as she glanced up at the clock mounted on the wall next to the window. Shaking the anticipation of her older brother, she fully came off the bed, and marched toward the door. It had to be Lithuania's mistake. She'd have to ask him again about what Big Brother had said. She must've heard him wrong. Scowling, she opened the door and flung herself in a self-rage into the hallway.

Her anger over boiled when she saw who was practically collapsed in the hallway. Choking, spitting, and hacking on his own fear, America gripped the banister railing in attempt to calm himself down. Obviously the scream had come from his mouth, Belarus concluded and almost audibly ground her teeth. She had swallowed her pride enough to make an alliance with him, yes. But Russia hated him, and she hated him as well. Just a loudmouth on the wrong side of the earth.

Nevertheless, she wasn't here to pick fights with anyone. She didn't pay him any attention as she walked with visible grace toward him, then turned to go down the stairs.

However, America had already planned to get Belarus's attention that day. He struggled to his feet, dusted himself off and tried not to think about how idiotic he must've just appeared, and then watched as Belarus completely ignored him and went down the stairs.

He quickly forced himself to fall into step with her. "Hey," he said.

She didn't answer. Her hand followed the railing, and she seemed more focused on her steps than anything else in the world.

America didn't give up. "Whatcha doing?" He pressed. Being annoying was one of his many talents, the whole house knew that, however he was oblivious to it. He stumbled after Belarus down the stairs, tripping as he tried to go sideways so that she was forced to face him. "Did I, like, wake you up or something? Cuz I really didn't mean to scream…"

"I wasn't asleep," Belarus thought it might be a little more bearable if she talked to him. It wouldn't take long for England to turn up and nag him until he left.

"Oh. Oh, cool! So what were you doing?" They came to the end of the stairs, and Belarus hopped the last one.

"I was waiting for my brother," she said simply then turned around to the scary hallway.

America swung around the banister. "You and me both. Got any idea what's holding him up so long?"

She barely paused to consider his question. "I should think you and your Allied friends are the problem. You've got to have him in there arguing more than talking."

"I-what?" America stopped following Belarus and peeked around the stairs at the living room door. He listened for any conversation that could come from Russia, but he didn't hear anything. "Dude," he faced Belarus again. "I dunno what you're talking about, but Russia hasn't been here for about an hour."

She paused before the kitchen door. "What're you talking about? I thought he said he'd be with you today."

"That's what he told everybody," America sighed. "Who told you that anyway? He wasn't here to greet us or anything."

"Well, where is he?" Belarus's voice had spiked an octave.

"Who knows?" America leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. "He probably hasn't been here all morning."

Belarus seemed to mouth the words "all morning" and then she turned around. She stepped over America's feet in the hall, and he confusedly watched her march from the back of the hall to the front door. He tried to make sense of what she was doing, but it all became clear when she flung open the door and threw herself into the cold.

"AAAGH!" America was up in a second, but the running figure of Belarus was gone before he could reach the door. In the time he had been here, the wind had picked up an awful snowstorm, pushing snow every other which way. "What're you doing?" He screamed, sticking his head out. His cheeks were raw almost instantaneously. "HEY! Belarus!"

"America, who are you yelling to?" England sighed. France and China were standing in the doorway to the living room, looking expectantly at him. "It's very rude."

America flapped his arms like a madman, signaling out the door. "She just ran outside. In a blizzard. In Russia."

"Oh, please, America," England said, coming to the door to pull it shut. "I'm sure she'll be fine. She does live here-"

Just as England said that, a blast of snow hit the two brothers from where they stood in the doorway, forcing snow to scatter all over the hallway. England blinked at the ferocity of the wind, and the coldness of the air. He shut the door, then turned and faced America, his face solemn.

America's back was already turned, opening a hallway closet beside the door. His arms dove in, and he fumbled for a moment. "Where's my jacket?" He griped, throwing Russia's many coats on the floor. Any of them would've been adequate for the horrible weather.

"Are you crazy? You can't just go outside!" France called from the living room, staying out of the snowy hallway. "It is much too cold outside! Let the crazy girl figure that out for herself, she'll come back inside soon enough."

"I think we all heard 'crazy' in that sentence," America said, then he picked up one of Russia's coats. It was black and long with a bunch of random frills and chains, and even shoulder fringes. America swam in it, but then again, his aviator's jacket was no where in sight. "She'll freeze get lost out there and freeze or something. I'm a hero. I'll go get her, and everything'll be fine."

"I don't think that's a good idea, mate," England said worriedly. He tried to grab America's sleeve as he stomped past him in Russia's enormous coat. America opened the door and started to step out, blasting England again with more cold wind. "America!"

America ignored him and marched into the cold.

"America! ALFRED F. JONES GET BACK INSIDE!" England screamed, but the young country merely saluted, and the white Russian plain swallowed him.

A few minutes later…

Lithuania knocked on the door to the living room. He opened it, found China, France and England sitting on a couch and England folded over in a chair. All of them were silent. They must've gotten board. It was too quiet for him to really realize America's absence so he just stepped inside. "Um," he said. "I'm sorry to keep you waiting. I think it might be best for you three to go home, uh, I don't think Russia's coming."

England lifted his head. "We can't leave."

"No, it'll really be all right," Lithuania said frantically. "Don't worry about hospitality and everything, I'm sure he would understand as well."

"No, that's not what England meant-aru," China said. He dusted off his pants. "That American idiot went outside in a blizzard looking for Belarus because she went outside looking for Russia-aru." He blinked. "And I thought he called you guys. He called me saying he wandered outside and got caught in a blizzard almost an hour ago. He said he would stay where he was until the storm calmed down. He sounded kind of drunk when he said it-aru."

"Why didn't you say that earlier?" England cried. "You stupid GIT. Now America's outside for absolutely no reason!"

China shrugged. "Maybe that will teach him a lesson."

I had a bit too much fun with this chapter.

Happy Easter! I was typing this at nighttime before I went to bed and such at my aunt's and uncles…I made the mistake of staying up til midnight before Easter, even. Please review! I knew it took a couple days for this to come up, but I'm home now, so the chapters will come faster now.

…I also realized a bit after that I made America spontaneously get hungry AFTER France made the Russia's bowels comment…oops…