I apologize if Romania seems OOC, I've never actually written him before. (If he is tell me, please.)

I'm also sorry for writing such short chapters, but I'm working on making them longer.

I don't own anything.


Under normal circumstances, England normally would've given the dark, dust coated (and preferably padlocked.) room that was his basement a wide berth, but much to his displeasure; today he would have to venture down into the dusty catacombs of "way to many things, too little organization."

This was, in part, because England couldn't remember what he had been doing last night. Normally he would chalk it down to too much alcohol and get on with his life, if not for the fact that he had absolutely no signs of anything that could resemble a hangover. That, and for some bizarre reason every single cup, glass, dish, and bowl he owned were currently shattered into a million pieces on his kitchen floor. Needless to say, he was glad that he had been wearing shoes when he walked into his kitchen that morning.

England knew that at some point a few years ago he had left an old tea set down in his labyrinth of a basement, and though it was probably now dirtier than every feather duster that ever existed combined, it was still better at holding liquid than the sad shards on the floor that had once been dishes.

Thus, England found himself with a lantern, unlocking the usually untouched padlock on the basement door.

...

Most times when one walks down into a padlocked basement, they will find the room it more or less how they left it.

Now was not one of those times.

To say that England was a bit surprised to find Romania sleeping is his basement was to say that America only kind of liked hamburgers and Spain sometimes ate tomatoes.

In reality, he did a double take, tripped over an inconveniently place book, dropped the lantern in a fish tank, and then tipped over a broom. The broom handle nudged a birdcage, which then fell down on his head.

The first thing Romania saw when he woke up was England on the floor, with a birdcage lying on his head. The image took a minute to click in Romania's mind. "England... Floor...Birdcage... England...Floo- "Then the image finally registered. Romania shot upright and directly out of the chair.

England removed the offending birdcage by angrily throwing it at the opposite wall.

He spluttered for a moment "I-! You-! The- HOW THE BLOODY HELL DID YOU GET IN MY BASEMENT?!"

Romania eyes shifted nervously around the room for a moment before he responded.

"Well, not the 'normal' way if that's what you mean," He stood up using the fallen chair as leverage. "I suppose I may have made a bit of mess-"

England wasn't amused "Oh, really a bi-!"

Romania cut him off "-It was already messy anyway, besides that's not important part. I need you to let me see whatever spell is that book!"

This was truly England's final straw. "Well to bad for you- I've hidden it. It's not even in my house anymore, you insufferable –"

What followed was a violent string of various insults and a variety of cursing that lasted a duration of around two minutes before calming down into something more of a lecture.

"- and I highly doubt you even know the significance of what's inside! Not that you…"

England trailed off after finally noticing that Romania was no longer in the room, and that he was now talking to thin air.


I still feel like such an idiot for posting chapters this short. *sigh*

My plot outline desperately needs some of Animated's attention...

Criticism openly welcomed, and if I make an error by all means tell me!