As promised.

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.

5. The Bag

A silver needle pierced through the fabric again as England worked on his embroidery, hoping to finish a few more squares for the quilt he was planning on sewing. At the stove was France, busy making crepes or whatever the frog called them, all that England knew was that they contained rum and were therefore a-okay with him.

England set aside his sewing for a minute to drink a sip of tea when the phone rang. Calmly, he took a sip of his tea and answered.

"Hello, this is Arthur, may I ask who is calling?" England asked pleasantly, taking another sip.

"MOM!" England spit out his tea onto the unfortunately placed quilt square. Hysterical laughter sounded from the phone.

"America! I am not your mother! I am a guy, get it through your head, you git!" England shouted back as France rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah. So mom!" England growled. "I was just unpacking my clothes from a meeting and all the sudden I trip, you know?" Little giggles followed.

"Yes, yes."

"And then I'm on the floor and my head is in this bag! So I reach up to get it off, but then all of the sudden I get my hand stuck! So I take my other hand and am struggling with this bag. I mean, just wrestling with it. And then my other hand gets stuck inside too! Anyways, now I am stuck inside this bag, I can't see and I think the zipper is caught on my clothing and hair." Full blown, hysterical laughter comes from the other end of the line. "Oh shut up, Mattie!"

England freezes and turns to France who is watching the conversation with interest, he turns on speaker.

"Wait, so you mean to tell me you got your head stuck in a bag?" England asks, mischief in his eyes. France's own blue eyes widen and he covers his mouth.

"Yes!" France starts laughing, muffles giggle coming from behind his hand. "And my arms too! Help me! Canada is no help, he is just sitting here laughing and taking pictures. And dad! Stop laughing, I can hear you!"

"I always knew this day would come," England tisked, shaking his head. "Should we go over and help him, Francis?"

"I don't know, mon Cherie. Should we?" Laughter still sparkled in his eyes.

"I mean, I did waste a nice cup of tea…" England replies, thinking.

"Will you two shut up and get here! You are supposed to help me with these things!" America shouted from the other end of the line.

"Don't come! It's funny!" Canada shouted, followed by a struggle. "Stop it, Al! I'll make your stupidity a side show attraction!"

The two 'parents' started laughing harder.

"Yes, yes," England started. "We'll come, just don't make us eat McDonald's…"

"But they serve lobster now!" Alfred protested.

"They what?!" France screeched. "We need to get there right away, before they ruin another classy dish!"

"Give us a minute!"

England and France stood there, hands on their hips and they surveyed the scene. Canada was on the floor, laying down and clutching his side as he cracked up while America sat on the floor, obviously sulking, with his head and both arms stuck in a black bag.

"…How does this even happen?" England asked in amazement.

"I'm surprise his country hasn't self-destructed," Francis commented.

"HELP ME OUT OF THIS BAG!"

The two approached the boy and looked at each other.

"On the count of three, pull," England said, France nodded.

"One, two, three!" The two European nations pulled up as hard as they could.

"Ouch, ouch! It's stuck in my hair!"

England rolled his eyes and motioned to France.

"Get the zipper, I'll work on untangling his left arm."

After a few minutes of pulling, pushing, complaining and a few bumps and bruises, America was almost free. England and France stepped back to survey their work and hi-fived.

"All thanks to me, obvliously," England bragged.

"Um, no," came the contradictory response. "All thanks to me obviously."

The two glared.

"Um, guys, I'm almost fr-"

With a scream, England threw himself at France.

"It was all my work, git!"

"No! I did the hard parts!"

With a flurry of motion and a large display of splinters, a chair was slammed into France's stomach.

"Well I gave the orders!"

"Everyone knows an Englishman's orders are trash!"

A nice picture of some famous baseball player got smashed over England's head.

"I'll show you what rubbish is!"

The two tumbled around the room and America sighed.

"I guess I'll just take it from here and remove the bag myself then."

The two stopped fighting and stared in horror.

"No!"

"Stop!"

Half an hour later, America's head was finally free. He ran his hands through his hair and closed his eyes.

"It was sure hot under there."

"Not as hot as this will be once I post it on Facebook."

America snapped his eyes open to see Canada holding a picture in front of his face. Of him. In the bag. America froze at the sight and Canada bolted.

"Get back here, you moron! You can't beat the hero!"

"Catch me if you can!"

England and France looked at each other again and pointed to each other.

"It's your fault!"