Author's Note:

Two stories in one...please enjoy. Hehehehehe! NA bros centered at the middle and end

I really hate that world thinks America's fat…

*knock*knock*knock*

"Hey, Alfred! Come out, you've been there for half an hour now, eh?" I asked concerned why my brother's taking so long. He opened the door with his shirt completely unbuttoned and neck-tie undone.

"M-mattie…my stomach doesn't feel right…" he patted his sculpted abs. It's no surprise; we go to the gym together…five times a week actually, twice on Saturdays. We even play football and hockey in a regular basis. But he did have a point, it was glowing red and hard…not hard because of the muscles but hard as if something's inside. Maybe stuck wind or water…I don't know.

"Alright…we're going to the doctor!" he started dragging him out but he refused.

"No! I don't want you to waste money on me!" he said with hands pressed on his abs. "Why don't we Google it instead?"

"Non, mon frère! Do you remember the last time we tried that? EPIC FAIL. Eh?" I said with arms crossed. I pulled out something from my bag. It was some sort of wrap-around jelly-cushion…it said in the package that the pressure plus the jelly was good for stopping stomach pains, but learning from experience things as outlandish as this rarely work.

"Here." I tossed him the gelatinous wrap. He looked at me questioningly. "You have to wrap it around your gut. It's like a cooling gel or something. Eh?" he puffed his cheeks.

"I'll look fat in this!" whined my younger twin. "Alfred FOSTER Jones!" he immediately snapped the belly-wrap around his mid-section.

"*Sigh* bye abs!" he pouted as he buttoned his shirt.

That's why this happened…

"America, you bloody git, you ruined the world because of Twilight!"

My younger looked at me with a 'Is-this-guy-really-serious?' face. FIY, we represent our countries and we're all proud of it and all…but we're still human so that means we have some things we hate about our countries, we can formulate our own opinions and stands but we ultimately have to follow orders, it is a job after all.

Countries can therefore hate their own movies. In Alfred's case: twilight.

"I don't know what you're talking about!" he gave out a big smile. America was playing dumb again.

*FACEPALM!*

"Bloody GIIIIIIIIIIIIIT!" England tried to stomp on America's gut but he stopped upon making contact. Sloshing sounds made the Brit linger around the body. There was an uncomfortable silence in the room. With America's face embarrassed red and England's face plastered with disbelief.

"You're fat!"

"N-no, I'm not!"

"Yes, you are!"

America looked at me from behind, his face in a very childish pout. 'Your fault'

Fine, I had my faults there.

But when the world *Cuba* turns on me…he's always there for me

"*sigh* that damned Cuba… my hair's not like my brother's. Why is it so hard for people to see that?" I got beat up by Cuba again. It didn't really hurt, I was as damned ripped as my bro. B-but I still got beat up. I really don't like violence, why can't people just fight with pillows?

"M-MATTIE?!" I heard that ever present voice of my brother. He tugged on my arm as he led me to the living room. He started undressing me and looking at the scrapes and bruises I got.

"Why the hell didn't you beat Cuba up? Damn it, you could kick a polar bear's ass but not that lard-filled commie?" he glared at me angrily as he placed some ice on my wounds. I winced with the sudden shock of coldness.

"*sigh* Mattie, I'm sorry but that commie has crossed the line!" he grabbed his rifle with an intent of murder. I grabbed him by the wrist with my own strength. "MATTIE."

"AL! You freaking hoser! I'd rather keep you safe, I promised Mom!" He quieted.

"I promised the same thing…dumbass" we stood still as memories of our Native American flashed before our eyes. Her strength, her wisdom, her heart.

"If someone beats the crap out of you again…I'd make sure there's one less nation in our conferences" my American brother's eyes glinted in darkness.

"Calm down, America. I promise to kick his ass next time? 'Kay? But 'til then…I'll also be making sure that anyone that's gonna hurt you will get a taste of hell" I smiled as I felt darkness in my heart as well.

"North American bros?" he smiled inviting me to bump his fists.

"North American bros." I bumped it.

Forever, we are brothers and blood is always thicker than water.

We will protect each other when the world crumbles. It was our mother's dying wish.

But I guess Mom had eyes on other protectors…

CUBA'S HOUSE

The Cuban had a smug look on his face. He finally kicked America's ass. He should call Canada. He opened the door to his room being greeted by an eerily cold presence.

"Hej, Cuba…" said a chilly voice in a thick Danish accent. The lights were turned on showing the big European resting on his bed.

"How the hell did you get in here!?" Cuba asked as he got ready to punch the younger-looking but technically older nation.

"I do not take kindly to people who beat America up" he completely ignored the question. His eyes glowed blue as his sharky grin took a sinister look.

"Get the hell out of my house! Estupido!" he pointed out the door. The respectful Dane was more than happy to oblige but not before placing his callous hand over the tanned nations shoulder. The ice started forming over Cuba's shoulder…a painful freeze, almost like a stabbing sensation.

"Don't you dare hurt America! got that, min ven?" cooed Matthias as he crushed his shoulder bone. "Oops, sorry…I got a strong grip" he smiled as Cuba gasped in pain.

The Dane exited calmly from the house. His absence allowed the room to go back to its normal temperature.

"Oh hello comrade Cuba!" said a rather thick Russian voice. He looked behind him to see the Russian sitting on the sofa. How do they keep on coming to his house?

"Russia? I thought you'd be happy that I kicked America's ass!"

"Why would I? We are good friends, da? Only our bosses hate each other. But I am not here because of him…" his tall stature made Cuba feel small "I am here because you hurt my precious Canada!"

"What? I didn't, I kicked America's ass, not Canada's!" he said defensively.

"Unlike my Danish friend who got the wrong information…I was there when you beat him up. So I am here to return the favor!" his aura radiated in a new type of darkness. But suddenly an explosion, fire everywhere and the house was now burned to the ground.

Cuba looked up through the rubble seeing Ivan walk away without a single scratch. Russia smiled.

On the bushes Denmark and Norway were hiding. They wore soldier helmets and had eye blacks on their cheeks.

"That's what happens if you mess with America!" Denmark smiled zealously.

"I don't get why we have to where eye blacks, it's night!" Norway asked annoyed as to why they had to go to Cuba at night.

He smirked.

Russia smirked.

"Mess with him…and you mess with me"