I don't own.

*TRIGGER WARNING* (More swearing than usual, Mentioning of over-the-top violence, torture and MCR lyrics.)

'With that, I again like to thank you for your attention. This is the end of my presentation.' Taiwan clapped her hands together as a final gesture before snapping her laptop shut.

He let out a relieved sigh. The last session of this month's conference was finally over. Still, they had a whole free evening before the bus that was supposed to bring then to the airport would arrive tomorrow morning. He wondered distantly what America had planned for the remaining time, since as always the host planned the last evening for them - usually some kind of dinner party. He'd invited them to a premiere at the Moscow theater last time the conference had been held at his place and he had noticed, to his relief; most had enjoyed it too.

Well, apart from a certain Englishmen.

Focusing back from that memory to the present he watched as America walked up to the front. Somehow he had the feeling the signs of weariness had intensified, or was it just him? He wouldn't be surprised if the guy suddenly broke out into hysterical cackling - but maybe he was only seeing things. The day had been long, after all. Although entertaining, that's for sure, he chuckled to himself. Maybe he should stay a couple of days longer. The wildlife around here was certainly ...interesting.

'...So it's up to you.' At the front, America shrugged at them to show it was out of his hands. Apparently, he had missed the most of the mans little speech while he'd spaced out.

Again. That took a turn for the worst lately, he thought, not really concerned.

From the exclamations around him, the other had simply reserved every opinion the hotel had to offer for the evening and that included the pool area, the large ball room on the ground floor and the karaoke bar in the basement.

Ah, well.

'...But of course, you all have at least three hours until dinner so, go and get some rest, folks!' And with that, America stepped down from the podium. Did he just stagger, or was that his imagination? But, three hours, Humh...

'Medvedev!'

This time, he actually screamed in frustration.

'...Am I going on your nerves?'

He nodded, giving Russia a deadpan look.

'I'm sorry.' Russia said quietly then. 'It's just, I'm going home tomorrow and I wanted to say goodbye so...' He trailed off, and if he hadn't known that he most certainly hadn't any booze until now - A miracle - he would've thought it was a hallucination - but Russia was fidgeting.

Nervously.

Good grief, the guy actually sounded hurt! He hung his head with a suffering sigh. And then he slammed it onto the ground, ignoring Russia's concerned (!) shout.

That just wasn't happening.

'I CHALLENGE YOU!'

He flinched, looking up from his glass. Hungary pointed her micro across the room at America who seemed frozen in his seat; glass stopped half between mouth and table.

'Challenge?'

'Yup! Either you sing a song from The Black Parade or you gonna accompany me to 'You're next' tomorrow!'

'What?! NO!' America yelped. 'How can you do that to me!? That's a horror movie!' Hungary's wide smirk indicated that she was keenly aware of that fact, as well as America's abnormal phobia of these things.

'...And which song?' America said finally, in a doomed kind of tone.

'Mhm...' Hungary pretended to ponder about that, a finger on her chin. 'You're gonna sing...'Mama'. Yeah, that'll do nicely.'

He frowned. What kind of song was titled 'mama'?

But America seemed to know from which track she spoke for he seemed to pale a good couple of shades while the rest of the audience watched with growing glee. 'But, that's needs a second voice!' He finally sputtered. 'And what about the choir?'

'It's Karaoke, Freddy.' She rolled her eyes. 'Stop winning, come on everyone had a gig already! Only you didn't.'

Perhaps she had a shot Barack - or two - too much he thought, nursing his own glass. America sat a moment longer there before letting out a long, suffering sigh. 'Okay.' He said, before adding, sullen. 'But I demand a second voice. I'm not gonna do that alone.'

She only shook her head, exasperated. 'Well, besides you, I think only Russia didn't have a go so...'

He froze. But it was already too late; everyone had turned to him with various expressions, ranging from horror to spitefulness. It was rather hard not to grimace at them. Of course, they had already embarrassed themselves in front of the whole world, why should he come off the hock so easily?

So, he simply stood up, feeling very much as if he walked up to the gallows but either that or he had to storm out right now.

And he didn't run.

America eyed him with a strange sort of expression but then handed him a micro without commenting. 'The blue lines are mine?' He asked the other. America nodded.

'Do your worst, Please?' Hungary battered her eyelashes at America, jokingly. Said man glowered at her, morose.

'As if I've got a choice. '

'Right, you don't∼' He never had known Hungary could look so ...sadistic. That day was really full of surprises he thought absently, noticing the music had started and became louder. It was eerie, somewhat.

'Mama, we all go to hell

Mama we all go to hell...'

America sounded strangely smugly for such a line. Maybe he should have run after all. Besides that he had absolutely no idea how that damn thing went …da, running started to sound increasingly better, he grimaced. There's a reason he hated Karaoke, and singing.

'…Mama we're all full of lies

Mama we're meant for the flies

And right now, they're building a coffin your size,

Mama, we're all full of lies...'

America nodded to that, agreeing, before making a mocking bow in his direction 'Well, mother' He lost against the urge to roll his eyes at the others antics. That joke had a beard that must reach until Kamchatka, honestly.

'-what the war did to my legs and to my tongue'

America showed him a nasty grin, pointing towards his legs and face respectively. And then stuck his tongue out at him and he was at that moment rather grateful it was quite dark in the bar because there was a gaping hole in the other's tongue and the shock that he was unable to hide for a moment must've been written all over his face. He needed more Vodka.

'…A place for just your mind; You manners when you go

And when you go don't return to me my love...- that's right.'

'MAMA!' America interrupted him before he even finished, startling him with it. He scowled at the blonde. Who wasn't fazed. Okay. Somebody would pay. Painfully. How about his Boss and then his Vice and then the American ambassador and then... While he fantasized about the complete annihilation of the world's top politicians, one person at a time, the other hollered on, amusement whipped of his face for whatsoever reason.

'We all go to hell

Mama we all go to hell!'

The blonde graphed him by the arms, distracting him from his mental vendetta. He felt his eyebrow twitch in annoyance when he took in the state of agitation America was in. Which fool was it who slipped him those shrooms every time? Or why was he - he stopped. He would recognize that kind of hollowness everywhere. He had seen it too often in the mirror after all. And from that close proximity he recognized something else actually, fond it in such masses it chilled him to the bone. Intriguing. He smirked, leaning a bit closer than necessary.

'It's really quite pleasant...' He said, giving it a low, husky tone before pinching his nose. 'Except for the smell-' He couldn't help the excited grin on his face. But he really had to do something about that idiot who gave out those drugs. He really didn't want to experience HER on a trip. His little sister was already bad enough when she was sober.

'…And if you would call me your sweetheart,

I'd maybe then sing you a song...'

America leaped back so suddenly it startled him, explicitly seeing that resenting, bitter - oh so bitter - sneer on the other's lips.

'But there's shit I've done with this fuck of a gun,

You would cry out your eyes all along!'

He blinked, dumfounded for a second, since America had graphed his hand, had put a hand on his hip and unmistakably started twirling him around in a fast-paced waltz, to the tune. All in a fluent motion.

Where was his pipe when he needed it?

'...We're damned after all

Through fortune and flame we fall

And if you can stay then I show you the way to return to the ashes you call...'

Woe him if he dared to stomp on his toes… And why the hell was he playing along with it?

'…And return to the ashes you call.'

No stomped-on toes. That was good for the hotel personal, he supposed – they wouldn't have to deal with the hassle of trying to get the gore off the walls. But apparently, America suffered from severe mood swings. He padded the other on the back, awkwardly, while the blonde sobbed on his shoulders. Meanwhile, the music ended with a sole violin, as did the shaking of America's frame against his. He frowned.

Then, there was silence, before someone of the others started to clap, soon followed by the rest. From what he heard, it was France, but he paid them no attention, because, ever so slowly, America raised his head.

And then cast him a horrifying, face-splitting, completely deranged grin.

His eyes must have been comically wide for a second later the other released his arm, removed his hand from his hip - still there? - and then cleared his throat as if he hadn't a moment ago whirled him around to a song that sounded as if the fallen soldiers of his old battlefields sung it in the background, before progressing to act out a minor melt-down.

'Sorry.'

An apologizing smile, perfectly sane, was thrown at him and he could only smile back, too shaken still. And because he couldn't decide if he should get mad or not.

'Guess I went a bit too much into it, eh?'

'There's no such thing as 'too much'! That was awesome!' Hungary had skipped over to them, a strange glint in her eyes he found highly worrisome for reason that escaped his grasp however.

'So, I'm off the hock?' America asked hopeful. Bastard.

'No way!' The brunet replied cheerily, obvious to America's dismay. 'But I invited Prussia and his boyfriend and -'

'Boyfriend?'

He blinked, as did Hungary at the question, nothing more than an angry snarl. And somehow he was even more surprised about the sudden stab of disappointment that hit him upon the other's fury. Where did that come from?

'Well, yeah? His boyfriend.' Hungary said carefully.

'And?' America had regained his composure apparently. 'Do I know the fortunate?'

'Err...Wait; I know I heard his name at some point. I spoke to him, didn't I...?'

She seemed a bit confused, but America's face was quite ...scary for a short moment. Huh. Well, that's certainly new, he mused quietly but stilled when he heard the blondes next words.

'Let me guess, he was blonde, had glasses...'

Hungary nodded after a moment while he suddenly remembered how much he actually hated Prussia, now that he thought about it.

'Drags a polar bear everywhere around, has a maple leaf in his flag...'

Hungary nodded again with a much less confused look while he still had no clue from whom America actually spoke.

'You, mean Canada, right? My little baby brother?'

That had been delivered with a sugary smile. And he fought the urge to slap himself. No wonder - and why in all hells was he so relieved?! Hungary seemed to be frozen on the spot but America ignored that deliberately.

'I'd loved to come, what about you, Russia? Up for a movie?' He hesitated a moment but then - It couldn't hurt, right? And that resulting situation would certainly be interesting.

'Why not?' He asked rhetorically. 'When did you say you wanted to go again?'

'We let the fire just bath us, you made us oh so famous we never let you go...and when you go don't return to me my love...'

He stilled mid-step. There was laughing coming from one of the now vacant conference rooms. And faintly, he could hear his own voice, the song from yesterday. Please, don't say someone had a camera ...of course they did. He hung his head before, carefully, opening the conference room door to find - North Korea and a group of others, the BTT among them, sitting in front of a laptop. On the piece of the screen he could see him and America, midway during their little performance.

No.

They did not make a video and then loaded it up on YouTube. Nyet, he couldn't possibly be surrounded by such maroons! No, not maroons, fools fit it better, he realized, his hands trembling in rage. Prussia laughed again, apparently tipping a comment to add. He reached for his pipe.

'KOL'

As he'd anticipated, the group stilled. He opened the door all the way, which went with a horribly creak as such always did when he was mad. Slowly, Prussia turned to him, as slowly as he went blue once he realized the origin of the sudden chill in the room.

'Might I ask what you are doing there?' He asked with a saccharine smile.

'R-Russia...'

He felt a vein on his temple pulsating. 'Why don't you enlighten me, eh? I'll give you three seconds.'

'Err, oui, that's- bon-' France stammered, trying to shield the screen from his gaze.

'And that is?' He asked innocently, as if not already knowing. 'Don't tell me...France!' He said in mock surprise. 'I really thought you were...smarter than that.' The man took a huge step back, then another as did the rest of them. He cast them another smile.

'I suggest you run.'

And running they did. But not for long, he though grimly, charging after them with wrath on his face and revenge in mind. However, just the moment he rounded the corner he ran straight into - America.

'WHAT THE FUCK!?' The guy staggered backwards but somehow managed to regain his balance with a few staggering steps. 'What - Russia?' The other exclaimed, adjusting his glassed that hung askew on his nose.

'KOL They made a video!' He spat at him, suddenly peeved with him too.

'Video?' America echoed blankly. He gritted his teeth, wanting no more than slamming his pipe down onto the next surface that screamed, as long as-

'KIL'

He stilled. America stared at him, wide eyed as realization dawned, but what surprised him more was ...that uncontrolled expression on the other's face.

America never showed his true feelings in public. Never.

'Video.' The blonde said again, voice void of any emotion. 'What kind of video?'

Huh. Denial.

He gestured back to the room, not in the mood for long explanations. 'See for yourself.' America stared at him a moment longer - it made him kind of uneasy, really - and then went past him to enter the conference room. After a moment he followed to find the other two steps away from the table, staring at the laptop.

'They put it on YouTube.'

'Da.' Slowly America turned his head to him with a sort of baffled expression.

'On YouTube.'

He simply nodded. Under America's eye twitched a muscle while somehow ...the sun must've been hidden by clouds for a shadow feel over everything. And then the man in front of him exploded.

'THAT FUCKING SCUMBACK!'

The laptop was flung against the wall where it cracked to bits of plastic, then the table followed, scattering the window glass to thousands of pieces. Now that he thought about it, seeing America raging against others was actually quite amusing - just standing by and watching.

'Say, Russia?' The other said after a little pause.

'Da?' He replied with a merry smile.

'In which direction did they go again?'

He gestured with an overly flourished wave towards the left side of the corridor.

'Say, Russia?' The other repeated, still in that soft, dead-calm voice.

'Da?'

America looked up from the ruins of the laptop with an expression in his eyes that told a tell-tale of his mental state, to those who wanted to see it, anyway. But nobody on earth wanted to, would deny it until it was too late.

'Mind if I join in?' The man in front of him asked, fishing up a chainsaw from somewhere. He smiled in response.

'I'd loved to, America.'

Sooooo...

It's been a while. I've been busy - for some reason, I've gained a live outside the net, totally out of the blue! No, I'm serious, it attacked me!

not.

Apart from that, - please don't kill me - most of this chapter was written on lonely Saturday nights, and I was more or less pissed.

- which might explain why this gained resemblance with a song-fic.

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.

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I have no excuse.