Happy Accidents: Chapter 2
[Chapter 2: In which France dons drag, America and England get too close for comfort and China thinks they're all nuts.]

There was some sort of commotion out in the hallway; voices shouting and running feet, that had woken him up. Blearily blinking the sleep from his eyes, America almost jumped out of his bed on finding England inches from his face.

E-England?

Heart hammering in his chest and face flushing, he slowly took in the situation.

He was lying on his left side, his foot still heavy with its cast, and he had curled towards the warm depression on the left side of the bed. This was England. America remembered now how the stodgy Brit had adamantly refused to leave for fear that France would follow through on his threat. And as much as he’d vowed to stand guard, it appeared sleep had gotten the better of him; his head pillowed atop crossed arms as he leaned over from the bedside chair.

So much for defending my virtue, America thought to himself with a smile. His eyes noticed the slight tremor of England’s shoulders and the chill of the room registered to America as well. Clutching his own sheet up around him, he glanced around. With a sigh, he slowly sat forward and reached down to where an extra sheet rested at the foot of his bed. He draped it haphazardly over England’s shoulders, a blush rising to his cheeks that he quickly shook off. He was just being nice, that was all.

Damnit England. And you have the nerve to call me an idiot. At least I’m not falling asleep on the job.

America settled back down against his pillows, once again rolling to face England. Absently, he watched as the rise and fall of his shoulders evened out; pleased to see his shivering had ebbed.

When did you get like this, England? The protector needing my help? Heh. I guess a lot has changed since back then, for me and for you

And roughly patting England’s tousled hair, he mumbled, “’Night, you sad excuse for a guard.”

America was having a pleasant dream. He, the great hero, was sweeping in and rescuing England from the evil Axis Powers as the other Allied Forces cheered him on.

Then, they were holding a victory party in his honor and declaring America “Hero of the Free World.” England had approached then to give thanks.

“You saved me,” he’d said, warmly clasping his hand. “Thank you.”

“Ha ha! It’s no problem for me- the great hero!” America replied, brimming with confidence.

“Ah, but I want to give you something…” Dream-England had murmured. “Won’t you come closer?”

And before America could register it, the warm arms were drawing him in and he felt the heat of his breath on his face and England was about to…

America bolted awake, his mind and heart both racing. Just a dream. Just a dream, he tried to tell himself.

But that’s when he felt very real, solid, not dream-arms curled around his waist and warm breath tickling the back of his neck.

“E-England?”

“Ah, no. I’m much better than that,” a very French voice replied.

America yanked himself free, toppling into the sleeping form of England in the chair and knocking him to the floor as well.

“America, what the…”

“France, get the hell out of my bed!”

At the other country’s name, England woke up at once.

“Bloody hell, France! What the hell is your problem?!” He berated.

“My my, is this the thanks I get for my hard work?” France intoned, lounging seductively atop the bed. Both of them stared, France’s odd attire now glaringly apparent.

“France…are you…” America gaped, still sprawled on the floor.

France winked. “Like what you see? It was the only way in after you had the staff throw me out, mon chéri. Plus, I figured a nurse might be just what the doctor ordered, no?”

England fumed, storming over to the bed and grabbing France by the collar. “Out. Now. And return that nurse’s uniform to where it came from.”

“Ah, I see someone is jealous I got in America’s bed before they--”

“,” the Briton bellowed, his face going scarlet.

Pulling him up by the collar (“Watch my hat, you uncouth Brit!”), England hauled him to the door and pushed him out.

France straightened his tiny white cap and smoothed down his dress as he stood. Leaning as close as he dared, the Frenchman whispered, “Do you want to know a secret, England?”

“Nothing you say is going to--”

“America said your name when he noticed someone in his bed. Perhaps your love sick pining has finally paid off, hmm?”

England slammed the door in his face, not about to let him taunt him about everything that had happened since 1776 yet again.

“Lying bastard,” he grumbled, storming back into the room.

“Oww.”

The quiet murmur caught his attention right away, his scowl slipping off his face as he noticed the pathetic figure of America. He was in an awkward position on the floor, half tangled in a sheet and rubbing his forehead.

England sighed, walking over and looping an arm under America’s legs.

“What are you…”

“Well, if you’d rather sleep on the floor…”

“Oh. No.” America’s eyes darted to where England’s arm was under his knees. “But can you…” He cut himself off as England easily lifted him up and placed him gently into the bed.

Unbidden, a sentimental smile crept onto his lips; it had been so long since England had picked him up like this.

“W-what?” England snapped, noticing his expression.

America’s dopey grin didn’t waver. “You’re pretty strong, England.”

He flushed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

With a shrug, the younger country settled back into his pillows. “I’d just forgotten. That’s all.”

“O-Oh.”

An awkward silence threatened to descend, but America wasn’t finished yet.

“I mean, lately it’s just been all ‘America, send me supplies! America, come save me!’ And then France gets in my bed because you fell asleep on the job and…”

“Shut up,” England snapped. “Don’t act like I’m some pathetic weakling.”

“Well, you are really small so…”

England’s eyebrows furrowed and he sharply turned his back on America. “Fine. If you’re such a big, strong, country- then you can damned well take care of yourself.”

And before America could say another word, England had stormed out of the door and slammed it with a resounding ‘thud’ behind him.

America blinked. “England?” He asked in a tiny voice. No reply. The smile dropped off his face. He’d said too much again.

Sulkily, he shifted on his bed in an attempt to get comfortable. With a huff, he finally flopped on his side, facing the now-empty chair.

Why does this keep happening to us? I try to compliment him, let him know there’s no hard feelings about stuff and before I know it- I’ve blurted out something that offends him.

Feeling very lonely and cold, America snatched up the panda from his nightstand and curled up with it.

Damnit England…

And with one last fleeting glimpse at the door, America resigned himself to a restless sleep.

“Aiyah! Please don’t tell me you slept out here, aru.”

England started awake at China’s voice, groggily glaring up from where he was slumped on the floor against the door.

“Oh good. It’s just you,” he mumbled. “What time is it?”

“It’s dawn, aru. The sun just started to rise. Is there a reason you slept outside America’s room, aru?” China asked, raising his eyebrow quizzically.

“France,” England answered simply.

“France explains why you’re here, aru, but not why you’re on the floor outside.”

The Briton stretched, his muscles aching due to his odd sleeping position. Getting to his feet, he brushed off his uniform. “I should probably go straighten myself up.”

“A cold shower might be in order, aru,” China suggested.

England’s eyes went wide, flickering down to check himself before spluttering a reply. “Wh-what?”

China resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “To wake you up, aru.” He held back a chuckle, but had to add. “Unless there is another reason you would need to…”

“No!” England interjected, just a tad too forcefully. “J-Just stay here and make sure France doesn’t cause any trouble.”

And before China could reply, England had darted off down the hallway.

As if there was a way to be more transparent, aru. Absently rubbing his cheek, a smudge of lipstick still there from an oddly familiar looking nurse that had accosted him that morning, China sighed. Adding onto the hectic morning he’d been having, he now had a sinking feeling that “nurse” was France.

Crazy, aru! Like teenagers. All of them, aru!

England was really hoping China could hold his own for awhile at the hospital. He wasn’t sure how the Asian country did it, but he was always unnervingly perceptive. England chalked it up to his age, figuring China’s youthful face and laid back attitude were hiding a profound inner wisdom.

At least I hope that’s what it is, he thought as he dried off after his cold shower. Because otherwise, he’s reading my blasted thoughts.

The European country had racked his mind throughout his entire shower, trying to figure out how China could have known he was having that type of dream about America. He’d come to two conclusions- either China could read minds or he was just messing with England’s head. Neither of these options boded well.

It wasn’t as if he’d never thought about America in that light before, but lately the thoughts were becoming more and more frequent. England cursed under his breath as he pulled on a fresh uniform.

It’s just some symbolic mumbo jumbo because he’s helping me out with these wars. Nothing else to it.

But at the memory of holding America briefly, as he’d placed him back in bed the night before surfaced in his mind; England blushed. It was getting harder to fool himself, let alone anyone else.

America was really horrible at Mahjong, but it kept his mind off England during the afternoon and that was good. He wasn’t sure why his mind kept lingering on the irritating Brit, but he had a feeling that China’s not-so-subtle comment was behind it.

He did stay, a little voice kept echoing inside America’s mind. He slept outside my door all night. He wouldn’t do that if he hated me.

“Kong, aru,” China’s voice interrupted his thoughts as he laid four identical tiles down in his corner.

America flushed. He’d completely lost track of the game again. This had already happened several times since they’d started the game around noon. “Uh…”

China smiled, picking a new tile from the Wall and discarding an unwanted tile. “Just play your turn, aru.”

“Oh right.” America looked at his tiles and then across to China, who was currently beating him with all three hands he was playing simultaneously.

“Sheung,” he said uncertainly as he put down a run of three tiles and tossed out a fourth.

China was giving him an all too knowing look and he knew it had nothing to do with the game. Laughing nervously, he searched around for a quick subject to bring up.

“So China, about that panda you gave me… I think it’s possessed with an evil spirit. You see, right after you gave it to me, I got stuck dealing with England the rest of the day.”

“Aiyah.” Sighing, the older nation rubbed his temples. He had a feeling this would be brought up. “That just means it worked, aru.”

America grinned, shifting a bit against his pillows. “Nuh-uh. Made my day horrible, not happy.”

“Really, aru? Since when does getting chocolate make you unhappy, aru?”

His eyes followed China’s gaze to the chocolate bar on his nightstand. America grimaced. It had been in the bag of ice cream England had given to him. He’d told America he wasn’t fond of chocolate and that the guy at the store had thrown it in with the ice cream when they were all out of the peace babies candy England had wanted.

“Well, I haven’t eaten that candy bar because…”

“If you try and convince me you suddenly don’t want chocolate, aru, then I really am worried about your head injury,” China said seriously.

America gave a sheepish grin. “I can’t fool you, can I China?”

“You’re four thousand years too young to try and fool me, aru,” China replied with a smile.

A quiet knock interrupted them then and China got up to let the visitor in. It was, of course, England.

“I thought I should check in and make sure that France hasn’t been a nuisance,” he said to China, completely avoiding America’s gaze.

But America wasn’t about to let him leave before he got his say.

“Hey England, how’s the floor outside my room? Comfy place to sleep?”

England went bright red, his head whipping around to glare at America.

“Well, if you weren’t making fun of how weak I am, then perhaps I wouldn’t have to sleep in such undignified places!”

China felt another headache coming on, and quietly edged towards the door. If these two were going to start yelling at each other over such inane things, then he’d rather not be around for it.

“I wasn’t making fun of that! I was trying to tell you you’re strong!” America blurted out, instantly regretting the truthful words that had slipped out.

Silence fell thickly on the room, neither America nor England noticing China’s absence. Finally, England spoke up.

“Well. You have a funny way of showing it,” he muttered, tentatively taking a few steps towards the bed.

America sat up in bed and retorted, “Yeah, well so do you! I come over here to help you out and if you aren’t yelling at me, you’re sticking me on the sidelines. I know you hate me, England, but …”

“I don’t hate you.”

England’s words were so quiet, America wasn’t even sure he’d heard them. “What did you say?”

“Idiot,” England muttered. “I don’t hate you, okay?”

Blue eyes went wide. “O-Oh.” America swallowed, completely taken aback by the Briton’s sudden admittance. He glanced up at him, noticing the hurt expression on his face. Everything between them in the past, it was still nagging at them both.

Taking a deep breath, America replied, “Good, ‘cause I don’t hate you either.”

England’s head snapped up, his eyes wide and his expression almost startled by the sudden words. “R-Really?”

“Really,” the younger country mumbled. He wasn’t about to ask if England could tolerate him or even liked him, but not-hating him was a start.

The Briton had shifted his gaze to the game board, and almost casually he said, “If you take that tile, you have Mahjong.”

America blinked down at the tiles. “Huh?”

“The game. If you take that, you’ll win.”

“Oh.” He paused a moment before grinning up at England. “Thanks.”

England blushed. “N-No problem.”

A rapid knock on the door and China’s voice outside snapped them to attention as the door swung open and a tall red haired nurse sauntered in with a cart carrying a tray.

“Dinner, sweetheart!” She chirpily called out.

China trailed behind her, obviously having tried to get her to leave the cart with him and just now shrugging and giving up as a lost cause. The lady was determined to deliver this tray herself.

Keeping her head bent low, she rolled the cart up to America’s bedside and reached out to pat his shoulder. “Can’t have you getting weak now, can we?”

England’s eyes narrowed at the odd voice and he walked around the bed to stand beside the nurse.

“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” he said sharply. “You can go now.”

The nurse let out a twitter of a laugh. “Oh you’re the one who slept outside his door last night, aren’t you?”

Spluttering, England reached out to grab her shoulder. She tilted her head up at the contact, the chin full of stubble now clearly visible to all.

“France!” England shouted as China let out an exasperated “Aiyah!”

America just laughed, drawing the attention of all three of the others to him. “F-France. You look…” He gasped for air. “...so stupid…” He snorted. “…as a red-head.”

China and England seemed to take this into consideration before both of them started to chuckle as well.

“He’s quite right, you know,” England chortled.

China smirked. “It really isn’t your color, aru.”

France just grinned, and with a shrug he reached up and pulled off his wig. “Ah well. At least now that my disguise is blown I can take that horrid thing off.”

This sent America into another fit of laughter, while France tried to smooth down his real hair. Once he calmed back down, he gestured France over.

“Look, France. As long as you keep your hands to yourself, you can stay and play a few games. It’ll be nice to not be the only one losing to China.”

“Need someone to keep you warm tonight too, hmm?” France dared.

America leveled him with a serious look. “No. You’d better leave once the sun goes down. I might have to call in the police if you stay after hours.”

Shrugging, France snatched up a chair from by the wall and dragged it over to the table set up with the game board. “Ah, well. If you do insist.”

“He does.” Both England and China cut in.

France smirked. “You know, half the fun is the challenge of not being caught.”

England slammed another chair down next to France, glaring at him. “Oh just shut up and play the game, will you?”

China shook his head, wiping the board clear of the previous game and beginning to set up a new one. It was going to be a long night yet again.

England had insisted, absolutely insisted, that he stay that night and ensure that France didn’t try anything yet again. America was about to protest, but after they discovered that the food France had rolled in on the tray had been laced with some sleeping pills, none of them were quite sure what else the Frenchman had in store. China had opted to sleep in a chair down the hallway, in hopes he could catch France on his way in; and England had adamantly declared that he would take it upon himself to stay with America in his room.

America was oddly touched by this, but withheld another quip about England protecting his virtue. The last thing he wanted was to drive England from his room yet again over something stupid.

England had just finished tidying things up in the room, turning off the main light and walking over to the bed. He hesitated right beside the chair.

“Look. I’m not that mad about you falling asleep last night,” America said tentatively. Things had gone pretty well that afternoon, the four of them all playing Mahjong and losing horribly to China every time. When England didn’t respond, America wheedled him a bit. “Don’t act like you have to be all gallant and go without sleep or something. Jeez, England.”

Green eyes flickered up to meet his, a determined expression set onto his face. “America…”

“Y-yeah?”

“In the interest of preventing another incident like last night from happening, I…”

America’s eyes lit up as a great idea dawned upon him. Before England could say another word, he reached up and tugged the smaller country into the bed with him.

“A-America, what are you doing?!” He sputtered, his face the brightest of reds.

“If you sleep right here next to me then there’s no way France can get in my bed without one of us noticing. That way you can sleep too!”

He said it so innocently, so obliviously, that England almost wanted to slap him for that alone. Instead he just feebly shoved at his shoulder.

“There is no way in hell that I would…”

“Come on, England. Please? Think of my virtue!” America said, turning on the puppy dog eyes that England knew all too well from when he was a child. And much like back then, he couldn’t bring himself to deny him.

“Ugh. Fine.” He settled down awkwardly next to America, shoving the other country a bit away as he did so. “But only because France is probably sneaking in through the window at this very moment. He has some strange affection for weakened countries over others. Bloody pervert.”

America grinned, reaching down and clasping England’s hand. “Great! It’ll be like old times when I couldn’t sleep because those stupid ghost stories you told me.”

England flushed at the contact, but let his hand linger. “I still don’t know why such simple children’s tales are so frightening.”

“’Cause they are!” America exclaimed. “Weirdoes like you just don’t get how creepy they are!”

The two fell silent; both realizing just how uncomfortable a situation they’d gotten themselves into. It was as if their past was hanging like a dark storm cloud over their heads and they couldn’t just move past it. And, America noted nervously as he felt England’s hand still clutched in his, then there was all the new issues that had arisen over the years just to make everything even worse.

But England didn’t hate him, he was willing to give up his rest just to make sure France didn’t do something to him in his sleep and, America thought with a smile tugging at his lips, England still hadn’t jerked his hand away.

“’Night, England,” he murmured.

England’s hand twitched, but he didn’t pull away. “Oh. Goodnight, America.”

And with a smile and a quick look at the panda watching over them, America closed his eyes and drifted off into a peaceful sleep. England glanced over at him, a bit surprised at the abruptness of America’s actions. But as America started to snore lightly, England had to allow himself a small smile as well. Perhaps things between them weren’t exactly smooth, but at least they were slowly getting better.