Based on Titus' episode 'Deprogramming Erin'. Because it works.

This Is The Kidnapping He Isn't Taking Kindly To

"England! England!" France threw rocks up at the window, hoping beyond reason that Scotland would not hear it. "Happy Valentines Day!"

"Fuck off!"

Ah, that was the voice of his angel.

"England! We need to talk! Get out here!" France pleaded. He was considerably brightened when the front door opened. He was considerably less brightened when he saw it was Ireland and Scotland.

"I want 'is leg!"

"'ave it, Ai git the girly scalp!"

As they were armed with all sorts of sharp instruments France decided they were not kidding.

For those joining the tale, one might ask what had happened? France and England fight all the time, it was nothing new. They certainly dated on and off (more off than on) and their breaking up should have been expected and no big deal. And since it was England who broke it off this time one could assume that France cheated on him. It was true enough.

The key word being enough and not actually meaning 'it was true'.

"Whu... y' t'lkin'... 'bout?" America asked through his hamburger. France glared at him, plucking the food out of the other Nation's hands and tossing it over his shoulder. "Hey!"

"Prêtes attention!" France pleaded, hand on either side of America's head to make him look at him. "I need England back! What I did was so harmless, it was nothing! He won't let me explain myself! You have to get him to talk to me!"

America was thoughtful, which was a surprising sight to anyone else in its own right. "And how am I supposed to get England to want to listen to you?"

Somehow America found himself knocking on the door of the house containing the British Isles. Scotland answered it and America smiled brightly. "Can I talk to England for a sec?"

Scotland stared at him before turning inward. "Oi! England! It's America!"

England certainly took his sweet time in showing up to answer the door. "America? What are you doing here?"

"Well," America slung his arm around England's shoulders, walking him further from the doorway. "I was supposed to lure you outside... So France can sneak up behind you with a sack and kidnap you."

England stared at him incredulously. "What? Don't be an idiot! Ha! You're so stupid!" The both of them laughed until England felt someone's eyes on his back. Which is when he turned. France gave him a smile right before dropping the potato sack right over his head. "Augh! Let me go!"

"Help me!" France hissed at America. America, who thought this was completely hilarious, grabbed the end with England's legs as the both of them ran away from the house with the screaming Englishman.

Which led them to France's house.

"Set him on the couch, would you?" France managed to grunt. England had not given up in his struggle all of the way home and Belgium had given them both a very strange look.

"I'll kill you!" England was still shrieking. America dropped England on the couch, which ended with a high pitched squeak escaping England.

"Careful America!" France pulled him away from the bag. America covered France's mouth with his hand.

"Shh... Dat's not my real name," America winked. "Russia. Being Communist is ze best, da?"

France stared at him. Then he decided to stare at the sack, which was about to wiggle off the couch. "Mon cher!"

"Let. Me. Go!" England hollered as France held the top of the bag tight.

"Only if you agree to stop this lutte contre me and listen."

"Trying to pretend you're Russia is difficult if you keep talking in French," Alfred whispered loudly.

England stopped struggling. "You'll let me go?"

"I'll let you out of the bag," France corrected, trying to gesture toward America to lock the door. America just stared back at him. "Lock the door!"

"What?" England demanded, beginning to struggle once more.

"Are you completely thick?" France hissed at America.

"Says the guy who said 'lock the door' in front of the person you said you'd let go," America rolled his eyes as he went to the front door. France opened the bag slightly to peer inside.

"Je t'aime!"

"I'm going to hit you so hard you won't exist in the fifteenth century!" France closed the sack once more. "No! Release me!"

"My bruder's here to help, si?" America mashed together his accents and language. France winced.

France looked over to see Canada with a nervous smile. "What is going... oh my God, eh!" Smile was gone. England starting thrashing around in the sack once more. "Who's in there?"

"CANADA HELP ME," England screamed once more, sliding off the couch. America reached over the couch, grabbing it and yanking it back up.

"You put England in a sack?" Canada stared at America. America pointed at France and Canada shifted his gaze.

"I brought him to a place where he would listen to me!" France corrected. Canada moved over to the couch and reached for the top of the bag. "Mes fils, I wouldn't–"

"Ow!" Canada retreated from the sack. "He bit me!"

"Canada?" England asked, his movements slowing.

"Bit the wrong man, man," America whistled.

"England, s'il te plaît," France pleaded, one hand on either side of burlap sack covered shoulder. "Just listen, that's all I ask."

"You put him in a sack!" Canada said, nursing wounded fingers.

"He bit you!" America shoved Canada's shoulder.

England stopped struggling once more. "I'm listening."

France stayed quiet for a moment before untying the top of the bag to expose England's head. "Are you certain?"

England gave a death glare to the three in the vicinity. Of course, being in a sack made it less threatening to America (who was standing behind him and therefore could not see it anyway), but Canada and France both flinched. "I have nothing else to do. So speak up."

"Good." France got to his knees in front of England. "It was a mistake! I was simply complimenting her. It would have been an insult not to mention how pretty she was!"

"Would it have been an insult not to offer your number?" England snapped, almost sulking back into the bag.

"Oh ho! Burn!" America clicked his tongue against his teeth. France flipped him off.

"A moment of weakness of which nothing else would come of!" France insisted, charming grin in place. England was little affected by that grin. It had been overused, by his opinion. "You know me better than that!"

"I do know you better, that's the point."

"I do stupid things, I know," France agreed. England's eyes narrowed further.

"I've noticed. I'm in a bloody potato sack." England's teeth clicked together as he considered raising his arms up and getting out himself. Then again, France and America had rustled him into this in the first place and he was not certain whether Canada would help him after he had bitten him. Plus he was certain they had tied it with a lot of twine. "But you know what? I would probably listen more sympathetically if I was NOT IN A SACK!"

"Could you forgive me?" France pleaded, giving his saddest look up at England. England considered him for a moment.

"I... suppose I could forgive you for putting me in a sack." It's not the worst thing you've ever done were the unspoken words that the four of the added to the end of the sentence. Thankfully no one said it.

"Oubleir et pardonner," France smiled, slowly bringing his hands to the top of the bag. England did not move to bite him. France hugged him. "See? I said if you just listened we could work this out!"

"Actually, if I stayed in my house I wouldn't have to listen," England argued as France started working on the twine. "Because then there wouldn't be a sack entrapping me. Now that we have that settled... America, you're driving me home."

France froze.

"Which house?" America smirked.

"But mon amour... you are home," France protested. England shook his head.

"Correction: this is your house. Mine is a bit further up north. You know, in my country?"

"With your brothers," France reminded him. England nodded. France's hands dropped to his sides. "But you hate your brothers."

"They're my family," England insisted. "They not only tolerate me, they love me." This statement left the other three Nations in complete shock. This was followed by England shouting as France, America, and Canada ran around the house to lock the windows and doors. "Oh, come on!"

"Did you get the bedroom window, eh?"

"Both of them!" America called back. England groaned.

"France! Honestly, let me go! If you really love me and are sorry like you say you are, you would release me!"

"'If I really loved you...'" France repeated as he returned back to England's side, sitting down next to him. "England, I have never kidnapped anyone with a sack just to have them hear me out before!"

"Oh boy, do I feel special." England rolled his eyes.

"Dude, you're going about this the wrong way," America said as he came back into the room, Canada behind him. "England's way too tense to be anything less than disagreeable."

"It is a tense situation," France spoke the obvious, wondering why on Earth he had asked America for help instead of someone else. "What are you suggesting?"

"France, don't you dare let him suggest anything," England warned him as America advanced on the both of them. America let out a hum, staring down at England.

"You tickle 'em!" America crowed, bending over and attacking England. England tried to shout at him again, but the sound was closer to a shriek of hilarity than anything. At least up until the point when France pushed him away.

"What are you doing, eh?" Canada asked, pulling America back. America turned around and started tickling him instead. "Ah! Stop it! America!" He slapped at him and America slapped back.

France ignored their little slap fest to return his attentions to England. "Are you all right?"

"I would be all right if I could defend myself!" England responded hotly. France leaned slightly in and England snapped his teeth at him. "I can still bite, you twat!"

"Let me try something, eh," Canada said, pushing America away from him.

"Oh no," England shook his head. "Unless it is talking to me rationally and realizing how stupid a situation this is, I don't want to hear it."

"England." America leveled with him. "You're in a bag. You don't really have a choice."

"France is right. Well, only about one thing, eh," Canada added that part in quickly, shooting an apologetic look toward the Frenchman. "He does care for you. If he didn't he would have asked Prussia to help kidnap you, not America."

"Wonderful," England sighed, leaning back on the couch. "Something you got from your friends, France. You kidnap people you think you're in love with."

"I don't 'think'!" France exclaimed.

"That's an understatement," America snickered.

"We've gone through this so many times and it never works out," England continued. "Just like Spain, you don't see to get it and you don't give up. And now, like my brothers, I'll just ignore it and live out the rest of my life doing things I like for myself without depending on others."

"You... want to be like your brothers?" America asked. "Right after saying they loved you... you jacked him up bad France."

"People aren't supposed to be like their friends and family," Canada continued calmly. "You're supposed to be yourself! Do what you want to do! Take opportunities for the chance that you might find happiness! Twist yourself so you're nothing like your boring, sex-addicted, effeminate adopted parents!"

The three stared at him for long after his outburst.

"Dude, that's sad."

With a nervous laugh Canada moved away from the rest of them and placed himself in a corner. France and England looked at each other.

"None of this is changing your mind, is it."

"Not remotely," England admitted. France nodded. After all, none of this would likely put him in a good mood either.

Being romantic had not worked. Kidnapping had not worked. Using the countries they had once adopted had not worked. France knew he was running out of options for a short-term solution. Which is when it struck him. He needed someone who would transfer England's hate from him to them. And he knew exactly who to call.

"I'm calling Prussia."

Varying accounts of 'what' were echoed from the other three in the house as France pulled out his cell phone and went to the other room.

"What makes him think Prussia will make a difference?" England asked. Both America and Canada shrugged. Because how France's mind worked was unknown to all. Obviously.

To tide people over, I am putting up a bunch of first chapters to things I want to work on. Any ideas or feedback would be lovely, because although I have plenty, I do not have enough.