The Box

America has a box that he is quite content to pretend is a racecar. Or a spaceship. Or a pirate ship. Russia joins in. Fluffiness ensues.

Russia never knew what to expect when he visited America's house.

"America, my boss needs you to sign this while we're he-"

As such, he wasn't sure if he should have been surprised to see America sitting in a box making car noises.

"Vroom, vroom!" the country said, moving his arms as if steering it. "Two more laps 'till we get to the finish line! Noooooo, 34 is getting closer! Crap, hairpin turn! ZOOOOOOM! EEEEEEEER, CRASH! Haha, take that! I bet you were a communist, anyway!"

He looked on with a strange fascination as America narrated his make-believe race.

"NOOOOOO! Faster, faster! Gotta catch up! Come on, girl, you can do it!"

Was it a car or a horse?

"ARGH, IT'S, IT'S, it's… Russia?"

Russia blinked. Suddenly, America was staring right at him. But he didn't seem embarrassed in the least. Rather, he suddenly got to his feet, beckoning for him to get closer. "Hm?"

"Quick, Russia! Get in the spaceship before you suffocate!" America said urgently. "Hang on! I'm the hero, I'll save you!" Wait, what? Next thing he knew, the shorter nation was pretending to put something on. "Alright, now that I've got my space suit…" He jumped out of the box. "Russiaaaaaa! Take me haaaaaaaand!"

"Umm, okay?" was all he could say as America dragged him back to the box and forced him to sit down after clambering inside. Wasn't space a vacuum, and wouldn't- never mind. He had learned not to try and apply logic to the other's actions.

"Dude, you okay?" America asked, as if genuinely concerned. "How long have you been out there?"

Ivan just stared blankly back at him.

"Not talking? Fine, it's okay, I'll totally perform CPR!"

Before America and his lips could meet, Russia pushed the darker-haired away. "What are you doing?"

"Saving your life, of course!" America chirped. "Good, you're talking! Now come on! We've just experienced, uh, technical difficulties!" Was he just making everything up as he went along? "Come on, we have to fix it before the ship crashes into the sun!"

"But…" Ivan began, confused. "This is not a spaceship. It is a box. And we are in your living room." He'd known the man was slow, but… America had completely lost his mind.

"No, it's a spaceship, and this is space!" Alfred insisted, grabbing onto his coat before he could step back out of the box. "Now come on and help me fix this before the ship crashes!"

Russia sighed. "You have never been very good at mind games, America. Do stop trying."

"Fine, go back out into space, for all I care!" the shorter huffed, before pretending to turn a steering wheel and wait a minute, did he understand how to pilot a spaceship at all?

"Really, it is no wonder you had such difficulty getting a satellite up into space," Russia commented, gently nudging America aside. "Move over. This is how you pilot a spaceship."

"Awesome!" America said cheerfully, instead of countering with an insult like Ivan had expected. "I'll fix the engine while you pilot the ship!" He proceeded to kneel down and make surprisingly realistic engine-fixing motions and fuck, he did know how to work a spaceship, he had just played dumb to suck Russia into his little game, hadn't he? Damn, he was more devious than Ivan had previously given him credit for… Well, two could play at that game!

"You have to hurry up, America, the sun is drawing closer."

"I'm going as fast as I can! Oh man, how much time do we have left?"

"Seeing as we will burn up long before we actually hit it-" How had they gotten into such a situation in the first place?

"How much time do we have left, damn it?"

"I would say about thirty seconds." Really, he had pulled the number out of thin air, but Alfred seemed genuinely panicked. It was beginning to concern him.

"Alright, I've almost… Haha, got it!" He stood up triumphantly. "Now turn us around, pilot! Go, go, go!"

"Wait, wha-"

"We're about to crash! Turn the ship around!"

"D-da."

Yes. America had definitely gone insane.

"Noooooo, it's the Xweegans from Planet X!" America said, pointing to nowhere in particular outside the box. "Run away, our weapons are no match for their superior alien technology! Also, they're total commies!"

Rolling his eyes, Russia pretended to turn. "There. I am turning the ship away."

"Go into light-speed!"

"Light-speed?" Russia repeated, only to laugh. "Alfred, you are aware that in reality, such speeds would make us go 'splat' against the back of the ship, da?"

Clutching the front of his shirt, America shook his head. "Better taking our chances with that than animal husbandry!"

"I am admittedly surprised you know what that means."

"LIGHT-SPEED BEFORE THEY CAPTURE THE SHIP!"

"Once again," Ivan commented dryly, "it is no wonder I got a man into space before you did. Very well, light-speed, everyone dies."

"We don't die because the ship has a protective shield that keeps us safe from the splattering."

A brief pause. "Care to explain how that wor-"

"YES!" America interrupted. "A non-hostile planet! We can land here and re-fuel!"

There really was no use fighting it. "I am landing the ship now."

America stepped out of the box. "Hello, everyone! We, like, totally come in peace!"

"If it is a non-hostile planet, is that not a little obvious?"

"I said they were non-hostile, not friendly."

Russia deadpanned. "That would have been nice to know before we landed."

"Come on, I think they like us!"

Ivan wasn't convinced. "You think everyone likes you, America! You tried asking North Korea to lend you lunch money yesterday!"

"I thought Korea was a part of China!"

Silence.

"R-russia? What's with the 'I am going to pin you to the floor and shove my pipe up your ass' look?"

"Because I am going to pin you to the floor and shove my pipe up your ass."

"Oh."

He hadn't realized how fast America could run. One second he was in the box, and the next he was halfway across the room.

"Kolkolkol, get back here!" But he was definitely faster. Pipe already out, he burst into the kitchen after America to finish what natural selection had somehow missed, only to suddenly be yanked down behind a counter.

"Are you crazy?" America hissed, whilst Russia simply blinked back, thoroughly confused. "You could have woken up the Gheznos! The saliva they spit out of their mouths burns right through flesh, and nothing else…" He hung his head mournfully. "Many a set of clothing has been found in their territory. Just the clothing, and their belongings. They say dying like that is like being eaten alive by flesh-eating bacteria. Because that's how it works. And each of the bacteria secretes a painful poison." Alfred shivered. "And it's slow. Death takes 12 hours minimum."

"How would they know?"

"Because they've been found and 'rescued.' Hardly a rescue, though. There's no way to wash it off. They've tried. All they can do is put the victim in a sterile room to live out their final hours in agony, or put them out of their misery with a lethal injection."

For a moment Russia was stunned to silence. What a horrible way to die! He couldn't help but feel sorry for all the bacteria's vi-

Wait a minute! It wasn't real! And… And that meant America had just made that up. Somehow, that was actually a little scarier than the thought of a creature like that truly being out there…

"So we have to go slay them with our lightsabers!"

And there went the scary.

"But…" Russia began. "In an age where spaceships are apparently commonplace, why would we still be using swords? Even laser swords? Why not guns? Or bombs?"

America opened his mouth to respond, only to shut it again. "Uh…" He proceeded to wave his hand ominously in front of Russia's face. "You will not ask that question again. You don't want to ask that question again."

"I am asking the question again. I still want to hear the answer."

"Damn it!"

And that was how Russia found himself swinging a 'lightsaber' around with America, slaying the 'Gheznos' ("Haha, die, commie aliens!") and continuing to wonder exactly what was going through his blonde comrade's head. They didn't even have to pretend they were holding something; Alfred had plastic ones, one in blue and the other red.

Who got which color? Such a question was unnecessary.

"FOR CAPITALISM!"

Worse still, Ivan found he was actually, kinda sorta maybe having a tiny bit of fun.

"VODKAAAAAAA!"

"Vodka?"

"I could ask you the same about your battle-cry. 'Capitalism?' Really?"

"You're right! FOR DEMOCRACY!"

"Nyet, too long. It does not flow properly."

"Good point… How about, 'FREEDOOOOOOOOM?' Huh?"

Russia laughed. "If you must."

"Awesome!" America chirped. "Let's liberate these guys!"

"Liberate? Aren't we slaying them needlessly?"

"Uh… We're liberating them from an oppressive communist regime!"

"By slicing them up with laser swords."

"I hate you."

"I hate you, too. Especially if this is how you intended to 'liberate' me."

America flushed. "Ah, well… I didn't intend to use light sabers."

"…Right."

It was at that point in their game that the doorbell rang. Sighing, America gave his 'lightsaber' to Russia to hold. "Be right back! Probably the next door neighbor… Ever since that one time, she's been blaming me for every baseball that crashes through her window…"

Russia snorted as the younger dashed off to the front door, pushing the plastic tubing of the laser swords back into the handle and turning them off. Setting them on the counter, he followed after America curiously, his lip twitching upwards into a smile when he realized what was happening.

"America," England's voice sounded. "I need you to-"

"Oh my God!" America cried, moving his arms as if swimming. "England, take my hand!" Seeing where the game was headed, Russia quickly hopped back into the box and pretended to be holding onto a rope.

"Wait, what?" Arthur asked, clearly confused. He tilted his head to look past the taller nation, eyes widening as he saw Russia and the box. "What is Russia doing here? For that matter, why the hell is he standing in a bloody box?"

America turned his head and winked at the Russian, before latching onto England's arm. "Ivan! Ivan, pull! We have to get Arthur back on the ship!"

"Da, I am!"

"What is going on here?" England demanded as America dragged him back to the box until he was forced to squeeze into it with them.

"You fell overboard!" Russia responded as if the answer was obvious. "You are very lucky, you know. A few more minutes out there and the sharks could have gotten you."

"Yeah!" America said, nodding his head and grinning like a fiend. "I totally rescued you, like John Smith!"

England just stared at them both like they had lost their minds. Which, to be fair, must have seemed true at the moment. "Okay, one," he began, "that movie was historically inaccurate, and two, despite the accent Disney gave him, John Smith was British, you git." Then there was the whole matter of Pocahontas' real age when the settlers arrived…

"Whatever, I still saved you!" America huffed, turning to Russia. Giving the man a slight smile, he said, "Go on, Ivan! Steer the ship!"

Oh, yes. He definitely knew where the game was headed. Smiling back, he moved his hands as if holding a joystick.

"What? You idiots, that's not how you steer a ship!"

Too easy.


A/N

Klei: -Final Fantasy Victory Theme plays- YOU JUST GOT THROUGH rea-ding THIS fan-FIIIIIIC! Now it's done, it's over and done now! There is no more to seeeeeeeeee! Though I might just make a new chapter if you want more to reeeeeeeead!

England: WTF?

Klei: LAWL. :D


UPDATE

Tired of having to, uhg, read fanfiction? Well, you're in luck! Ninja Soldier Incorporated (ninjasoldierinc) performed a skit at Izumicon and posted it up on Youtube. Some parts are cut, of course, but if you want to see the important parts performed by some awesome actors, you should really check it out.

www . youtube . com / watch ?v=aUSK3jX4k1Q