"No-one would agree to an idea like that stupid frog!"

"You're one to talk stupid roast beef!"

"Is that the best you've got, you snail eating bastard!"

"Oh please! Have you got anything new to say? You've used those insults so many times they're like a mosquito bite now."

"Oh yeah? You want more than a fucking mosquito bite? I'll bite you so hard, you'll be crying with surrender like you always do!"

"I'll be the one that will make you cry, you British pansy!"

Once again, the other nations of the G8 meeting were subjected to another one of England and France's arguments. Every meeting they held would somehow start with either England or France shooting down the other's opinion. Then it continues with them trying to score points off each other only to evolve into a contest of the worst insults they could conjure up. If neither one was hurt by the verbal offenses, the fight would finally escalate into a case of a physical brawl that one would see in a high school court yard. The meeting would then be postponed until both of the countries have calmed down, only for them to start the vicious cycle again in the next meeting they attend together. While England and France rolled around on the floor throwing punches at each other, Italy turned to Japan who in turn bought out his mobile phone to check his messages.

"I'm hungry and those two are going to be fighting for a while. Can we go get some pasta?" Italy whined.

"I suppose," Japan nodded. "But I think we should break the fight up before we can eat."

"Aaw, I don't know," Russia cut in as he gave a smile at the bickering pair. "I think it's kind of fun watching those two maul each other. They're like pair of wild animals."

"Well I'm all for food if the meeting's over," America stretched his arms behind his head.

"Um..." Canada bought his miniature polar bear closer to his chest taking a quick glance at France and England still landing a few punches. "Shouldn't we break those two up now?" He said quietly despite knowing he would be ignored as usual. Germany, who stood near the blackboard, cradled his face in his hand for some time since the argument began. His hand shook with increasing intensity when he finally pulled it away from his face and slammed both fists onto the table. The bang was so immense that everyone jumped from their seats and gaped at the fuming German. France and England froze in their current position and adopted the same reaction as the rest when Germany stomped up the pair on the floor.

"Every single meeting that takes place always gets postponed until next time, because you two can't seem to repress your instinct of attacking one another!" Germany yelled, his icy, blue eyes flared with anger.

"But he started it!" France piped up with fear in his voice.

"I do not start anything you liar!" England shot a look of objection at the Frenchman.

"Both of you shut up!" Germany snapped once more as his hands pinched whatever ear lobe he could grab from each of them. England and France yelped in pain as the German yanked them off the floor. "Everyone else has had enough of your antics. We can't keep ending the meetings early so you two can calm down until the next time you even take one glance at each other! And this will be a good time to have a lunch break for an hour! Everyone must be back here at 1:30 on time!" The other countries let out a small cheer before Germany's glare gave them the signal to dismiss themselves.

"Great. I'll have to see your ugly mug in an hour's time," England grumbled.

"I could say the same thing for your caterpillar eye brows," France mumbled in retaliation.

"Actually, you two can go home and calm yourselves down," Germany freed their ears from his vice like grip. "It's clearly obvious that both of you get agitated just by the sight of each other and I don't think it's necessary to put you through that kind of stress. You can take a break while we continue the meeting without you."

"But won't we need to know what's going on in the meeting?" England frowned rubbing his throbbing ear lobe.

"Oui, how are we supposed to know what's been said and done if we're not there?" France said with his hand over his sore ear.

"We'll send you the report so you won't be out of the loop," The German assured them as he pushed both of them out of the room. "Now go get your taxis or whatever and go home, stay there as long as you need and for crying out loud, don't continue your fight down the hallway."

"I'll behave if he does," France uttered under his breath.

"What was that France? I couldn't quite hear that," England narrowed his eyes before both of them were shoved forward by Germany's force.

When the hour passed, everyone excluding England and France arrived relatively on time (mostly because they didn't want to face the wrath Germany unleashed onto the French and the Englishman). The atmosphere was tense but once everyone settled down, Germany stood up and took the role of the presenter once again.

"I'd like to set aside the environmental issues of global warming for a moment because I want your opinion on the constant fighting between England and France. Personally, I think it has taken its toll on all of us and we cannot let their petty arguments getting in the way of progress."

"I agree with Germany-san," Japan nodded his head in agreement. "I find it hard to concentrate on what I'm trying to say, when those two keep quarrelling in the background. It's very distracting and sometimes I forget about important points that I wanted to make."

"I think they make the meetings livelier," Russia smiled. "It's nice to break it up with some childish banter now and again."

"Yeah, but it happens all the time when they're around," America crossed his arms onto the oak table.

"And their shouting gives me headache," Canada added.

"And that's exactly why I came up with a plan to make them get along whether they like it or not! Behold!" Germany declared, grabbing a roll of paper and rolled it across the table. The paper revealed what looked like blueprints to some form of structure; with many numerical details scattered across the page and lines pointing to various parts of the structure. Everyone else crowded around Germany to get a glimpse of the design.

"Aren't these blueprints for a cell?" America raised an eye brow.

"Ohh… so that'swhat Germany likes," Italy beamed. As he nodded happily, the other countries stared nervously at Germany, who in turn slightly blushed before composing himself.

"The idea is to lock both England and France in an environment where they are forced to communicate to each other without using physical violence." The German explained. "I was thinking a month in the cell should do the trick."

"A month? That's a long time to imprison them for constant quarrelling." Japan spoke.

"But it will be enough to get them thinking about how childish they've been," Germany turned to the Japanese man.

"But don't you think it's important for them to not be imprisoned in case their economy and finance sink into trouble?" America chewed on the beef burger he saved from lunch. "I think they should be in there for a week at least."

"They won't learn their lesson in that space of time," Germany's voice started to sound agitated.

"Maybe if we found a length of time that isn't too long or short, we can come to some agreement," Russia suggested.

"Then how long do you think they should be locked up for?" The German furrowed his brows.

"I think three weeks sound right," Canada quietly said.

"How about three weeks?" Italy raised his hand enthusiastically.

"Da that sounds like a good amount of thinking time for them" Russia grinned.

"Yeah, I'm with Italy on that one," America gestured a thumb up. Canada meanwhile sighed in disappointment.

"Then it is decided; they will spend three weeks together in the cell and using psychology as a weapon, they will have no choice but to be civil to each other," Germany rolled up the blueprints.

"Hold on," Japan interrupted. "Why don't we just use the island dedicated to their fighting?"

"Um… It's going under repairs at the moment. You could say the island has gotten a little smaller since they last fought to the death." America rubbed the back of his honey blonde hair.

"That's enough chatting!" Germany ordered as he clenched his fist once more. "We will now initiate phase one of Operation Cell Mate; capture England and France!"

!

"Stupid frog!" England uttered under his breath whilst carving the meat off some blackened beef and sitting it on his floral decorated plate. "My eye brows are not that thick! How dare he act so arrogant like he smells of roses when he's the cause of many of the arguments?" As he laid out the pale carrots and green beans onto his plate, he looked at it and exhaled deeply with dissatisfaction. "Oh well, at least I don't have to look at the git for a while since Germany insisted we left early to calm down. Plus I can get on with a few projects I've been putting off for some time." England untied his apron and hung it on the hook at the back of the door and strode over to the kettle that had finally boiled. "And there is nothing better than sitting down with a nice cup of English brew."

When he finished pouring the water from the kettle to the china tea pot, he settled down near the dining table and poured himself some tea in a cup with similar décor to the plate. He took a sip and felt all the tension melt away. "That hit the spot," He smiled. Just as he was about to tuck into his meal, the doorbell chimed. "I wonder who that can be at this time of night," He said to himself as he made his way to the front door.

Once he got to the door, he twisted the brass door handle and pulled it open.

"Hey Britain! How ya doin'?" The distinct voice rang out.

"America, what are you doing around here?" England asked. "I was just about to have dinner."

"Oh really? Sorry," The American lightly laughed. "I just came by to see how you were after that meeting today."

"I'm alright," England started. "I'm still pissed off at the git for starting the whole thing."

"But you didn't have to rise to the bait," America placed his hands in the pockets of his red hoodie.

"I know but it's so hard not to. I mean, he and I have been enemies right from the start and it seems it'll be like that as long as we breathe." England scratched the back of his short, blonde hair. "Plus, my ear is still raw after Germany grabbed. He didn't have to squeeze it that hard." America laughed before pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"Well I've gotta go. I'll see ya at the next meeting." The American waved and turned away from the Briton. "And try not to get too flustered okay?"

"I'll try not to. Take care," England waved back before closing the door.

Making his way back to the dining table all sorts of thoughts ran through his head. "Now why on earth would America call me at this time of night just to check up on me? And he seemed more compassionate than he normally is…" The Briton didn't concern himself too much as he finally sat down in front of his meal. He lifted the cup and took a few gulps of tea before he stabbed the fork into the burnt beef and the soaked vegetables. As he chewed, he suddenly became aware of heavy sensation. He felt his eye lids become tired and struggled to keep them open. "I didn't think I'd become so tired so soon," He thought as he attempted to stagger to his feet. "Maybe I should just go to…" His sentence trailed into silence as he collapsed onto the floor, pulling most of the crockery down with him when he grabbed the table cloth. Even with the ear shattering clattering sound couldn't stir the unconscious Briton as two pairs of black, gloved hands dragged him by his green sweater.

!

"Stupid frog? Snail eating bastard? Can't he come up with anything new to insult me with?" France poured himself a glass of red wine whilst he reclined on the brown, leather couch. He placed the wine bottle onto the wooden coffee table, looked up to the ceiling and sighed. "If that stupid roast beef just keeps his mouth shut and not make a sound, I would actually tolerate him. Mais non! He always has to try and get the last word in everything! And his attitude absolutely stinks like rotten elderberries!" The Frenchman took a sip of his wine when he heard the doorbell ring. He gently lowered his wine glass onto the table and made his way to the door.

"I don't think I'm expecting any visitors," France said as he approached the wooden door. He pressed the handle down and pushed it open. France searched the entry way with much confusion. No-one stood to greet him. "Must be someone playing a practical joke on me, even though April fools day has been and gone." Something on the ground caught his eye and this made France look down. A bouquet of purple flowers lay on the door step abandoned. With a surprised expression on his face, the Frenchman picked them up and let out a smile. "Somebody must have left these there for me as they know that the iris is my national flower." He assumed as he lifted up the tag to read it. "To France, hope you like these flowers. Love from your secret admirer." France scanned the area one more time in hopes of finding the sender of the bouquet. Once he admitted that no-one was there, he turned back into the house and shut the door.

The warm light emitted in the hallway as he cradled the irises in his arms. "The pretty girl must have been too shy to give these to moi in person. No matter, I shall put these in a vase where I can admire and imagine la femme who wishes to express her love to moi." France lifted the bouquet to his nose and inhaled deeply. When he breathed out again, he paused. He sniffed briefly a few times before he muttered, "Huh? What is this strange odour that I can smell? Irises don't usually smell like this." Without any warning, a gloved hand swooped in front of his face and pressed a white cloth down on his nose and mouth, which made him drop the bouquet onto the floor. France let out a muffled scream as he felt an arm constrict his chest. He tried desperately to throw the arm off himself while wriggling violently to break free. But his attacker's vice like grip wasn't easing and their hand was still glued onto the Frenchman's face. France's cries gradually diminished as his body seemed to be losing its strength to fight back. Eventually, France's world turned black and his body became limp.

Satisfied that his victim could no longer struggle, the black clad attacker towed him out through the front door and carried him up the garden path, towards a white van parked in front of the gate. The figure prized the van doors open and positioned him inside before climbing into the back themselves. Once they slammed the doors shut again, the black clad individual tapped at the back wall of the van, which gave the driver the signal to accelerate forward down the dimly lit road.