I've been so freaking sick these last couple weeks that it isn't even funny ._. Silver lining, I finally got the inspiration to update my fanfictions :D
Thanks to my beautiful readers and reviewers. I love you all :P *gives cookies to reviewers*


Japan stretched out and yawned, arching off the hotel bed and then slumping back down. He rolled over to check the blinking red digital clock on the side table.

Eight in the morning. He could be lazy for a while longer.

Greece was still fast asleep, his favorite cat curled under his arm. He slept like the dead, that one- he even slept through the death metal that blasted on the radio yesterday morning to wake them for the big meeting. Japan ended up having to leave without him.

His mind wanders a little bit more.

America had looked so pale- sickly, even. He hadn't really seemed his usual cheerful self either. There was something just a little off about him the whole day. Maybe the others didn't notice it, but Japan had a sixth sense for these kinds of things. Sensing the mood was one of his favorite pastimes, after all.

The cat mewled and wiggled its way out of Greece's hold, jumping away and lazily licking its paw. Japan scratched it behind the ear, basking in the sun coming in through the window. It purred and pressed its head into his palm.

Greece groaned and opened his eyes, shielding them with his arm.

"Japan, what time is it?" He asked blearily.

"Don't worry about it. We don't have any meetings today, so why bother?"

Greece smiled, then rolled over to kiss Japan gently.

"We stayed up pretty late last night, didn't we, Japan?" He asked, poking his partner on the nose. "You sure were loud."

Japan promptly turned bright red.

"G-Greece, don't say shamefur things rike that!"

"Why not? It's just the truth."

"It's shameful!"

Greece leaned in to kiss him again, longer and deeper this time.

"Shameful? All it is is us having a little fun, right? Nothing shameful about it."

He reached under the covers and fingered between Japan's legs. Japan flushes even brighter still.

"Greece, I-"

"What? Don't you want me?" Greece pouted so adorably.

"Greece, I..."

"I want you, Japan. Can I have you?"

He ran his hands down Japan's sides, the planes of pale, smooth skin he had already memorized.


Japan sighed and smiled up at him.

"You're so persistent."

Greece frowned.

"You're distracted. Is something wrong?" He asked. "Did someone piss you off? I'll kick their ass for you, if you want."

Japan briefly thought about America, and how sad he looked. But he decided, whatever it was, that America was tough, and he wouldn't stay sad for long.

"Nothing, nothing."

Greece kissed his neck, practically purring against him.

"I'm glad."

Japan gasped when his wandering hands finally found their goal.

"I'll make you feel really good, Japan. I want to hear you scream like you did last night."


Greece hushed him.

"No more talking. The next time I want you to speak is when I make you come. You understand me?" He said, with a light chuckle. "And make sure you say my name, alright?"

Japan opened his mouth, then closed it again, and started to moan.


America wretched, emptying the last of his stomach contents into the toilet. His mouth tasted like death, and his chest hurt.

His rinsed his mouth out and went to lay on the couch.

There was another round of meetings tomorrow, and then he could go home to a whole new debacle.

America hated to admit this, even to himself, but he was starting to hate his own people. Always fighting, always finding different places to stick the blame, always knowing exactly what's wrong and yet doing nothing to stop it.

He watched television, and all he heard was more bad news; this many people hate the president, this person is a liar and went to jail, such and such went crazy and brought a gun to a school. You'd think this would prompt people to cooperate to find a solution, but all it did was cause more problems. Fighting over this or that, neither side willing to change their minds or compromise. People even hated Israel, the tiny young nation he had helped to raise. That was why America was starting to hate them.

He didn't want to hate them. He wanted to love them just like he used to, when they were the people who put humanity on the moon. He wanted them to realize that none of them were very different from the other- because all anyone really wants is a shot at life, don't they? All anyone wants is a chance.

Idealistic nonsense.

At least Tony would be there when he got home. Tony never fought with him over anything worse than who really won a video game.
Everything was simple with Tony. Tony didn't make him happy and sad and angry and elated all at the same time. Tony didn't get mad at him for no reason and leave him feeling like he wanted to die. Tony never called him fat or stupid, or hung out with him just because his boyfriends were fighting.

Tony hung out with him because he wanted to. Tony never made fun of him, outside from the usual trash talking during a round of Call of Duty.

America pulled out his cell phone and debating calling him. But knowing Tony, he'd lost his phone again and wouldn't answer.

I could call Britain...

He shook his head. Why the hell would Britain want to talk to him, anyway?

He put the cell phone down and started playing Pokemon to distract himself. It was his favorite game; you could be the hero, and nobody hated you for it. That was the best part of video games.

His heart fluttered uncomfortably in his throat, tickling it and nearly making him cough; his stomach won't stop hurting.

He decides to take a chance and call Britain. Even if he yells at me...maybe hearing his voice will cheer me up.

It buzzed a couple times.

Hello, this is Arthur Kirkland. I'm busy right now, but if you'll leave a message, I'll get back to you soon.

America hit end, and dialed his number again.

He was wrong. Hearing Britain's voice didn't cheer him up at all.


Hello, this is Arthur Kirkland. I'm busy right now, but if you'll leave a message, I'll get back to you soon.


"Britain, I know you're there. Just answer the phone, will ya?"

Britain stared at America's face on the caller ID. He wasn't going to answer, dammit. He was just going to fucking ignore America. Because if he

answered that phone, then he'd have to talk to America, and then he might accidentally let something slip he didn't mean to.
The phone went to voicemail again.


"Look, Britain, if you don't wanna talk to me, could ya at least get on the phone and say it? I'll leave you alone after that, I promise."

Britain still didn't answer. He leaned back on the couch.

"Why aren't you talking to him, Britain?"

"Mint Bunny..."

"Are you still mad at him?"

Britain shut off the television and sighed.

"Kind of, yes."

"You know, if I were you, I'd be proud if I raised a nation as strong as America."

"I know, I know. I should be proud, but I...I wanted him to stay with me."

He draws his legs up to his chest and wraps his arms around them.

"...I wanted us to get stronger together..."

Flying Mint Bunny snuggled up to Britain's side, fluffy and warm. Britain scratched him behind the ear absentmindedly.

"I'll sleep here tonight, if you want, Britain," Mint Bunny said. "You look like you need the company."

Britain's heart lifted.

"You're my best friend, Flying Mint Bunny."