Even when Britain got home his mind was still on America. Usually the American was peppy and active and trying to get everyone to do silly things with him. Git. Britain thought about it no matter what he did. It was racking his brain to know the answer. Was America hurting? How could he be that tired? He did have a big country after all. Maybe that was it? Britain shook his head at that. It couldn't be. He would have to find out in the morning. He dressed for bed and laid down and fell into a fitful sleep.
America woke up pretty happy. He had a kink in his neck from lying in an awkward position all night. The Sun was just beginning to come through the windows. He yawned and tried to crack his back without waking up the kids who had fallen asleep on him. He smiled at their sleeping faces and tried to move as carefully as he could. Success! None had woken up. He stood up and tried to maneuver his way through the sleeping bodies. It was like a mine field. They were all placed randomly and he had to be careful not to step on any of them. It could, quite possibly, spell sudden death.
He finally got to the edge of where the bodies stopped and he hadn't woken any of them. He fist pumped and went into the kitchen. He stood in front of one of the fridges and toke out some left over pizza. He heated it up in the microwave and started eating. As he looked around he had to laugh again. Why these kids brought him so much joy he could never explain. There were stains on the walls from food fights and old containers that they had forgotten to throw away. They were a messy bunch, they fought a lot, sibling rivalries, history…His mind trailed off while he ate.
He walked back into the lace where they all slept. He expected to see them all still asleep… Nope.