[EDIT: A special thanks to the guest who commented to remind me about the restriction that the site has on MA rated material. Rest assured that I fully intend to comply with the rules regarding adult scenes.]

Chapter 3: Domination Fail

"Well, now that that's out of the way, let's eat!" America shouted. "Burger time!"

"Don't be ridiculous!" Britain snapped. "You can't just barge in and take over another person's house!"

"First things first," I said. "I'm gonna show you guys around the place. There's not much to it but pay attention."

We were standing in the middle of the living room so I simply pointed out the locations of things like the couch and TV. Instantly America pounced on my tall bookshelf filled with movies - it was next to the TV for easy access.

"Dude! Check out all the movies!" he squealed excitedly. He was practically drooling. "Action! Horror! Kaiju!" Then he bent down to inspect the bottom shelf. "… Disney?"

"Hey!" I yelled. "Don't judge me!"

While America slobbered over my digital entertainment, I saw Britain eyeing my shelves of books. I had eclectic tastes - my shelves held everything from shojou manga to dramatized historical novels. He was obviously most interested in the latter. I watched as he reached out a hand and gently caressed the spine of my WW2 atlas.

"Just don't read it in the bathroom," I told him.

"That's disgusting! I would never!" he sniffed in an offended tone.

"Whatever you say."

"August, August!" America shouted. He ran over to me and shoved five movies under my nose. "Can we watch these tonight? Please? Pretty please?"

My eyes moved from his pleading face to the titles of the movies in his hands. The Ring. Devil. Godzilla. Ghost Ship. Poltergeist.

"Oh, hell no." I grabbed the movies from him and set them down on the coffee table. "You are not watching any horror movies while I'm here."

"Aw, c'mon! Just one!" he begged.

"No," I said. "I am not dealing with that today. So cram it!"

"Awww!"

"Don't whine, America!" Britain scolded.

"Come on!" I ordered. "Let's finish the tour so you can clean up your crates. They're crapping up my house!"

Britain huffed and America pouted, but I didn't give a damn. I grabbed them both by their lapels and dragged them to the short hallway. "Bathroom on the left, my bedroom on the right, kitchen at the end." Questions?"

"Dude, this place is tiny!"

"That's not a question!"

"America has a point, luv. Do you think there's enough room for all of us?"

"You guys are just robots. How much room could you possibly need?"

"Hey! We're units - there's a big difference!"

"Not to me."

"Three people sharing one loo is going to be tricky, luv. Any suggestions?"

"Yeah, if I'm in there, stay out. And if I need to use it and you're in there, get out."

I think the two of them were starting to get a feeling for me and judging by their expressions they weren't very happy. But what the f*ck did I care what two robots thought? Answer: I didn't. The whole reason that robots existed was to serve people. And since units were robots, they existed to serve me.

"Enough chit-chat!" I bellowed. "Let's go unpack your shit and chuck your crates down the garbage chute. I don't need the landlady giving me grief."

"I'll do it if I can watch a movie."

I had been heading back towards my still-open front door when America's voice brought me to an abrupt halt. I turned slowly on my heel in his direction. He was standing there with his hands on his hips and an idiotic grin on his face. I began to stalk back to the pair - one look at my expression and Britain quickly stepped aside.

"I don't think I heard you right," I said, trying as hard as I could to stay calm. They were brand new and I didn't want to damage them. Yet. "Repeat that."

"Hahahaha! That's a great Russia impression!"

Could a unit be strangled to death? I had the feeling that I was going to be testing that out before the day was over.

"Britain," I said softly. "Go get your things out of your crate."

The unit hesitated and I almost lost it. "Go easy, luv," he replied at last and moved off.

I strutted directly up to America and looked him square in the eye. He looked right back, still wearing that same stupid smile.

Lightning fast I shot out a hand, intending to grab America's ear and forcibly drag him over to his crate and make him unpack. Seriously, that was all. I may have a bad temper but I'm not the sort of scum that beats others to get their way. That's not to say that I didn't sometimes slap and pinch - or pull ears - to get obedience. But after two or three times, people generally knew better and just did what I said.

But America reacted simultaneously: he grabbed my forearm and yanked it up over his shoulder while his other hand came up under my stomach to carry my weight. Briefly I was floating and my mind was in a stunned fog.

Then I landed heavily and America's rock hard shoulder drove the breath out of me with a whoosh and a grunt.

"Hahaha, nice try!" he chortled. "Now let's talk about watching a movie!"

"I WILL STRANGLE YOU WITH MY BARE HANDS!" I raged. I flailed impotently, my hands and feet landing only glancing blows.

"You can't hurt me, dudette! I'm the hero!"

"America! Put her down this instant!"

"No way, dude! She tried to hit me!"

"I wasn't going to hit you! But now I am!"

"Ouch! Stop pinching!"

"Put me down!"

"No way, José!"

As I struggled to get free, I had my eyes on the cord of my tall living room lamp. That was what I would use to kill America. I'd wind it around his throat and pull until he stopped moving. It wasn't even really murder - he was a robot! But then I caught sight of something that reduced America and his obnoxiousness to a mere triviality: my office was calling my phone.

"America, put me down now," I said, trying to sound calm.

"Nope~!"

"I'm serious, you fat idiot! My boss is calling!"

"Haha, I'm not falling for that!"

"Argh! Britain quick, get my phone!"

I meant he should hand it to me, but apparently he took my words another way. To my horror, he picked up the phone and answered it.

"Good afternoon, Garcia residence," he said in a professional voice. He sounded like a receptionist at some big company. "Miss Garcia is occupied at the moment, may I ask who is calling?"

I held out my hand and snapped my fingers to signal him to fork over the device. To my outrage, he ignored my nonverbal signal - he lowered the phone and placed a hand over the receiver instead.

"It's a young woman named Judy who is quite agitated. Shall I inquire as to what she wants?"

"Give me the f*cking phone!" I hissed.

Britain huffed indignantly but he passed the phone to me finally. And this apparently convinced America that I hadn't been lying; he hefted me down off his shoulder, and after giving him a kick in the shin I put the phone to my ear.

"Judy, what's up?"

"August, thank God! I thought I'd gotten connected to London or something!"

I sighed. The woman on the other end of the phone wasn't any of my supervisors (thank God). But Judy could be a little ditzy and had the tendency to overreact to strange occurrences. Talking to Britain seemed to have shaken her up. "No, that was just someone inconsiderate. Don't mind him."

"Why I never -!" Britain gasped.

"Shhh!"

"What was that?"

"Nothing, Judy. Now focus. What are you calling about?"

"Oh, yes! It's about the Sidewinder Sandies packet that Mark put together. Did you mail it out before you left today?"

"No, I didn't. Did he say it had to go out today?" I asked, dreading the answer.

"Not before he left. He just called me to see if I could do it but I'd already left for the day. And I think everyone else has too."

Dammit Mark. "So you called me."

"Yes. I'm sorry but -"

"Don't be, I get it. I'm the only non-manager with the key and security code, so I can pop back in and drop it in the mail. That way Mark doesn't get chewed out."

Inwardly I was seething at Mark's idiocy. Like Judy he was a nice person but his ditzy nature wound up making more work for everyone else. But I understood why they were calling me instead of one of the bosses. The three managers at our ad firm had the tendency to use the stick more than the carrot and Mark could very well be looking at a demotion or even dismissal. So I could understand the desire to ask for my help rather than that of a manager.

"Are you sure you don't mind?"

Of course I minded but I owed Judy a favor anyway. "Don't worry about it."

"Thanks August! You're a lifesaver!" Then she hung up the phone before I could say anything.

"Ugh." I looked at America's and Britain's expectant faces. "Okay you two, I gotta run back to my office for a bit. Get your shit out of crates, pitch the crates down the garbage chute, and stay inside the apartment until I get back. Don't answer the door and don't get into trouble. Or else!"

"Yes ma'am!" America said and mock-saluted me. Britain merely nodded assent.

I was suspicious of America's easy agreement but I couldn't grill him right now. The sooner I put Mark's packet in the mail, the sooner I could come back and keep him in line.

"Ugh, why didn't I order Japan and Greece?" I mumbled to myself as I left.

It turned out that mailing the packet for Mark wasn't as straightforward as Judy made it sound. He'd filed it in a drawer so I had to go rooting through his desk just to find it! Mailing it was a simple but time consuming process, and as the very last step I had to drive to the post office to have them handle it today. All in all, it was a very aggravating hour.

When I arrived home again I was encouraged to see that America and Britain had listened to me - the crates were gone and the door was shut. Who would've thought a kick in the shin would be enough to control America?

But when I got inside and found all the lights were off and America was huddled under a mound of blankets on the couch with screaming coming from the TV, my temper flared.

"GOD DAMN IT, AMERICA!" I roared.

He yelped and jumped as I flipped on the lights and stormed over to switch off the TV. "Hey, what was that for?! It was at the best part!"

"Best part my ass!" I spat. "I told you, no horror movies!"

"No you didn't!"

"Excuse me, I know I did! I don't want you wetting your pants on my couch!"

"I don't wet my pants, I'm the hero! And you didn't say 'no scary movies,' you said 'no scary movies while I'm here.' And you weren't here!"

"You know perfectly well what I meant!"

"Hahahahahaha~!"

"Would you two children kindly keep it down?" I heard Britain call from another room. "I'm fixing supper!"

"Oh god, no!" I rushed from the living room, my nose now detecting the acrid scent of smoke billowing from the kitchen. It was a wonder my smoke alarms weren't -

BEE-BEE-BEE! Right on cue.

"Britain, get the f*ck away from my stove!" I shrieked. I charged into the kitchen and spotted him in front of the device, stirring a bubbling, hissing, smoking pot of goop. I grabbed him and immediately started hauling him out of the room. "You are never allowed to cook, do you hear me?! Never!"

"What do you mean? I make delicious food!"

"No, you don't!"

"How dare you?! I've never heard such nonsense!"

With a last burst of strength I threw the Brit at America, who'd gotten up to watch the commotion, and returned to the kitchen to start cleaning up the mess. And here I thought I only had America to worry about!

"Why didn't I order Japan and Greece?!" I wailed.

The next hurdle we had to overcome was the sleeping arrangements. I lived in a tiny one-bedroom apartment, normally plenty of room for just me, but now there were two robots to think about. And while I felt that robots didn't need much space, the two of them disagreed with me. Strongly.

"You can't just pack us off into a closet when it's convenient!" Britain snapped when I suggested it.

"Well, I'm tellin' you right now that nobody is sleeping in my bed but me!" I snapped and I stared him down with my impressive death-glare.

"Then where are we supposed to sleep?!"

"The f*cking closet!"

"We're not sleeping in a closet!"

Our volume kept increasing and by the end Britain and I were nose-to-nose with each other in our verbal battle. In the back of my mind I was impressed by his pugnacious attitude, despite how aggravating it was at the moment. I wanted to smack him to make him obey but I restrained myself.

"Dude, I call dibs on the couch!" America suddenly shouted.

That immediately silenced me and Britain and we looked over at him. He was sprawled on my admittedly small couch using every single pillow to prop up his head and feet. He actually looked pretty comfortable.

Britain leapt at him. "YOU ASSHAT! What gives you the right to claim the couch?!"

"Cuz I'm the hero!" America cheered. He fended off the shorter unit as Britain swiped at him.

"Holy shit!" I declared. America had just jolted my brain awake. "You just reminded me - my couch is a fold-out! You guys can sleep there!" I stared pointedly at Britain. "Since apparently my closet isn't good enough for you."

"A foldout will do nicely," he replied, ignoring my jab.

I directed the two of them to move the coffee table while I unlatched the couch bed and unfolded it. The bed wasn't anything special and I certainly wouldn't sleep on it, but robots couldn't complain. I chucked a few pillows on the bed and I went to get some extra blankets from my closet. Wait, did robots even need blankets? Whatever.

I got them settled down with minimal fuss. In hindsight I should've known better.