Crash

Chapter 1

A Tuesday in October.

It was America's turn to host the G8 meeting at his place once again, but for the past hour, it was Germany who had taken over. America wasn't even in the meeting room. He had never once been seen by anyone that day. He had gotten numerous phone calls wondering about his whereabouts but the callers never got any answers.

But America was supposed to be the hero. He had managed to drag himself out of his house and get to the meeting building thirty minutes after it started. But before he could step foot into the meeting room he had rushed into the bathroom. That's where he spent another 30 minutes washing his face and staring at himself in the mirror. He felt like crap.

After he had coughed all of the mucus out of his lungs, America starred at his reflection once more. His golden hair was tousled even more than usual and his baby blue eyes lacked that little tiny signature sparkle.

"Okay…alright. I think I can do this. I just have to go in there, talk and look happy, right? Easy! You're the hero. You're the U.S.A. You can do this," He told his reflection. He knew he was sick, but so was everyone else and America wasn't going to be the most helpless of them all. He forced at smile to himself and walked quickly towards the bathroom door.

The meeting room was just down the hall. He marched triumphantly to finally take control of his meeting. He was right outside the door when suddenly he stopped dead in his tracks.

What the hell was he going to say?

An excuse. He needed an excuse. He was too busy coughing and spraying water on his face to think one in the past half hour. He started to whisper the first things that popped into his head.

"Alright so my alarm clock stopped work so I was late but then um…Tony! Tony's relatives abducted me and took me to their alien space ship. They did a bunch of experiments on me so that's why I'm sick and then I escaped! I think that should do it." America chuckled quietly. He was so clever. So clever indeed.

He peered through the little window on the door. Germany was presenting a slideshow about the economic crisis around the world. He seemed to be much more shy than usual on the topic, but no one else wanted to take the job that was supposed to be America's. Everyone else but Italy looked under the weather, but they were deeply focused on the picture and charts on the large smart board. Italy was humming a tune that America could faintly hear through the door. Germany seemed too upset about something to scold him.

It was time. America flung open the door.

"Hey guys!"

"Where the hell have you been?!" England's neck snapped towards America with a scowl on his face.

"Oh, um…Tony abducted my alarm clock and…wait, no that's wrong the alarm clock broke and then Tony's family abducted him, you see? No, wait hold it was Tony who - "

"Please just take this, Herr America." Germany cut in. He handed him the pointer for the smart board and scurried back to his seat between Italy and Japan. It was then when he finally silenced Italy's humming.

"Irresponsible child." England muttered. France giggled at the comment. He seemed to be the only one who heard it since he was sitting on his left while China was quarrelling with Russia on his right. When England turned to see who was laughing at him, France only smiled.

America walked up to the front of the room, pointer in hand.

"Well that excuse went horribly" he thought "But it's okay. Just remember: Talk and look happy... Talk and look happy." He sighed heavily.

For the next forty five minutes or so, the presentation actually went according to plan. There was no bickering, humming or even coughing (at least no coughing that America didn't hold back). All seven of the other countries in the room seemed to be very concerned about the topic. Many of them were sick, as well. Not as much as America, though. Either way they wanted a "cure". They all did.

"Now on to the topic of the banks," America started. The faint sound of a flicker cut him off. It came from above him. He looked up. The projector was still on, but there was no light emitting out of it. He craned his neck to look at the smart board. There was nothing on it. It was black screen.

"Are you frickin' kidding me?"

He started to press random buttons at the base of the smart board. Maybe it was just asleep? But he had just used it. He checked every part of it. Maybe he was just missing something? The other countries in the room just starred in confusion, some in annoyance. America stopped his searching when he got to the top right corner. His face became irritated. He strolled up to the end of the table where he was standing at and put his hands down on it, back hunched. He gazed directly at France.

All heads turned in France's direction, although it took him a little while to notice.

"…Oui?"

"It says 'Made In France'" America said sternly. "Why the hell are you making my stuff?"

"Why aren't you making your own stuff?" China said bitterly.

France was insulted. "Hey! The things I manufacture are perfectly fine. I would know! I made them."

"The fact that you made it makes it a terrible piece of technology. And the fact that America bought it makes him a cheapskate. I bet he's just trying to lower his huge debt." Russia chimed in.

"Okay I'm going to have a look at it," declared Germany as he rose from his seat. He brought his chair under the projector and climbed onto it.

"Germany! Be careful!" Italy whaled.

"Don't worry I got it." He started to inspect it. "…It also says 'Made In France'". France broke out of an argument he had started with England about manufacturing.

"Eh, what? Non that cannot be. Trust me it's fine!"

"It doesn't look fine at all, you bloody frog!" Their agreement started up again. It soon boiled to the point where they were at each other's necks, pulling at their hair and ties. Japan got out of his seat and tried to calm down the heated fight.

"Igirisu, France-san, please stop this feud. We have a bigger problem to worry about." The short Asian country gestured over to Germany who was still tinkering with the projector. Neither England nor France seemed to care.

America fiddled with his laptop. Maybe it was something with the computer? He clicked his mouse all over the screen in hopes of fixing something. The smart board, France's manufacturing, Russia in general. Anything would be fine with him. But some clicks on a computer can't do all that. He felt a vibrating in his pocket and whipped out his phone. It was his boss. He sighed in relief.

"Ah, I'm so glad you called, sir. We're having some real technical difficulties here. It's an all-out disaster." America forced a laugh. His boss took only a few seconds to speak. His chuckling quickly faded. "…Um, can you repeat that, sir?" He gazed out into the riot that was the G8 meeting with a smile of utter shock on his face. "….WHAT?!"

The room went silent, all eyes looking, even England and France's, at America who was peering over his laptop. He shot up from his chair and turned away from the other countries. He whispered angrily "What do you mean…crashed?"

His boss hung up the phone.

America didn't move. He was frozen in place, his hand still holding his cellphone next to ear. He stayed that way for an uncomfortable amount of time. No one dared to make a peep.

"…The stock market…crashed, huh?" he muttered. The phone slipped out of his hand and banged against the floor.

Italy broke the silence "Veee…What's wrong with America?" America was swaying. No, the room was moving. It could've been both. He couldn't tell.

"A-America-san? Are you alright?"

He whipped around the face Japan. "Huh? Oh yeah I'm… just fine."

He swayed even more, hastily moving his feet to keep balance.

"America-san?"

All of a sudden, his hearing was gone. His vision was black.

"AMERICA-SA-"

Black.

Everything seemed to go black that day. The smart board, his mind, even the day itself. Might as well call it Black Tuesday.

America's eyes fluttered open to a blur of colors. He saw red, white and blue around him. Was he in his room? Probably. Thank God. A figure stood close to him. It seemed to be doing something with a bowl. It took something out of the bowl. America felt something cold and wet on his forehead. All he could muster out was a small moan.

"Ah, you have awoken. How are you feeling, America-san?" the figure asked. Oh good, it was Japan. There were voices coming from behind him. The words were indescribable, but their tones sounded angry. "Igirisu! France-san! Please stop. America-san is awake." England and France were here, too? Could that day get any worse? America's vision finally became clear (Well as clear as it can be without his glasses). The first thing he could make out was the two Europeans standing over him.

"Why, hello there! You slept like un bébé. So cute!" France reached out and began to play with Nantucket. America wanted to smack his hand away, but all he could do was lift his arm about a foot before his body forced him to drop it. Where had all his strength gone? Surely he couldn't be this weak. He couldn't!

"Ah…stop it," America whispered. France snickered and moved his hand towards the wet cloth on America's forehead, patting it.

England took a step closer to the bedside. "Well, do you want to tell us what that was all about?" America just gawked at him.

"…I'm home, right?"

"Yes you're in your room. You should be thanking Japan and I. It wasn't easy lifting you down the hall and into the car. Don't even get me started about getting you upstairs." He took a moment to sigh. "But I guess now isn't the time to be lecturing about your weight."

"Hey wait a minute! I helped, too, Angleterre!"

"All you did was drive!"

"If I didn't drive, then we wouldn't have him in bed all safe and sound."

"Wait. How did you get inside my house?" America asked through a cough.

"All we did was take the keys out of your pocket." England answered. America gazed at him suspiciously. England sighed and shook his head a little, then went off to explore America's messy room. There were clothes hanging on almost every piece of furniture they could. A few bobble heads of his favorite football and baseball players lined this dresser and empty coke bottles could be found in the weirdest places on his bedroom. Posters of super heroes were plastered all over his walls. It disgusted England. What was he? A nation or a high school student?

"America-san? We all really concerned about your condition. We do not want to leave you like this so do you mind if we stay in your house until you are better?" Japan asked, looking quite serious. America starred at him for a while and then averted his eyes over to England and France. They looked him as serious as Japan was.

"Mm…sure, but I only have a pull-out and one guest room." America muttered.

Japan only smiled at him. "I'm sure we can work something out."

America forced a smile back. He liked Japan, even after what had been happening with the war. He wanted to help Japan get out of the chaos it ingaged him in. But he didn't want to be helped. He could get better all by himself and he intended to.

Japan took a step closer to him. "Well then, I am going to go make dinner and some soup for you. Do you mind if I use your food and utensils?"

"Hm? Ah…no."

"Arigato." Japan walked out of the bedroom, shutting the door gently.

"How long-" America coughed "Will you be staying?" France, who had gone to play with his bobble heads whirled around to face him.

"Well, we are no rush to return to our own homes so until we feel that you have gotten better, we're going to stay with you!" He giggled. Why the hell was he going to determine when he has gotten better? There was a long moment of silence.

"France-san, can you please help me with the cooking?" Japan yelled from the kitchen.

"I'm coming!" He replied as he basically galloped out of the room. He took a second to look over his shoulder at America and England, who was poking at the clothes lying on the chair in the corner of the room. He looked almost happy to be leaving the two of them alone. Too happy…

Once France had shut the door, England turned to America, holding up a baseball jersey.

"Sloppy America. Seriously, it's important to keep your whole house spick and span." England said with a tiny smirk. America replied by going into a coughing fit. "But I-I guess now isn't the time for a lecture". He threw the jersey back onto the chair it was previously on and jogged over to America's bedside. America's face was slowly turning red and his coughs sounded more like gagging. "Oh. You sound congested. Here, sit up." England pulled America by the arms out from under the covers so that his back laid against the headboard of the bed (It took more energy out of him than he thought it would). "There you go. Now you can cough all of that rubbish out of you." England put on an arrogant smile. He was helping a sick person and that's something to be proud of.

America's coughing fit had ended but he kept his mouth closed. He pointed over to the small trash can next to his dresser. England followed his finger and looked in that direction.

"Hm? Do you want the rubbish bin or a change of clothes?" America furrowed his brow in confusion and roughly jabbed his finger at the trash can. "Oh. Got it!" exclaimed England. He jogged over to the trash can and brought it to him. America snatched it from him and spit the mucus he had been holding inside of it, gurgling every last bit of it from the back of his throat. England couldn't help but feel a little grossed out. It was indeed a lot of mucus. Once he was all done, America set the trash can on the floor and stared at England.

"…Why would I need a change of clothes?"

"Eh- well you are still wearing a suit."

America looked down with an almost stupid expression on his face. "Oh…yeah."

There was a moment of silence. A weird one.

"…So, America…," England sat at the foot on his bed. "Do you want to tell me why you suddenly fainted in the middle of the meeting?" His green eyes peered at him with concern. His face was as serious as ever. What had happened to America? America gazed over at him, making eye contact with England. He opened his mouth hesitantly. "Finally," England thought "An end to my worries." Yes in fact this was it. He would have all the weight lifted of his shoulders with just the word from America…

"…No."

"No?"

"No?! What do you mean no?!" England sprung up from the bed. "I go through the trouble of dragging your arse all the way here and you can't even tell why the hell you passed out in the first place?!"

America groaned. "Shut up, would you? You're making my head hurt."

"STUPID BRAT!"

America winced at the yelling. "Okay I'll tell you. Just please stop screaming." He pleaded. England immediately felt guilty.

"Bollocks". He sat back down, not daring to look him in his pained face. America took a long moment to take some deep breaths.

"I'd just rather not right now."

England furrowed his brow before muttering a small "Okay." He understood the severity of what America must be going through, being that the strongest (as he hates to admit) country in the world suddenly fell, but hell, that wasn't going to stop him from figuring out what the point was in spending his time and energy on this idiot. He ever so subtlety turned his head to look at America. He seemed to have fallen asleep in just the few seconds of silence. It was somewhat shocking to the Brit. America's mouth was slightly agape and his head was cocked to the side against the star spangled pillow. That little strand of hair that he had dubbed 'Nantucket' appeared to droop. He almost looked peaceful, apart from the red of sickness in his face. England sighed with a grin.

"If only you were always this quiet. Then you would actually be rather cute."

America instantly opened an eye. "Eh?"

A blush spread across England's face.

"Y…You were awake?"

"I was just dosing off. But you think I look cute when I'm like this?" America asked with amusement creeping to the corners of his mouth. To be honest, it angered him a bit to be called something that most little children are called especially when he was in this weak state, but because of England's look, his mild irritation couldn't have mattered less to him. His question made the smaller, fidgeting country at the foot of his bed completely flush. England opened his mouth for a rebuttal, but just as he did, Japan opened the door carrying a bowl of nikujaga.

"Oh bless her majesty the Queen. Saved by the Jap."

Japan and America exchanged warm smiles as quiet little island placed the bowl of beef stew on the bedside table.

"I hope I didn't intrude. I am very sorry for not knocking. It is very unlike me. My deepest apologies." Japan hastily bowed. America managed a small laugh.

"Don't sweat it, man. We weren't talking about anything important." England didn't know how to feel at the statement, so he just crossed him arms and made his face as expressionless as can be.

"Igirisu, France-san and I have finished preparing dinner downstairs. I understand if you would like to stay with America-san until one of us can take over."

"Eng-" America cut himself off with a sneeze "-land. You should go. I can take care of myself." America shakily reached over to the stew on very slowly set it in his lap. He flashed a goofy grin in hopes that his small accomplishment meant that he was all better. All England did was raise a massive eyebrow at him and thought for a bit.

"Well, I guess it wouldn't hurt to eat something." He said, rising from his seat on the bed and following Japan out the door and closing it behind him. He stood outside the bedroom and counted to ten. Japan looked at him in confusion as he whispered to himself, But England merely shooed him down the stairs.

"8,9,10…"

He burst open the door and narrowed his eyes at the expected sight. America was sprawled across the carpet in England's. He was propped up on his elbows, trying to use his remaining strength to regain his footing. The poor country could barely walk, let alone escape. His eyes shot upwards in shock when he heard the older nation reappear through the entrance. He scratched the back of his head and smiled.

"Oh…hey England! You know, I was just getting that change of clothes!"

England hesitated. "That actually sounds like a legitimate excuse. But I'm not stupid. You were trying to leave unnoticed like everything in your life in currently normal. I know you don't want the aid of three other people who are supposedly inferior to the almighty hero. Just stop being so damn arrogant and just let me take care of you! Now get back in that bed!" He slammed the door with a strong push.

…

He said 'me' instead of 'us' didn't he?

"Dammit."

He froze at the second step if the stairwell, contemplating whether he should clarify that he didn't mean that he specifically wanted to take care of America and be with him for as long as he had the opportunity…America can't read the atmosphere, right? So of course he wouldn't notice. Right?! He decided to race downstairs to the kitchen table.

"Ah, Angleterre! I am so happy you could join us!" France said and raised his glass of water into the air. He would of preferred wine with dinner, but he couldn't find any in the fridge. Apparently America was more of a beer type of guy. France and Japan sat on both sides of the square wooden table, leaving two open seats on both ends. England took the one closest to the window. "So, did you find out what happened to Amérique?"

England lifted up his fork and knife and stared at his plate of chicken teriyaki. He replied with a somewhat disappointed "No."

"Awww. Now we'll never know."

"What do you mean? You can just go up and ask him yourself."

"Well if he doesn't even tell you then I doubt he will tell anyone else."

"Frog. You're not making any sense."

"Just think about it." France pointed his fork at him. "He seems to have quite a few allies but not many personal friends. Out of the few he has, you're his best."

A tiny hint of red coated his cheeks. "Y…you think so?"

France laughed and Japan smirked silently. "Why of course, mon ami! I can tell he trusts you. But I guess there's no way of getting the answer out of him now." He shrugged overdramatically and focused on his meal. During the rest of dinner, there were only petty arguments and discussions about sleeping arrangements and theories of America's condition. But there was a question that England couldn't stop asking his brain:

"He…trusts me?"

America had managed to crawl across the floor and change into a white t-shirt and some 'I heart NY' pajama pants in the time it took for the countries downstairs to eat. His nikujaga was back on the bedside dresser, untouched and cold. I did take him a rather a while to dress and undress, considering he had to do it on the floor. His plan of escape had failed so he merely came to the conclusion that it was not the right time. He would leave the house and do what he wanted eventually. He was the hero anyway.

He spent 3 hours after dinner playing Super Mario Bros on his D.S. and reading Super Man comics until he decided he was tired. Not the most exciting way to spend free time, but it seemed somewhat normal to him. Although, if ol' bushy brows let him leave the house, he could've gotten the newest edition of Super Man at the comic book store instead of re-reading old ones. Stupid England.

He turned the light out at 10:30 p.m. and hugged his pillow. He closed his eyes, fantasizing about A blonde haired, blue eyed super hero with super strength. By day, he was regular Alfred F. Jones, but whenever he heard a call for help, he'd become Captain America! Hero of the world! Savior of th-

"America?"

He gripped the pillow harder in annoyance of someone disturbing his vivid fantasy, but he placed his other cheek on it to face England peeking through the slightly opened door. He was wearing a light blue button up pajama shirt and pants to match. He was supposed to using them for the hotel he had booked.

"Well…Japan being the humble man that he is chose to sleep on the pullout couch so I either had to sleep with France or you. I'd rather be annoyed to death than raped so…" His voiced faded, waiting for a reply. America blinked at him through the dark.

"I guess what I have isn't contagious so…yeah."

England waited a minute before he walked slowly to the other side of bed. He lifted the covers and got in as gently as he could. Their backs were turned to each other. He waited for America to bring up his use of 'me' earlier today, but America was simply too tired to talk. He let out a small sigh of relief and started to think to himself, his eyes closed.

"Well, I guess it's good he didn't say anything about earlier. But if he supposedly trusts me then how come he's not telling me anything?"

America had closed his own eyes right after he had said yes. All he wanted was sleep. He didn't really care about Captain America at the moment, but he had pushed something in the back of his brain until then. He wouldn't help but wondering;

"What did he mean by 'me' earlier?"