APH- Executive Residence

"Oh bloody hell."

America, sitting pretzel style on the front lawn of the White House, smiled sheepishly up at the other nation. "Oh, hey England. What's up?"

"What the hell are you doing?"

Biting his lip self-consciously, the boy rubbed the back of his neck. "Funny story."

England crossed his arms and raised a large eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Yeah," America said slowly, drawing out the last syllable. "Boss kicked me out."

"…What?"

"It was a total accident!" America was on his feet now, pacing around the bright green lawn, ranting up a storm and arms flailing everywhere. Out of the corner of his eye, England could see the tourists visiting Washington DC regarding the figure tentatively behind the large fence, smartly figuring not to ask questions and enjoy the free show.

His cheeks turning a light shade of pink at being watched, England tried to place a nervous hand on America's shoulder. "Alfred," he hissed, making sure to use his human name in case anyone was in earshot. "Calm down, you git. People are staring."

"Let them stare!" He announced, and England promptly wished he were anywhere but there. "The people of America need to witness this display of injustice!" He had turned to face the crowd of people now. "We are a democracy, are we not? Is it not the people's voice that rises up in a beautiful chorus to make decisions for America the fucking beautiful?!"

The crowd cheered, not quite sure exactly what they were cheering for, but damnit, that was patriotic!

England stared; his mouth hanging open is a display of shock, embarrassment and certainly not admiration, nope. America had now led the tourists in a lively, fist-pumping chant of USA! USA! And he used that moment to give the White House guards a desperate glance.

The men simply shrugged, seemingly used to this kind of behavior. England shuddered; this went on regularly?

"Alfred." England was louder this time, and much, much sterner. Finally, he grabbed the fluffy collar of America's old bomber jacket and yanked him back in the direction of the White House as America's booming voice rattled Remember the Alamo! deep into his eardrums.

Away from the clatter, America was breathing heavily, excited from his impromptu pep rally. England raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. "Are you quite finished?"

He cleared his throat and brushed some imaginary dirt from his jacket. He smiled, giving a contented thumbs-up. "Yep."

"Good, now what in the name of the queen did you do to get kicked out of the White House?!"

Blue eyes lowered behind clear frames, as America began shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot. "Tony and I decided to watch a movie together last night."

Tony. England already knew this was going to end in disaster. Anything involving that little wanker wasn't going to end well for anybody involved.

"We thought, you know, with the 4h of July coming and everything- oh, don't give me that look, this isn't about that whole revolution thing, we would watch something patriotic. Tony picked it out."

England wasn't sure if he wanted to know. "What did you watch, America?"

There was a pause, followed by a sheepish little smile. "Ever see Independence Day?"

Oh bloody- Hs voice was low, and almost afraid to ask his next question. "The Will Smith movie?"

"Uh-huh."

"With the aliens?"

"Uh-huh."

"The aliens that blow up the fucking White House?"

"…Uh-huh."

"You sodding git."

"It wasn't my fault!" America cried. "I can't control what he does! He has a spaceship. A fucking UFO, Iggy. Even someone as awesome as I am can't stand up to a UF fucking O!"

England was holding the bridge of his nose, remembering that supposedly cured headaches. "How much was destroyed, America?"

He sighed heavily, and motioned England to follow him toward the back yard gate. Flashing their badges, England noticed a particularly bitter, mistrusting look on the guard's face.

America seemed to notice it as well, and held his hands up in surrender. "Hey now Larry," he said cautiously to the guard, who England presumed was Larry. "Boss said I can do whatever outside, I just can't come in." Larry's glare hardened. "I wont touch anything, I promise!"

The nations hurried past the gate and England whispered angrily into America's ear. "What the hell did you do?"

"Tony," America made sure to emphasize, "did that."

England's mouth fell open as his gaze followed America's pointing figure to the large, gaping, still slightly smoldering hole proudly stuck in the side of the White House wall. Construction crews and housekeepers rushed around the area, picking up debris while the fire department stood watch, presumably just putting out the flames and making sure they did not alight again.

Next to him, America's cheeks were tinted a light pink as he took in what he had caused, biting his lip. "It really isn't that bad," he mumbled. "Now that the fire is out and stuff…"

"Bloody hell, America."

A tall figure standing on the grass in front of the wreckage, glanced behind him cautiously. His curious face instantly turned to one of anger, as his fists clenched and eyes narrowed, "Alfred!"

"Oh sh-" America exclaimed, looking frantically around him for a place to hide, before simply darting across the lawn recklessly.

"Alfred!" The president yelled again, this time chasing after the young blonde man, who let out a yelp in surprise before picking up speed.

Nodding politely in England's direction as he ran past, England was greeted with a quick, "Hello Arthur, you're looking well, always a pleasure." Before the man was nothing but a very angry blur across the yard.

England shook his head and sighed, making his way toward the destruction, figuring he might as well see if he could be of any service.

Just another day in the United States of America.