Fake

Chapter 11

America stretched from where he was sitting, hearing a small pop from his back. Satisfied he looked back down at the screen in front of him. One hand was petting Aquene, who was on his lap. The cat purred in contentment, yawning then curling up into a ball as America continued to pet the feline on her back.

He was currently in his office, well when wasn't he in his office? It was his safe haven right next to his shared bedroom. He was basically always in there the whole day, only if Canada didn't come and drag him out exclaiming how he needed some 'fresh air' or to 'get out of the office every once and awhile and go outside'.

But now he was alone in his office with his cat, while his dog was downstairs in the living room. It was peaceful and quiet and that was all he needed right now, not the thing called 'going outside'.

America adjusted his glasses on his face because he needs to see. His eyes had gone back to normal by now. His usually heterochromia eyes one blue the other yellow, instead of the pitch black ones. He didn't know which one he liked better. 

He picked up his stylus off of the table and pressed the tip against the lit up screen of the drawing tablet. He slowly began to draw doing quick line strokes for the line art.

He occasionally looked at his computer next to his drawing tablet just placed diagonally so it was crossing the two desks connected. His doll was propped against the computer, slightly slumped but the black beaded eyes still remained looking at him. He felt a source of comfort whenever he looked at it.

With a sigh he went back to work moving his arm and doing quick lines on the canvas. Suddenly he heard loud footsteps approaching the door and then heard a yell making him jump and drop his stylus on the table.

"Ame!" Canada barged in, swinging the door open a little too forcefully as a loud sound echoed throughout the room. The wooden door had hit the bookshelf that was next to it with a loud thud. No books fell off though. Aquene immediately jumped at the noise and hopped off of America's lap, bolting under the couch.

America sent a glare at his brother for all the ruckus, watching Canada's face turn sheepish at the sudden outburst he caused.

"Sorry." He apologized, chuckling nervously.

The American rolled his eyes and picked up his stylus once more, "What do you need?" He asked turning his body so that he was facing Canada.

Canada grinned, "Well, since you've been in this room all day, I think you need some fresh air and take a break from this place for a few hours."

"That sounds like a fucking nightmare." America stated bluntly, hearing Canada choke at his response, clearly not expecting that despite being his brother for nearly about two centuries, maybe more.

Canada soon gained his composure and huffed, "Well as your brother, I shall take responsibility to get you fresh air and to get you out of this confined room!" He declared.

America gave his brother his usual indifferent look and faced back to his tablet, planning on continuing where he left off. "Yeah that's not happening."

He continued in silence until he was suddenly lifted off of his chair by under his arms. He quickly looked behind him to see Canada grinning up at him. 

"Canada, what the hell dude!" America said, struggling in his brother's grip, while Canada simply pulled America away from his desk and seat and pushed in the chair under the desk. He tried to keep America in his arms, as he was struggling kicking his legs back and forth and moving his torso.

The Canadian yelped when felt a rather harsh kick at his shin making his knee buckle, dropping the American in the process.

America landed face first onto the carpet, his glasses tilting a bit, one lens covering one eye while the other on his forehead. It was a miracle how they don't break since the two do this often enough.