It was late, dark filled the room as England lay restless in his bed. He was alone and he didn't like it. He tossed and turned but couldn't sleep. But, he knew why. He wanted to do something about it, but they wouldn't understand. They never did. Though England knew what he was doing was wrong, he had to.
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America was snug in his bed. His food bed sheets covered his body as he slept. Though for a obese man usually in a food coma and a loud snorer, he was a light sleeper. Even though his eyes weren't open, he could tell something was off.
America opened his eyes and quickly got up. He cracked open his door to see the figure of England running down the hall holding a large mass of... something. He closed the door and ran to his dresser. There he opened the third drawer, where he knew what he would see.
It was not what was in there that made America mad, it was what wasn't in there. He quickly slammed the drawer shut and ripped open his door. He sprinted down the hall as fast as he could, granted his lack of exercise caused him to run at the rate of a ninety year old woman walking on honey. When he reached England's door, he stopped.
He reached out and fiddled with the door handle, but it was locked.
"ENGLAND! You in there!?"
"No... please go now."
"Give me back my pants!"
A faint no was his only response from the other side of the oak door. As he pounded on the door, France appeared from his room and offered his assistance. America sighed and allowed him for he knew France was a absolute boss at breaking and entering from his "panty raids" on his citizens.
America stepped back and France stepped forward. He stared at the door for a second before "kicking-the-shit-out-of-it-like-Micheal-Bay" according to America.
"China taught me."
As the two bust in, they stared at what they had encountered. In the middle of the room, they saw England wearing about thirty pairs of pants, some America's, some England's.
"OK dude, this needs to stop! I'm running out of pants and so is everyone else!"
England grew frustrated and shouted back "You don't understand our love!"
With a quick movement, he gathered the pants he had on the floor and jumped out the window. When he landed, he removed the ones he was wearing and gathered them into a ball. From there he ran into the woods.
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America and France ran out into the woods after him. They followed his foot prints, the occasional tuff of cotton, and his "smell". They eventually came across a small town located just along the other side of the small forest. They slowly walked into the town until the came across an old man.
"Excuse me! Have you seen our friend!?"
"Hm? You mean the bottomless fellow carrying the large bundle of pants? You're friends with him? Oh well, yeah I saw him. He went down to the 'ol motel down there."
As they walked down the street, America slowly got the feeling his pants would not be returned stainless with each passing second. When they reached the motel, they walked inside the main lobby.
"Hey, what room is that British guy without the pants on in?"
"294"
They walked to the old room on the far edge of the lot. It was almost separated from the rest except the few other old rooms connected to it. They approached the room and peered through the window. They were immensely scared by what they saw.
The room had candles all over the place, on the floor, on the nightstand, on the ceiling fan. England was naked rolling around on the floor with pants all around him. He was kissing and hugging him. America had flashbacks to when Canada got drunk. France though of him and Seychelles.
This door was not locked and they barged in. England sat up and quickly covered his junk with a pant leg.
"What are you wankas doing here!?"
"I'm here for my pants! You can't keep doing this bro. The pants can't love you back, they aren't alive."
"Never stopped you viths your hamburgers," chuckled France.
As America turned and started to bicker with France, England gathered the pants into a mound and pushed it up against the corner. America and France stopped and looked over to see England whispering to it and giving it a kiss on what would be the forehead. He got up and walked over to them.
"Alright, if I must, I'll try to stop."
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When the got home, America took his pants from England and went back to bed. He had wasted a full two hours of his sleep chasing England. England was about to go to his room when France touched his shoulder. When England turned he saw France taking off his pants.
"Here, you can have zese. Zey are my least favorite pair anyway."
"T-thank you." England reached out and gave France a hug. He took his pants and told him good night. As England lay back in his bed, he looked at France's pants. It was the nicest anyone had ever been about his weird love. As the took them and covered his chest with them, he drifted off into a long, happy sleep.
