War's Edge

An England for an England

England angrily rummaged through his bookshelf. The drawers in every room had been pulled open, and the doors to every room and cabinet were open.

"Where did that damn frog hide the key?" England grumbled to himself.

He had been kind enough to let France over to his house. France had been experiencing some issues with terrorists, and England carefully avoided the topic and tried his best to cheer the other up. Even if they had argued and fought for centuries, he couldn't find the heart nor the will to kick the French frog while he was down. Just this morning, planning to surprise him, England had quietly gone down to the kitchen to make breakfast for him only to find every single pot, pan, and utensil gone along with a certain Frenchman.

Francis had left a note attached to a glass vase of roses, thanking him for the comfort and telling him to stay away from the kitchen until he returned with real food. To keep him busy until then, France had hidden a key to an old closet full of old junk that England still kept around, reminding him of his glory-filled pirate days. Every single item he was missing from his kitchen was in that closet, and England was far too sophisticated to break the door down. He immediately crumbled the note and tossed it into the trash, cursing the Frenchman with every word he knew.

Like his cooking is any better than mine! It's not like those baguettes ever helped him in battle...

England groaned in frustration.

"If I were a perverted frog, where would I hide a key?" England muttered.

He had already checked his drawers for the key only to find missing articles of clothing, as per usual.

Pillows? No...

Under the bed? No, he's already done that before...

Perhaps in the garden?

Wait...

England face-palmed and stood up. He took long strides to the kitchen and practically glared at the vase. When he got his hands on the glass vase, he rose it above his head to smash it. However, he couldn't make himself complete the task. Instead, he swore under his breath and placed the fragile vase back onto the counter. Just looking at the luscious, dewy petals adorning each stem, he could hear France's laughter.

"Ohonhonhon~ I see Angleterre loves my roses~"

England shook his head clear of France's bothersome voice and gently pulled the roses up by their petals until he could lay them on the counter. Sure enough, at the bottom of the vase, submerged in water, was the key. He fished the key out, begrudgingly refusing to empty the vase's water and fill it with the unworthy sink water.

"Well, I suppose that wasn't too diffi— bloody hell!"

England continued to swear aloud as clutched his pricked finger. He had forgotten about the roses' thorns in the midst of his thoughts and was momentarily distracted from the alluring beauty of the flowers. A drop of blood stained the counter just moments after the wound had opened. England turned the faucet and put his finger under the gentle flow of water. His phone suddenly began vibrating in his pocket, and he nearly yanked the device out and answered the call.

"You bloody frog! I knew I'd gone mad enough to let you into my home just for you to—!"

"Uhh, England, dude?"

England cleared his throat, feeling a little embarrassed.

"Yes, America? What is it?" England said in a calmer voice.

"Weird question, but d'ya remember when you first found me?"

"Of course, but why are you asking? Am I on speaker phone? What are you playing at, you bloody yank?"