Could This be Love? - A GerAme Fanfic [REPOST] [PLEASE READ THE DESCRIPTION]

-3-

America stumbles backwards and falls on his butt. "Why you mother-," but he doesn't finish his sentence. Rubbing his nose, he stands up and lunges himself at the Russian in front of him. America wraps his fingers around Russia's throat, rage splattering on his face like red paint. He waits until his enemy's face is blue before releasing one of his hands to punch the snow blond in the in the head, each one harder than the last.

Russia takes blow after blow until he finally blocks America's last punch with his forearm and uses both of his legs to kick him in the abdomen, launching the young man onto his back. Spitting blood out of his mouth, he climbs on top of him and starts punching and kicking the hell out of him. A grin spreads across Russia's face as the American underneath him cries in agony and tries to fight back.

I know this is all my fault, Germany thinks to himself. To him, this scene has "Germany" written all over it. He's the reason a room full of battle-hardened nations are on edge when he just sits there, he's the reason Poland wouldn't even attend the meeting, he's the reason for all of the commotion in the room, and he's the reason Russia and America are fighting like rabid dogs in a dark allay. Germany looks around the crowd, but the other nations are either fleeing in terror or cheering the fight on (China is even taking the opportunity to sell merchandise for each team). I need to stop this, Germany thinks as he rushes over to the superpowers. He tries to pull America, who is bloody and bruised, out from under the Russian. "Guys, stop it!" he shouts, but to no avail. As he continues to try and help the dirty blond, Russia elbows him in the side of the head. He gasps as pain shoots through his skull . He grabs his head and grits his teeth.

America looks at the German with shock and cries, "Germany!" He finally gathers enough strength to shove the Russian off of him and slam his fist hard on the burly man's balls (ouch). As Russia achingly howls, he drags his mangled body weight over to Germany and husky asks, "Hey, are you ok?" America sounds as if he's out of breath. He pulls Germany's hand away from his head and caresses the bruise forming on the right side of the German's temple.

"Am I ok," Germany asks, "I think the bigger question is are you ok?!" He stands up, his head still throbbing, and pulls America up by his armpits. "Good Lord, we need to get you to a hospital! Can someone call an ambulance?"

"Oh, and why do YOU care about him so much?" England asks, his bushy eyebrows furrow with suspicion.

Germany sighs with annoyance. "Gosh dammit, England, now is not the time-"

"Ah, ah, ah, I'm not done yet," The Brit pipes up. He walks over to America, now standing face-to-face. "I guess what I'm trying to ask is why did you help him?" England spits the question, both figuratively and literally, and the dirty blond.

America lifts his head, looks at the Englishman with swollen black eyes and replies, "I couldn't just... stand by and watch as he got pushed around. That would be the unheroic thing to do." His eyes roll back and his head slumps to the ground. His name is called, but America doesn't respond.

Germany is in full panic mode. He throws the unconscious blond over his shoulder and runs for the door. The bleach blond hears England yelling at him to turn around, but he doesn't listen. Before he leaves, Germany notices Russia is being helped up by China and is still holding onto his crotch with an ice bag pressed on his head. He's badly injured, but he'll be fine, Germany tells himself. He kicks the door open with his foot, but is soon stopped as he stares in awe at the chaos outside the room.

Nations from all over are crowding the area. Shouts echo from all over the corridor and even in the hallways. Bickering and fighting can be heard among the mob, while you could also hear the sound of loud, hard sobs. Someone is throwing folders and white flags screaming "WORLD PEACE IS DOOMED! DOOMED, I TELL YOU!"