"Matthew, bro, I'm afraid that I am going to have to kill you." The blonde American seriously stated as he peered down into his coffee. Alfred's startlingly blue eyes that glowed throughout the entirety of the game were now dull and looked to be in defeat. You could practically hear the wails of his people by just being near him. However, the Canadian beside him only gave a shrug before offering a huge grin.

"And why do you have to undertake such drastic measures," Matthew asked eloquently as he too, sipped his own brand of coffee. While Matt was looking polite and reserved, he felt very smug about the events that occurred only a few hours prior.

"Because, Canada," Alfred groused as he slumped forward from his seat and planting his face on the table," then I can ensure that your little citizen can get safely in your borders while you're knocked out!" At this exclamation at the word citizen, the outspoken American pounded his fist against the surface of the table and moaned. The Canadian that sat beside him only glanced briefly in consolation towards the grain of the table. God knows how many times he was on the receiving end of his brother's fist.

"Oohh, big words coming form you!" Canada managed to look astonished as he breathed in the contents of his coffee. "But if I recall, you wanted to kill me." The Canadian's eyes glowered into a purplish hue that was reminiscent to that of a certain' Russian's. "And if you kill me, you get to inherit my lands for the time being and that means…. you still get to deal with him!" Breaking out into raucous laughter that mocked the American's own laugh, Canada couldn't believe that he actually bested his twin brother for once. (Actually, he bested his brother plenty of times, but this was plain priceless! Maybe he should start sending some more of his people down to Al's place…)

The American who currently contented himself by slouching all over the table merely shook with silent tears. However, America's strand of hair that refused to back down from any form of hair product seemed to stand defiantly in righteous anger. Once Canada caught wind of that characteristic of his normally sunny southern neighbor, the blonde couldn't help but smirk. Carelessly putting his boots on top of the table, Matt relaxed and prodded his twin's face with the toe of his boot.

"Lick my boot you foul sea urchin!" Said in a British falsetto, the American was more than displeased that his colder twin decided to pour endless amounts of salt onto his wounds. He was probably pouring Earl Grey all over his wounds as well, America thought dismally.

"Come on Mattie," America whined as he turned his head to the side to glance pleadingly at his brother. "You know I don't like it when you start using British lingo on me!" Alfred was so desperate in getting his northern neighbor to stop gloating that he tried to use the puppy eyes trick. Despite the power that was held beneath that stare, Canada refused to be the polite and helpful man he was. Today was a momentous day that he would hold dear for the rest of his life.

"Est-ce que vous voulez si je parle en français?" Again, the tip of Matthew's boot touched Alfred. However, instead of grazing his brother's cheek, it was his hair. Canada seemed to indulge in getting his brother dirty while a teasing smile rested on his face. Meanwhile, Alfred could only manage to feel how much of a failure he felt at that moment.

"Shut it. I really don't want your fruitiness to rub off me when I'm already in destructo mode," America warned.

Slowly slipping out of his post game depression, he began to gently bat his brother's boot away from his face. The Canadian took no heed of his brother's rising aggression and decided to gently, but firmly push (or rather, ram) his footwear back into his twin's skull. A little voice inside Matt's head warned him that this would probably go on the top ten things that Mattie should never do again.

However, much like his twin brother would have done, he ignored that little voice in favor of just doing something stupid. Anger, humiliation, and the need to vent his aforementioned wrath caused Alfred to singlehandedly set off events that would ignite the Apocalypse.

"KERPLAM!"

The coffee cup, from which Matthew Williams had been drinking, flew onto the ground once Alfred carelessly shoved Mattie's leg away from him.

Everything seemed to slow down in, sort of like most people would think was earth shatteringly important to remember in movies. If you hadn't noticed, the coffee that Canada was drinking from was Tim Horton's.

It was specially brewed just for the icy nation. The coffee beans were ground lovingly and the beverage was heated at the exact temperature that Mattie wanted it to be. Canada even personalized it, adding some of his own maple syrup that he made when he was taking a hike through his forests.

But now.

Now…

Timmy was on the ground.

The contents of the coffee were splayed out on the floor for the entire world to see.

It was a ghastly sight that inspired rage and melancholy to the common man.

For you see, you just don't simply let Timmy drop onto the floor like that.

It was sheer blasphemy.

And Canada would not let that misdeed go unpunished.

"Y-you," Canada stuttered as he swung his legs over the tabletop and onto the floor. His violet eyes flashed with frightening quickness, that his irises seemed to glow with an unearthly aura. The sound of a scraping chair was heard throughout the rest of the room, almost like a gunshot being fired on a calm battlefield. "Will pay—"

Meanwhile, the stupid hoser who couldn't spend a few more minutes moping was currently laughing at his bro's distress. Sitting up straight in his chair, totally the opposite of what he was feeling before. The blonde even had the audacity to slap his knee like seeing Timmy on the floor was not the saddest sight in the whole world! That-that!

"Oh gosh, thanks for making me laugh, Mattie," Al complimented. "I really was planning on your impromptu assassination back there, but that's okay! I forgive you for kicking my—" Alfred gave pause to the rest of his statement as he saw fumes literally rising out of Mattie's head. That, Alfred thought worriedly, was not good for his health. Did Canadian healthcare even cover that?

"Aller mourir dans un trou." Mattie paused for a moment before he stepped closer to his brother and with one hand, he pushed the American's chair so that the back legs were the only things that were keeping the man upright. America felt the sudden bout of weightlessness and uneasiness settled into his stomach. It was a truly horrifying scenario, if it wasn't for the fact that somewhere, deep down inside Canada's pro-healthcare policy; Canada wasn't going to hurt him. (At least, that's what Alfred seemed to assume.) "Là encore, je devrais peut-être brûler votre Maison Blanche à nouveau, hein?"

The sound of manly scream and a tumbling chair resonated throughout the room as the rest of the nations looked on in amusement.

"Finland," Russia called out as he neared the much shorter man. The tall Russian had an amused look on his weathered face. Lines had formed on his ageless skin due to the stress for preparing for the Olympics. "I would like to speak with you."

"Yes," Finland replied in question. While he wanted to be polite as possible towards his host, he still wanted to go visit his hockey team to make sure that they were ready to take bronze instead of America. "Did you need something?"

"Do you know why America and Canada were fighting in the break room earlier? Brothers should not fight, da?" The Russian looked frightening when he said, but the Finnish man paid that little detail not mind as he glanced at his watch quickly.

"I think it had something to do with a bet, something called Bieber, and a White House?" The petite blonde could only sigh as he stared up at the Russian. "I am pretty sure it had something to do with the loser getting a Bieber." The Fin laughed before cursing at his watch. Apologizing quickly, Finland said, "I am sorry, but I need to go wish my team good luck against America."

Russia could only look down at the man running down the hall in confusion.

"A bet?" Suddenly, a horrible smile planted itself on Russia's visage as he fought down rising chuckles. If Canada was able to fight his brother on an issue like that over hockey, then he should join in the fun too! "Time to make fun of little Alfred," the big boned man sang aloud as he skipped down the halls with his customary pipe.

Translations:

"Would you like it if I spoke French?"

"Go die in a hole. Then again, maybe I should burn down your White House again, eh?"

This is based on the Sochi 2014 Winter Olympics and the hockey game between America and Canada. (Just for future posterity who wants to know the history of this story). This fanfiction does not at all depict any of my political views on the world. At all. Have a nice day.