A/N: In March 2018, Sergei Skripal (former Russian double agent for the UK) and his daughter Yulia were poisoned in a park in Salisbury England with a Novichok nerve agent. Thankfully, everyone survived.

This story is less on the event itself and England being pissed at Russia.

"America, America have you heard?" England demanded the instant said country stepped into the conference room.

"I know." America replied with a heavy sigh. He shrugged his suit jacket off and hung it over the back of his chair, leaning as he did so as if he couldn't stand without the furniture's aid. "I mean, he lasted much longer than everyone expected, but it still hurts."

"…pardon?"

"Yeah, yeah, laugh all you want about my naïve optimism, but I still think he left us too soon." America huffed as he yanked his chair out from underneath the table and all but collapsed into the seat.

"Who in blazes are you talking about?" England snapped as America laid his head on the surface of the conference table.

"Um, Stephen? Stephen Hawking." America answered, tilting his head so that he could still see England without lifting it. "What, were you not?"

"No, you buffoon! I was talking about the British citizen who was murdered last week by Russia!"

"I didn't kill anybody." A gentle voice sang from across the table.

America squinted his eyes as his gaze shifted back and forth between the two speaking nations. "Um, what?"

England released a weary sigh, trying to exhale as much frustration as he was physically able, and explained. "A retired double agent of mine was attacked in Salisbury, along with his daughter. The chemical used was from Russia."

"Dude, that sucks. It really does, especially about his daughter, but even retired spies know the dangers in-"

"He used a WMD."

"Russia, what the fuck?"

"I did no such thing." Russia defended with a calm voice and relaxed posture, the only clue to his true feelings towards the accusation could be detected in his cold, dead stare.

"Yes! Yes, you did! And, by God, I won't sit here and let you get away with whatever you want anymore. You are finally going to receive consequences for your actions!" England snapped, slamming his open palm on the table throughout his statement to better punctuate its severity.

"You are going to punish me for something I didn't do?" Russia smiled placidly. "How medieval of you, England."

"Stop lying!" England face was starting to turn a flushed red. "First, we're going to protest your little World Cup!"

"We?" Russia positively beamed at the pronoun.

"Yes! Myself and the 10 European Union teams!"

"Speak for yourself, England." France spoke up from his right.

"What?" England snapped towards his neighbor, his neck popping from the sudden jerk. "But it's a strike? You bloody love those things!"

"Oui, but it is the World Cup. I've been waiting for a rematch against Germany for four years." France coolly replied, tossing a curl of his hair to better enunciate just how flippant he was being towards England's problem.

"But, but what about the solidarity of the EU?"

"There is still plenty of solidarity within the EU, mon ami, but I'm afraid you're not a part of the EU."

"Oooh, shots fired." America called out.

"And you," England turned his focus to the nation slouching on his left. "What about your support?"

"My support?" America asked, pointing a finger at himself to doubly ensure the subject of England's ire.

"Yes. Your public statement? Your response to this crime? Your whole World Police Schtick!"

America actually looked annoyed, if not a little confused. "I thought you wanted me to stop doing that?"

"Obviously not!"

America sighed and pushed up from the table he'd been lying on, overcompensating the correction and ending up with his chair leaning on his back two legs –arms crossed over his chest— and his eyes staring at the ceiling.

"Look, I don't think attempting assassination on one retired spy is worth all of this…but the usage of a WMD in a public space really can't be overlooked." America lolled his head to the side so that he could see England in his peripheral. "What kind of WMD was it?"

"Novichok."

"Hm, and did you catch the guy who released it?"

"…"

"?"

"Um, we didn't exactly catch the culprit."

"So then how do you know it was Russia who sent him?" America asked, shifting his gaze back up to the ceiling.

"Because the chemical was made in Russia!" England slammed his palm on the table again, but America still wouldn't look at him.

"CAN be made in Russia, but not necessarily WAS. Anything else?"

"Since when did you need a reason to hate Russia?"

America finally brought his attention back down from the ceiling, but instead closed his eyes with a shrug. "Since I've been trying to be diplomatic for once. Keeping friendly relations with Russia and China, hell my boss even has a talk with North Korea's boss coming up. I wouldn't want to ruin these negotiations on a maybe."

"You hypocritical cunt!" England screamed.

"Dude, not cool." America sighed.

"So that's it then? You're just going to leave me to deal with this on my own?"

America opened his eyes and shifted his gaze to his left, away from England. "No comment."

"No comment? No bloody- that's it! Square up!"

America brought his eyes back to England at this declaration, only to see England not speaking to him – as he'd thought— but across the table to Russia.

"Um, England-" America began.

"Let's go." England interrupted with a snarl. "I don't have all day. If you want to start something, let's start something!"

"Whoa, take it easy there." America warned, going so far as to stand up.

"No! No I will not take it easy. This pillock is sitting here, after sanctioning the murder of my people with a WMD, and you want me to just take it easy?!"

"No man, I'm just suggesting maybe not starting a bare-knuckle brawl with each other? Isn't the whole point of history supposed to be learning from our mistakes?"

"What does that have to do with anything?" England shouted; fists still raised but attention more on America than the still-seated Russia.

"Um, hello? Doesn't this sound at least a little familiar? Someone gets assassinated, someone gets upset, someone blames someone else, next thing you know you've got a world war on your hands."

"That's not how it happened!"

"Well, speaking as an outsider, yeah, that's kind of exactly how it happened. At least with the first one."

"You weren't even there!" England snapped as he brought his hands down and onto America's shirt collar.

"Ah jeez, never thought I'd say this, but can we please just start the meeting already?" America yelped as England started to shake him.

Germany, the host of this conference, walked into the room with Italy at that moment. He took one look at the scene and capitulated to Italy's badgering for a quick cappuccino. He was in desperate need of caffeine if the day was already this far gone.

A/N:I wrote this way back in March 2018 as the investigation unfolded, but could never figure out an ending. I'm getting tired of trying to force it and just wrote a little something (it seems that, when in doubt, just have Germany face-palm at the other's antics).

At the time of writing, America really did say "no comment" to the event. By the time America did take a stance on the issue, it wasn't really covered on public radio anymore.