Disclaimer: Hidekaz Himaruya owns Hetalia. :(

England was early for the G-8 meeting as usual. Early, in this case, meaning right on time, since he expected everyone else was going to be at least 20 minutes late after last night's fiasco. He sat with his feet propped up on the table and his hands locked behind his head. Overall, the party yesterday had been bearable - in truth, it had been 'awesome,' to use America's favorite word, though England would never admit that to him - and he found himself feeling better than he normally did the entire month of July. Though the first half had torn England apart inside (he had to rush into the bathroom a few times to scream at his reflection, and he had been embarrassed when Japan walked in the one time he had forgotten to lock the door), the talk he had with America during the fireworks display had left him feeling lighthearted and, for some reason, giddy. Then the party went to all hell when Prussia went on his rampage. England was busy helping victims into ambulance cars and whatever available vehicles were nearby for the rest of the night. Everything taken into account, however, England would have given the party an overall B-, no, C+. He wanted to leave room for improvement.

The door clicked open. England immediately took his feet of off the table and pretended to be looking over some of the files that had been on the table before he had arrived. He stole a glance upwards and saw the back of America's head as he closed the door.

"I'm surprised you're here before everyone else. They are all late, but I expected you would be one of the last bloody HELL what in God's name happened to you?!"

England snorted and slapped his hand over his mouth to stop himself from bursting into laughter. It was America eyebrows, or rather, lack thereof. He looked totally beat, and the ends of his hair were blackened in some places, but his eyebrows were totally gone. Not a trace, not a single hair left. Prussia was probably harder to take down than America would have cared to mention.

England fell out of his chair in maniacal laughter. He shoved his face into the crook of his arm and pounded his fist on the ground, and his body convulsed uncontrollably. America marched over and lifted England by the collar.

"These are the mark of a hero, y'know," America hissed as he pointed at his forehead.

"M-mark of a hero? Th-there's n-nothing there, idiot!" Tears of severe joy streamed down England's face.

America let England drop to the floor. England bumped his head on the table on the way to the ground, but it was just so goddamn funny that the pain just got mixed up in the delirium.

"At least I don't have caterpillars sitting above my eyes," America shot back weakly.

England glanced up at him, eyes curved up in deranged happiness. "O-oh God, oh God, stop that look, I-I can tell you're trying to furrow your brows and-" England hooted hysterically.

"Ve, ve, what is wrong with England?"

America didn't turn around, wondering if he'd be able to escape to the bathroom without Veneziano noticing.

"Why is Angleterre on the ground? Does he not know that is not proper to act like that at a meeting?"

"Well, England seems happy today, da?" said a cheerful voice.

As more countries came in, England's laughter grew louder and coarser. When he started coughing for air and gasping like a fish between episodes, they gathered around him with a bit of concern. America took the chance to run out of the room and into one of the restrooms. He pulled out a sharpie and stared at the mirror.

"Okay.. I'll draw them on as thin as possible, and maybe if I have my back turned to face the board most of the time, they won't even noti-"

The door opened. America saw Japan frozen with his foot halfway through the air, staring at America's reflection. America drooped.

"America-san, your.. Your eyebr-"

"Yeah, yeah, I know! Can you just- Help me draw them back on?" he growled, shoving the black sharpie towards him. Japan took the pen with an unreadable expression, but America could tell that somewhere, deep down, he was laughing it up like England. At least he had the tact to conceal it. Japan uncapped the pen and placed the tip near America's forehead.

"Are you sure that you would prefer I did this, America-san?"

"Your hands are steadier than mine. Of course I'm sure." He didn't mean to snap, but he was frustrated with the whole situation. He had saved the day yesterday, yet all people would notice were his missing eyebrows. Can't a hero get a little appreciation? Japan concentrated and started making fine strokes over his eyes. America stood as still as he could, not wanting to make something he knew would look bad look even worse.

"There. All done." America turned to the mirror. He had thick, multiple horizontal lines going across each eye. In other words, a disfigured clone of England's.

"Erm, Japan, why did you draw my eyebrows all thick like that? And so many lines.."

"You do not like them?"

"Well, they're kinda noticeable."

"I think they are cute." America stared at the Asian nation suspiciously. What was Japan trying to say?

".. You have really weird tastes. But thanks anyway. Hopefully no one else will notice my brows turned black and multiplied." America sighed and left the restroom, ready for another round of being laughed. England would probably suffocate when he saw this. Ah well. Such tragedies were common on the path of a misunderstood hero.

Japan has a tendency of needing to use the bathroom at the most inconvenient moments. :D