You will notice this is much more lighthearted than my other story even though it starts with a similar premise of a failing America. -laughs- Based on an idea my friend and I came up with, which was originally just a joke about how England secretly wants America and has been waiting for him to get weak enough to recapture. I'll be expanding on this idea. This started with the intention of being a pure crack fic and somehow got very serious in some parts. So I guess it will slip between the two.

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or its characters now or ever (and this is extended to my Human Sunflower fic as I forgot to put one in there)

America does not immediately get up when he hears the knock at the door. He knows that every second he delays answering it the longer he can delay the shame and humiliation that would follow soon after. The knocking comes again, sharper and more impatient than before.

America gulps and pools his courage. He couldn't let something like this intimidate him, he was the hero after all! And even though current events were threatening to turn him into a fallen hero, he still was brave enough to do what had to be done, even if it meant humiliating himself in front of him. America stands and pulls himself to his full height, adjusting Texas and brushing his golden blond hair back with one sweep of the hand.

"Alright!" His voice echoes more than he had expected at his resolve building yell.

Even walking to the door he can feel it... It was getting worse by the day. His stomach churns uneasily and his usual infinite confidence was starting to fail him. Things were spiraling, had been for months. No, realistically, they had fallen out of his hands years ago and he had just never taken the time to see it. Too preoccupied with this and that, too over-sure of himself to ever consider that it might even happen.

America finally answers the door after the person on the other side bangs on it angrily. "Finally! It's about time you twat. Don't make your guests wait so long if you invited them in the first place! You never did have any manners."

America grimaces. "Hello England. Come in."

If England notices his unusually demur attitude he hides it under another wave of criticisms as he walks through the door and into America's house. He did always love to nitpick just about everything there was about America.

The two walk further into the house, England immediately heading to the usual room. He collapses into his usual chair, shoving a pillow with an Eagle design impatiently aside. "So what is it this time? Getting yourself into more messes? It better be as important as you made it sound. I have a lot of problems too you know. This recession is really killing my country right now."

America flinches at mention of the recession. "That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about. It's been getting pretty bad here..."

England clicks his tongue in disgust. "Oh don't tell me you're actually going to ask for a hand out? How humble of you. Thought you were too good to ask anything of me. So tell me, how much do you intend to ask for?"

Beneath the disgust is partially concealed delight at the prospect that America actually needed him. There's a sick feeling in the pit of America's stomach as he prepares himself to tell England the truth. He would never live down what he was about to say. But it had to be done. For his people! He was the hero and their safety mattered more than his damaged pride.

"Well?"

America sits across from England, lacing his fingers together. "England- No. Arthur..." England seems taken aback by the use of his human name. "I need your help. Desperately. And don't think I would be doing this if it wasn't my absolute last resort! Trust me, I'd do something if I could. But... I'm crumbling. My economy is falling down around my ears. I have no money Arthur. The country is coming apart. All of my resources have been spread out far too thin. If I don't do something soon then America might collapse completely. I can't let power hungry countries steal away pieces of my country while I'm too weak to stop them. And I am getting weak Arthur. I just... I don't have the strength I once did. Even my enthusiasm is fading. My boss has been scrambling to find a solution but I have to do my part too. I'm asking for damage control. If I don't stop this now it will be too late and I will fall as a world power. I can't let that happen to my people."

America sighs. Here came the hard part. "So I'm asking, no, I... I'm begging you for your help! Please Arthur, help me keep my country afloat while we get through this rough patch. It doesn't just benefit me, it's useful to a lot of the rest of the world as well!" He is hasty to add. "And, and it wouldn't just be you, you're just the first person I'm asking. I want to ask Matthew and maybe even Francis. Then I have some favors I can call in. If all of you pitch in... I hate asking for your charity but I can't think of anything else. I'm getting desperate Arthur, I feel so weak..."

England takes the first good look at America since he had gotten there. America did indeed look very drained. The luster and exuberance that had once poured from him in bucketfuls was severely dimmed. America lowers his head in embarrassment. He's sure he'll never live down England's gloating. But at least he knows there's a good chance Arthur will indeed help him. If for nothing else than a slightly wrinkled sense of nostalgia.

England is silent for a long moment. "That must have hurt you terribly to ask that of me."

America can't bring himself to look up, to let England see how true his words are. Then quite suddenly, England begins to laugh. It starts as a low chuckle, evolving into a full blown cackle. It is a sound of pure mirth.

America's head snaps up at the sound. He is insulted and puzzled at the hurtful outburst. "This is no laughing matter Arthur!"

England puts a hand to his forehead as he calms himself. Finally he pulls his hand away, giving America a twisted smirk. "Oh you misunderstand Alfred," he purrs silkily. "I am not laughing at your current predicament. I am laughing because it has finally come."

America looks at him blankly. "What's come?"

England is on his feet and across the room before America realizes what's happening. He grabs America by the hair, forcing him to look up into his face. "Why, the day that you will be coming home."

America's eyes widen. "What the fuck are you talking about? Have you gone bat-shit bonkers? I said I needed help, I didn't say I wanted to join with you again!"

England tightens his grip on the others hair—such soft hair—causing him to wince. "Once again you are too stupid to get it. I've been waiting for this day for a long time. Ever since your little war of independence. The only reason I gave you up that day was because I knew someday I would be able to reclaim you. I've been waiting so patiently, repairing my relationship with you, watching, helping you, waiting. Now the day has come that I can take you back to my house. And this time I have no intention of letting you go!"

The next thing America knows he is being forced up and his lips are being violently crushed to England's. As England pulls away America spits. England was out of his fucking mind. He had to get away, tell someone. Matthew, France, someone. But England has no intention of letting America escape.

"I love you Alfred." He bashes him in the head with the blunt end of the lamp that sits on the side table.

America falls to the ground, stunned. If he wasn't so damn weak he probably would have been able to recover faster, to resist more, but that strength is no longer there. England looks around the room for something to restrict his captive. His eyes light up when they fall on the full-sized American flag hanging on the wall.

"How appropriate." He rips it from the wall and is quick to shred it, creating the proper restraints.

America dazedly gets to his knees, hatred coursing through his veins as he is forced to watch the defacing of his flag. The flag that he loves so dearly and that means so much to him. The world spins and tilts with each movement. "That's just low! You're a son-of-a-bitch England!"

England smirks. "What, it's not Arthur anymore? Don't worry, I'm doing you a favor you know. You'll be safe at my house. I'll make sure everything is taken care of. Your people... and especially you."

He presses his boot on America's back and forces him back to the ground. "Cheers love, you've been shanghaied."

He makes quick work of binding America's arms tightly behind his back and gagging him. The hardest part is getting him onto his feet and steady. America might be severely weakened, but he was still heavy as hell. He wouldn't be able to carry him all the way. He marches America out of his own house, steadying him to reduce the staggering as much as possible. The sun seems particularly bright as they enter the front yard. It strikes England as an excellent omen. America has started to struggle with renewed vigor.

"You always were obnoxiously persistent." He elbows him hard in the stomach. America doubles over and only England's grip on him keeps him from falling over. "I don't know why you insist on defying me. You belong to me now."

Suddenly a childish voice speaks from behind them, sending goosebumps across both of their bodies. "You're wrong. Both of you belong to me."

England and America are both grabbed tightly from behind and pulled into the broad chest of Russia. The two of them look up at him in horror. "R-Russia, what are you doing here?!"

Russia smiles sweetly. "Isn't it obvious? I'm going to become one with both of you."

America cries out against his gag and England tries to free his arms. Just then a new voice speaks up, making Russia freeze.

"Oh Nii-san, you're wrong. You see, you belong to me!" Belarus jumps on her brother's back, grabbing him around the neck. "Nii-san, I love you, marry me!"

Russia chokes as his air supply is cut off. His hands fly up to loosen his sister's grip on his neck. "B-Belarus, stop it!"

England quickly grabs Alfred and pulls him close. Where was their ride? After a quick glance around he finally spots it. Mustering all his strength he takes America in his arms and makes a run for it. Russia continues to struggle with Belarus. "Marry me Nii-san, forget those two. You have me!"

Russia reaches out towards the fleeing figures. "No, Belarus, no! They're getting away!"

Meanwhile England is struggling to get America onto a unicorn only he can see. Finally he throws him haphazardly over the side and jumps on the back. "Go now! Before the Russian gets free! Come my bride, I shall take you home! I'll even let you eat all the hamburgers you could possibly desire!" He lets out a boisterous laugh now that they were well on their way to escaping.

America's eyes bulge as they lift into the air and are taken away by invisible means. 'Bride, what the hell does he mean bride?! Damn you England you're going to pay for this! And what the hell am I riding?!'

As the two of them disappear Russia continues his struggle to push Belarus off. "They got away!"

"Marry me Nii-san! Marry me!"

Russia cries, his whole body shuddering. "Go hooooome!"

AN: Gotta say, I don't know what it is but I loves me some uke America. I also like a dominant England, particularly an unrequited love dominant England. See you soon!