A/N: Extreme Fluff Alert!

Just thought you should know. So it's US History time, so there's probably more of this to come.

Hope you enjoy it, please review!

-Once the Tables Turn, You're Alone-

"I'm going to be my own country one day!" America says cockily.

England sips at his tea and laughs at the little nation sitting at his dining room table and eating oatmeal that's much too hot.

"Is that so?" England asks. "Why don't you tell me about it?"

America takes a spoonful of oatmeal and shovels it into his mouth without blowing on it first. "I'm going to be really big!" he says, spreading his arms out as far as they go.

England chuckles. "I don't doubt that. Look at how big you are already."

America beams and takes another monstrous bite of oatmeal. "And really strong too! People won't have to worry about getting attacked. I'll protect them!" His mouth is still full, and bits of oats seep out the corners of his mouth. England's brow furrows at this.

"America, it isn't polite to speak with your mouth full." He sets his tea cup on the counter, walks to the table, and wipes America's mouth. "I wish you could remember that better."

America nods and finishes his breakfast. "I will, England!" he says. "I'm gonna go outside and play, okay?"

"But what do you say if you want to leave the table?" England asks.

America sighs. "May I please be excused?" He says it almost mockingly, but England is just happy he remembered to say please this time.

"You may." England says.

America jumps out of his seat and wraps his hands around England's legs. "Thanks, England." He says. He says something else, but it's lost in the fabric of England's trousers.

It sounds a lot like 'I love you' though.

. . .

England drops to his knees and America shoves the bayonet in his face.

"I hate you so much," America says. The wind carries the phrase much farther down the battlefield than originally planned, so the entire British Army hears it.

That's okay with America though. He wants them to hear.

"That's not at all what you were saying last night." England says, loud enough so that the bunch of farmers America calls soldiers hear.

America cheeks turn the color of England's uniform. He looks sown at England, who is glancing around the battlefield to see what America's army thinks of their country now.

America drives the butt of the gun into England's cheek, knocking him to the ground.

"I don't need you anymore!"America growls at him. "I never needed you!"

England scowls and kicks some of the surrounding sand into America's eyes. America hisses in pain and turns around, massaging his eyes for relief. He makes a motion for his army to attack, and they do.

America regains his sight and looks down at England. His eyes are red and irritated and partially black with specks of sand wedged in the sockets.

"And to think," he says. His voice cracks, like he's trying not to cry. "I used to look up to you."

England tries to sit up, to reason with him, this child, but America kicks him back down. He gets really close to England's ear, and he whispers, "Well…things certainly have changed, haven't they?"

He marches away to join the rest of his soldiers, leaving England alone in the bloodied battlefield.

And the sky cries bitter tears along with him.