The ride back home was quiet, and America made a note to head back after dropping (Y/N) off at home to pick up her car. After all, she never liked it when she had to leave something behind after work, or she would only go back and get it.

But now, she just wanted to spend the rest of the day alone, and America can understand that.

While driving, he glanced at (Y/N), finding her staring out the window, unseeing, a clear sign that she was tired, and she was leaning her head against the window too. He frowned slightly.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

(Y/N) glanced over at him a moment, before mutely shaking her head.

"Do you...want to talk about it?" he asked then.

Tiredly, (Y/N) held up a hand. Not...right now, please.

America nodded. "Well, when you ready to talk about it, just let me know."

(Y/N) tiredly nodded and went back to staring out the window.

When the house came into sight, America turned off the car and got out, moving to the other side to help (Y/N) out before ushering her inside. When he came inside, she was walking towards their bedroom, closing the door behind her, and where he faintly heard the sounds of sheets rustling.

A good idea to take a nap, especially what happened today.

America knew that (Y/N) couldn't really understand how he could get through the day after something happened between him and someone else, and wanted to chalk it up as experience, which was mostly true. As he walked to the kitchen to get started on cooking, America also supposed that it was because he was born knowing how to talk to people, how to deal with those who were not in their right state of mind.

He wasn't as empathetic as his wife, it was that simple, as much as he hated to admit it.

While getting out the pots and pans, America heard footsteps heading towards the room.

"Amerika-san?"

America looked up, seeing Japan looking at him with confused concern. "Is everything arright?" he asked.

America stood up, sighing mutely. "Don't worry about that Japan," he said. "It's not something you need to be concerned about."

Japan's lips pursed. "Your wife came home earry," he said. "Not to mention she rooked very tired, and not just physicarry."

God damn it Japan.

America turned away, once again sighing mutely. "(Y/N) didn't have a good day, and I was called to bring her home."

He felt Japan's confusion return. "What happened?" he asked.

"Bad customer," said America, his tone telling Japan to drop the subject.

Thankfully, Japan got the hint. "What are you making for runch then?" he asked.

America smiled. "I'm making some bagel rolls, they're one of (Y/N)'s favorites."

"Bager rorrs?"

"They're almost like a pizza," America explained. "Though, instead of using actual pizza dough, you just cut up a bagel, put some tomato sauce on them, add some cheese and even some of the items you would see on other pizzas if you want, and then put them in the oven for several minutes."

Japan was silent a moment. "I...see," he said. "I suppose this wirr taste good."

America rolled his eyes, but said nothing else.

He supposed that Japan never really heard of bagel rolls, or the ones he did try didn't exactly suit his tastes. America supposed it was the latter, since Japan was known to be a picky eater at times, almost as bad as the other nations, though he considered himself lucky that he wasn't as bad as (Y/N) when it came to food, as whenever the situation called for it, Japan could eat anything, just like the others, even him.

America remembered a certain point in the past, when he and (Y/N) were getting to know each other, and someone (a.k.a her ex-friend) thought it would be a good idea to have (Y/N) eat a soup that was popular in her area.

Now, they had been at a restaurant, and America knew that while (Y/N) was starving, she had stared at the soup like it was poison, and refused to pick up the spoon inside the bowl.

America had offered to eat the soup for her since it wasn't to her taste (after all there was no point in wasting food), but (Y/N)'s friend was not having it. She had grabbed the spoon, scooped up some of the thick broth, and held it to (Y/N)'s mouth.

The smell alone seemed to trigger the gag reflex in (Y/N), for her face started to turn a sickly shade of green.

Before America could order the girl to back off, she had forced the spoon into (Y/N)'s mouth.

As soon as the spoon touched her tongue, (Y/N) had gagged, immediately spitting the soup onto her friend and coughing, gagging over and over until she was sure that she wasn't going to throw up. She then swiped up her water and drank until she was satisfied the taste was gone and more than half of the cup was empty. All the while, her friend had screamed in surprise and horror had what had happened, and America will never forget the look of utter disgust on her face as she glared at (Y/N).

"Look what you did you bitch!" she hissed, moving to hit her. "You ruined my shirt!"

America had reacted before she could land the hit on the cowering (Y/N), glaring at her with his own form of disgust and anger, and making sure to squeeze her wrist until he heard the bones creaking.

The woman had flinched, demanding he release her, that he was hurting her.

Hearing her words only fueled America's anger.

"I'm hurting you?" he had repeated, his voice dangerously low. "I'm not the one who attempted to hit her friend just because she ruined a shirt. You tried forcing her to do something that she didn't want to do, and you're worried about your fucking shirt?"

"But she's a freak!" the girl protested. "She's nothing but a vermin!"

"The only vermin I see here is you," growled America, once more squeezing her wrist until the bones were threatening to break, causing her to cry out in pain. "And in my opinion, you don't deserve to be anywhere near her if you treat her like this, and over something that she did not ask for either!"

Without waiting for a reply, he had roughly grabbed the bitch by her hair and dragged her to the entrance of the restaurant, ignoring her cries of pain, and ignoring the other patrons and the employees, he threw her out the door, narrowly missing having her run through the window and into the street.

He ended up having to deal with the police after that, though he had been acquitted after a video of him defending (Y/N) was given to them. Though he did get some ugly looks after that, none of which he cared about.

They meant nothing to him, not as much as (Y/N)'s grateful expression, especially when he offered to eat the rest of the soup and ordered what she really wanted.

Still, it made America wonder what she even saw in that woman to even allow her to be her friend.

America snorted to himself as he placed the bagel rolls into the oven and put in the right time to let them cook. It didn't matter now, especially now that they were married and (Y/N) became more careful about who she associated herself with.

Still...America hated how he couldn't help her with everything.

He was supposed to be a fucking nation, and yet he found himself unable to keep a close eye on his own wife at the times when she desperately needed it.

He hated it, so very much.