A day had passed since the whole incident with Mexico and all of the Americans were getting on with it as if it was a normal occurrence, with the exception of Charles, who was still fairly bitter and chose to read instead of socialising. Again. Only three of the inhabitants were awake and downstairs by mid-morning. Allen and Amelia were talking in the living area, acting on the whole 'let's get to know each other' plan, and it wasn't going too badly. They'd been talking for no more than ten minutes, however, when there was knocking at the door, notably forceful and loud.

They didn't know what to do. Charles didn't acknowledge it, and the other two weren't sure who would've travelled into the middle of nowhere to find the house. What if it was another nation armed with more than just a gun this time? Without a word being spoken, Allen and Amelia fought over who would investigate and find out who was at the door, seemingly desperate to get inside. In the end, Amelia remained sat in her seat, drink in hand, and watched anxiously as Allen approached the door.

There was another knock. It was melodic this time, quieter and calmer, and bewilderingly so. Before Allen could try and see who it was, however, a voice called out.

"Al? Al, are you there?!"

"Nation." Allen sighed to himself.

He unlocked the door and opened it, a cold breeze drifting into the house. When he looked at who it was, Allen momentarily froze. In his mind, a quick series of collided, muddled memories of an older brother played and he thought for just a moment that the person at the door was that same brother.

"Matt?"

"Allen? Hi, uh, is Alfred there?" Matthew asked.

'Oh... Right... Wrong Canadian...'

"I dunno. He might be upstairs. He hasn't come down this morning." Allen said.

He felt his heart sink a little when he realised that he was talking to Matthew and not his own similarly named brother. That was one thing he was really struggling to understand. How could he possibly have had a family or known anyone at all, if he had never physically existed? He didn't know. But what Allen did know is that he missed his dysfunctional world. A lot.

He let Matthew in with a yawn. "Is everything alright?" he asked.

"I heard about the incident with Mexico. I wanted to make sure everyone was still in one piece." Canada replied.

"Eh, Charles' head got blown off but that was it, really."

"W-What?!"

"He's joking." Amelia said from across the room. "Not that it's a very funny joke. Charles did actually get hurt, it just wasn't quite as extreme as his brains being splattered everywhere."

"I am sat right here, you know." Charles iterated, lowering his book and staring at the other people in the room. He just wanted silence so he could read. Was that too much to ask? "Let's see how you like it when people start describing you with your guts leaking from your abdomen..."

"Woah, why the hell are we talking about that kinda stuff?"

Someone came down the stairs in a fashion that probably could've been quieter, but then, the others didn't expect anything less from Alfred. The blonde was America by name an nature. When his semi-tired eyes landed on the only non-American in the room, Alfred frowned in confusion.

"Wait, Mattie? What are you doing here?" he asked. He didn't remember asking his brother around, much less so for a morning visit.

"I'm here to make sure you're all OK after yesterday." Matthew replied.

"Oooh... You heard about that?" Alfred said. He was mentally slapping himself for making a mistake he was so going to regret.

"Yeah, I did. But not from you." Canada frowned, crossing him arms as if ready to lecture his brother relentlessly.

"Who said?" Alfred asked cautiously.

"Cuba."

"Fucking- Cuba?!" he exclaimed.

"Yeah, funnily enough."

"What the hell were you talking to Cuba for?!"

"I'm allowed friends, Mom!" Matthew replied.

Alfred gasped. "OH GOD, THE COMMUNISTS HAVE STOLEN MY MAPLE-LOVING BROSKY FROM ME!"

They both paused and the room fell silent. Amelia and Allen were extremely confused, and Charles continued to ignore everyone. Alfred and Matthew burst out laughing at each other and gave each other a brotherly hug, clearing the air and allowing the others in the room to settle and relax a bit. Families...

"You stayin' for breakfast, Mattie?" Alfred questioned as he walked towards the kitchen to make a drink.

Matthew followed him, smiling. "Well, I'm quite happy to make some pancakes if everyone's up for it."

"Broooo, I think the others would replace me if they had your pancakes!" Alfred said.

"Hm, maybe I ought to make them soon, eh? The sooner they eat, the sooner they'll be saved from your contagious idiocy."

"Damn... Has Gil been giving you lessons on how to be savage or something?"

"Or something."

"Dude..." Alfred said. He paused for a second, looked his brother up and down and it suddenly clicked when he noticed a small item on Matthew's hand that he'd never seen before. "Noooo... No way..."

"Yes way." Matthew smiled meekly.

"Holy shit, when?!"

As the pair continued their conversation in the kitchen, the occasional laugh or squeal drifting into the rest of the house, the other three Americans that were awake continued as they were. Amelia was watching TV (some show about girls that Allen and Charles didn't understand or want to understand), Charles was reading a book entitled 'British Politics: Through the Ages' and Allen was almost falling asleep on the sofa, much to his own annoyance.

Was it awkward? I wouldn't say so. Charles and Amelia were far too occupied with their own business to acknowledge anything that was going on around them, fixated solely on what was in front of them. Unlike the others, however, Allen was busy focusing on something he couldn't see. His family. It was really gnawing away at him, each minute seeming to take longer to pass, a constant bombardment of images of people that weren't even real in his mind. But why did they feel real?

The auburn had lived as part of a small family who — despite what the rest of the world thought — cared about each other and would fight for each other no matter the cost. It was them against the world, sometimes even literally, and they didn't care. America, Canada, England and France united in a familial bond that for some reason, disappeared in mere seconds.

Allen could scarcely remember what had happened before he and the others all appeared in the real world. He was with his brother. No... No, that was a lie. He had been with his brother not long before that world basically collapsed. They'd argued. They did it a lot, and would usually reconcile after a couple days, but Allen didn't have a couple days after that argument. He had a couple hours, and he didn't even know it at the time. For him, thinking about that in the present time made him feel terrible, because, even if that world had been a lie, he'd never been able to apologise to Matt before he'd left. And he never would. For him, that was almost enough to cause a meltdown... And meltdowns were bad things.

"Hey, are you alright?" Amelia asked. She'd clearly noticed how distant Allen had become, and quickly grew concerned over her fellow American. "Wanna talk about anything?"

Allen shook his head. "Nah, it's fine." he replied quietly. "I think I just need a coffee or something."

"Yeah, me too. Want me to make them?"

"Uh, I don't mind..."

"Alright, I'll be back in a second." Amelia said, getting off the sofa. She turned to the other American before disappearing. "Do you want a drink or anything, Charles?"

"No thanks." he replied, barely glancing up from his book for more than a second.

With a light sigh, Amelia turned on her heel and continued into the kitchen, where she was surprised to find Alfred and Matthew still hugging it out, and Alfred seemingly freaking out over something. She laughed quietly to herself when Matthew was lifted from the ground and spun around by his brother.

"Are you two normally this excited to see each other?" she asked once they'd calmed down ever so slightly.

"Ah, well," Alfred began, wrapping an arm around Matthew, "this lil' dude has done the remarkably unexpected and snagged himself someone who is certainly gonna be in shock when they start living with him, I swear."

"Two things, Al. One, you're the little one here, remember?" Matthew responded. "Two, what do you mean 'when' they start living with me?"

"You're already living together?! Mattie, how come you've told me sod all about your relationship status, bro?!" Alfred questioned frantically, causing Matthew and Amelia to start laughing. He sounded so British, they couldn't help it! "What?! What's so funny, you two?!"

"I-I'm sorry for telling you 'sod all', Al," Matthew replied through bouts of laughter, "but if it's any consolation, Germany didn't know all the details either."

"Oh my god, both of you are so dead to me." Alfred sighed with a small smile.

"So, who's the lucky guy, Matthew?" Amelia enquired.

Bearing in mind there's been no mention of gender, Matthew was somewhat impressed that Amelia had placed his partner as being male, if not, a little startled. Deciding to explain, Matthew went into the story of how he met Gilbert, also known as Prussia, and how they'd managed to go from acquaintances to lovebirds over the past few years. It was a lovely story in Amelia's eyes. One of secret midnight meetings, sneaking around to see each other, handwritten notes and letters. She thought it was adorable, but chose not to say so aloud.

Once Matthew had finished, he decided it was time to actually start on breakfast. Alfred let him get on with it, making the drinks that several of them had been wanting and needing for a while, and Amelia thought of the Prussia from her previous imaginary world. Was imaginary the right word? Eh. She took both her coffee and Allen's back through to the living room and apologised for taking longer than expected. As Allen told her that it wasn't an issue, the fifth and final American wandered down the stairs looking more bright and refreshed than any of the others, and he wasn't even really a morning person.

"Morning all." he greeted.

"'Bout time you showed up, Jonesy." Allen replied before taking a sip of his hot drink. "I was starting to think you were dead."

"Not me, not ever." Jones said with a smile.

"Do you want a drink? I can quickly go and make you one if you like." Amelia said. He nodded in thanks and she went back to the kitchen once more.

Once Amelia had left the room, Jones took a seat on the sofa adjacent to Allen, pulling that same bullet from his pocket that he had a habit of fiddling with. The others had asked if it was perhaps a nervous tick, but he'd insisted that it wasn't anything to do with nerves. He merely liked the object. The fact that it had made the journey with him was fascinating in its own right to Jones, let alone the sentimental value of it; a value he chose to keep known only to himself.

Across the room, the unmistakable noise of a page flicking sounded. Charles had probably been studying the same book for a few hours, having woken up first before dawn had even broken. He came to the end of a paragraph about Winston Churchill after World War Two and bookmarked the page with a small piece of paper. He closed it and placed it down on the coffee table.

"Have you thought anymore on what I said?" he asked the other blonde in the room. Jones glanced at him in acknowledgment but said nothing. "I thought it was quite interesting, myself."

"Well yeah, it's interesting, but have all of the angles been fully analysed and the outcomes all figured out?" Jones questioned quietly. "Repercussions? Risks?"

"Almost, I believe. A conclusion should be reached soon enough." Charles nodded.

"Someone mind telling me what's going on?" Allen spoke up, unsure if he was being purposefully ignored, or if they'd genuinely forgotten he was sat right there with them. "The angles of what, exactly?"

"Ah, right... Allen, I have a hypothetical question for you." Charles said, glancing from the blonde to the auburn. His grey eyes seemed to look right through Allen, but they remained as sharp as ever.

Allen paused and waited. "Well?"

"If there was a war," Charles questioned slowly and modestly, "who would you fight with?"

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A/N: Has it really been over a week since I last updated this? I'm sorry ;w;
On a side note: British Politics... Yuck... Charles really needs to find some different and more interesting reading material...
Let me know what you think so far and I'll try to update sooner! ^w^