*Authors note as the bottom of this chapter if you're interested!

"You ungrateful bloody WHORE!" A British accent spat out towards a boy a bit taller than him. The boy now angrily stepped outside the walls of his childhood bedroom and into the massively long hallway. Now walking away, the voice continued.

"AMERICA! You listen to me this instant! You have NO right to ignore me like this! Especially after all of the RUBBISH you have done here!" The British man followed the American, who had now stopped dead in his tracks.

"Well, I'M SORRY I don't want to speak about my PERSONAL life with YOU! I ain't a kid anymore pa! I got my own FREEDOMS and can take care of myself thank you very much!" The American spat back, spinning on his heel to now face the brit. America made sure to emphasize the "Freedoms'' part of what he just said, seeing his father's face turn from sour to pure hatred. Britain knew what his eldest son was doing, and it was working.

Ever since America, the eldest son of Britain and France, decided to stop by the lovely house of Buckingham Palace with his brother, it's been nothing but arguing between the father-son duo. France and Canada being poor bystanders to their arguments have gotten used to the tough two weeks that the American has stayed. The mother-son duo always having a cup of tea, turning the arguments into a game of who would win it this time. So far, Canada has always won their games with America winning most arguments.

"Well, my apologies for being a good father and caring for my son. I'm just concerned about what you're doing under my roof-" Britain was rudely cut off by America, who held out his hand to make it seem like it was speaking.

"Emimimimimi, oh, you hear that? That's all the nonsense I'm hearin' right now. Poor old man, ain't all the talking tiring for you? Go make yourself a cup of tea and talk with your favorite child, before I mention what happened those oh-so-fateful years ago in Boston.."

America said towards his father, putting down his hand and crossing his arms. He glared at the man from behind his sunglasses, knowing Britain couldn't see his eyes, but still doing so. He shifted his body weight onto his left leg as he looked over at his father smugly, the biggest most egotistical smirk crossing his face, as he waited for a response from the older.

"You ungrateful twat! After all, I've done for you and this is how you treat me? What about your bloody mother? You and your bonkers actions are tainting our family name! Do you think about anyone but yourself? What about your brothers, huh? You stupid twat."

Britain spews out, his words laced with poison. What Britain said to his oldest, felt like a stab through the chest, it reminded him of when he was still a young boy getting scolded for doing the tiniest thing "wrong." Never understanding what he did wrong in the first place, nor ever getting any type of explanation.

"Don't you bring our family into this, THIS is between US! No one else!" America's smirk was wiped off his face, he was now as angry as his father. He shifted his body weight to his other leg, hands now in the pockets of his favorite zipper-up hoodie fidgeting with the pair of wired earbuds that resided there.

"Oh I'll bring MY family into this, after all, you're the one risking our reputation! What if someone saw you, huh? The controversy? The allegations? If anything I deserve a bloody apology!" The Brit said, cockiness and pride in his words. Oh, Britain thought he won this argument but America wouldn't allow that to happen in a million years.

America took out his wired earbuds from his pocket, which were incredibly tangled, and his phone. He plugged the earbuds into his phone. Unlocking it, the low battery notification popped up, quickly clicking the low battery mode to get rid of the pop-up. He opens his music app and shuffles his favorite playlist. Van Halen's Mean Street started playing as America put both of the buds in his ears, turning the volume all the way up and tightening the grip on his phone. Britain looked at him in confusion at his eldest son's actions.

"Now, what do you think you're doing?" Britain asked his son in confusion. America turned around and flipped off his father as he began walking off. Britain let out an audible gasp as he spoke up to try and make sure his son heard these words.

"God dammit America! We aren't done speaking!" The brit shouted, the shout echoing throughout the mostly empty halls. He tried and attempted to catch up to America but to no prevail. Britain's cane and his permanent limp were slowing the poor old man down. But he was still determined to catch up to his child.

America on the other hand turned up his music to the loudest possibility, humming along with the familiar tune and picking up his pace. America quietly swore under his breath. Well great, this argument ruined his entire night and his future plans to stay here until the next UN meeting. He slowly looked behind him, realizing he was in a completely new location with no angry father in sight. America sighed, kind of feeling bad for his dear ol' dad but also resenting him. He stopped dead in his tracks, knowing the chase was over and leaned against the nearest wall.

He takes out one of his earbuds and turns down his music to a more reasonable level, taking a few deep breaths to try and regain his thoughts. Every time he tried to visit his father and mother it always ended in fighting and arguing with his father. Now, he has to go tell Canada that the plans have changed and he will be flying back to his home country with or without him. But before he even considers breaking the news to his younger brother, he needs to figure out where the fuck he is.

The palace and his childhood home were always way too big for him to remember the entire layout. And in his fit of rage and trying to get away from his father, he just walked wherever the path led him. Oh well, maybe wandering around the palace for a bit will help him calm down. This had to be one of the worst arguments he and his father have had, and he was experiencing way too many emotions right now for him to try and talk to anyone else.

The American took another deep breath, trying to ground himself and his thoughts, and pushed himself off the wall. He looked down at his phone and opened it regretfully with its low battery. Quickly going to loop some random playlist he had for background noise.

America sighs, again, and begins a journey to find the place where his mother and Canada usually hung out at. The gardens were a beautiful place and an even better place to have some evening tea and gossip, but it was on the first floor.

He tried to think, ok, so the bedroom that he was currently staying in is on the third floor of the palace. Surely, he hasn't gone up a floor in his fit of rage. He began to speed walk around the halls trying to find a big open window, or any window for that fact, as he passed many rooms and palace workers. He felt their judgmental gaze on his back as he passed them, and he began to wonder what stupid thing they would say about him now.

And then he thought, why should he care? He's America and they are working for his dad, trapped in the confinements of the palace. Sure, it's very beautiful at first, but it gets boring and cramped after so long.

He promptly shrugged off their stares and slowed down his pace, approaching a big window. Once right in front of it, he began to stare at the outside. Damn did this remind him of his childhood, but that's alright. He's totally over it now. Staring out into the open nature his eyes wandered over many old trees and flowers which led his eyes to the beautiful lake, a staple of the outdoor garden. Admiring all the nature made him realize, he is maybe about still three stories up.

Letting out a sigh of relief, he took his eyes off the beautiful landscape and down to his zipper-up hoodie. He unzipped it halfway, letting it slide off one of his shoulders, letting the black tank top and his iconic dog tags he always wore shined in the light.

He took out the tangled earbuds away from his ear, now realizing his phone had promptly died, and shoved them both into the contents of his pockets. Brushing off the sweatpants he wore and looking down at his black combat boots, he continued his journey. Yea, America is still not used to British time zones, only waking up maybe two or three hours ago max, despite being here for almost two weeks.

America eyed every entrance and room he passed, looking for the downward stairs. The palace did have elevators or "lifts" as his father called them, but they were always way too small and cramped for the tall countries' liking. During his journey, he began to listen and take in the environment around him, and he slowly began to realize he was being followed.

-------------------------------------------------------

so, this is my first ever fanfic that i have written and will be posted so ill love any type of feedback. anyways, a little introduction. im kitt and i love writing, i havent been in the ch fandom for long and thats basically it

this is way more slice of life type of things, and the actually "rusame" part wont be mentioned until later chapters, so if you were looking for a quick cute kinda story then this might not be for you! please take everything i say in this fic light-heartedly(dunno if thats a word) as its just for fun.

im hoping my schedule will be maybe once or twice a week, i have no set day yet. but this first week i will be posting a lot just because i have many chapters already piled up. any questions id be happy to answer:)

thankyou and i hope you enjoy:))