The Assasination Game

This Shit Ain't Funny

America sniffled a little and tried wiping his face. He patted himself down more to make himself looks more presentable. When he felt he looked...less like shit, he rang the doorbell.

Barely two seconds after, he could hear the sound of dogs barking and yipping.
Following that, sounds of someone bumbling around inside came, and he could hear her voice muttering in Spanish more clearly once she got closer to the door.
The door opened and two little dogs cane bouncing out, barking, yipping, and sniffing. He smiled a little and stretched his fingers a little so they brushed the top of their heads.

"Qué--! Oh, America," she immediately noticed his tear streaked cheeks, "Qué pasa mijo? What happened?"

"I-I just wanted to get out and talk to you," he said, before a another shaky breath passed through his mouth.

"Ay, ok. Come in, baby," she said with a smile, ushering her former son in her house.

They passed the living room, where Portugal sat watching some cheesy Spanish soap opera.
He had lowered the volume and turned on the sofa to see Spain and America passing by.

"Hey, Portugal," America said, giving a small wave as they went.

Portugal smiled and waved back.

Spain led him to the kitchen/dining room area, and sat him at the table.

"Okay, go ahead and say what you need to," she said, and walked just a little ways away to check on something in the oven. America watched her as she did so.

"It wasn't anything bad, I just...well I was out with friends. Canada was there too. We stood out too long, and Dad--uh, he yelled at us when we got home,' he explained.

"How long is too long?"

"We...didn't get back until this morning."

He got a smack upside the head from her.

"Hey!"

"Ay tonto! You can't expect to do that and not get punished."

"I know I just...that wasn't the bad part," he whispered. He could feel himself starting to tear up again.

Spain sighed, "what was bad?"

"Well I felt really bad, because when Dad was yelling at us, he told Canada that he expected me to be the type to do that sort of thing. Not him. And it just. I don't know, it struck a-a...a nerve? A chord, I don't know? It just kind of...hurt. Y'know?"

"Sí mijo, I do. But he was still worried. And you know you get into more trouble than your brother, right?"

"I do, but I just hate being known for doing stupid shit!"

"Hey, I'm right here," Spain warned.

"Sorry, I--"

"Baby, I get it. You don't like being put in a..how you say, a box? But that's how they see you. Sometimes, you can't change that. No te preocupes. Ok? Just be you," Spain smiled and kissed him on the head.

America let some tears go. Spain wiped them away with a small smile and scooted herself out of her seat.

"Tú quieres comida? I have some pan dulces* in my pantry," Spain offered.

America thought for a second and nodded. He hadn't gotten a chance to eat yet, anyways.

"One for Canada too," he said.

She nodded, picked out two and placed them in a brown paper bag.

"Now go home, okay? I know you're not supposed to be here."