Prussian Training 2

"OW, OW, OW, OW, OW!" America's painful complaints could be heard echoing all around Valley Forge, as he was forcibly dragged back to camp by his ear.  "C-come on!  OW!" the humiliated country finally lowered what pride he had left in order to plead with his tormentor.  "Give me a break!  AH!  OW!"  

America's superior was not moved by the pathetic attempt.  Every sentence his young protégé uttered only made the older nation pinch and tug harder.  "What have I told you about using your bayonet to roast marshmallows?!" Prussia angrily repeated himself.  It was the same question that he had surprised America with when the teenager had been found hiding out in the woods moments before.

"But it was only—OW!—TWO!" America argued.  

Wrong answer.    

Prussia instantly responded to the mouthing off by giving an extra hard pull on America's abused ear.

"OUCH!  STOP IT!" America screeched.  

Prussia just gave another hard, warning jerk.  Oh, he wasn't planning on stopping anytime soon.  The fuming Prussian continued to give firm tugs on the ear to make sure his struggling captive kept moving.   

"OW, OW, OW!" America cried out.  He could actually feel tears in his eyes.  He couldn't help it!  This treatment really HURT!  So much, that America was seriously beginning to wonder why they had not reached camp yet.  Their march seemed to be going on forever!  Surly he had not wandered this far away from the camp!  The teen nation really wanted to break away, or fight back, but both were impossible with Prussia having this kind of advantage over him.  If America put up any more resistance than he already was, he was afraid he might lose his ear.  And he liked that ear.  So America was obliged to follow as Prussia stomped onward.      

"How did you even—OW!—find me?!" America demanded to know; understandably frustrated with the situation.   He just couldn't understand how he had been found so easily.  He had thought that he had made a total clean get away.  America thought back to that morning and remembered how carful he had been.  He had made sure no one was looking before making his secret escape, and he had not left any trail.  He should have been able to enjoy a morning full of rest and relaxation, while everyone else should have been left to marvel at his amazing disappearing act.  

It was during rare times like these when America wished he could be more like his brother.  Canada had always owned games like hide and seek!  Sometimes the lucky guy was never found….     

But anyway, rewind back to the beginning of this cold day.  Early that morning, the rebel-America had made a snap decision to skip his morning drills.  It might have been the middle of winter; a time when the American and the English armies were pretty much taking a rest from the war, but that did not mean that America had been enjoying a vacation from harsh conditions and tough training.  His army was exhausted from the beatings they had taken from England, and they were running low on supplies.  Never the less, a New Inspector general from Prussia had recently been hired to train the American troops.  For the past week or so, America had been doing some serious drilling under the professional man of war.  Sure, America would agree that military drills were a good thing to do every now and then, but the perfectionistic expectations of the new guy were WAY more than what he was used to.  But that was not the only thing that had been stressing America as of late.  In addition to his new Inspector General, America also had to deal with insane personified homeland of the officer.  The Great Prussia had come along with his man uninvited, and for some reason he thought that it was his sacred duty to make a "real man" out of America.  This morning, feeling as if he could not take another minute of thorough military exercises or the special attention from Prussia, the American lad had quietly slipped out of the camp and retreated to a secret place in a nearby grouping of trees.  

For a short while, America's plan had seemed to be working perfectly.  He had been having a great time resting on a stump and roasting some tasty marshmallows over a roaring fire…when suddenly, that gloved hand of Prussia's had appeared from nowhere and seized him by the ear!  It had been all downhill for America from there.

Now resigned to his fate, there was nothing else America could do but ask Prussia to end his tormenting curiosity and tell him how his location could have been discovered so soon.  The younger nation couldn't see, but a wide grin had broken out on Prussia's face the moment the question had been asked.  "Simple!" the white-haired Prussian declared with pride.  "My awesome tracking skills!  They can smell lazy from miles away!"

America felt like gagging.  He was seriously getting tired of his trainer's constant boasting.  The "awesome" quirk had not been a big deal for America at their first meeting, but it got really old, really fast.  America just so happened to be a little braggy, himself.  Now, the brash young nation had some actual competition in that department, and he discovered that he didn't always like it.

"Can't you give that a rest already?!  OW!"

"Halt die klappe!" Prussia commanded.  "However, my innate awesome-ness aside, it's not like you didn't make it too easy for anyone to find your little hiding spot."

"Huh?"  What was Prussia talking about now?  America still believed that he had been as carful as possible.  Where could he have gone so wrong?

It was at this point that Prussia finally released America.  He halted the march and (not too gently) threw America to the ground.  The younger nation quickly sat up and rubbed his throbbing ear.  He was glad to be free, but he was certain that his poor ear would never be the same.  However, he didn't have time to lament over the fate of his ear.  Almost as soon as America had sat upright, Prussia began to approach him.  America panicked when he noticed Prussia nearing and covered both ears in defense.  The powerful country came to a stop in front of America and bent over to look the youth in the face.

"The next time you decide to ditch drills and hide out," he explained with a glare, "you might not want to build yourself a signal fire!"  Prussia punctuated his sentence with a forceful point in the direction from which they had just come.

America nervously followed the finger to the sky above the woods.  Rising from the tree tops, painfully noticeable to entire area, was a dark cloud of smoke.  No doubt, it was coming from America's marshmallow-roasting fire which he had created for preparing his morning snack.   

"Oh…."

Building a mini bonfire in the middle of a hiding spot…that had probably not been one of his better ideas…but he had been so COLD!  Even if America had not planned on roasting marshmallows, what exactly was he supposed to do out in the open air?  Freeze to death?!

America looked back at Prussia.  The kingdom was standing erect now, glaring down at America with blazing red eyes.  Arms crossed; he looked as if he was impatiently waiting to see if America had anything to say for himself.

America had nothing to offer.  He was short one good excuse for his sneaky behavior, as well as one good explanation for his utter stupidity and epic failure to pull off his daring escape plan.  Plus, he had just gotten caught red-handed doing something that Prussia had commanded him vehemently not to do any more.  The colonial was in big trouble, and he knew it.  There was nothing he could say to talk himself out of it…but maybe he could try getting Prussia to lighten up a little?  Maybe if he could convince his instructor to find some humor in all of this, America might catch less heat from him.  Of course, that would never fly, but America was a hopeless optimist.  To him, it was worth a try.  

America rubbed the back of his neck and gave Prussia a sheepish grin.  "Heh, heh?"

Prussia exploded.  

"Don't 'heh, heh,' at me!" he shouted.  "Mein Gott!" Prussia swore as he slapped a hand to his forehead (he had been going that a lot lately—especially when he spent time with America).  "Did you really think you could get away with it?!"    

America huffed with annoyance.  "It's not like a missed anything!" he shouted back in defense.  "All we do are the same marches and musket thrusts over and over and over again!"  While America talked, he moved his arms up and down at his sides as if he was marching and then pretended to jab an imaginary musket forward.  As if that wasn't enough, he actually dared to mimic the predictable drill commands to further demonstrate his point:  "Attention!  To the right, face!  To the left, face!  To the right about, face!  To the left about, face!  Forward march!  Step in time!  Longer Strides!  Step in time!  Too long!  Keep your feet closer together!  Step in time!  Step in time!  Step!  In!  TIME!"  America threw himself backwards on the ground as if just listening to his mock commands had tired him out.  "I needed a morning off!" he pleaded.  "I'm drilled out!"  

Prussia growled.  Yep, he legitimately growled.  His snarling gaze shot to the musket that he had confiscated from America.  Angrily, he took the marshmallows still impaled on the bayonet (one had been accidentally burnt, thanks to Prussia's surprise ear attack) and threw them across the field.  

"I decide who rests and when!" he yelled, as he disposed of the sticky menaces that had been soiling his beautiful weapon of war.

America watched in despair when his marshmallows sailed over him and bounced on the ground far away.  "Aw, man!  Those were my last marshmallows!" he exclaimed without a giving a single thought to what Prussia had just said.  He brightened up and shrugged it off almost immediately, though.  "Eh, ten second rule."  America pushed himself up, wanting to run to his snack's rescue, but something caught the end of his coat, making him trip before taking his first step.  He looked back and saw that Prussia had stabbed the corner of his uniform into to the ground with the sharp bayonet.    

"Forget the marshmallows!" he ordered through clenched teeth.  "You're staying put!"

America groaned.  One could safely say that the excitement over having experienced warriors to train him had long worn off.  In the beginning, America had felt pumped and somewhat inspired by Prussia's promises to make him great and awesome.  Unfortunately, the road to "awesome" was turning out to be…well…not so awesome.  The drills were boring and tedious.  They weren't even combat drills.  Practically all they had done so far was work on marching!  And a type of marching that America and his men were not accustomed to, no less!  The marchers had collapsed on each other like dominos more than once.  It wasn't even always their fault!  How could anyone expect America and his men to follow commands if their leader couldn't speak fluent English?!  America was starting to question the reasoning behind it all.  Why should he continue to listen to a guy who only put him through stupid marching drills that don't seem to do anything except make him look like a fool?  

"You're not my boss!" America exclaimed.  "Your country's not even involved in this war!  Why should I listen to you?!"

"Someone has to teach you discipline!" Prussia returned; pulling the bayonet-armed musket out of America's coat and pointing it directly in the boy's face.  "And who better to do that than the awesome me?  Ja, you're right; the Kingdom of Prussia is not participating in your stupid rebellion.  I don't even have to be here!  Which is why you should be grateful that I decided to extend my stay!  You should be thanking your lucky stars that I took pity on a sad slob like you!" Prussia paused here to tap the musket in his hand.  "Just think of me as your very own personal Inspector General," he said with a feral grin.  "And as your trainer in the ways of Awesome, you will show me due respect!"  With that, Prussia began to pace back and forth as he lectured America on things like "the chain of command," and how "everything would fall apart without adhering to it," and that it was "not his place to question the authority of his superiors," etc.

America rolled his eyes as he sat cross-legged on the ground and listened to Prussia's familiar rant.  He had heard all this before.  To America, Prussia was beginning to sound a lot like England…only with a different accent.  America didn't like that.  Prussia's officer wasn't much different from his nation, either.  He preached the same type of sermons to the troops all the time.  Actually, with the way Prussia and the Inspector General dressed and carried themselves, they both seemed to embody the European Imperialistic ways of thinking that America had been fighting against.  The rebelling land didn't know how much longer he could let Prussia or his soldier tell him what to do.  

America glanced over his shoulder as soon as he got a chance.  He stared longingly at his discarded marshmallows.  Below him, his stomach rumbled.  He looked back at Prussia.  Prussia was still blabbing away about things America didn't care to listen to.  Carefully, America turned and began to crawl for the marshmallows.  He figured that he could afford to take this risk while the Prussian was too busy ranting to notice.  Sixty second rule, after all!   

This might have seemed like a bad idea (no "seemed" about it, it was a bad idea), but America didn't care.  He was hungry for nourishment and sick of Prussia's voice.  It wasn't too far back that the albino had been able to easily instill fear in America.  Not so much anymore, though.  A week ago, America would not have dared to do anything that he thought might carry the slightest chance of provoking Prussia.  After all, he had never met someone with a temper like Prussia's before.  Nor had he ever come in contact with someone who just seemed to radiate authority and power the way Prussia did.  But now, Prussia's influence had almost no affect on America.  This was because America had become more or less used to Prussia's explosive temper.  The Prussian's wild threats no longer bothered him.  America had not quite gotten used to the older nation's freaky red eyes (he still couldn't look Prussia in the eye most of the time), but he was working on that.  America's growing indifference to Prussia's extreme personality, coupled together with his diminishing view of the Prussian drills, meant that America was getting braver with his disrespectful actions.    

America was almost to his prizes.  He could clearly see one of the marshmallows.  When he was close enough, he slowly stretched out his hand to pick it up.  That's when a cold shadow descended over America.  America froze.  He heard a dark voice speak behind him.

"Touch…the marshmallows…" it said, "and I swear, I will take this bayonet and shove it so far up your backside that you will be able to taste it."

America gulped.  He had not been prepared for that.  Prussia's yelling was one thing, but that quiet threat was just downright creepy!  America carefully looked back.  Prussia was glaring down on him like an angered god about to strike him with lightning.  His eyes were almost glowing bright red in his darkened face.

"Heh, heh," America smiled apologetically as he shifted back to a sitting position.  "Marshmallows?  What marshmallows?  Go on.  I'm listening."  

On his end of all this, Prussia was not pleased.  He looked America over with a critical eye.  He studied the blue eyed, sandy-blond haired, teenaged variety of "pain in the neck."  Honestly, the military nation didn't know why he was wasting his time with America.  Prussia had initially come along with his former soldier just for the fun of it.  He had wanted to take the chance to meet the famous American colonies he had heard so much about in person.  But he had ended up being so disgusted with the way America ran his army that he had taken it upon himself to train the little rookie.  It was made even more clear to Prussia during the training that America knew absolutely NOTHING about how to fight a war, much less win one.  And on top of America's aggravating inexperience, Prussia also had to deal with the younger one's ungrateful attitude.  Prussia's new apprentice appeared to be more trouble than he was worth.  Seriously, this was the LAST time Prussia was going to do a good deed for someone!  (In reality, the decision to stay had been more out of an instinct to bring order to a pathetic army, than out of the goodness of Prussia's heart)  

In all fairness, America had made some progress.  At least he was wearing his full and proper uniform now.  Somehow, even with clothing supplies scarce, they had been able to scrounge up a suitable uniform for America.  It wasn't much, but it was a real soldier's uniform.  It was something the new nation could show off with pride.  But did America care?  NO!  The runt complained and whined like a childish brat about having to wear the uncomfortable suit every single day!  Well, tough toenails!   Prussia was not one to give up so easily.  If America resisted, he would just have to crack down harder.  After all, Prussia had committed himself to passing on some of his wisdom to the youngster before returning to Europe.  If he could pass on even a tiny pinch of his awesome-ness to America, the kid just might have a chance at standing up to that know-it-all British pansy!  It was for America's own good (and for Prussia's own ego/amusement, when he thought of how England would react to a transformed American army, come spring time).       

"Gut," Prussia grunted at last.  "Now, there is another matter that needs to be addressed.  I am still waiting for you to finish reorganizing the camp.  That should have been taken care of yesterday!"

America's shoulders dropped.  Prussia could sense another whiny complaint coming.  

"What was wrong with the way the camp was before?"  

"EVERYTHING!"

"Says you!" America snapped.  "The camp was fine!  No one else has a problem with it.  I don't have time to spend all day turning it upside down just to please you and your snooty Baron!  This is the army!  We're supposed to be learning how to fight, not getting decorating tips.  What kind of a leader are you?"

America was opening his mouth to say more, but Prussia had a pretty good guess about what he was going to say.  He had heard it from America a million times already!  He did not want to hear it again!

"Don't say it!" Prussia tried to stop him.

"Why should I care about where certain tents and buildings are located?"

And America said it.  

"Or where I go to the bathroom?  Or if my mattress has been aired out?  Or if there's a dead animal lying somewhere in the camp?  Why does any of that stuff matter?"    

Prussia let out another low growl.  Admitably, Prussia himself was not always the cleanest national personification on the globe, but thanks to his German blood, he did appreciate cleanliness.  More importantly, he placed a high value on order—especially order in an army.  The conditions of America's camps were simply unacceptable for him.  The camps were a filthy and unorganized mess.  The camp arrangement had no rhyme or reason to it, no soldier cleaned up after himself, dead animals were left to rot were they had fallen, and the men relieved themselves wherever they wanted.  Even the inner workings of America's army were a careless disgrace.  They did not, at the very least, keep good records of who was enlisted.  Prussia felt that these grievances and more should have been unacceptable to anyone with half a brain!

Prussia took a deep breath and slowly approached America.  He answered America's question with each intimidating step; slowly closing in on the blond. "Because filth breeds disease, because a sloppy atmosphere is bad for moral, because a disorganized army in camp is a disorganized army in battle."  Prussia continued until he was crouched down and America was leaning as far back as he could without falling over.  "Lastly," he hissed in America's face, "and most importantly, BECAUSE IT'S DESGUSTING AND I WILL NOT TOLLORATE IT!"  

After delivering his ear-splitting words of wisdom, Prussia stood and smacked his forehead yet again. "Gott in Himmel!" Prussia raved.  "I've never meet any soldier like you!  Every other soldier in the world knows to obey their commanding officer without question!  But YOU!  You have the audacity to demand to know why I give the commands I give!  I shouldn't have to explain myself after every little order.  Every Prussian, English, French, and even Austrian soldier knows that!"  Almost nothing irritated Prussia more than America's "whys."  The old nation was feeling like a frustrated parent who wanted to snap "Just because!" at their curious child, or even better: "Because I said so!"

America was twisting a finger into one of his ears, trying to open it up more in an attempt to improve his now damaged hearing.  "Well that's just stupid," he grumbled.   

If looks could kill, America would probably have been dead by that point.  

Actually, deep down (deep, deep, deep, deep down) Prussia did hold some secret form of admiration for America's refusal to follow anyone blindly.  Hopefully it meant that the kid would not be easily led astray by the wrong men in command.  But Prussia also knew that in excess, that kind of thinking was disastrous—and America most definitely overdid it on his questions.  He questioned even the simplest of commands.  No army could function if the men wasted time questioning their superiors.  A natural distrust of authority was also very bad for an army.  All would fall apart!  When it came down to it, Prussia was not about to let the grubby, American upstart insult his military intelligence and the way things had been done for generations!    

"That's it!  No lunch for you today!"  

"WHAT?!"

"Schweig!" Prussia demanded.  "Instead, you will spend the afternoon cleaning and rearranging entire camp!"  Prussia then listed a few details that needed special attention:  "I want that horse carcass on the far side of camp gone, the ins and outs of Every.  Single.  Tent and hut scrubbed clean (after being properly sorted in their places), and remember to make sure the kitchens are uphill and the latrines downhill—"  

"What latrines?"  America cut in.  He looked confused.

Prussia's grin returned.  "The ones you are going to dig," he informed.

"But—"

"And NO using your bayonets as a shovel!" Prussia promptly added before America could voice his complaints.  He held up America's musket and pointed to the bayonet at the tip.  "If I catch you using this for anything other than skewering the enemy—"

America momentarily indulged in the pleasing fantasy of stabbing Prussia with his bayonet.

"—you will be sorry!"  

To Prussia's shock, America snorted.  "Oh yeah?  How sorry?" the youth challenged; not believing that Prussia had the authority to do anything to him.

Prussia paused and glared at America.  "Very sorry," was all he said.

America's eyes widened briefly.  The vague, but powerful threat appeared to have affected him.  But just as Prussia was feeling as if he had made his point, America seemed to vigorously shake off his alarm.  America forced a smile up at Prussia, as if to say, "You're going to have to do better than that."

Prussia clenched his jaw tighter, if that was possible.  How long was this idiot going to push him?!  This was not battle of control!  It shouldn't be any kind of battle!  The first threat should have been more than enough to scare America into submission!  Why did America always feel the need to test his established boundaries?!  

Prussia grabbed America up by the front of his uniform.  Holding him close to his face again, he took on America's challenge.  He did better.  "Let's put it this way: disobey another order, and I might just have to arrange for a certain insubordinate recruit to be flogged in front of the entire company as an example—and don't think I can't!"  

America wavered.  He was obviously trying to hold his own, but Prussia had to smile at the brief glimmer of genuine fear that he saw in America's eyes.  About time, was all Prussia could think!  That's right.  The pup should be afraid!  King Fritz might have outlawed corporal punishment in the army, but they were not in Prussia at the moment, were they?  

America was grudgingly keeping silent now.  He doubted that Prussia could do something like that to him, but the older nation was so deadly serious about it.  America figured it wise to not try arguing that subject…just in case.

Satisfied with America's silence, Prussia threw his trainee back to the ground.  "Get the camp in order!" he commanded.  "I want it completed and spotless in time for afternoon drills!"  As he spoke those words, Prussia also threw America's musket back at him (not pointed end first, of course).  The impact the gun made with America's stomach almost knocked the wind out of him.

"But there's no way I can finish it that fast!" he spoke up.  

"Stop interrupting me!" the albino shrieked.  "When I talk, you should shut up!  Now, address me in the way I taught you!"

America grunted and gave Prussia a dirty look.  But regardless of how it annoyed him, America eventually lowered his head and mumbled, "Permission to speak…sir?"

Prussia smirked, evilly.  "Permission denied."

"Hey!"

"I said 'permission DENIED!'" Prussia reiterated with a swing of his hand.  Luckily, America ducked just in time to avoid being back-handed.  Prussia was not used to this kind of behavior in a military atmosphere at all.  Since when did instructing the troops become a two way conversation or a heated debate?!

"And if I am not %100 satisfied with your performance in the afternoon drills," Prussia instructed, "you will be detained afterwards!  We will go over the exercises again and again until you get them right!  After drills, you will be on kitchen duty."  

"Again?" America quietly grumbled.

"After super, you will report back to the training field."

"What for?"

"SHUT UP!"  (What was so hard to grasp about that simple concept for America?!)  "What do you think for?  For extra training!  You think you had it bad with drills before?  Well, as punishment for deserting your duties, this evening you will be put through the workout of your life!"  

"By myself?" America asked with horror.  To America, only enjoyable thing about doing drills with the new Prussian Inspector General was doing them in a large group.  The men might have looked ridiculous tripping over each other as they tried to learn how to march in unison as an organized group, but at least they looked ridiculous together.  More men, also made for more entertainment from their instructor.  Used to the infamous discipline of the Prussian military, the man would become enraged easily by America and the clumsiness of his men.  His temper was just as bad as Prussia's; probably worse.  The good Baron would throw impressive tantrums and curse the inadequate men up and down in German, French, and sometimes broken English.  It was really quite the amusing show.  America couldn't count how many times he and his other soldiers collapsed into a tangled heap at the General's feet, yet still ended up having a good laugh at themselves and at the angry antics of their trainer.            

"Ja," Prussia gladly confirmed, "it will be just me and you, kid."

"But that's not fair!  No one else will be doing marching drills at night!"

"With the little vacation of this morning under your belt, you should be all rested up and ready for some serious training," Prussia smoothly replied.  "If not, then too bad!  Because I guarantee you there will be no breaks."

"But!"

"And no mercy, for that matter!"

From this point, Prussia tried to ignore any America and other attempts the teenager would make to speak.  Apparently, the former colony was not going to shut up no matter how many times he was told.  Prussia was only wasting time whenever he told America not to interrupt him.  Prussia would just have to continue his speech without allowing America a chance to get in a word.  Perhaps America would give up on his own.    

"Um—"

But America didn't give up.  

"You have no idea what I have in store for you," Prussia went on in spite of America, getting more irritated all the while, but trying not to show it.      

"Hey—"

"When I'm done with you," Prussia said in his best intimidating voice, "you will be afraid to oversleep on your day off!"  He was trying to scare America, but nothing he said seemed to work this time.  America was not listening to a word.  The dummy was being relentless in his attempts to get noticed.   

At last, America raised his hand and tried to speak above Prussia.  "Uh, hey!  Over here!" he shouted.  "Question!"

"WAS?!" Prussia finally lost it.  He couldn't believe America!  All he knew was that America's question had better be GOOD!   

America put his hand down and spoke his mind.  "When you said 'no breaks,' does that include bathroom breaks?"  

…Prussia gawked at America.

"Cause I mean, that's going a little too far, don't you think?" America went on completely innocent of what Prussia was thinking.  

Prussia's eye began to twitch again.  

I'll say right now, I am not going to be the one washing my trousers if anything happens to them during training…."

That's about the time America realized that Prussia looked like a volcano ready to explode.      

"Uh…"

"HAMILTON!"  

America covered his ears.  Prussia's scream traveled across the camp and quite possibly beyond.  America would not have been surprised if England could hear it in occupied Philadelphia!  

In a matter of seconds, a man arrived panting at Prussia's side.  Poor guy.  He acted as one of the Inspector General's translators.  Even though Prussia could speak English more fluently than his man, he still often demanded a translator for himself.  It was because there were times when America made him so mad, that he lost the ability to speak in any other language but his own native German.  Using a translator made absolutely no sense, though.  The translators could only translate French for the most part.  Still, Prussia needed someone to reprimand America in a way the kid would understand when Prussia no longer made sense.  The demand was unrealistic, but it was just something the translators had to get used to.  Prussia had a tendency to be unrealistic, anyway.  Hamilton and the others had to run back and forth between the General and Prussia all the time.

"Y-Yes…s-sir?" Hamilton puffed out when he reached the fuming kingdom.

Prussia snapped around and gave the man his new job.

"YELL AT HIM FOR ME!  I'M GOING TO MY TENT!"

And with that, Prussia stalked away, leaving a very confused trainee and (also slightly frightened) translator in his wake.  

Hamilton turned to America when he felt Prussia was out of earshot.  "What did you do this time?" he asked wearily.

America stood up and brushed himself off.  "I don't know.  He's crazy."

Hamilton watched as America bent over to pick up something on the ground.  Was that a…marshmallow?  Hamilton watched curiously while America proceeded to brush off the gooey ball and pick stuff out of it.  Hamilton gasped when America raised the newly "cleaned" marshmallow to his mouth.

"Are you really…?" he couldn't even finish the question.

America shrugged before popping the gross snack in his mouth.  

"5 minute rule."