Wait, what? (England, America)
Title: Wait, what?
Characters: England, America
Warnings: None. Seriously.
Summary: Also for chibi_spork! Even England needs to blow off steam sometimes.
Year: Ambiguously modern
This is, believe it or not, is another take on the same prompt that is responsible for A Business Trip, in case it turned out too dark. Not sure which one I'll finish-- maybe both?-- but I thought I'd put them up here for now. Enjoy! <3
There was no real reason for Al to go to the shooting range. With the sorts of wars they fought now, direct combat between nations was rare; no one wanted to risk getting blown up or shot with a machine gun. More traditional weapons had never been able to kill them, but these? No one really knew.
But he went anyway. It was kind of therapeutic, you know? And besides, he didn't want to turn into some pussy-ass European who couldn't defend their house from deer, let alone their enemies. So Mondays and Thursdays after his boss let him go, he went and shot the shit out of some paper cut-outs for a few hours. There were worse hobbies, right?
Sometimes, at the range attached to their world conference center-- someone had thought it was only prudent to build one-- he ran into Ludwig, or Vash (ok, he supposed there were a few Europeans who wouldn't go hiding behind their mamas if they had to take care of some rough business). He'd seen Prussia once or twice-- what did he need with modern weapons?-- and weirdly, Austria (there was a guy who looked like he'd faint if you looked at him the wrong way). Then there were the countries he didn't recognize on sight; he always felt kind of bad about that, so he generally avoided them.
No one really talked there. It was kind of an unspoken rule. There were plenty of other places you could go to socialize; even Al mostly kept his mouth shut. It was about the atmosphere.
So when he heard a crash, and a fervent “Damn it all to hell!” he turned, and stared out of his cubicle. Yep, there he was, apologizing tersely to a grumpy-looking Ludwig, and in his hand-- that was-- that was not a watergun. “Arthur?”
NOTES
*According to wiki, Austria has some of the most liberal gun laws in Europe! Guess he hasn't become a total pussy since WWII, after all.
Characters: England, America
Warnings: None. Seriously.
Summary: Also for chibi_spork! Even England needs to blow off steam sometimes.
Year: Ambiguously modern
This is, believe it or not, is another take on the same prompt that is responsible for A Business Trip, in case it turned out too dark. Not sure which one I'll finish-- maybe both?-- but I thought I'd put them up here for now. Enjoy! <3
There was no real reason for Al to go to the shooting range. With the sorts of wars they fought now, direct combat between nations was rare; no one wanted to risk getting blown up or shot with a machine gun. More traditional weapons had never been able to kill them, but these? No one really knew.
But he went anyway. It was kind of therapeutic, you know? And besides, he didn't want to turn into some pussy-ass European who couldn't defend their house from deer, let alone their enemies. So Mondays and Thursdays after his boss let him go, he went and shot the shit out of some paper cut-outs for a few hours. There were worse hobbies, right?
Sometimes, at the range attached to their world conference center-- someone had thought it was only prudent to build one-- he ran into Ludwig, or Vash (ok, he supposed there were a few Europeans who wouldn't go hiding behind their mamas if they had to take care of some rough business). He'd seen Prussia once or twice-- what did he need with modern weapons?-- and weirdly, Austria (there was a guy who looked like he'd faint if you looked at him the wrong way). Then there were the countries he didn't recognize on sight; he always felt kind of bad about that, so he generally avoided them.
No one really talked there. It was kind of an unspoken rule. There were plenty of other places you could go to socialize; even Al mostly kept his mouth shut. It was about the atmosphere.
So when he heard a crash, and a fervent “Damn it all to hell!” he turned, and stared out of his cubicle. Yep, there he was, apologizing tersely to a grumpy-looking Ludwig, and in his hand-- that was-- that was not a watergun. “Arthur?”
NOTES
*According to wiki, Austria has some of the most liberal gun laws in Europe! Guess he hasn't become a total pussy since WWII, after all.