Drabble dump~ 7!
"Milton."
"Yes, my Nation?"
"While I am intensely flattered, Cromwell is neither Moses nor am I Israel. In fact, I think she may try to hit me for your very insulation."
"Sir, I am only trying to use metaphor--"
"I understand, but please, just... stop?"
"Only once my Lord Protector commands me so."
England sighed. "Right."
---
Their breath misted in the cold air outside the pub. England pressed the cold metal of his mug against his rapidly swelling eye. That bar punch up had been one hell of a fight, but from the area they were currently drinking in, one couldn't expect much else.
"Say, Arth."
The Nation sighed. "I've told you not to call me that, Christopher."
"And I have told thee to call me Kit. After all I have done for thee, am I not afforded a little of thy informality?"
The blond turned to look at the young man who had done so much in his service. "I would allow it if you did not avoid your own education even more than is strictly needed by your... jobs."
Christopher laughed. "Thou sayst that, but is that not what thou art here to deliver to me?" A spark of mischief entered his dark eyes. "Another extra-credit assignment?"
With a defeated sigh, England stood and handed over the letter, swaying only slightly from the drink. "Don't get yourself killed, Christopher Marlowe."
"Would I ever disappoint thee, dear Nation?" a demon's smile on a saint's face. Appearances were very deceiving. England turned on his heel.
"I am very serious, Kit, if thou lovest me, I beg thee to stop this blasphemous behavior else someone shall take offense of it." he said lowly. The writer simply grinned wider.
"If my lord commands." he winked. "But thou knowst, I always have had problems with authority."
---
"... America, what are you doing?"
"Nothing."
"Ah... da, you are."
"No I'm not. I'm not doing anything."
"You are poking me with your finger."
"No I'm not, you're being silly Russia. You can clearly see I am not touching you."
"You are invading my personal space."
"But still not touching you."
"... is this vengeance for the Cuba incident?"
"I'm not touching yoooou~!"
"Because you also gave Turkey missiles and it was just as uncomfortable for me-"
"I'm not toooooouching yooooou~!"
"... America."
"Not touching."
"America."
"No touchy, not touching!"
"I am going to count to ten, and then I will get the pipe."
"... poke!"
"... Kolkolkolkolkolkolkol.
---
A headache was forming at the point directly between Wales' eyes.
"Uncle Darren, uncle Darren!" Falklands tearily cried as he tugged on the older Nation's trouserleg. "N-New Zealand said my sheep weren't as good as hers! But then I said they were r-really yours and she pushed me over and stole my flock!" and with that he broke down into sobs. "A-and she's gonna get Bermuda to m-m-make demons e-eat them!"
Hushing the little boy, Wales picked him up and set off to find New Zealand. Sure enough, the sheep were in the field over the hill. The flock was substantially larger than usual, with Falkland's group added. Fact of the matter was that all the sheep were Wales', but he let the children "own" them for the while they were away from their homes.
Oddly enough, when he came over the hill, it was not New Zealand that stood with the flock, but Bermuda.
"Asrai." he called, and the tan girl turned around with wide and innocent green eyes. Wales wasn't England though, he knew better than to fall for that. Most of the time. "Give him back the sheep."
She blinked, and Wales could have sworn he saw a triangle hang in the air. "What sheep?"
And the field was suddenly empty.
"Bermuda!" yelped New Zealand, leaping out from behind the bushes. "I only wanted to scare them, not actually make the sheep vanish!"
The island girl tilted her head to the side, smiling at her sister. "But look, they're scared."
Wales' headache exploded into a full on migrane, as Falklands burst into tears once again.
Chapter 40 of Family Ties up tonight, along with a special surprise.