Family Ties [Part 56]
Title: Family Ties
Characters (in this chapter): Romano, Spain, Prussia, France, Russia.
Rating: 12
Warnings: Spain's still split, Romano and Prussia have dirty mouths, France doesn't know how to quit.
Summary: Uh, I need to be banned from the kink meme or monsters like this happen? Essentially, Scotland leaves the UK, which gives Northern Ireland an excuse to up and out as well, which leaves England and Wales all alone. Oh yeah, and this somehow leads to World War Three.
"Let me through, Romano!"
"Idiot, you can't go after him, just leave him alone, he can look after himse-"
"He can't just fight Turkey alone!"
"That information was a week late, he's been fighting Turkey alone for a while now!"
And thus the argument went, back and forth, as Romano chased Spain around the port where three battleships, hastily cobbled together for the war that the government was not officially funding and nor were half the citizens, waited to sail after the Portuguese navy and aid the WDF efforts against Turkey. Spain seemed quite adamant today that he would sail with these pro-war men, even though yesterday Romano had caught him undoing a bolt on the helm of one of the vessels.
The idiot would probably change his mind mid-journey and sink the lot of them, and then feel horribly guilty afterwards, and Romano did not want to deal with that on top of everything.
So here he was, hanging on to the stupid idiot's arm like some clingy girlfriend, digging his heels in to the docks and trying to prevent the inevitable.
"Damn it boss, stay still!"
Spain tried to wrench his arm free. "Lovi, I love you, but that's my brother out there!"
"Did you forget you're splitting?! You can't, not in your state!" Lovino's voice had reached shouting pitch, a few people were staring, but he had more important worries.
"But I'm absolutely sure this time!"
"That's what you said last time, idiot!"
A man stepped in front of the path Spain was dragging Romano along. "Yo, why're you guys shouting?"
Antonio stopped moving, causing Lovino to fall backwards where he'd been using all his weight to hold the Spaniard back.
"Gilbert!" He cried, giving his friend a warm hug. The albino Nation patted him on the back to make him let go.
"Bastard!" Lovino growled from the floor, glaring up at them both. "When the hell did you get here?!"
"Been watching a while actually. You two are way too funny to stop, I swear." he hissed a laugh, and Romano kicked him in the shins on the way up. That shut him up. "Ow, fuck. Alright, I didn't stop you because you didn't hear me when I was yelling! Damn it..." He got another kick, and this time he yelped a little.
"What do you want, potato-bastard."
Rubbing his sore leg, Prussia frowned. "Hey, don't kick the messenger, Lovi, or you're buying the first round next time we go out."
"Shut up."
"Wait, information?" Spain cut across, grabbing Gilbert's arm. "What kind of information? Is it about mi hermano? What's happened to Portugal!"
"Holy shit, you really have lost it again, haven't you?" Red eyes stared at green, before he tried to pry the other Nation's vice-like grip off his arm. "Yeah, it's about Gabby, but you gotta let go first. Lovi, get him to sit down."
By the time Prussia had finished telling the Iberian Nation about the NWO's plans, and how he'd got them off France, Spain's head was in his hands, and Romano had been shocked into silence. Gilbert sat down next to the two of them.
"And that's it." he finished, then looked over his friend. A solid pat on the back was enough to bring Spain's head up to look at him. "... I know it's really un-awesome news, but now we know and we can stop it!"
Spain threw his hands up in the air, standing in one frustrated, angry motion. "How!? Sure, we know it'll happen, but how do we stop it?! We can't defend ourselves from their nuclear technology, there's no way!"
Prussia grinned.
"I think you're forgetting our man on the inside..."
-----
Boats weren't the only things that France was sabotaging.
Ah, to have la Resistance alive and kicking again was a thrill, a rush of adrenalin through him that bolstered his pride whenever he had to endure Russia, or keep calm for the sake of Scotland, who had become increasingly withdrawn and often easily confused since he'd shouted at him. They kept him sane, and god knew he was the only one on this side of the war that could still claim that.
Russia smiled and unwound the bandages around France's neck, and France hid the burning fires of rebellion just so he could survive the encounter.
The missiles were kept under strict guard, with only scientists and high command allowed near them. Russia had given him both a soldier's and a high command's uniform, though France cared for neither. Black had never really been his colour anyway.
But it was certainly useful for sneaking about in the cover of darkness, with a few others who had made copies of his uniform, dismantling and disarming the rockets in a manner that left them looking untouched to the outside. Sometimes, they simply stole the uranium, others they cut every wire. It was by no means a permanent solution, but it forced the NWO to pause, at least, and that was as much as they could do for now.
If none of the nuclear missiles could be deployed, Portugal would not be wiped out, and nor would any one else, and France could rest a little easier at night. If that was selfish, he was beyond caring. He'd had enough death and responsibility on his shoulders for one war.
His men, the few who knew who he was, comforted him, saying he was a prisoner as much as any POW. He was, but only in the sense that a trapped animal was. There was the potential to bolt, to run, but the hunter still had his shotgun, and a panicked beast was an easy target. Regardless, the words bolstered him, kept him proud of who he was, if not of what he had to do.
So when Russia came strolling right through the door as he and his resistance force were unscrewing the top of a missile, he could face him with a grin and a set to his shoulders that said "I am not afraid of you. Give me your worst."
And Russia did.
Notes:
- Short one today, but another one tomorrow.
- Poor Spain. I still don't forgive him for beating Port in the World Cup though.
Part 57
Characters (in this chapter): Romano, Spain, Prussia, France, Russia.
Rating: 12
Warnings: Spain's still split, Romano and Prussia have dirty mouths, France doesn't know how to quit.
Summary: Uh, I need to be banned from the kink meme or monsters like this happen? Essentially, Scotland leaves the UK, which gives Northern Ireland an excuse to up and out as well, which leaves England and Wales all alone. Oh yeah, and this somehow leads to World War Three.
"Let me through, Romano!"
"Idiot, you can't go after him, just leave him alone, he can look after himse-"
"He can't just fight Turkey alone!"
"That information was a week late, he's been fighting Turkey alone for a while now!"
And thus the argument went, back and forth, as Romano chased Spain around the port where three battleships, hastily cobbled together for the war that the government was not officially funding and nor were half the citizens, waited to sail after the Portuguese navy and aid the WDF efforts against Turkey. Spain seemed quite adamant today that he would sail with these pro-war men, even though yesterday Romano had caught him undoing a bolt on the helm of one of the vessels.
The idiot would probably change his mind mid-journey and sink the lot of them, and then feel horribly guilty afterwards, and Romano did not want to deal with that on top of everything.
So here he was, hanging on to the stupid idiot's arm like some clingy girlfriend, digging his heels in to the docks and trying to prevent the inevitable.
"Damn it boss, stay still!"
Spain tried to wrench his arm free. "Lovi, I love you, but that's my brother out there!"
"Did you forget you're splitting?! You can't, not in your state!" Lovino's voice had reached shouting pitch, a few people were staring, but he had more important worries.
"But I'm absolutely sure this time!"
"That's what you said last time, idiot!"
A man stepped in front of the path Spain was dragging Romano along. "Yo, why're you guys shouting?"
Antonio stopped moving, causing Lovino to fall backwards where he'd been using all his weight to hold the Spaniard back.
"Gilbert!" He cried, giving his friend a warm hug. The albino Nation patted him on the back to make him let go.
"Bastard!" Lovino growled from the floor, glaring up at them both. "When the hell did you get here?!"
"Been watching a while actually. You two are way too funny to stop, I swear." he hissed a laugh, and Romano kicked him in the shins on the way up. That shut him up. "Ow, fuck. Alright, I didn't stop you because you didn't hear me when I was yelling! Damn it..." He got another kick, and this time he yelped a little.
"What do you want, potato-bastard."
Rubbing his sore leg, Prussia frowned. "Hey, don't kick the messenger, Lovi, or you're buying the first round next time we go out."
"Shut up."
"Wait, information?" Spain cut across, grabbing Gilbert's arm. "What kind of information? Is it about mi hermano? What's happened to Portugal!"
"Holy shit, you really have lost it again, haven't you?" Red eyes stared at green, before he tried to pry the other Nation's vice-like grip off his arm. "Yeah, it's about Gabby, but you gotta let go first. Lovi, get him to sit down."
By the time Prussia had finished telling the Iberian Nation about the NWO's plans, and how he'd got them off France, Spain's head was in his hands, and Romano had been shocked into silence. Gilbert sat down next to the two of them.
"And that's it." he finished, then looked over his friend. A solid pat on the back was enough to bring Spain's head up to look at him. "... I know it's really un-awesome news, but now we know and we can stop it!"
Spain threw his hands up in the air, standing in one frustrated, angry motion. "How!? Sure, we know it'll happen, but how do we stop it?! We can't defend ourselves from their nuclear technology, there's no way!"
Prussia grinned.
"I think you're forgetting our man on the inside..."
-----
Boats weren't the only things that France was sabotaging.
Ah, to have la Resistance alive and kicking again was a thrill, a rush of adrenalin through him that bolstered his pride whenever he had to endure Russia, or keep calm for the sake of Scotland, who had become increasingly withdrawn and often easily confused since he'd shouted at him. They kept him sane, and god knew he was the only one on this side of the war that could still claim that.
Russia smiled and unwound the bandages around France's neck, and France hid the burning fires of rebellion just so he could survive the encounter.
The missiles were kept under strict guard, with only scientists and high command allowed near them. Russia had given him both a soldier's and a high command's uniform, though France cared for neither. Black had never really been his colour anyway.
But it was certainly useful for sneaking about in the cover of darkness, with a few others who had made copies of his uniform, dismantling and disarming the rockets in a manner that left them looking untouched to the outside. Sometimes, they simply stole the uranium, others they cut every wire. It was by no means a permanent solution, but it forced the NWO to pause, at least, and that was as much as they could do for now.
If none of the nuclear missiles could be deployed, Portugal would not be wiped out, and nor would any one else, and France could rest a little easier at night. If that was selfish, he was beyond caring. He'd had enough death and responsibility on his shoulders for one war.
His men, the few who knew who he was, comforted him, saying he was a prisoner as much as any POW. He was, but only in the sense that a trapped animal was. There was the potential to bolt, to run, but the hunter still had his shotgun, and a panicked beast was an easy target. Regardless, the words bolstered him, kept him proud of who he was, if not of what he had to do.
So when Russia came strolling right through the door as he and his resistance force were unscrewing the top of a missile, he could face him with a grin and a set to his shoulders that said "I am not afraid of you. Give me your worst."
And Russia did.
Notes:
- Short one today, but another one tomorrow.
- Poor Spain. I still don't forgive him for beating Port in the World Cup though.
Part 57