America opened his eyes to a bright room. With a grunt he lifted his head and looked to the green numbers staring back at his face. Eleven thirty-four. It was a late start on the day, America realized. He grunted again and swung his legs around the edge of the bed, feeling the soft carpet appreciatively between his toes. Looking around the room, he registered that this was England’s house. The guestroom in fact.
That’s right, America thought. The string of meetings didn’t finish all that they had wanted to and had left some loose ends to some matters so America and a couple of his countrymen had decided to stay in England to finish the necessary work. Unfortunately, America had to check out of his hotel. Without any place to stay, he pushed his lower lip out and directed his baby blues toward the
( ... )
Re: The Little Things (UK/US)
anonymous
June 4 2010, 10:16:05 UTC
“Oh,” America said stupidly. The boy wanted to smack himself for that. He tried to think of something to say. “Can I have a piece anyway? Even if it’s not mine?” It was a dumb question, but he needed to think of something, anything, to distract him from thinking about how much he missed this.
A warm smile spread across England’s features but it disappeared as quickly as it had come. A little more dramatically than was necessary, the older nation pushed himself away from the table and off his chair, making his way toward the utensils. America began to feel a burning feeling on his neck and cheeks and hoped against hope that it because he was irritated rather than…something else. What that something else was, America didn’t even want to think about, honestly.
England returned with a knife, some forks, and some china. An amused smile graced his lips. “Next time, say ‘please,’ America.”
This was definitely not what the OP asked for. :|
America opened his eyes to a bright room. With a grunt he lifted his head and looked to the green numbers staring back at his face. Eleven thirty-four. It was a late start on the day, America realized. He grunted again and swung his legs around the edge of the bed, feeling the soft carpet appreciatively between his toes. Looking around the room, he registered that this was England’s house. The guestroom in fact.
That’s right, America thought. The string of meetings didn’t finish all that they had wanted to and had left some loose ends to some matters so America and a couple of his countrymen had decided to stay in England to finish the necessary work. Unfortunately, America had to check out of his hotel. Without any place to stay, he pushed his lower lip out and directed his baby blues toward the ( ... )
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A warm smile spread across England’s features but it disappeared as quickly as it had come. A little more dramatically than was necessary, the older nation pushed himself away from the table and off his chair, making his way toward the utensils. America began to feel a burning feeling on his neck and cheeks and hoped against hope that it because he was irritated rather than…something else. What that something else was, America didn’t even want to think about, honestly.
England returned with a knife, some forks, and some china. An amused smile graced his lips. “Next time, say ‘please,’ America.”
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It makes ME want to have some apple pie - and I'm not an apple pie person, trust me >_>;
I feel all warm and fuzzy now - which is just what I needed since it was pissing down rain all day here in the land down under.
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And if you happen to run into your nation-tan, tell him to take good care of a visiting Alfredian businessman... ;-;
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(knowing myself, I will bake an apple pie within a week)
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