Warning: This fic will probably be a mixture of light and, uh, weird. I’m not writing the whole war, just bits and pieces, thank goodness. And the fic will, at times, portray native Americans as adversaries, but I will attempt to be historically accurate and fair, because I believe the Europeans and Americans pretty much screwed them.
War and Things Like It, Part 1/?
June, 1756England had come back. Boys were running through the streets of New York, whooping and hollering that white sails had been spotted, Milord Generals had come! Girls followed the boys in twos and threes, giggling and waving their hand-sewed Ensigns and chattering excitedly about the impending arrival of so many young men in red coats
( ... )
War and Things Like It (Part 2/?)
anonymous
November 3 2010, 02:18:41 UTC
War and Things Like It, Part 2/?
“Greetings, boy,” England said, not quite smiling, and America grinned back.
“Hi, England!” he said, and smiled some more, unable at the moment to think of anything else to say. England’s eyes were green and he was wearing a red Marine’s uniform but was one of them and America had missed him, terribly.
All around them the human tide thronged and ebbed as more Marines and sailors disembarked and were greeted by their American brothers and sisters. England waved the back of his palm at America.
“Move along, then,” he said with an eye-brow scowl, and America moved along. Like they’d never been there, they escaped the crowds and made their way to America’s house.
“So it’s war,” America said as they walked. He yanked his thumbs out of his trousers when England’s eyebrows formed a grumpy, deep vee in the direction of America’s crotch. “You totally declared war on France. And France wants the west, too, so he declared war back. Everybody wants me. Ha ha
( ... )
War and Things Like It (Part 3/?)
anonymous
November 5 2010, 00:38:59 UTC
War and Things Like It, Part 3/?
August 1756“Bloody France. Bloody fucking France and his fucking Indians,” England moaned. He sat with a heavy-sounding thump on the log next to America
( ... )
War and Things Like It (Part 4/?)
anonymous
November 5 2010, 00:40:36 UTC
War and Things Like It, Part 4/?
“So many people to fight,” he said aloud. So many people to please. America hoped that someday he’d be able to make his own choices regarding who to do what to. He could be all of them, perhaps. Hell, he could speak English, French, Dutch -- even some Algonquian…
First, though, they had to get through this. To win. He was British, first and foremost, by right of law. He needed to earn the right to be an equal partner.
“Fucking incompetents,” England was muttering. When America opened his mouth, England added, “Not you. Not just- Well. Our provincial militias did their part with very little training, I must say.”
America gaped. England had said our, and he’d been almost… complimentary. About the colonial soldiers
( ... )
Re: War and Things Like It (Part 4/?)
anonymous
November 5 2010, 04:59:18 UTC
hnnng loving this. A lot. I really love how all the diolauge really reflects where they are/you know what I mean.. orz It makes this all seem so real and that much more awesome. I can't wait for the next part. <3
War and Things Like It (Part 5/?)
anonymous
November 12 2010, 00:37:52 UTC
Thanks to everyone who’s reading, and I appreciate the comments! This is un-beta-read, so please pardon any mistakes or continuity errors. I have this horrible sinking feeling that I’m making them.
War and Things Like It, Part 5/?
April 1759England had returned once more. America would see him that very evening, in fact, as England sailed into Halifax Harbor with the admirals who were meeting with the generals to plan a siege on Quebec. America counted the passing seconds in his head, even as he took twice as long as usual to dress, making his every movement as slow and deliberate as possible
( ... )
War and Things Like It (Part 6/?)
anonymous
November 12 2010, 00:38:39 UTC
War and Things Like It, Part 6/?
“Is that to be my greeting, America?”
“What are you talking about? Hi, England,” America said. He buckled his shoes and stood, smiling his realest smile. It wasn’t difficult, because he was, to his secret mortification, amazingly happy to see England. To stop his arms from trying to hug anyone he brushed his palms over the blue turn-ups at the hem of his jacket, checking to see that he’d buttoned them correctly.
Then America suffered an acute few seconds as his heart thumped hard twice-- maybe three times-- against his breastbone, so hard he could feel his it all the way from his throat to his stomach. He watched as England’s badger-grin faded and his eyes widened the tiniest bit and he stared at America with That Look, the intent one that made America’s belly feel all warm and twitchy. That was when America realized that this was what he’d missed so very much-- the tiny moments when England saw him, really saw him. When America thought he might have actually affected England in some way
( ... )
War and Things Like It (Part 7/?)
anonymous
November 12 2010, 00:39:27 UTC
War and Things Like It, Part 7/?
With a tap, tap of his fingernail on the edge of his glass, England sank down a little in his camp-chair and sort-of smiled. He pretty much ignored his food
( ... )
War and Things Like It (Part 8/?)
anonymous
November 12 2010, 00:40:21 UTC
War and Things Like It, Part 8/?
“You shouldn’t look at me like that,” England said after a while. His voice was low.
“Like what?”
“You’re so very bold, America. You should behave more like … like …”
America wished he was a little bolder, actually. “Like Canada?”
“Yes! Exactly bloody right. Like Canada.” England drained what was left of his wine and poured more. That time he added to add to America’s glass as well. “He has this downcast-eyes sort of thing. Very servile.”
“That’s because Canada has no rights,” America scoffed. He took another decent-sized sip of wine. It got easier to swallow the more he drank. “I have the rights of a British citizen.”
“Hmm. Damned expensive citizen,” England mumbled.
America stayed silent for a bit and thought. It was a little difficult, what with all the brain-numbness creeping up on him. He couldn’t believe that was what England wanted. Downcast eyes? Servility? There was being put in his place, and then there was being … being …
Accommodating? Maybe England actually liked that sort of
( ... )
Re: War and Things Like It (Part 8/?)
anonymous
November 12 2010, 03:37:43 UTC
hnnnng the tension is so good. I'm loving the slow build and the little placement of things in England's brain--like that bit about Francis wanting to teach America things. Give that a bit more time and it'll explode, or something, I'm thinking. xD
Re: War and Things Like It (Part 8/?)
anonymous
November 14 2010, 00:12:06 UTC
That was a great scene! The UST, man, the UST. France is really funny, every time he appears is the be a pervertXD. I love exactly how long it took America to thrown out the servile notionXD
Unf, I can't wait to see the next update! It's obvious England feels disgusting and maybe is slightly terrified of his own desire for America...how will America convince him to forget it? He was really good here manipulating the conversation to lead England to that subject...
Warning: This fic will probably be a mixture of light and, uh, weird. I’m not writing the whole war, just bits and pieces, thank goodness. And the fic will, at times, portray native Americans as adversaries, but I will attempt to be historically accurate and fair, because I believe the Europeans and Americans pretty much screwed them.
War and Things Like It, Part 1/?
June, 1756England had come back. Boys were running through the streets of New York, whooping and hollering that white sails had been spotted, Milord Generals had come! Girls followed the boys in twos and threes, giggling and waving their hand-sewed Ensigns and chattering excitedly about the impending arrival of so many young men in red coats ( ... )
Reply
“Greetings, boy,” England said, not quite smiling, and America grinned back.
“Hi, England!” he said, and smiled some more, unable at the moment to think of anything else to say. England’s eyes were green and he was wearing a red Marine’s uniform but was one of them and America had missed him, terribly.
All around them the human tide thronged and ebbed as more Marines and sailors disembarked and were greeted by their American brothers and sisters. England waved the back of his palm at America.
“Move along, then,” he said with an eye-brow scowl, and America moved along. Like they’d never been there, they escaped the crowds and made their way to America’s house.
“So it’s war,” America said as they walked. He yanked his thumbs out of his trousers when England’s eyebrows formed a grumpy, deep vee in the direction of America’s crotch. “You totally declared war on France. And France wants the west, too, so he declared war back. Everybody wants me. Ha ha ( ... )
Reply
Reply
Reply
August 1756“Bloody France. Bloody fucking France and his fucking Indians,” England moaned. He sat with a heavy-sounding thump on the log next to America ( ... )
Reply
“So many people to fight,” he said aloud. So many people to please. America hoped that someday he’d be able to make his own choices regarding who to do what to. He could be all of them, perhaps. Hell, he could speak English, French, Dutch -- even some Algonquian…
First, though, they had to get through this. To win. He was British, first and foremost, by right of law. He needed to earn the right to be an equal partner.
“Fucking incompetents,” England was muttering. When America opened his mouth, England added, “Not you. Not just- Well. Our provincial militias did their part with very little training, I must say.”
America gaped. England had said our, and he’d been almost… complimentary. About the colonial soldiers ( ... )
Reply
Reply
Reply
War and Things Like It, Part 5/?
April 1759England had returned once more. America would see him that very evening, in fact, as England sailed into Halifax Harbor with the admirals who were meeting with the generals to plan a siege on Quebec. America counted the passing seconds in his head, even as he took twice as long as usual to dress, making his every movement as slow and deliberate as possible ( ... )
Reply
“Is that to be my greeting, America?”
“What are you talking about? Hi, England,” America said. He buckled his shoes and stood, smiling his realest smile. It wasn’t difficult, because he was, to his secret mortification, amazingly happy to see England. To stop his arms from trying to hug anyone he brushed his palms over the blue turn-ups at the hem of his jacket, checking to see that he’d buttoned them correctly.
Then America suffered an acute few seconds as his heart thumped hard twice-- maybe three times-- against his breastbone, so hard he could feel his it all the way from his throat to his stomach. He watched as England’s badger-grin faded and his eyes widened the tiniest bit and he stared at America with That Look, the intent one that made America’s belly feel all warm and twitchy. That was when America realized that this was what he’d missed so very much-- the tiny moments when England saw him, really saw him. When America thought he might have actually affected England in some way ( ... )
Reply
With a tap, tap of his fingernail on the edge of his glass, England sank down a little in his camp-chair and sort-of smiled. He pretty much ignored his food ( ... )
Reply
“You shouldn’t look at me like that,” England said after a while. His voice was low.
“Like what?”
“You’re so very bold, America. You should behave more like … like …”
America wished he was a little bolder, actually. “Like Canada?”
“Yes! Exactly bloody right. Like Canada.” England drained what was left of his wine and poured more. That time he added to add to America’s glass as well. “He has this downcast-eyes sort of thing. Very servile.”
“That’s because Canada has no rights,” America scoffed. He took another decent-sized sip of wine. It got easier to swallow the more he drank. “I have the rights of a British citizen.”
“Hmm. Damned expensive citizen,” England mumbled.
America stayed silent for a bit and thought. It was a little difficult, what with all the brain-numbness creeping up on him. He couldn’t believe that was what England wanted. Downcast eyes? Servility? There was being put in his place, and then there was being … being …
Accommodating? Maybe England actually liked that sort of ( ... )
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
Unf, I can't wait to see the next update! It's obvious England feels disgusting and maybe is slightly terrified of his own desire for America...how will America convince him to forget it? He was really good here manipulating the conversation to lead England to that subject...
Reply
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