“England, your breath is horrible. How much did you actually drink?” Was all America asked, pulling England along down an empty, small little hallway.
“No more’n ‘nyone else,” he said, amongst the noise of the extremely crowded pub. “Why’vn’-why’vn’t you’d ‘nyffink t’drink? Yeh’ve all…. All th’reason t’be!”
“I have no idea what you’re saying.”
“’Merica…! You were the hero! Jus’ like y’always wan’ed t’be! Y’happy, now? Y’saved all’ov’Urope
( ... )
[PART 14] Love is Somewhere Between Sleep and Conciousness (2/??)
anonymous
December 7 2010, 03:39:50 UTC
“Who does she look like, y’think?” America asked, walking out. His hair didn’t look much different aside from the fact it was neatly combed and when he crouched down England smelled cologne on him. Such a nice fragrance and if there was anything America ever did just right relating to how suave and neat he could be, it was fragrance. Never too strong, never too weak, just the right scent-England thanked God daily that America had never tried out that eau d’hamburger, or whatever it was called. If England didn’t know better, America was so close like this on purpose to annoy him and make him jealous
( ... )
[PART 14] Love is Somewhere Between Sleep and Conciousness (3/??)
anonymous
December 7 2010, 03:41:24 UTC
England gave a last glance-over of America before he descended. His heart gave a sad tug, wondering if America would ever do the same for him if they had a relationship-more than just the political appellation they had, of course (well, depending on how one looked at it with America’s new boss’s idea of their ‘unique relationship’); an actual relationship where America would dress up like this, as would he, and they would go out to dinner and maybe the theatre. …If America would even put up with the theatre. Not that he would really have a choice if that’s where
( ... )
[PART 14] Love is Somewhere Between Sleep and Consciousness (4/??)
anonymous
December 7 2010, 03:44:52 UTC
But the phone was ringing. Who on earth was calling him at nine at night he had no idea and why he didn’t get rid of this old, blasted phone he had no idea. It had no caller ID which would really be quite nice. He picked it up, answering with a droll, “’Lo?”
“Ah, Angleterre, you are there!”
His luck. He had none. “What the bloody fuck do you want you frog?”
“Oh, non, non, non. I have not bothered you for two weeks! You should be grateful that Big Brother is calling!”
“Newsflash: I’m not. Now get on with it, man, or hang up before I do.” He took a hand to rub at his temple.
“I really have nothing of importance. I simply inquire as to your knowledge of America’s whereabouts.”
Green eyes rolled. “He’s out with some bint, ‘just fucking’.” Ugh, it hurt to speak those words allowed. “Some Anne woman. …Why would you want to know?”
“Auburn hair?”
“Yes, that’s her-Fra-”
“Mon dieu, Angleterre! I never believed any of your women so fetching!”
“Of course I have fetching women! What are you on about!”
[PART 14] Love is Somewhere Between Sleep and Consciousness (5/??)
anonymous
December 7 2010, 03:47:34 UTC
Just how did France know what was going on? Granted, as he said, he was the country of love but that didn’t explain how he knew. His supposed ‘observations’ of him? Maybe…. But England thought he was good at keeping his feelings hidden. Keeping a straight face at meetings. Unless France had some kind of emotional x-ray vision, which England could both (disturbingly) see and not see
( ... )
[PART 14] Love is Somewhere Between Sleep and Consciousness (6/??)
anonymous
December 7 2010, 03:50:53 UTC
He resumed his pattern but then, after a few minutes he realized-more like remembered-the pattern he was making after pricking his finger with the needle.
The Tudor Rose. Which lead back to that tramp Anne Boleyn which reminded England of this hussy America was currently fucking and it was all full-circle and now he would never be happy and he threw the craft to the floor with a frustrated yell. He slouched in his chair, letting himself slide down as his hands covered his face in exasperation.
“You are truly the picture of what it is to be pathetic, Arthur Kirkland,” he told himself.
With a sigh he grabbed a book and went to the sofa, laying down. He opened to the first page and by the time he was on the third line, he’d drifted off to sleep filled with rose petals and beheadings.
…Maybe he’d revive those when he woke up and met the new age Anne.
--
December 09, 2010; 23:48 (11:48 PM)
Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit…. He’s going to have my head for this, I just know it…. America hurried up the few steps of the stoop, trying to
( ... )
[PART 14] Love is Somewhere Between Sleep and Consciousness (7/??)
anonymous
December 7 2010, 03:53:14 UTC
Trying to get England under the covers of his always immaculately-made bed would definitely jostle him enough to wake him so instead America settled for throwing the … well, throw … over top of him, this time crouching down. He decided just moments later that for the second time in sixty-five years, America decided to be bold, leaning down and over England to kiss him. This time, though, he didn’t taste of alcohol. Just tea. It made America grin into his lips. He wasn’t sure if it was because he was grinning but he swore he felt England kiss him back. It didn’t deter him in that moment, instead pulling back-just the tiniest bit!-of his own accord, just enough to see England open his eyes just a fraction.
Well, and all this time I never knew I was a princeEngland’s eyes didn’t open much further before exhaling softly, lifting his head a little to kiss America back
( ... )
Re: [PART 14] Love is Somewhere Between Sleep and Consciousness (7/??)
anonymous
December 7 2010, 04:47:01 UTC
God, this is fantastic; this is seriously the best depiction of these two idiot's mutually unrequited love I've ever seen. Great characterization and very believable emotions, too. <3 Although I wonder exactly how long poor France has been waiting for one of these fools to put them both out of their misery and just confess already? Quite probably years and years before V-E Day. OTL
Re: [PART 14] Love is Somewhere Between Sleep and Consciousness (7/??)
anonymous
December 7 2010, 04:49:40 UTC
OH! And I love the kind of conspiratorial way England and France were laughing at their shared opinion of "that racoleuse" together. It's nice to see them depicted as (bad) friends as well as rivals and enemies. After all, I'm pretty sure they get along quite well if you get enough liquor into them. XD
LMFAO I must agree! And yeah--I think France has been waiting ... yearrrrssss. It must get annoying with two superpowers refusing to really admit anything while you're kind of in the fray but not and.... I'll stop there. |D;; Though you flatter me, Anon--I have read some pretty awesome fic before. I mean, I certainly hope I'm doing a good job but I shall keep striving for the top...!
Re: [PART 14] Love is Somewhere Between Sleep and Consciousness (7/??)
anonymous
December 7 2010, 05:05:52 UTC
This is really good! I agree with the above anon, I love their characterizations too. And the last part kind of broke my heart...a simple kiss and America's last line ;___;
Good luck with finals and I hope you update soon! :)
***
May 08, 1945
“England, your breath is horrible. How much did you actually drink?” Was all America asked, pulling England along down an empty, small little hallway.
“No more’n ‘nyone else,” he said, amongst the noise of the extremely crowded pub. “Why’vn’-why’vn’t you’d ‘nyffink t’drink? Yeh’ve all…. All th’reason t’be!”
“I have no idea what you’re saying.”
“’Merica…! You were the hero! Jus’ like y’always wan’ed t’be! Y’happy, now? Y’saved all’ov’Urope ( ... )
Reply
Reply
Reply
“Ah, Angleterre, you are there!”
His luck. He had none. “What the bloody fuck do you want you frog?”
“Oh, non, non, non. I have not bothered you for two weeks! You should be grateful that Big Brother is calling!”
“Newsflash: I’m not. Now get on with it, man, or hang up before I do.” He took a hand to rub at his temple.
“I really have nothing of importance. I simply inquire as to your knowledge of America’s whereabouts.”
Green eyes rolled. “He’s out with some bint, ‘just fucking’.” Ugh, it hurt to speak those words allowed. “Some Anne woman. …Why would you want to know?”
“Auburn hair?”
“Yes, that’s her-Fra-”
“Mon dieu, Angleterre! I never believed any of your women so fetching!”
“Of course I have fetching women! What are you on about!”
“I can see them! They just got ( ... )
Reply
Reply
The Tudor Rose. Which lead back to that tramp Anne Boleyn which reminded England of this hussy America was currently fucking and it was all full-circle and now he would never be happy and he threw the craft to the floor with a frustrated yell. He slouched in his chair, letting himself slide down as his hands covered his face in exasperation.
“You are truly the picture of what it is to be pathetic, Arthur Kirkland,” he told himself.
With a sigh he grabbed a book and went to the sofa, laying down. He opened to the first page and by the time he was on the third line, he’d drifted off to sleep filled with rose petals and beheadings.
…Maybe he’d revive those when he woke up and met the new age Anne.
--
December 09, 2010; 23:48 (11:48 PM)
Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit…. He’s going to have my head for this, I just know it….
America hurried up the few steps of the stoop, trying to ( ... )
Reply
Well, and all this time I never knew I was a princeEngland’s eyes didn’t open much further before exhaling softly, lifting his head a little to kiss America back ( ... )
Reply
Reply
Reply
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Good luck with finals and I hope you update soon! :)
Reply
Thank you so much! And I hope to update again within the next 2-3 days!
Reply
This is wonderful, Author!Anon! You have a great hold of the characters and you English is simply delicious.
I'll be waiting for more!
Reply
Thank you sooo much, and being told that my English is delicious is just.... The best compliment ever, you have no idea. ♥
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