He Said What! Chapter 3
Blindly attempting this… I know where I want my story to go, but good LORD is it hard to get there! Heh. Anyways, glad you guys are liking this! And a special thanks to the people who have reviewed not only one but two chapters of this! For those of you just reading this, reviews make me feel all warm and fuzzy and make me less likely to forget my passionate love for this story. Just sayin'.
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It was a lovely morning in England-for the representation of England-for approximately ten seconds.
The birds were singing, the sun's outline at least visible behind the ever-present European cloud, the wind was actually bearable, and there was very little chance of rain that day. England mused that he would get some tea, maybe put some coffee on for America if his love looked especially tired that morning, then perhaps go out for some breakfast as it had been established long ago that neither of them should be allowed to cook.
And then came the realization that England was, in fact, in his office, not at home as he'd thought, therefore some distance away from his favorite tea. Immediately following that realization was the realization of a distinct lack of previously mentioned American love.
The realization that really ruined England's morning-and, well, his entire day, probably entire week and perhaps, if things went too terribly for the week, his entire month-was the memory of the previous day.
England just barely had time to grasp at the memory of America's hurt-and-nearly-to-tears face before his rational brain pushed it away-no, bad England, this line of thinking will only be detrimental to your health, you need to stop before this gets out of hand, stop thinking about the tears in his eyes, stop thinking about how hurt he looked, stop it stop it stop it-and he stood up, clearly ready to restart the day.
Because, above all else, England was ready to make things better.
He had to.
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"Good morning," a sing-song voice announced, right next to America's ear. "I made some pancakes! I just remembered that you never did eat anything yesterday, and since you must be completely starving by now, I made extra, too."
America didn't budge, instead clinging to the fragments of sleep just a few moments longer.
"Come on, America…" the voice, which America had since deduced was Canada, as no one else would get that excited about pancakes or be so freakin' quiet, continued. He seemed to be getting a little upset that America wasn't responding, and started to shake his brother-nation's shoulder. "Get up."
"Lemme'lone,Iwannasleeeeeeeeeeeeep…" America groaned. Then, as an afterthought, "And shut the curtains… it shouldn't be so bright in here…"
"Someone's enthusiastic about today," Canada noted, raising an eyebrow-not that America could see it, as he'd since buried his head under the covers.
At this, America just burrowed further into his cocoon of covers. His voice was muffled, but there was a distinct, "Yeah? And what's so great about today?" that came out anyways.
"Today is the day you promised to tell me what happened, and before you do that, I need to make sure you get up and have a decent breakfast since you didn't have anything yesterday," Canada said matter-of-factly. Since America didn't absolutely trip over himself in new-found purpose, the northern twin added, "And they're my special chocolate-chip pancakes. With ice cream on the side."
At that, he actually got to see Nantucket pop out of the covers a few seconds before the rest of America's head followed. He looked up at Canada with traitorously hopeful eyes. "…D'you have chocolate syrup for the ice cream, too?"
Canada tried to hold back a smile. "Complete with whipped cream~" he practically sang. "So, you comin' out of there or am I going to have to bring it to you?"
America bit his lip, furrowing his brow in the way that meant he really wanted to ask something but was absolutely terrified of being turned down. Canada knew this look all too well.
"Mm? What is it you want, America?" he asked gently, placing a hand on where he assumed America's shoulder to be under the mass of blankets. "Remember, you're the one in charge here right now. Whatever you say goes. So don't feel like you need to hold back anything on your mind."
America battled with himself for a few seconds before he finally gave in. "Do you think we could watch a movie or something?"
Canada took this as 'I don't want to talk about what happened yesterday, and would like very much to be distracted for a few hours, possibly a full day.' He gave a knowing smile and nodded. "Sure. I think I still have that box set of Star Wars, so if you want, we could have a marathon."
The southern nation blinked up at him, surprised, before giving as brave a smile as he could manage. "Okay. Yeah, that'd be good."
There was a very distinct 'thanks' in the way America finally swung his legs over the side of the bed and walked as confidently as he could to the kitchen, Canada not far behind.
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France was hardly surprised to find England already awake. The general un-put-togetherness of the island nation's appearance, however, was new. He hoped it wouldn't happen too often in the future (honestly, his wardrobe was one of the few redeeming features of his appearance), but supposed that England deserved a day or two of letting more important matters take their rightful place in his mind.
"Do I have something in my teeth, Frog," England practically growled at his southern neighbor, "Or am I so repulsive that you can't tear your eyes away?"
France sighed. It appeared that the sweet, honest England from the previous night had already been replaced with the usual grumpy and prone-to-snap-at-others one. "Bonjour, Angleterre." At England's barely suppressed anger at even hearing French, France rephrased. "Good morning, England. I trust that you slept well?"
"As good as I could, waking up every other hour with…" England trailed off.
"Nightmares?"
"No, no," England said with a frown. "Memories."
"I see." France sighed again. "You need to tell me what happened, mon cher, otherwise I will not be able to offer my advice in the ways of amour…"
"I don't know why you think I need your help," England snapped. "I can handle my own affairs just fine on my own. I made one stupid mistake and suddenly everyone thinks that I'm incapable of feeling any human emotion. I know I made a mistake, and I'll be correcting it in time."
"Stop that," France commanded, eyeing England's reserved, uncaring, face with a frown.
"Stop what?" England narrowed his eyes and furrowed his rather impressive eyebrows, the very picture of someone who didn't want to be told they were wrong.
"That," France remedied, taking a few steps closer so he could smooth out his island neighbor's face, forcing the eyebrows and eyes to a relaxed position. "Don't use that expression. It makes people think that you honestly hate them."
"That's the point," England snorted, immediately ruining France's work by screwing his face back up into an arrogant sneer.
"Well, you need to stop it if you don't want… that… to happen again."
"'That', what?" England asked, narrowing his eyes and positively daring France to confront him about his treatment of America.
"That thing you do that made America cry. Odds are you positively broke his heart, mon cher, and if you don't want this to happen again, you need to learn to recognize the faces that people make that may indicate deeper feelings than the obvious." He paused, frowning at England again. "Starting with your own."
"You're implying that I have a problem," England snapped. "And I don't. I made a single, stupid mistake. It won't happen again."
France sighed, deciding on a different approach. "You love him, do you not?"
"Of course I bloody love him," England growled. "Why would I have stayed with him for this long and done everything in my power to make him happy if I didn't?"
The Frenchman ignored the many words that England hadn't said (that France really wished he would have; honesty made things so much easier) and instead focused on what he had. "So you love him and want to make him happy. Tres bien…" He paused. "Would you do anything to protect him? Keep him from anything that would hurt him?"
"Of course I would. I have for years, haven't I? Always had his back in wars, always made sure I was present whenever I thought he needed someone to take care of him or talk to him?"
"Good. Very good." And France hesitated for just a moment. "But, Angleterre… you hurt him yesterday. What are you going to do about that?"
England glared at him. "I'm going to apologize to him and make sure he still wants me. I thought I was quite clear on that before."
France hmm'ed in sympathy. "But… say this happens again. Will you do the same then, too?"
"I suppose I would, yes," England regarded him with an icy glare. "But I've already told you that this won't happen again. It was one mistake that I will take great care not to duplicate."
"Lovers always have their quarrels," France said decidedly. "Something like this will happen again. But your response, mon cher… it is not satisfactory. You need to do more than just apologize. What you did yesterday was cruel, cruel enough to make America distressed enough that Canada, sweet little Canada, threatened you. I do not know what all you did or said to him… But Angleterre…" he trailed off, furrowing his eyebrows at the island nation. "I will not allow you to stay with him if I feel you will do such a thing again. I hardly know the boy, but you forget that he is… like the brother of my little brother, so he is my brother, too. I will not permit any harm, emotional or physical, to come to him. Even if it is from you, mon cher… Especially if it is from you. You mean the world to him, that much is obvious. Your opinion of him matters to him, perhaps too much. You cannot be so cruel to him, or he will take it to heart and store it there forever."
England bristled at France's lecture, but kept his mouth shut, because the rational part of his brain knew it was sound advice, and England was nothing if not a rational thinker. And so he decided to accept the help that France was offering, though less than thrilled at the imminent criticisms of his character.
France seemed to notice the Englishman's decision. "Tres bien… Now finish up your breakfast, mon petite lapin. I will teach you in the more… complicated… matters of amore."
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This seemed a good a stopping place as any. Enjoy the chapter!