[Fanfic] Short One-Shot: Tastes Like Lipton
Title: Tastes like Lipton
Genre: Humour/Fluff
Pairing(s): UsxUk
Rating/Warnings: Cussing, Mentions of Sex
Summary: America vs. Unilever. Who will will this battle of the titans?
March 3rd, 2010: Canterbury
America had a secret.
A deep, dark secret. Deeper than any top-secret file in the CIA. Darker than any Kennedy conspiracy theory. More bizarre than Area 51. More powerful than any Cold War cover-up. More devastating than hearing that the results of American Idol are fixed. More world-shattering than finding out that your favorite Sport’s Illustrated swimsuit model has been heavily airbrushed.
America…liked tea.
There, he’d admitted it! He liked it. He’d liked it since he was a tiny little colony drinking tea on England’s lap, adding cream until the tea was barely even the color of wheat and tasted like nothing more than watered down milk. He’d liked it his whole life, no matter how much he claimed otherwise. Sometimes, when he was feeling nostalgic and lonely for England, he’d go into his kitchen and make an enormous pot of Earl Grey, sipping at it from a wide-rimmed floral teacup that he’d tucked away during the revolution. Then, when he’d satisfied the craving, he’d hide the evidence away like crack cocaine, knowing it would be there when he needed his next fix.
Right, so he had some issues…
“This tastes like Lipton!” America insisted again, sniffing at it just to be certain. He and England had been arguing about this for the better part of an hour, a continuous volley of point and counterpoint that had left them both frustrated and vaguely insulted.
“It tastes like no such thing.” England’s risen pinky finger shook with the effort of remaining calm and composed, but his eyes flashed and flared over the rim of his teacup, the steam barely managing to obscure the true level of his annoyance. “I have tasted Lipton and PG tips tastes nothing like it.”
“You’re full of shit!” America pointed across the table, earning a series of tuts and tisks for his egregious table manners. He plowed on. “If I blindfolded you and made you drink two different cups, I bet you’d never know the difference. You’d probably enjoy the blindfold though, you old pervert.”
“I am not old!” England snapped, cheeks coloring prettily when he realized he hadn’t actually denied being a pervert. America smiled affectionately at the gesture. “And you are being ridiculous. Now belt up and drink that damn tea before I tell everyone that you still like the stuff. And my cucumber sandwiches!”
Momentarily deflated, America went back to sulkily sipping at his cup, resolutely looking anywhere but at England and his smug, yet sort of sexy, smirk. England always got that look when he thought he’d won an argument. Which, much to America’s dismay, happened more often that he’d like to admit.
But…damn it…it tasted like Lipton! It did!
“Where are you going?” England demanded as America rose from the table, making his way into the lounge where England’s computer sat in the corner. Flipping it on, he waited what seemed like forever (how old was this computer?) until the welcome screen had faded away and he was free to, slowly, browse the internet.
Wikipedia to the rescue!
Somewhere in the middle of the Lipton article, England came into the room and settled himself on America’s lap, grabbing a free arm to secure it around his own waist. They read together silently until they reached the bottom of the page, America sputtering and gaping when he read the final paragraph, mouth floundering with candid and unguarded shock.
Oh no! No, no, no, no, no…
“Meanwhile, the Lipton tea business was acquired by consumer goods company Unilever in a number of separate transactions, starting with the purchase of the US and Canadian Lipton business in 1938 and completed in 1972 when Unilever bought the remainder of the global Lipton business."
Unilever…Unilever was an English company! That could only mean. That meant that…
“Well, well, well,” England purred in amusement, taking a regal, pompous, haughty sip of tea. Setting his cup on the desk, he turned to nestle his cheek against America’s shoulder, blinking big innocent eyes yet somehow managing to look wicked and fiendish at the same time. It was that same look he got whenever he was planning to put America on his back and screw him senseless…only this wasn’t nearly as fun. “It seems you were right, America. PG tips and Lipton really are the same thing. But, you know what else that means, don’t you love?”
America did. God help him he did, and the hand not digging reflexively into England’s hip flew to his mouth to hold in the bubbling scream lodged in his throat. He was going to be sick! He was going to pass out! This was…this was…this was…!
“200 years later, and you’re still drinking my tea. Boston Tea Party, indeed.”
“Nooooooooooo!!!"
This story is actually an observation me and my English friend Claire made after I bought a box of PG tips and discovered that it tastes just like Lipton.
XOXOXOXOXOXXOXOXO
Cherry!
Genre: Humour/Fluff
Pairing(s): UsxUk
Rating/Warnings: Cussing, Mentions of Sex
Summary: America vs. Unilever. Who will will this battle of the titans?
March 3rd, 2010: Canterbury
America had a secret.
A deep, dark secret. Deeper than any top-secret file in the CIA. Darker than any Kennedy conspiracy theory. More bizarre than Area 51. More powerful than any Cold War cover-up. More devastating than hearing that the results of American Idol are fixed. More world-shattering than finding out that your favorite Sport’s Illustrated swimsuit model has been heavily airbrushed.
America…liked tea.
There, he’d admitted it! He liked it. He’d liked it since he was a tiny little colony drinking tea on England’s lap, adding cream until the tea was barely even the color of wheat and tasted like nothing more than watered down milk. He’d liked it his whole life, no matter how much he claimed otherwise. Sometimes, when he was feeling nostalgic and lonely for England, he’d go into his kitchen and make an enormous pot of Earl Grey, sipping at it from a wide-rimmed floral teacup that he’d tucked away during the revolution. Then, when he’d satisfied the craving, he’d hide the evidence away like crack cocaine, knowing it would be there when he needed his next fix.
Right, so he had some issues…
“This tastes like Lipton!” America insisted again, sniffing at it just to be certain. He and England had been arguing about this for the better part of an hour, a continuous volley of point and counterpoint that had left them both frustrated and vaguely insulted.
“It tastes like no such thing.” England’s risen pinky finger shook with the effort of remaining calm and composed, but his eyes flashed and flared over the rim of his teacup, the steam barely managing to obscure the true level of his annoyance. “I have tasted Lipton and PG tips tastes nothing like it.”
“You’re full of shit!” America pointed across the table, earning a series of tuts and tisks for his egregious table manners. He plowed on. “If I blindfolded you and made you drink two different cups, I bet you’d never know the difference. You’d probably enjoy the blindfold though, you old pervert.”
“I am not old!” England snapped, cheeks coloring prettily when he realized he hadn’t actually denied being a pervert. America smiled affectionately at the gesture. “And you are being ridiculous. Now belt up and drink that damn tea before I tell everyone that you still like the stuff. And my cucumber sandwiches!”
Momentarily deflated, America went back to sulkily sipping at his cup, resolutely looking anywhere but at England and his smug, yet sort of sexy, smirk. England always got that look when he thought he’d won an argument. Which, much to America’s dismay, happened more often that he’d like to admit.
But…damn it…it tasted like Lipton! It did!
“Where are you going?” England demanded as America rose from the table, making his way into the lounge where England’s computer sat in the corner. Flipping it on, he waited what seemed like forever (how old was this computer?) until the welcome screen had faded away and he was free to, slowly, browse the internet.
Wikipedia to the rescue!
Somewhere in the middle of the Lipton article, England came into the room and settled himself on America’s lap, grabbing a free arm to secure it around his own waist. They read together silently until they reached the bottom of the page, America sputtering and gaping when he read the final paragraph, mouth floundering with candid and unguarded shock.
Oh no! No, no, no, no, no…
“Meanwhile, the Lipton tea business was acquired by consumer goods company Unilever in a number of separate transactions, starting with the purchase of the US and Canadian Lipton business in 1938 and completed in 1972 when Unilever bought the remainder of the global Lipton business."
Unilever…Unilever was an English company! That could only mean. That meant that…
“Well, well, well,” England purred in amusement, taking a regal, pompous, haughty sip of tea. Setting his cup on the desk, he turned to nestle his cheek against America’s shoulder, blinking big innocent eyes yet somehow managing to look wicked and fiendish at the same time. It was that same look he got whenever he was planning to put America on his back and screw him senseless…only this wasn’t nearly as fun. “It seems you were right, America. PG tips and Lipton really are the same thing. But, you know what else that means, don’t you love?”
America did. God help him he did, and the hand not digging reflexively into England’s hip flew to his mouth to hold in the bubbling scream lodged in his throat. He was going to be sick! He was going to pass out! This was…this was…this was…!
“200 years later, and you’re still drinking my tea. Boston Tea Party, indeed.”
“Nooooooooooo!!!"
This story is actually an observation me and my English friend Claire made after I bought a box of PG tips and discovered that it tastes just like Lipton.
XOXOXOXOXOXXOXOXO
Cherry!