Of Zombie British Kings and Other Matters (1/?)
Title: Of Zombie British Kings and Other Matters (1/?)
Author: weird_number
Genre: Humor, Action, Adventure
Ratings/Warnings: Um, craziness?
Summary: In which America discovers a most curious zombie at his door while babysitting Sealand with Canada
Pairings: America/Canada
Also on ff.net.
De-anon from the kink meme. I actually wrote more than what was posted there, but wasn't satisfied with it enough to post it.
America liked having guests over. It made his large house feel less lonely, and well, this was Sealand, one of the few nations capable of appreciating America's antics. They could spend the night plotting England's demise -
("Let's build a precipitation-inducing machine, fly it over the British Isles, have it pour on England, and sink him! And then we'll dump mountains of dirt on you, Sealand, so you won't sink along with Arthur!"
"Yeah, that's perfect - can you imagine jerk England waving his arms around like a useless fish in the water? Ahaha!"
"We should take photos to commemorate the moment!")
- and Sealand wouldn't roll his eyes like most other nations.
Of course, neither Finland or Sweden were convinced of his ability to handle kids at first - he had to promise that his brother would be joining him before they agreed. It irked America (just a little, mind you) that no one had any confidence in his ability to handle children - he had fifty states to deal with, most of whom were far more unruly than Sealand. (Of course, not all his states had been raised by him - some were actually older than him, but still, he was the glue that kept everyone together!)
Besides, as far as he could tell, he was doing better than England - England was too stuffy and strict - no surprise that Sealand called him a jerk. If Finland and Sweden were okay with Sealand staying with 'jerk' England, how could they not be okay with -
"America!" Canada called from the kitchen, interrupting his thoughts. "Just what the hell have you been teaching Sealand?"
"Oh, come on," America began, walking towards the direction of his brother's voice. "What are you talking about?"
"You know perfectly well what I'm talking about, America! Why is Sealand in your kitchen, messing around with salt and dry ice and babbling about artificial rain?" Canada had stepped out of the kitchen, and America gaped at the lumps of sea salt in his hair.
"Aww, Canada, forget it," America grinned, trying to stop himself from laughing at the ridiculousness of the scene. "He's just a kid being a kid!"
Canada shot him an annoyed look. "Then what are you? An adult being a kid? You really should stop giving him ridiculous ideas. What will you do if he makes a dry ice bomb?"
America laughed, looping an arm around Canada's shoulders. "That'd be awesome! Maybe I can help him build a private plane and we can fly across the Atlantic and perform a personal dry ice bomb delivery to England's door."
"And with that," Canada muttered, "World War III starts. I think I'd like to join Switzerland in neutrality."
"What? But Maaaatt! You can't be neutral - you have to choose!"
"Alright, then can I join England instead?"
"Hey! I forgot to mention that there's only one choice - me." America grinned, and buried his head in Canada's hair, pulling him close. "You know, you smell like a salt bomb - I'll bet you taste - "
"And whose fault was that?" Canada snapped, unsuccessfully attempting to push the clingy weight on his shoulders away. "If you hadn't given Sealand those stupid ideas - "
"But that's a good thing!" America protested, "Salt is awesome, and dry ice bombs are - "
There was a sharp rapping at the door that caught both nations' attentions. America quickly unraveled himself from his neighbor, and mouthed to Canada, Who the hell would be knocking at this hour? It's almost midnight! Canada gave him a shrug, and motioned him towards the door. It was probably one of America's citizens, seeking late-night aid of some sort.
America reached for the door knob, and as the door eked open, a low voice erupted from the open doorway: "Why - it's you - you snivelling little upstart!"
America's eyes suddenly grew wide and he stumbled backwards in fear. "Matt! Fucking hell, Matt - That's...is that King George the Third?"
"What?"
"Canada! There's a fucking zombie British king at my door!"
Canada moved forward and peered into the doorway. True to America's description, King George III stood there, powdered wig, tri-tip hat, red uniform and all.
Feedback appreciated! To be continued...
Author: weird_number
Genre: Humor, Action, Adventure
Ratings/Warnings: Um, craziness?
Summary: In which America discovers a most curious zombie at his door while babysitting Sealand with Canada
Pairings: America/Canada
Also on ff.net.
De-anon from the kink meme. I actually wrote more than what was posted there, but wasn't satisfied with it enough to post it.
America liked having guests over. It made his large house feel less lonely, and well, this was Sealand, one of the few nations capable of appreciating America's antics. They could spend the night plotting England's demise -
("Let's build a precipitation-inducing machine, fly it over the British Isles, have it pour on England, and sink him! And then we'll dump mountains of dirt on you, Sealand, so you won't sink along with Arthur!"
"Yeah, that's perfect - can you imagine jerk England waving his arms around like a useless fish in the water? Ahaha!"
"We should take photos to commemorate the moment!")
- and Sealand wouldn't roll his eyes like most other nations.
Of course, neither Finland or Sweden were convinced of his ability to handle kids at first - he had to promise that his brother would be joining him before they agreed. It irked America (just a little, mind you) that no one had any confidence in his ability to handle children - he had fifty states to deal with, most of whom were far more unruly than Sealand. (Of course, not all his states had been raised by him - some were actually older than him, but still, he was the glue that kept everyone together!)
Besides, as far as he could tell, he was doing better than England - England was too stuffy and strict - no surprise that Sealand called him a jerk. If Finland and Sweden were okay with Sealand staying with 'jerk' England, how could they not be okay with -
"America!" Canada called from the kitchen, interrupting his thoughts. "Just what the hell have you been teaching Sealand?"
"Oh, come on," America began, walking towards the direction of his brother's voice. "What are you talking about?"
"You know perfectly well what I'm talking about, America! Why is Sealand in your kitchen, messing around with salt and dry ice and babbling about artificial rain?" Canada had stepped out of the kitchen, and America gaped at the lumps of sea salt in his hair.
"Aww, Canada, forget it," America grinned, trying to stop himself from laughing at the ridiculousness of the scene. "He's just a kid being a kid!"
Canada shot him an annoyed look. "Then what are you? An adult being a kid? You really should stop giving him ridiculous ideas. What will you do if he makes a dry ice bomb?"
America laughed, looping an arm around Canada's shoulders. "That'd be awesome! Maybe I can help him build a private plane and we can fly across the Atlantic and perform a personal dry ice bomb delivery to England's door."
"And with that," Canada muttered, "World War III starts. I think I'd like to join Switzerland in neutrality."
"What? But Maaaatt! You can't be neutral - you have to choose!"
"Alright, then can I join England instead?"
"Hey! I forgot to mention that there's only one choice - me." America grinned, and buried his head in Canada's hair, pulling him close. "You know, you smell like a salt bomb - I'll bet you taste - "
"And whose fault was that?" Canada snapped, unsuccessfully attempting to push the clingy weight on his shoulders away. "If you hadn't given Sealand those stupid ideas - "
"But that's a good thing!" America protested, "Salt is awesome, and dry ice bombs are - "
There was a sharp rapping at the door that caught both nations' attentions. America quickly unraveled himself from his neighbor, and mouthed to Canada, Who the hell would be knocking at this hour? It's almost midnight! Canada gave him a shrug, and motioned him towards the door. It was probably one of America's citizens, seeking late-night aid of some sort.
America reached for the door knob, and as the door eked open, a low voice erupted from the open doorway: "Why - it's you - you snivelling little upstart!"
America's eyes suddenly grew wide and he stumbled backwards in fear. "Matt! Fucking hell, Matt - That's...is that King George the Third?"
"What?"
"Canada! There's a fucking zombie British king at my door!"
Canada moved forward and peered into the doorway. True to America's description, King George III stood there, powdered wig, tri-tip hat, red uniform and all.
Feedback appreciated! To be continued...