Comments | a_facility_log: Vanishing like so many empty words.

always_tea_time in a_facility_log

Vanishing like so many empty words.

Jul 27, 2010 23:09

Who: America and England
When: Tuesday Evening
Where: England's room.
Summary: America's found a costume in his closet that hits far too close to home for England. In a sulk, he's sat in his room drinking, and America doesn't know how to leave well enough alone.
Rating: probably 15 for swearing.
Warnings: ANGST, historical references.

( Did it mean anything to you at all? )

england (arthur kirkland), america (alfred f. jones)

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goxthexdistance July 27 2010, 22:17:30 UTC

Feeling how someone had too feel when they were about to poke a dragon in the eye, America sloped up to England's door like a man to his execution. Chewing his lip hard, he had to take his hands out his pockets to push Texas back up his nose as they slid down, his palms were sweaty too.

He swallowed, hey, a hero wasn't afraid of anything! He was just checking up on England because he was a hero and that's what heroes did!

If only he could believe it.

"England?"

always_tea_time July 27 2010, 22:20:37 UTC

Oh of course. Of fucking course he had to come here. England was happy wading through his own misery.

"Fuck off!" He yelled back. He didn't want to talk to America. Or anyone. Especially not when America looked like that.

goxthexdistance July 27 2010, 22:27:46 UTC

America groaned, resting his forehead against the door.

"Let me in England!" He shouted back, wondering just what the reaction would be if fuck it all he just wandered in naked? Would that make it worse or better?

Probably both. Somehow. Better. Definitely better.... Maybe.

always_tea_time July 27 2010, 22:31:28 UTC

"I said fuck off, wanker!" England threw an empty bottle at the door, taking satisfaction when it smashed. Looking around, he found four more. How many had he drunk? Bah, he didn't care anyway. He played with the sleeve cuffs of the red coat absently. "Leave me alone!"

goxthexdistance July 27 2010, 22:34:09 UTC

That's the last fucking thing you want. America was tempted to say out loud, banging on the door hard enough to make it shake.

"You know I can break the door England!"

He was going to get the next bottle smashed over he head. He was pretty sure.

always_tea_time July 27 2010, 22:35:49 UTC

"Then break the sodding door or go back to your fucking freedom somewhere else, ungrateful brat!" England's voice cracked somewhere near the end but he wasn't in the state of mind to really do much about it.

goxthexdistance July 27 2010, 22:38:52 UTC

It was fairly easy, harder than it should have been, but still easy. And it wasn't untill he was standing face to back with England that he realised this probably wasn't the best plan.

"Uh..." He looked around the room, picking his way over glass shards. England could still make him feel oh so very small, on the inside where no one could see. "It was just there okay?"

always_tea_time July 27 2010, 22:42:37 UTC

The force of England glare could have been a lot worse if it weren't for how teary and bloodshot his eyes were. He sat hunched over on the bed, legs half crossed and slanted slightly as he swayed drunkenly.

"Well this," he poked at his own uniform, the coat still discarded but the shirt and trousers already on. "was also 'just there'. Maybe I should put it on for shits and giggles too."

goxthexdistance July 27 2010, 22:46:18 UTC

"That's stupid! You have the pirate outfit that looks normal! This looked normal okay! Better than that stupid cactus thing!" America protested, fists curling. "If you can find the fucking sleeves, how much have you had?"

always_tea_time July 27 2010, 22:49:54 UTC

England peered down at his collection of bottles. "Four. Maybe five. Haven't eaten in the past 5 hours." His accent was just starting to slip into Midlands. Huh. Interesting start to the evening. "Can so find the sleeves. Watch." He pushed himself off the wall, wobbling only a little before grabbing the coat and wrestling his way into it.

goxthexdistance July 27 2010, 22:56:58 UTC

America swallowed hard as he watched.

Yea, remind me. You wore it, Canada wore it.

Did England think he didn't still have nightmares about them both in that fucking uniform beyond the flames? Grinning no less. Miles away but so close. His brothers standing there taking kicks out of burning him, so painfully unreachable? Did England think he hadn't been scared? Frightened? Not sure what the fuck to do next without his big brother to guide him?

He didn't say anything aside from spitting: "You're gonna be sick and I'm not hauling your drunken ass to the bathroom."

always_tea_time July 27 2010, 23:04:28 UTC

England was already fixing the belts on the uniform. "No' gonna be sick. Can 'old my drink a little better than tha', brat." Though the world was spinning a bit and was that Canada standing behind America or was he just seeing double?

The coat smelled like rain and smoke and gunpowder. He'd never been able to get the smell out. Standing from the bed, he straightened out the uniform before staring at America defiantly. 'Here I am. Now what.'

goxthexdistance July 27 2010, 23:11:06 UTC

"You will. You rant, sometimes you spew, then you pass out." Scowled America, voice a bit strained. England has done his up better than America, drunk even.

For the second time he removed his glases. His eye needed scratching. Scratching! And that was all!

always_tea_time July 27 2010, 23:17:42 UTC

"Will not-" And again, again with the fucking glasses. Pretending to cry too, like he wasn't so smug about his victory. He knew he was; he spent every 4th July showing how fucking smug he was about winning, about escaping England.

Rage boiled up inside him. Nobody was meant to escape. They were all meant to be his forever, but America had left and eventually so had everyone else and it was all his fault.

The swing was drunken and mis-aimed, but it was still going straight for America.

goxthexdistance July 27 2010, 23:20:57 UTC

America didn't see until he opened his eyes again which was a fraction too late.

"Hey-"

England connected with his hands rather than his face as he jerked backwards, swiping Nantucket and sending his glasses flying out from his fingers.

He didn't see where they skittered. He couldn't see a damn thing for shit apart from his own fingers still right in front of him.

Fuck.

"Or you do THAT!" He shrieked, hitting back wildly, squinting hard.

always_tea_time July 27 2010, 23:32:01 UTC

The blow connected with England's shoulder, America's strength sending him spinning round, losing balance and nearly falling over. No no no, he wouldn't fall in front of America again. He steadied himself against his desk, rolling his shoulder and feeling where there would probably be a bruise tomorrow.

Fine by him.

"You startin'?!" England crowed, cackling madly. "Come on then, if ya think yer 'ard enough!" He put his fists up again, ready for any strikes.

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