[APH] How Could I Live Without You?
Fill:
1.
First off, anon is sorry that the fill will not be long (America will only spend a day in the alternate universe), because anon has a bad history with writing multi-chaptered monstrosities.
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America was fighting against England again.
They had been in one of them world meetings nations attend so many times year in and year out. America came to the conference room late (again), sloppy as a college student who haphazardly put on whatever clothes he had pulled out of his closet (again). England had scolded him (again, nothing new), but somehow, this time his words seemed particularly harsher than usual. His pride (and heart) smarted, America responded with terribly acidic and childish remarks.
The bickering was stopped by Germany, but after the session ended and they were having dinner, England chided his manners and his choice of food and everything about him, muttering his damn ol’ mantra, ‘You used to be such a well-mannered boy, where did I go wrong?’ When America insulted him, Arthur turned red with anger. ‘You ungrateful twat, I raised you. Where would you be without me?’
America had had enough. So he got up, and walked out of the restaurant in their hotel.
America wandered through neon-bright streets of Tokyo distractedly (he’d been here so many times, seen the quiet fledging oriental city it was and the electronics and otaku haven it’s become). He’d visited many arcades and played games till his eyes hurt, but they couldn’t erase the irritation in his heart. So when a cat-girl spotted him and dragged him aside to a bar, he thought, why the hell not?
“Damnit,” he hiccoughed as he stared at the colourful beverage at the bottom of his glass. “England’s so annoying! I did a lot for him too! He’s the ungrateful prig, not me!” He ranted before finishing his drink in one gulp.
“Oh, I’m sure you did a lot for him,” his drinking buddy of the night, a tall curvaceous woman with long, long black hair and eyes so red, red as Prussia’s eyes, red as blood [A/N], commented as she savoured her martini. The moment they discovered how butchered his Japanese was, almost all the girls left him. The few who stuck around merely stared at him blankly when he talked, so though this woman was creepy and unnerving, she spoke good English, and America was glad for her company.
“God, he’s such a pain in the ass!” America slammed his fist on the table. “A prick on my side. So stuffy and restrictive - America, don’t do this, don’t do that, blah, blah-” he lost his breath and paused. “And the nerve of him, telling me that I wouldn’t be here if not for him!”
“But is it not true?” The scantily clad woman, whose boobs were nearly spilling over to the bar (America totally wasn’t staring at them. He’s…batting for the opposite team, after all), quipped somewhat cheerfully, rouged lips curling to a smirk behind her glass. “Igirisu did took care of you, gave you his language, his people. You won’t be who you are without him.”
“I would have been fine without him!” America was far too drunk to question how on earth this lady could know. “I wish he’s never existed!”
The smirk turned to a wide, wide Cheshire’s Cat grin. “So that’s your wish?” she inquired dangerously, the temperature lowering slightly.
“Yes! I’ll totally prove it to him!” America wasn’t dubbed the nation who cannot read the atmosphere for nothing. (Besides, he’s really, really drunk.)
“There are no coincidences in this world. Only the inevitable,” the tall woman leaned close to the handsome nation, slender fingers reaching out him. “Your meeting me in this bar is inevitable, too.” As soon as America felt a cold touch on his temple, darkness crept to the edges of his vision.
America slid down his stool and fell over to the floor. “I’ll retrieve your payment later!” he heard the woman chirping, and knew no more.
Note:
Yes! She’s Yuuko from xxxholic!! XD
2.
‘America,’ two insistent hands were shaking him.
America turned and pressed his face to his arm. He groaned incoherently.
‘America,’ he was shaken even harder.
“Psss oofff…” he swatted at the person who was disturbing his sleep. Most probably, it’s Matthew.
He was left alone for a while. America was rejoicing inwardly and burrowing himself under the thin blanket (why is it so cold?) when suddenly, a bucket of cold water was dumped to his face.
America woke up with a gasp and sat up, his back bending forward as he coughed away the water that entered his nostrils. “Ma-Matthew!” when he was well enough to shout, he turned to his assailer. Something nagged at the back of his mind when he could see the clear lines of the wooden floor so close to his mattress (why wasn’t he sleeping on a bed?) without a small weight on his nose, but he was more focused on glaring a hole of his frigging brother’s head. “Why did you do-”
When his eyes met a thin dark-haired dark-eyed boy with tanned yellow skin [1] instead of bluish violet eyes and curly blonde hair, America blinked repeatedly. “wie ben jij [2]?” He was shocked when the words he uttered sounded nothing like English - it was harsh and guttural, the ‘r’ consonants dragged out to a growl. Yet, he could still understand what he spoke.
The boy gave him a deadpanned stare and a dull laugh. “Waldger [3], Ik heb geen tijd om te gaan met je onzin [4].” He spoke in that harsh-sounding language too. “I need to wake Aachie [5].”
America blinked again. “Who?”
The boy sent him a withering look, before he simply stamped off, murmuring curses under his breath. “Lazy ang moh [6]…”
America sighed and brought his palm to his face when he realised that he wasn’t wearing a pair of glasses at all. “Where’s Texas?” he asked aloud.
“…with Mexico?” a guy yawned from the other side of the cramped room (weren’t they in a hotel?? How could it be so run down? He would sue the owner, he swore!). America recognized the tanned, burly guy from the side and grinned. “Hey, Brooke! Long time no see!!”
The guy appeared puzzled. “…Who’s Brooke?”
America saw Australia’s face, and he didn’t know what he should freak out from: the fact that his extremely close cousin had forgotten his name, or the fact that Aussie’s eyebrows were normal.
Yes. You heard that right. Aussie didn’t have thick eyebrows anymore.
America gaped and pointed. “Dude, did you shave your eyebrows!?”
Aussie turned to the boy who rudely dumped cold water to America (he hadn’t taken revenge for that. Huh! He should have punched him!) and asked, “…Indonesia, what’s wrong with America?”
“Fuck if I know,” the boy shrugged before moving to a small cupboard at the corner. “We should hurry.” He pulled the drawer open and retrieved some clothes before throwing them to the other two nations. “That bastard would be angry if we arrive to the world meeting late.” Though his thin, ragged face showed a nonchalant expression as he was putting on his clothes swiftly, there was fear in the undertone of his voice.
America was taking off his pajamas distractedly (things were just…too confusing!) when his somewhat tattered shirt was caught. He was struggling to get it over his head when he realised he had a collar around his neck.
He had a fucking collar around his neck. And a fucking brand on his chest. A large ‘G’ that struck smaller ‘W’ and ‘C’ through their middle. [7]
“What the HELL!?”
“Waldger!” Indonesia and Aussie were waiting at him by the door, dressed alike as though they were wearing uniforms. Now that he was looking for them, America could see similar collars around their necks as well. “Hurry the fuck up! I don’t want that guy to punish me, man!” Aussie hollered.
“Coming!” America rushed, thinking, ‘I’m not hallucinating. Am I?’
TBC
LONG Note:
1. OC!Indonesia. Or, more aptly, OC!Strait Settlement (the whole of Indonesia, Malaysia, Singapore, and Brunei Darussalam). British Empire’s rivals in East Indies were Netherlands and Portugal (But Portugal & BE are BFFs! And without England, Portugal would have been annexed by superpower!Spain). Without BE, Netherlands would own East Indies (and Australia too, I’d imagined. May be even Hong Kong. France may own some parts of Malaysia, though, since Indo-China is close to Malaysia).
2. Dutch for ‘who are you?’
3. New York was named New Amsterdam before England bought it from the Netherlands. I was debating who America would belong to (Spain or France?) then I remembered that (plus, I so badly want to write about OC!Indonesia), so, Alfred has a Dutch name!
4. Dutch for ‘I don’t have time to deal with your crap’. I used googletranslate. Feel free to correct me.
5. Aussie’s Dutch name. And from now onwards, even though the conversations are written in English for convenience’s sake, it’s actually in Dutch, okie doki?
6. Hokkien (a dialect) for ‘Caucasian’ (quite a derogatory form)
7. Geoctroyeerde Westindische Compagnie or GWC, or Dutch Chartered West Indian Company. Image: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dutch_West_India_Company
1.
First off, anon is sorry that the fill will not be long (America will only spend a day in the alternate universe), because anon has a bad history with writing multi-chaptered monstrosities.
------------------------
America was fighting against England again.
They had been in one of them world meetings nations attend so many times year in and year out. America came to the conference room late (again), sloppy as a college student who haphazardly put on whatever clothes he had pulled out of his closet (again). England had scolded him (again, nothing new), but somehow, this time his words seemed particularly harsher than usual. His pride (and heart) smarted, America responded with terribly acidic and childish remarks.
The bickering was stopped by Germany, but after the session ended and they were having dinner, England chided his manners and his choice of food and everything about him, muttering his damn ol’ mantra, ‘You used to be such a well-mannered boy, where did I go wrong?’ When America insulted him, Arthur turned red with anger. ‘You ungrateful twat, I raised you. Where would you be without me?’
America had had enough. So he got up, and walked out of the restaurant in their hotel.
America wandered through neon-bright streets of Tokyo distractedly (he’d been here so many times, seen the quiet fledging oriental city it was and the electronics and otaku haven it’s become). He’d visited many arcades and played games till his eyes hurt, but they couldn’t erase the irritation in his heart. So when a cat-girl spotted him and dragged him aside to a bar, he thought, why the hell not?
“Damnit,” he hiccoughed as he stared at the colourful beverage at the bottom of his glass. “England’s so annoying! I did a lot for him too! He’s the ungrateful prig, not me!” He ranted before finishing his drink in one gulp.
“Oh, I’m sure you did a lot for him,” his drinking buddy of the night, a tall curvaceous woman with long, long black hair and eyes so red, red as Prussia’s eyes, red as blood [A/N], commented as she savoured her martini. The moment they discovered how butchered his Japanese was, almost all the girls left him. The few who stuck around merely stared at him blankly when he talked, so though this woman was creepy and unnerving, she spoke good English, and America was glad for her company.
“God, he’s such a pain in the ass!” America slammed his fist on the table. “A prick on my side. So stuffy and restrictive - America, don’t do this, don’t do that, blah, blah-” he lost his breath and paused. “And the nerve of him, telling me that I wouldn’t be here if not for him!”
“But is it not true?” The scantily clad woman, whose boobs were nearly spilling over to the bar (America totally wasn’t staring at them. He’s…batting for the opposite team, after all), quipped somewhat cheerfully, rouged lips curling to a smirk behind her glass. “Igirisu did took care of you, gave you his language, his people. You won’t be who you are without him.”
“I would have been fine without him!” America was far too drunk to question how on earth this lady could know. “I wish he’s never existed!”
The smirk turned to a wide, wide Cheshire’s Cat grin. “So that’s your wish?” she inquired dangerously, the temperature lowering slightly.
“Yes! I’ll totally prove it to him!” America wasn’t dubbed the nation who cannot read the atmosphere for nothing. (Besides, he’s really, really drunk.)
“There are no coincidences in this world. Only the inevitable,” the tall woman leaned close to the handsome nation, slender fingers reaching out him. “Your meeting me in this bar is inevitable, too.” As soon as America felt a cold touch on his temple, darkness crept to the edges of his vision.
America slid down his stool and fell over to the floor. “I’ll retrieve your payment later!” he heard the woman chirping, and knew no more.
Note:
Yes! She’s Yuuko from xxxholic!! XD
2.
‘America,’ two insistent hands were shaking him.
America turned and pressed his face to his arm. He groaned incoherently.
‘America,’ he was shaken even harder.
“Psss oofff…” he swatted at the person who was disturbing his sleep. Most probably, it’s Matthew.
He was left alone for a while. America was rejoicing inwardly and burrowing himself under the thin blanket (why is it so cold?) when suddenly, a bucket of cold water was dumped to his face.
America woke up with a gasp and sat up, his back bending forward as he coughed away the water that entered his nostrils. “Ma-Matthew!” when he was well enough to shout, he turned to his assailer. Something nagged at the back of his mind when he could see the clear lines of the wooden floor so close to his mattress (why wasn’t he sleeping on a bed?) without a small weight on his nose, but he was more focused on glaring a hole of his frigging brother’s head. “Why did you do-”
When his eyes met a thin dark-haired dark-eyed boy with tanned yellow skin [1] instead of bluish violet eyes and curly blonde hair, America blinked repeatedly. “wie ben jij [2]?” He was shocked when the words he uttered sounded nothing like English - it was harsh and guttural, the ‘r’ consonants dragged out to a growl. Yet, he could still understand what he spoke.
The boy gave him a deadpanned stare and a dull laugh. “Waldger [3], Ik heb geen tijd om te gaan met je onzin [4].” He spoke in that harsh-sounding language too. “I need to wake Aachie [5].”
America blinked again. “Who?”
The boy sent him a withering look, before he simply stamped off, murmuring curses under his breath. “Lazy ang moh [6]…”
America sighed and brought his palm to his face when he realised that he wasn’t wearing a pair of glasses at all. “Where’s Texas?” he asked aloud.
“…with Mexico?” a guy yawned from the other side of the cramped room (weren’t they in a hotel?? How could it be so run down? He would sue the owner, he swore!). America recognized the tanned, burly guy from the side and grinned. “Hey, Brooke! Long time no see!!”
The guy appeared puzzled. “…Who’s Brooke?”
America saw Australia’s face, and he didn’t know what he should freak out from: the fact that his extremely close cousin had forgotten his name, or the fact that Aussie’s eyebrows were normal.
Yes. You heard that right. Aussie didn’t have thick eyebrows anymore.
America gaped and pointed. “Dude, did you shave your eyebrows!?”
Aussie turned to the boy who rudely dumped cold water to America (he hadn’t taken revenge for that. Huh! He should have punched him!) and asked, “…Indonesia, what’s wrong with America?”
“Fuck if I know,” the boy shrugged before moving to a small cupboard at the corner. “We should hurry.” He pulled the drawer open and retrieved some clothes before throwing them to the other two nations. “That bastard would be angry if we arrive to the world meeting late.” Though his thin, ragged face showed a nonchalant expression as he was putting on his clothes swiftly, there was fear in the undertone of his voice.
America was taking off his pajamas distractedly (things were just…too confusing!) when his somewhat tattered shirt was caught. He was struggling to get it over his head when he realised he had a collar around his neck.
He had a fucking collar around his neck. And a fucking brand on his chest. A large ‘G’ that struck smaller ‘W’ and ‘C’ through their middle. [7]
“What the HELL!?”
“Waldger!” Indonesia and Aussie were waiting at him by the door, dressed alike as though they were wearing uniforms. Now that he was looking for them, America could see similar collars around their necks as well. “Hurry the fuck up! I don’t want that guy to punish me, man!” Aussie hollered.
“Coming!” America rushed, thinking, ‘I’m not hallucinating. Am I?’
TBC
LONG Note:
1. OC!Indonesia. Or, more aptly, OC!Strait Settlement (the whole of Indonesia, Malaysia, Singapore, and Brunei Darussalam). British Empire’s rivals in East Indies were Netherlands and Portugal (But Portugal & BE are BFFs! And without England, Portugal would have been annexed by superpower!Spain). Without BE, Netherlands would own East Indies (and Australia too, I’d imagined. May be even Hong Kong. France may own some parts of Malaysia, though, since Indo-China is close to Malaysia).
2. Dutch for ‘who are you?’
3. New York was named New Amsterdam before England bought it from the Netherlands. I was debating who America would belong to (Spain or France?) then I remembered that (plus, I so badly want to write about OC!Indonesia), so, Alfred has a Dutch name!
4. Dutch for ‘I don’t have time to deal with your crap’. I used googletranslate. Feel free to correct me.
5. Aussie’s Dutch name. And from now onwards, even though the conversations are written in English for convenience’s sake, it’s actually in Dutch, okie doki?
6. Hokkien (a dialect) for ‘Caucasian’ (quite a derogatory form)
7. Geoctroyeerde Westindische Compagnie or GWC, or Dutch Chartered West Indian Company. Image: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dutch_West_India_Company