(no subject)
Title: The Years Together As Companions- Part 1
Genre: General, Humor
Word Count: 877
Rating/Warnings: PG, references to hunting and France
Summary: England decides to host a little competition before hosting the actual Olympic games himself. America, surprisingly, isn't enthusiastic about this and England finds out why.
Normally, when a world meeting adjourned, most of the nations would "hightail" it, so to speak. It wasn't a surprise given how the nature of meetings. It was either chaotic and violent or as dull and boring as watching the paint dry. But when Germany called for a lunch break, America was quite surprised to see that most of the nations had chosen to remain in their seats. Even Italy was still there, and he was usually one of the first ones to leave. And what was even more surprising was that everybody was crowding around England and were looking rather... excited. Before America could realize what he was doing, he was already making a beeline back towards the table. His stomach was already protesting (just thinking about those big Macs made his mouth water) but somehow, he managed to control himself.
"- most of this should have already been explained to you in the packet. But do any of you have any questions?"
"I do!" Russia raised his hand. "Why is Latvia and Lithuania on the approved countries list. But I'm not?," he asked, with an eery smile.
"It's because of the risk of rabies incursion," England said with a grimace. "Don't give me that look. It's not like you can't enter. But you'll have different time requirements to follow." He jerked his thumb back towards his assistant. "I will have Howard here give you all the details." Howard's facial complexion noticeably turned paler.
"Hey, England, what are you up to?" America clasped a hand on his shoulder and leaned over to look at the clipboard in the man's hand. "I didn't know you were holding a party."
England snorted and jerked his shoulder away. "That's because I'm not."
"Ve~ ! Didn't you get the packet, America?" Italy exclaimed, seemingly popping out from nowhere.
"What packet-" Before he could finish his sentence, England lightly smacked him on the head with a manilla envelope. "I knew that this would happen so I brought an extra copy. You have to start checking your mail more often."
"Since the Olympics are coming up, I've decided that it'd be fun to host a small event before hosting the actual Games." England beamed and quickly added, "It would be good for all of us to participate. Think of it as a little warm-up and, um, a nice bonding experience." Of course, everybody knew that it was England-speak for 'an opportunity to show off and demoralize future competition.'
"Mini-Olympic games? Are you kidding me?" America started pulling out the documents. "I'm totally gonna kick your butt!"
A cat-like grin crept onto England's face. "Not so fast, my boy. I'm afraid you won't be kicking anyone's butt here."
America frowned and scanned the papers.
"We were thinking about holding a mini-Olympics games but after last year's fiasco, thanks to my dear bruder," Germany shot a dark look at Prussia, who wasn't technically supposed to be there, "and France," England huffed at the memory of the streaking event, "we decided to do things a bit differently this year."
"Thank you, Germany. We've decided-," he paused for effect, "- to compete using our dogs instead."
“W-what?” America stuttered.
France weaved his way through and wrapped an arm around America’s shoulders. “You probably don’t remember this but England used to hold competitions like this.”
“You mean, like a century ago?” he said sarcastically but a thoughtful expression came over England’s face.
“I believe so, actually. I think the last time I held one was at the turn of the century. Of course, it didn’t have as many countries participating but it was a fairly big event.”
“It’s been awhile since we did something like this!” Italy turned to England and tugged on his sleeve. “Hey, England! Remember how your dog used to come over to me for treats? She was so cute! And- um, what was her name again?”
England smiled. “You mean, Abbey?”
“That’s it!” Italy smacked his fist into the palm of his other hand. “Abbey! She always gave me those big puppy eyes. She loved it whenever I fed her one of my meatballs.”
Germany eyed Italy suspiciously and England rolled his eyes half-heartedly, remembering how his prized whippet ended up with a stomach-ache.
“Are you sure you want to do a dog competition?” America asked, nervously. “I mean, you’re working with dogs here. Wouldn’t that be too much trouble? You can’t just have a bunch of countries let their dogs run loose. ”
“A proper nation wouldn’t let his own dog run loose,” Austria said, dabbing a handkerchief (-who still used these things? America wondered) at his brow. “And I believe that it’s a wise decision. After all, as nations, we’re not the ones responsible for training our athletes. But a fine dog has a lot to say about his master.” Everybody nodded in agreement and within a few seconds, New Zealand shouted and there was a loud commotion over whose dog was better. Then, Canada started boasting about his Labrador and the noise level escalated.
England glanced over at America. “Are you alright?”
“What, me? Of course, I’m alright,” America said unconvincingly, in a shaky voice. “You can count me in.”
England raised a brow but he held his tongue and merely nodded.
End of Part 1.
(to be continued...)
Genre: General, Humor
Word Count: 877
Rating/Warnings: PG, references to hunting and France
Summary: England decides to host a little competition before hosting the actual Olympic games himself. America, surprisingly, isn't enthusiastic about this and England finds out why.
Normally, when a world meeting adjourned, most of the nations would "hightail" it, so to speak. It wasn't a surprise given how the nature of meetings. It was either chaotic and violent or as dull and boring as watching the paint dry. But when Germany called for a lunch break, America was quite surprised to see that most of the nations had chosen to remain in their seats. Even Italy was still there, and he was usually one of the first ones to leave. And what was even more surprising was that everybody was crowding around England and were looking rather... excited. Before America could realize what he was doing, he was already making a beeline back towards the table. His stomach was already protesting (just thinking about those big Macs made his mouth water) but somehow, he managed to control himself.
"- most of this should have already been explained to you in the packet. But do any of you have any questions?"
"I do!" Russia raised his hand. "Why is Latvia and Lithuania on the approved countries list. But I'm not?," he asked, with an eery smile.
"It's because of the risk of rabies incursion," England said with a grimace. "Don't give me that look. It's not like you can't enter. But you'll have different time requirements to follow." He jerked his thumb back towards his assistant. "I will have Howard here give you all the details." Howard's facial complexion noticeably turned paler.
"Hey, England, what are you up to?" America clasped a hand on his shoulder and leaned over to look at the clipboard in the man's hand. "I didn't know you were holding a party."
England snorted and jerked his shoulder away. "That's because I'm not."
"Ve~ ! Didn't you get the packet, America?" Italy exclaimed, seemingly popping out from nowhere.
"What packet-" Before he could finish his sentence, England lightly smacked him on the head with a manilla envelope. "I knew that this would happen so I brought an extra copy. You have to start checking your mail more often."
"Since the Olympics are coming up, I've decided that it'd be fun to host a small event before hosting the actual Games." England beamed and quickly added, "It would be good for all of us to participate. Think of it as a little warm-up and, um, a nice bonding experience." Of course, everybody knew that it was England-speak for 'an opportunity to show off and demoralize future competition.'
"Mini-Olympic games? Are you kidding me?" America started pulling out the documents. "I'm totally gonna kick your butt!"
A cat-like grin crept onto England's face. "Not so fast, my boy. I'm afraid you won't be kicking anyone's butt here."
America frowned and scanned the papers.
"We were thinking about holding a mini-Olympics games but after last year's fiasco, thanks to my dear bruder," Germany shot a dark look at Prussia, who wasn't technically supposed to be there, "and France," England huffed at the memory of the streaking event, "we decided to do things a bit differently this year."
"Thank you, Germany. We've decided-," he paused for effect, "- to compete using our dogs instead."
“W-what?” America stuttered.
France weaved his way through and wrapped an arm around America’s shoulders. “You probably don’t remember this but England used to hold competitions like this.”
“You mean, like a century ago?” he said sarcastically but a thoughtful expression came over England’s face.
“I believe so, actually. I think the last time I held one was at the turn of the century. Of course, it didn’t have as many countries participating but it was a fairly big event.”
“It’s been awhile since we did something like this!” Italy turned to England and tugged on his sleeve. “Hey, England! Remember how your dog used to come over to me for treats? She was so cute! And- um, what was her name again?”
England smiled. “You mean, Abbey?”
“That’s it!” Italy smacked his fist into the palm of his other hand. “Abbey! She always gave me those big puppy eyes. She loved it whenever I fed her one of my meatballs.”
Germany eyed Italy suspiciously and England rolled his eyes half-heartedly, remembering how his prized whippet ended up with a stomach-ache.
“Are you sure you want to do a dog competition?” America asked, nervously. “I mean, you’re working with dogs here. Wouldn’t that be too much trouble? You can’t just have a bunch of countries let their dogs run loose. ”
“A proper nation wouldn’t let his own dog run loose,” Austria said, dabbing a handkerchief (-who still used these things? America wondered) at his brow. “And I believe that it’s a wise decision. After all, as nations, we’re not the ones responsible for training our athletes. But a fine dog has a lot to say about his master.” Everybody nodded in agreement and within a few seconds, New Zealand shouted and there was a loud commotion over whose dog was better. Then, Canada started boasting about his Labrador and the noise level escalated.
England glanced over at America. “Are you alright?”
“What, me? Of course, I’m alright,” America said unconvincingly, in a shaky voice. “You can count me in.”
England raised a brow but he held his tongue and merely nodded.
End of Part 1.
(to be continued...)