Secret Santa Part 2!
Title: Forgetting
Santa: dreamslikeglass
Recipient: otsu89
Ratings/Warnings: PG-13
Summary: Apparently, this year America was bad at remembering gifts. Thank God the New Year rolled around. (Pinch hit assignment.)
Notes: All three prompts were touched at least once during this story. Might be helpful to have read “Author!Anon” before, but it's not really necessary.
~
Time Stamp: January 1, 2010 9:54 AM EST
Location: Arlington, Virginia, the United States of America
When America awoke on the first day of the New Year, he was only certain of one thing. It had been a good week, a perfect way to end the old year and usher in the new one. (Well, it had been great for America's personal life anyway. The events on the news weren't all roses, but that was another story all together.) England had been staying with America for the holiday season, and it had just been...well, rather than putting some sappy/girly adjective there, America settled for “awesome”. It had been fucking awesome (emphasis on the fucking part).
Currently, America was curled up in bed with a still snoozing England. Even though England usually woke up before America, it wasn't that much of a surprise that England was still asleep, especially considering the amount of alcohol the island Nation had imbibed to welcome the New Year. America was thankful that he had forced England to drink water along with the alcohol that had flowed. Hopefully, England would not wake up with a hangover this time. As if on cue, England groaned pitifully as a crack of light hit his face, causing him to bury his head underneath the pillow.
“Bloody 'ell,” England slurred unhappily, “Wot hit me? An' someone shoot the trice-forsaken sun...”
America winced. Never mind. England was hungover.
“The pills are next to you on the nightstand,” America said as he slid out of bed, “I'll start breakfast. You should take a shower. Come down when you're almost human again. And Happy New Year!”
England let out an irritated gurgle from under the pillow, and flipped America a halfhearted two-finger salute. America only grinned happily in response. Same old Iggy.
It took England about an hour to come to breakfast (or really lunch by then). Other than his (usual) grumpy scowl, England didn't look like he had spent yesterday with more wine in his veins than blood.
“So, what do you want to do today?”America asked England as a plate was handed over, “Your visit is winding down to a close. And it is the first day in the New Year.”
“Mmm,” England hummed noncommittally, “I don't know. Is there anything that you want to do, America?”
America looked thoughtful as he began digging into his breakfast. After a few moments of silence, he shrugged and flashed England a sheepish smile.
“Well there's nothing I have to do, especially since I finally got you your Christmas present,” America replied around a mouthful of eggs.
“'Finally',” England smirked, “Honestly America...I suppose I should at least be thankful that you only forgot my gift. I imagine it would have looked worse if you had forgotten another's gift. I, at least, am understanding and benevolent.”
“And humble too,” America quipped. England swatted America's ear with a slight scowl.
“But really England,” America continued, waving his fork around for emphasis, “I'm a hero. I don't forget gifts! Well, other than yours, but it all turned out awesomely! With sex too! I even did my Secret Santa gift on L...ooooooh shit.”
America trailed off, his face going pale and his whole body grew stiff. England frowned worriedly.
“America?” England questioned, waving a hand in front of the frozen Nation's face, “Something the matter?”
America grinned weakly at England, his previously pale face flushing with shame, “Um...remember how I was working on that story for the Secret Santa exchange on livejournal?”
“...Yes,” England nodded slowly, his face still coated with confusion, “You finished it. I even got to read it.”
“Wellllllllll,” America drawled out, “I volunteered for the pinch hit assignments too, and-”
“Stop right there,” England sighed, his fingertips coming up to rub his temples, “You forgot. You bloody idiot. You forgot. Is your brain a sieve?”
“Well, it's not due until tomorrow!” America countered happily, always willing to look at the glass half full, “I still got today and tomorrow to finish it! Fuck yeah. I can do this!”
And then, in that instant, America turned a hopeful expression towards England. The older Nation winced. He knew that look. It was the look, the one that made England want to simultaneously punch the idiot git in the face and smoother his former colony in a bear hug.
“I...see,” England sighed, already feeling the inevitable defeat, “I suppose you want me to help.”
“Thanks for the offer, Iggy!” America chirped, clapping the shorter Nation on the shoulder, “I knew I could count on you! Hey, you know what would be awesome? If we acted out the story, you know, to help draw inspiration? I mean, didn't it help you a lot when you were writing that fic that I'm not allowed to mention in front of you again? Actually, that's a fucking awesome idea. The hero has spoken, and that's what we're going to do.”
England groaned, burying his head in his hands as America waltzed away towards his computer. England swore that one of these days he would just flat out ignore America and his antics. In fact, he was going to make it his New Year's resolution...just like he had last year.
~
The two Nations were sitting around America's computer reading the e-mail that contained the pinch hit assignment. America mostly skimmed over the rules, having read them before, and instead focused on the three prompts that had been given to him.
“Hey look, a spin the bottle request,” America mused, adjusting Texas slightly so he could read the e-mail carefully, “Hmm, 'Nations play spin the bottle. When it is England's turn, the bottle points to someone which is not America (can be whoever else). America isn't pleased .I don't mind the way he reacts but I'd like to see some awesome sex at the end.' Sounds like fun to act out. And it would be pretty easy to do. And it has an awesome porn center, just how I like it. So, let's have you hop back on the bed and-”
“No,” England interrupted, his eyes going back to skim the e-mail, and completely ignoring America's crestfallen expression, “I'm not stupid, America. Remember the last time you wrote something with you as a jealous git?”
“Uh...” America coughed, flushing slightly as he lied, “No?”
“Twat,” England snorted, punching the other Nation on the arm, “'Haunting You' ring any bells? Your literary avatar went straight to the loony bin, died, and tried to drag my literary avatar to the grave, all while trying to molest me. You writing a jealous version of you always ends poorly. I don't want to go through that again, especially if you want to act it out. No, thank you. Besides, you take forever and a day to write a decent sex scene. And knowing you, you would make me kiss the wine-bastard.”
“Fine, fine,” America grumbled, crossing his arms defiantly, “We'll do a different prompt. And I wouldn't have made you kiss France. I'd pick someone unexpected. Like Liechtenstein. You like her, don't ya?”
“Oh, so I could die to Switzerland's rifle?” England sneered, “No. Next prompt, please.”
America grumbled slightly, and scrolled down on the e-mail.
“'Some nation carries out his research on a potent truth potion and decide to experiment it on the other totally unaware nations, among which there are America and England,'” America read dutifully, “'The potion works and they can tell nothing but the truth, even what they'd never normally tell. It all ends up in a big mess.'”
“That sounds do-able,” England mused, tapping his fingers against his chin, “Actually, that sounds quite entertaining and even potentially romantic. Perhaps you could do a before we were dating scenario? Fictional of course. You can even put in those subliminal messages about our real life relationship that you're so fond of.”
“Fuck that,” America scoffed, already scrolling down with the mouse, “While the prompt is pretty awesome, you know that if all of us got hyped up on truth serum in a world meeting we wouldn't try to find out touchy-feely romantic shit.”
“Oh?” England arched an eyebrow, “Then what would we be trying to discover?”
“I'd ask Russia for his nuclear codes,” America replied promptly, a distinctly cold look in his eye, “And then I'd go around the table and ask everyone how many spies they have in my country, where said spies live, and what their weaknesses are. Then, I'll ask about the location of secret bases, weapon caches, development of biological weaponry, terrorist cells, contingency plans-”
“I get the point,” England sighed, cutting off America's rant prematurely, “A truth potion would undoubtedly change modern politics and warfare as we know it. Things would be so much simpler if we were human.”
“You mean booooooooooring,” America laughed, a lighthearted smile again gracing his lips, “I guess we'll have to look at the third prompt.”
Both Nations turned back to the computer screen, and read the final prompt together silently. Surprisingly, it was the shortest of the three paragraphs.
America ends up in England's body and viceversa .
Silence reigned in the room for a few minutes.
“Sooooo?” America drawled, eying England expectantly.
England sighed in defeat, and rose from his chair, “I'll go change into Britannia Angel.”
~
A few hours (and a bunch of glitter) later, the two Nation's were standing in front of a full length mirror, looking over themselves in a manner similar to how one would check out a new outfit in a dressing room. America grinned happily at the England in the mirror. Well, this wasn't the first time he had been in England's body, but this was certainly the first time America had been in England's body when they weren't fucking like bunnies in heat. America snickered at the thought, only to laugh louder as his classic American grin changed England's features in a very uncharacteristic way.
“Oh good Lord, why did I agree to this again? I feel fat,” England moaned, prodding his (er, America's) sides.
“Hey!” the younger Nation protested, as his (England's) face settled back down to a more commonplace scowl. Huh. America found it was a lot easier to scowl as England than it was as himself. Must be because England worked those muscles out a lot.
“Oh, hush, brat,” England scoffed, turning slightly in the mirror to get a better look at his new form, “I don't mean your human form. It's your bloody landmass. You have states bigger than me!”
“'Cause I'm awesome!” America grinned, flashing England a thumbs up. England frowned at the odd expression on America's (his own) face. It was strange/weird/fucking creepy...you get the idea. It was worse than looking at carnival mirrors.
“How do you wear Texas all the time?” England gripped, slipping the lenses off his (America's) face to glower at the frames, “It's huge!”
“Smaller than Alaska,” America shrugged, before rubbing his shoulder awkwardly. He had been feeling kinda...compressed, “How the fuck do you live in this crapped space all the time? It's worse than New York City! I feel like someone crumpled me up in a tiny ball and packed me like sardines. And you're old. And haunted. Oh shit, I have the Tower of London! Get it off, get it off!”
“Twat!” England snarled, resisting the urge to smack the younger Nation upside the head since all that would accomplish would to give himself a headache when the spell ran out, “Stopping acting like a ninny.”
“But Iggy! There's g-ghosts!” America whined as he held onto the other Nation's (his own) arm fearfully. He tried pouting cutely, but the entire effect was ruined by the fact that he was using England's own face against said Nation.
“Stop that, you're making me look like an idiot,” England sighed, carefully freeing his (America's) arm, “Stay focused. The spell worked, and now we're in each others' bodies. What now?”
“Well, we need a good plot for the story,” America reasoned, nibbling on his (England's) lip as he thought, “Or maybe we should start with a genre.”
“Humor is the obvious choice,” England pointed out, “Making this into a drama would be utter bullocks.”
“Or we could do porn,” America suggested, grinning happily (the mega-watt grin still looked slightly off on England's face) “Soooo, how about we head back into the bed room and-”
“Don't be daft,” England snapped, the scowl on his face looking just as off on America's face as the bright grin did on England's, “It would be like rutting with yourself. I'm not into selfcest, thank you very much.”
“But do you know how much stuff there is between you and pirate you?” America protested, before throwing England a saucy wink, “I'll wear your get up if it gets you in the mood~”
“...” England gaped at America as he was momentarily struck dumbfounded, “No. You might get off on multiple versions of me, but no. If I wanted to fuck myself, I'd use a mirror. Besides, knowing you, you would get jealous of a different version of me fucking me. And then we're back to your whole jealousy and paranoia problem.”
“Jerk,” America huffed, crossing his (England's) arms defiantly, “What's wrong with sex?”
“Do you really want to have sex with yourself?” England asked seriously, “Think about it, America. Remember the other sides of you? Do you really want to get down and dirty with say, oh, I don't know, the Confederacy and the Union?”
America blanched, before whispering very quietly, “That was a low blow, Iggy.”
“But do you see my point?”
“Yes,” America sighed, deflating even further, “Man, now I won't be able to get it up until we switch back.”
“Relax, it's just for a few hours,” England soothed, patting the now shorter Nation's shoulder, “I'll make it up to you then. In any case, we should get back to business. Humor, America.”
“Right!” America nodded, instantly bouncing back to his jovial self, “Porn's out, so we're just going to have to do general humor. Hmmm. What about a story where this was an accident and we have to hide it from the other Nations? That would be awesome!”
“Flaws with that logic,” England pointed out, “One, if we're going to act this out, where are we going to procure the other Nations? Everyone is at home for the New Year. And even then, it would have to be someone close by, since the spell will wear out before the day is done. Which leaves us with Canada, Mexico, and Cuba to test this scenario out on.”
America winced, running a hand through England's hair. Wow, he had never realized how different England's hair felt to his own until now. All the uneven ends felt weird against his palm. Huh. “Canada is with Ukraine for the holidays. If I interrupted them now, he'll never forgive me! And Mexico and Cuba...uh. No. Fuck no. I think we can do it without anyone getting involved.”
“There's also another problem,” England added, “We would never be able to pull off acting like each other. Even now, you've kept your atrocious American accent. God, it's making my ears bleed hearing it come out of my mouth.”
“You mean my ears,” America snickered, prodding the now taller Nation in the cheek, “You should smile with my face. You make my face look scary with your scowl. Half the world would flip their shit.”
“France would only have to look at us once before he figured it out,” England sighed, rubbing his (America's) temples as a headache began to settle in, “The wine bastard would probably try to take advantage of it too.”
“Canada would figure it out,” America mused, tapping his (England's) fingers against the mirror thoughtfully, “And as much as I would hate to admit it, Russia would get it too.”
“Fucking kolkhoz and his spies,” England sniffed, “And our bosses too. And my Queen! She would figure it out instantly.”
“Well, no shit,” America laughed, “How long as she known us?”
“Decades,” England sighed wistfully, “Time passes so quickly. Long live the Queen.”
“...Oh fuck, that's weird hearing that come out of my mouth,” America groaned, slapping a hand over his (England's) face, “Fuck the whole Civil War thing. You in my body is just like my colonial self. Definitely don't want to bang that.”
“So, as we have determined,” England began, “you and me hiding the fact that we switched bodies would not work whatsoever. Not only would everyone figure it out, but it is also a breach of security. However, it wouldn't make a good story to write about us switching bodies and then telling everyone upfront about it, even though that would be the smart thing to do.”
“The story could be about us going about the day in each others' bodies,” America suggested, “Kinda like how we're doing now. We can talk about how hard it was to figure out each others' bodies.”
“And yet it's not hard for us to adjust to each others' forms,” England pointed out, “We're both male so we don't have to get used to a different set of genitals or center of balance. You're only two centimeters taller than me, so there's no drastic change in size. Even your ungodly strength is kept in check with muscle memory to tone it down. The only real difference is our characteristics as Nations, but even our culture and language share roots, so it's not really that much of a problem. The only glaringly obvious difference between us is our landmass, and that won't effect us much since the change is only for only a few hours. Oh, and I suddenly have longer borders and new neighbors. And your freakish natural landmarks. The Grand Canyon...honestly.”
“You like it,” America grinned smugly, “How's Death Valley? Old Faithful?”
“Stop fishing for complements, brat,” England groaned.
America sighed, and leaned against the mirror, “So what am I going to do? The gift is due tomorrow.”
“Not my fault you're a bloody idiot,” England deadpanned. America flipped him the bird, before suddenly pausing and looking back at the mirror. Seeing England in the mirror reminded him of something...Of a story England had written in America's point of view.
“I think I have an idea,” America began slowly, absentmindedly stroking his (England's) eyebrows, “I dunno if my recipient will like it, but...it'll work.”
“What?”
America grinned, the expression slightly wicked and reminiscent of England's pirate days, “Remember that fic I de-anoned for you?”
England paled as the memory hit him like a ton of bricks, “You bloody git. You're not going to write about what happened today. You have to be careful. One of these days those fans are going to figure out we're not fictional!”
“Relax, Iggy,” America soothed, “We've got an anime! They're always going to think we're fictional characters.”
“Even so, your plan is a form of cheating and it's unoriginal,” England complained, “You always steal my ideas!”
“All's fair in love, war, and last minute gift giving!” America crowed as he grabbed England's (his own) wrist, and rushed towards the computer, “Oh man, I'm so awesome, even when I'm stuck as a creepy old man!”
“Twat!”
Author's Note: DONE! And just in time. Fuck yeah, I'm the hero! Hope you enjoyed, otsu89!
Santa: dreamslikeglass
Recipient: otsu89
Ratings/Warnings: PG-13
Summary: Apparently, this year America was bad at remembering gifts. Thank God the New Year rolled around. (Pinch hit assignment.)
Notes: All three prompts were touched at least once during this story. Might be helpful to have read “Author!Anon” before, but it's not really necessary.
~
Time Stamp: January 1, 2010 9:54 AM EST
Location: Arlington, Virginia, the United States of America
When America awoke on the first day of the New Year, he was only certain of one thing. It had been a good week, a perfect way to end the old year and usher in the new one. (Well, it had been great for America's personal life anyway. The events on the news weren't all roses, but that was another story all together.) England had been staying with America for the holiday season, and it had just been...well, rather than putting some sappy/girly adjective there, America settled for “awesome”. It had been fucking awesome (emphasis on the fucking part).
Currently, America was curled up in bed with a still snoozing England. Even though England usually woke up before America, it wasn't that much of a surprise that England was still asleep, especially considering the amount of alcohol the island Nation had imbibed to welcome the New Year. America was thankful that he had forced England to drink water along with the alcohol that had flowed. Hopefully, England would not wake up with a hangover this time. As if on cue, England groaned pitifully as a crack of light hit his face, causing him to bury his head underneath the pillow.
“Bloody 'ell,” England slurred unhappily, “Wot hit me? An' someone shoot the trice-forsaken sun...”
America winced. Never mind. England was hungover.
“The pills are next to you on the nightstand,” America said as he slid out of bed, “I'll start breakfast. You should take a shower. Come down when you're almost human again. And Happy New Year!”
England let out an irritated gurgle from under the pillow, and flipped America a halfhearted two-finger salute. America only grinned happily in response. Same old Iggy.
It took England about an hour to come to breakfast (or really lunch by then). Other than his (usual) grumpy scowl, England didn't look like he had spent yesterday with more wine in his veins than blood.
“So, what do you want to do today?”America asked England as a plate was handed over, “Your visit is winding down to a close. And it is the first day in the New Year.”
“Mmm,” England hummed noncommittally, “I don't know. Is there anything that you want to do, America?”
America looked thoughtful as he began digging into his breakfast. After a few moments of silence, he shrugged and flashed England a sheepish smile.
“Well there's nothing I have to do, especially since I finally got you your Christmas present,” America replied around a mouthful of eggs.
“'Finally',” England smirked, “Honestly America...I suppose I should at least be thankful that you only forgot my gift. I imagine it would have looked worse if you had forgotten another's gift. I, at least, am understanding and benevolent.”
“And humble too,” America quipped. England swatted America's ear with a slight scowl.
“But really England,” America continued, waving his fork around for emphasis, “I'm a hero. I don't forget gifts! Well, other than yours, but it all turned out awesomely! With sex too! I even did my Secret Santa gift on L...ooooooh shit.”
America trailed off, his face going pale and his whole body grew stiff. England frowned worriedly.
“America?” England questioned, waving a hand in front of the frozen Nation's face, “Something the matter?”
America grinned weakly at England, his previously pale face flushing with shame, “Um...remember how I was working on that story for the Secret Santa exchange on livejournal?”
“...Yes,” England nodded slowly, his face still coated with confusion, “You finished it. I even got to read it.”
“Wellllllllll,” America drawled out, “I volunteered for the pinch hit assignments too, and-”
“Stop right there,” England sighed, his fingertips coming up to rub his temples, “You forgot. You bloody idiot. You forgot. Is your brain a sieve?”
“Well, it's not due until tomorrow!” America countered happily, always willing to look at the glass half full, “I still got today and tomorrow to finish it! Fuck yeah. I can do this!”
And then, in that instant, America turned a hopeful expression towards England. The older Nation winced. He knew that look. It was the look, the one that made England want to simultaneously punch the idiot git in the face and smoother his former colony in a bear hug.
“I...see,” England sighed, already feeling the inevitable defeat, “I suppose you want me to help.”
“Thanks for the offer, Iggy!” America chirped, clapping the shorter Nation on the shoulder, “I knew I could count on you! Hey, you know what would be awesome? If we acted out the story, you know, to help draw inspiration? I mean, didn't it help you a lot when you were writing that fic that I'm not allowed to mention in front of you again? Actually, that's a fucking awesome idea. The hero has spoken, and that's what we're going to do.”
England groaned, burying his head in his hands as America waltzed away towards his computer. England swore that one of these days he would just flat out ignore America and his antics. In fact, he was going to make it his New Year's resolution...just like he had last year.
~
The two Nations were sitting around America's computer reading the e-mail that contained the pinch hit assignment. America mostly skimmed over the rules, having read them before, and instead focused on the three prompts that had been given to him.
“Hey look, a spin the bottle request,” America mused, adjusting Texas slightly so he could read the e-mail carefully, “Hmm, 'Nations play spin the bottle. When it is England's turn, the bottle points to someone which is not America (can be whoever else). America isn't pleased .I don't mind the way he reacts but I'd like to see some awesome sex at the end.' Sounds like fun to act out. And it would be pretty easy to do. And it has an awesome porn center, just how I like it. So, let's have you hop back on the bed and-”
“No,” England interrupted, his eyes going back to skim the e-mail, and completely ignoring America's crestfallen expression, “I'm not stupid, America. Remember the last time you wrote something with you as a jealous git?”
“Uh...” America coughed, flushing slightly as he lied, “No?”
“Twat,” England snorted, punching the other Nation on the arm, “'Haunting You' ring any bells? Your literary avatar went straight to the loony bin, died, and tried to drag my literary avatar to the grave, all while trying to molest me. You writing a jealous version of you always ends poorly. I don't want to go through that again, especially if you want to act it out. No, thank you. Besides, you take forever and a day to write a decent sex scene. And knowing you, you would make me kiss the wine-bastard.”
“Fine, fine,” America grumbled, crossing his arms defiantly, “We'll do a different prompt. And I wouldn't have made you kiss France. I'd pick someone unexpected. Like Liechtenstein. You like her, don't ya?”
“Oh, so I could die to Switzerland's rifle?” England sneered, “No. Next prompt, please.”
America grumbled slightly, and scrolled down on the e-mail.
“'Some nation carries out his research on a potent truth potion and decide to experiment it on the other totally unaware nations, among which there are America and England,'” America read dutifully, “'The potion works and they can tell nothing but the truth, even what they'd never normally tell. It all ends up in a big mess.'”
“That sounds do-able,” England mused, tapping his fingers against his chin, “Actually, that sounds quite entertaining and even potentially romantic. Perhaps you could do a before we were dating scenario? Fictional of course. You can even put in those subliminal messages about our real life relationship that you're so fond of.”
“Fuck that,” America scoffed, already scrolling down with the mouse, “While the prompt is pretty awesome, you know that if all of us got hyped up on truth serum in a world meeting we wouldn't try to find out touchy-feely romantic shit.”
“Oh?” England arched an eyebrow, “Then what would we be trying to discover?”
“I'd ask Russia for his nuclear codes,” America replied promptly, a distinctly cold look in his eye, “And then I'd go around the table and ask everyone how many spies they have in my country, where said spies live, and what their weaknesses are. Then, I'll ask about the location of secret bases, weapon caches, development of biological weaponry, terrorist cells, contingency plans-”
“I get the point,” England sighed, cutting off America's rant prematurely, “A truth potion would undoubtedly change modern politics and warfare as we know it. Things would be so much simpler if we were human.”
“You mean booooooooooring,” America laughed, a lighthearted smile again gracing his lips, “I guess we'll have to look at the third prompt.”
Both Nations turned back to the computer screen, and read the final prompt together silently. Surprisingly, it was the shortest of the three paragraphs.
America ends up in England's body and viceversa .
Silence reigned in the room for a few minutes.
“Sooooo?” America drawled, eying England expectantly.
England sighed in defeat, and rose from his chair, “I'll go change into Britannia Angel.”
~
A few hours (and a bunch of glitter) later, the two Nation's were standing in front of a full length mirror, looking over themselves in a manner similar to how one would check out a new outfit in a dressing room. America grinned happily at the England in the mirror. Well, this wasn't the first time he had been in England's body, but this was certainly the first time America had been in England's body when they weren't fucking like bunnies in heat. America snickered at the thought, only to laugh louder as his classic American grin changed England's features in a very uncharacteristic way.
“Oh good Lord, why did I agree to this again? I feel fat,” England moaned, prodding his (er, America's) sides.
“Hey!” the younger Nation protested, as his (England's) face settled back down to a more commonplace scowl. Huh. America found it was a lot easier to scowl as England than it was as himself. Must be because England worked those muscles out a lot.
“Oh, hush, brat,” England scoffed, turning slightly in the mirror to get a better look at his new form, “I don't mean your human form. It's your bloody landmass. You have states bigger than me!”
“'Cause I'm awesome!” America grinned, flashing England a thumbs up. England frowned at the odd expression on America's (his own) face. It was strange/weird/fucking creepy...you get the idea. It was worse than looking at carnival mirrors.
“How do you wear Texas all the time?” England gripped, slipping the lenses off his (America's) face to glower at the frames, “It's huge!”
“Smaller than Alaska,” America shrugged, before rubbing his shoulder awkwardly. He had been feeling kinda...compressed, “How the fuck do you live in this crapped space all the time? It's worse than New York City! I feel like someone crumpled me up in a tiny ball and packed me like sardines. And you're old. And haunted. Oh shit, I have the Tower of London! Get it off, get it off!”
“Twat!” England snarled, resisting the urge to smack the younger Nation upside the head since all that would accomplish would to give himself a headache when the spell ran out, “Stopping acting like a ninny.”
“But Iggy! There's g-ghosts!” America whined as he held onto the other Nation's (his own) arm fearfully. He tried pouting cutely, but the entire effect was ruined by the fact that he was using England's own face against said Nation.
“Stop that, you're making me look like an idiot,” England sighed, carefully freeing his (America's) arm, “Stay focused. The spell worked, and now we're in each others' bodies. What now?”
“Well, we need a good plot for the story,” America reasoned, nibbling on his (England's) lip as he thought, “Or maybe we should start with a genre.”
“Humor is the obvious choice,” England pointed out, “Making this into a drama would be utter bullocks.”
“Or we could do porn,” America suggested, grinning happily (the mega-watt grin still looked slightly off on England's face) “Soooo, how about we head back into the bed room and-”
“Don't be daft,” England snapped, the scowl on his face looking just as off on America's face as the bright grin did on England's, “It would be like rutting with yourself. I'm not into selfcest, thank you very much.”
“But do you know how much stuff there is between you and pirate you?” America protested, before throwing England a saucy wink, “I'll wear your get up if it gets you in the mood~”
“...” England gaped at America as he was momentarily struck dumbfounded, “No. You might get off on multiple versions of me, but no. If I wanted to fuck myself, I'd use a mirror. Besides, knowing you, you would get jealous of a different version of me fucking me. And then we're back to your whole jealousy and paranoia problem.”
“Jerk,” America huffed, crossing his (England's) arms defiantly, “What's wrong with sex?”
“Do you really want to have sex with yourself?” England asked seriously, “Think about it, America. Remember the other sides of you? Do you really want to get down and dirty with say, oh, I don't know, the Confederacy and the Union?”
America blanched, before whispering very quietly, “That was a low blow, Iggy.”
“But do you see my point?”
“Yes,” America sighed, deflating even further, “Man, now I won't be able to get it up until we switch back.”
“Relax, it's just for a few hours,” England soothed, patting the now shorter Nation's shoulder, “I'll make it up to you then. In any case, we should get back to business. Humor, America.”
“Right!” America nodded, instantly bouncing back to his jovial self, “Porn's out, so we're just going to have to do general humor. Hmmm. What about a story where this was an accident and we have to hide it from the other Nations? That would be awesome!”
“Flaws with that logic,” England pointed out, “One, if we're going to act this out, where are we going to procure the other Nations? Everyone is at home for the New Year. And even then, it would have to be someone close by, since the spell will wear out before the day is done. Which leaves us with Canada, Mexico, and Cuba to test this scenario out on.”
America winced, running a hand through England's hair. Wow, he had never realized how different England's hair felt to his own until now. All the uneven ends felt weird against his palm. Huh. “Canada is with Ukraine for the holidays. If I interrupted them now, he'll never forgive me! And Mexico and Cuba...uh. No. Fuck no. I think we can do it without anyone getting involved.”
“There's also another problem,” England added, “We would never be able to pull off acting like each other. Even now, you've kept your atrocious American accent. God, it's making my ears bleed hearing it come out of my mouth.”
“You mean my ears,” America snickered, prodding the now taller Nation in the cheek, “You should smile with my face. You make my face look scary with your scowl. Half the world would flip their shit.”
“France would only have to look at us once before he figured it out,” England sighed, rubbing his (America's) temples as a headache began to settle in, “The wine bastard would probably try to take advantage of it too.”
“Canada would figure it out,” America mused, tapping his (England's) fingers against the mirror thoughtfully, “And as much as I would hate to admit it, Russia would get it too.”
“Fucking kolkhoz and his spies,” England sniffed, “And our bosses too. And my Queen! She would figure it out instantly.”
“Well, no shit,” America laughed, “How long as she known us?”
“Decades,” England sighed wistfully, “Time passes so quickly. Long live the Queen.”
“...Oh fuck, that's weird hearing that come out of my mouth,” America groaned, slapping a hand over his (England's) face, “Fuck the whole Civil War thing. You in my body is just like my colonial self. Definitely don't want to bang that.”
“So, as we have determined,” England began, “you and me hiding the fact that we switched bodies would not work whatsoever. Not only would everyone figure it out, but it is also a breach of security. However, it wouldn't make a good story to write about us switching bodies and then telling everyone upfront about it, even though that would be the smart thing to do.”
“The story could be about us going about the day in each others' bodies,” America suggested, “Kinda like how we're doing now. We can talk about how hard it was to figure out each others' bodies.”
“And yet it's not hard for us to adjust to each others' forms,” England pointed out, “We're both male so we don't have to get used to a different set of genitals or center of balance. You're only two centimeters taller than me, so there's no drastic change in size. Even your ungodly strength is kept in check with muscle memory to tone it down. The only real difference is our characteristics as Nations, but even our culture and language share roots, so it's not really that much of a problem. The only glaringly obvious difference between us is our landmass, and that won't effect us much since the change is only for only a few hours. Oh, and I suddenly have longer borders and new neighbors. And your freakish natural landmarks. The Grand Canyon...honestly.”
“You like it,” America grinned smugly, “How's Death Valley? Old Faithful?”
“Stop fishing for complements, brat,” England groaned.
America sighed, and leaned against the mirror, “So what am I going to do? The gift is due tomorrow.”
“Not my fault you're a bloody idiot,” England deadpanned. America flipped him the bird, before suddenly pausing and looking back at the mirror. Seeing England in the mirror reminded him of something...Of a story England had written in America's point of view.
“I think I have an idea,” America began slowly, absentmindedly stroking his (England's) eyebrows, “I dunno if my recipient will like it, but...it'll work.”
“What?”
America grinned, the expression slightly wicked and reminiscent of England's pirate days, “Remember that fic I de-anoned for you?”
England paled as the memory hit him like a ton of bricks, “You bloody git. You're not going to write about what happened today. You have to be careful. One of these days those fans are going to figure out we're not fictional!”
“Relax, Iggy,” America soothed, “We've got an anime! They're always going to think we're fictional characters.”
“Even so, your plan is a form of cheating and it's unoriginal,” England complained, “You always steal my ideas!”
“All's fair in love, war, and last minute gift giving!” America crowed as he grabbed England's (his own) wrist, and rushed towards the computer, “Oh man, I'm so awesome, even when I'm stuck as a creepy old man!”
“Twat!”
Author's Note: DONE! And just in time. Fuck yeah, I'm the hero! Hope you enjoyed, otsu89!