Some Fics for You
A bit delayed I suppose, but here were my entries for the big awesome "Thank You usxuk Mods" project over at hetalia_robots . Because our mods are awesome.
Title: Describe Love
Characters/Pairings: USUK, Korea
Rating/Warning: PG, Fluff
Summary: Korea is confused, America tries to explain a very complicated emotion, and England overhears.
“What do you see in England anyway?”
England stopped outside of the supposedly empty meeting room when he heard that. Reasonable curiosity struck him as he peeked in through the slightly ajar door and saw Korea talking to America. They were packing up what looked like schematics and doodles, and England took a moment to mentally berate America for playing with Korea when he had more important things to do, before he remembered they were talking about him.
“What are you talking about?” America responded.
“Well,” Korea sat on the table as America shoved more papers into his briefcase, “you guys have been together for what, sixty years now? Seventy?”
“A really long time, yeah,” A small, pleasant smile formed on America’s face, and England felt his heart flutter, just a little.
“How can you stand him?” the fluttering stopped and England shot his fiercest glare in Korea’s direction, not that he was paying any attention, “He’s kind of…” Korea made a vague hand gesture, “naggy. And old fashioned. You two are like complete opposites, how do you stand him?”
England was about two seconds away from storming in there and telling Korea with his fists just how compatible they were, but decided he’d rather hear his lover’s answer instead.
America leaned against the table as he thought about it, “Well, you’re right, we can’t agree on anything. He’s always nagging me and telling me what to do. He considers telling me how he feels or what he’s thinking a personal sacrifice on his part, he smells and tastes like tea, he hates my movies, he can’t cook, and his eyebrows are huge.”
England crossed his arms and turned his glare on America. Like America was so perfect, with his inability to read the atmosphere, and his ‘I do what I want’ attitude, and his persistent grease and hamburger smell, and his obsession with sci-fi, and his fear of scary stories in all their forms, and his stupid Nantucket.
“So, why are you two still together?”
“Because I love him,” he stated, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, and really, by now it should be, “and he loves me too, I guess.”
“Why?” Korea insisted with his line of questioning, and England just wanted to smack him on the head, “You guys are so different, how can you love each other?”
“That’s just because everyone focuses on the differences,” he nodded, “England raised me, and he taught me everything I know. Deep down we’re actually a lot alike.”
England put a hand over his heart nodded. He felt it too, whenever he was with America, that deep down, at their cores, they were one in the same.
“But still,” Korea was looking out the window now, “You listed all those things. He doesn’t piss you off just a little?”
America laughed, “I’m sure he’s got an even longer list for me. And it’s not like I hate those parts about him, I love them too. His eyebrows are really adorable.” England found himself subconsciously touching them before he snapped himself out of it. He didn’t find Nantucket stupid either; it’s a lovely town.
“But why England? Out of everyone in the world you could love, why him?”
England scoffed. What a stupid question.
“Because…” America paused and looked up at the ceiling, “just because, he’s England, and I’m America. I don’t know, it’s just part of who we are, I guess. It’s hard to explain, but,” he glanced down at his hand, which was tracing patterns on the table, “I really can’t imagine what it would be like to not love him.”
England ducked behind door to hide the ridiculous smile on his face that they weren’t looking at anyway. Honestly, as incredibly sappy as it sounded, he didn’t want to imagine a world where he didn’t love America like he did.
“Love sounds annoying,” Korea decided after a pause.
“It is,” England heard America snap his briefcase shut, “It’s the most annoying, fantastic feeling ever, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”
And England knew if given the choice, despite all the pain and heartbreak it had given him over the years, he wouldn’t trade his love for America either.
He heard Korea jump off the table and grab his briefcase too, “You should thank me then. Did you know love originated in Korea?”
“Really?” he asked as their footsteps got closer to the door. England dodged around the corner so they wouldn’t find him listening in, “I thought it came from the heart or something.”
“Yeah, the heart of Korea!” they burst through the door just as England was able to walk down the hall again. America caught sight of him and waved him over while Korea rolled his eyes, exchanged partings with him, and continued to the exit.
“Hey England, what’s-” he was cut off by England wrapping his arms around him in a tight hug and burying his face in his neck, “…You okay?”
“Brilliant actually,” he pulled away a little and kissed America full on the lips. He felt him reciprocate and let it continue for a while before he eventually broke it off, “Where do you want to go for dinner tonight?”
“Well,” America found his hand and threaded their fingers together, “This new burger place opened up on Main Street I wanted to check out…”
England leaned forward and kissed him soundly on the lips again, “If that’s what you want.”
“Awesome!” America brought him in for another kiss before they set off down the hallway towards the exit, “Hey, you know I love you right?”
“And I you, love. More than you’ll ever know.”
Title: How Do You Say...?
Characters/Pairings: USUK, Japan, OC!Ireland, France, Australia, New Zealand, Canada.
Rating/Warning: PG, some linguistic nerding.
Summary: America and England are finally getting married! Or they will, if America can get that Celtic translated...
“Japan quick!” the constant knocking and shouting woke Japan from his peaceful slumber, “I need your help!” He sighed and got out of bed to open the hotel room door.
“Good evening, America-san,” he answered, suppressing a yawn, “How may I be of assistance?”
America responded by shoving a piece of paper in his face, “Quick! Translate this for me!”
Japan blinked and moved the letter so it was at a readable distance, but it was written in a language that he’d never before, “I’m sorry America-san but, what language is this in?”
“Celtic.”
He lowered the paper and gave him a blank look, “I’m very sorry, but I don’t speak Celtic.”
America whined, “Not even a little?”
“Why don’t you ask England-san?” Japan suggested as he handed back the letter, “I’m sure he knows some Celtic.”
“I can’t ask England. He’s the one who gave it to me,” he sighed and scratched the back of his head as Japan waited patiently for the explanation, “You know how I was going to propose to England right?”
Japan nodded. Last week, America had called to ask him, along with just about every other nation he knew, for advice on this matter.
“I ended up hiding the ring in the restaurant and having England look for it,” he laughed, “I guess England didn’t find it as awesome as I did. Instead of a definite yes, he gave me this and told me to translate it. If I can do it in twenty four hours, he said he’ll marry me.”
“Congratulations America-san,” Japan smiled, “I’m happy for both of you.”
“Yeah, well,” America blushed and turned away, “He hasn’t exactly said yes yet.”
“I’m sure he will. You know how he gets with emotional displays. If you want, I could run it through the new translator program I’ve been developing.”
“Yeah, well, England said I can’t use computers and stuff, so…”
“I understand. Then, if you can’t ask England-san, the next logical step would be to ask his brothers, wouldn’t it? I’m sure they would know about as much Celtic as he would.”
“I guess you’re right,” America glanced up and down the hall, “Which room are they in?”
Japan looked over at the digital clock on the nightstand in his room, “It’s two in the morning. Why don’t you try asking them later at the meeting? When they’re awake?”
“But Japan,” he pouted, “Every second counts! I’ll have to pull a Jack Bauer for this! That means no eating, no sleeping, no bathroom breaks until I get England to say yes.”
“I don’t think England-san’s brothers will take very kindly to being awoken in the middle of the night,” he shrugged, “If you want to risk it, however, that is your choice.”
America crossed his arms and thought about it for a moment, “On second thought, a small nap wouldn’t kill me,” he turned and walked away with a wave, “Good night Japan.”
“Good night, America-san,” Japan responded as he closed the door, “I wish you luck on your quest.”
~*~*~*~
“I don’t speak Cornish,” was all Ireland could think to say to America when he found him at the meeting the next day and shoved the paper in his hands.
“It’s not Cornish, it’s Celtic. You speak Celtic right?”
“I speak Irish,” he corrected, “which is a Celtic language that is spoken in Ireland. There are several Celtic languages that I don’t speak, such as Cornish, since it’s spoken in southern England,” he handed the paper back to America, “and that’s what this is.”
“Irish, Cornish,” America shrugged, “same thing if you think about it.”
“That’s like saying English and Swedish are the same thing,” Ireland sighed and rubbed a temple, “I could probably make some sense out of it if I wanted to.”
“Awesome!”
“Problem is I don’t want to. Do your own homework.”
“What? Ireland c’mon! It’s important,” he whined.
Ireland sighed and pointed to the greeting, “This part is your name, or your approximate name, since there is no Cornish word for America. This,” he pointed to the closing, “is England’s name.”
“Gee, thanks for telling me how a letter works,” America rolled his eyes, “England’s not going to marry me unless I translate the whole thing! If you’re not going to help me, do you at least know someone who does speak Celtic?”
“Cornish,” he corrected, “and England speaks it.”
“Not helping.”
Ireland paused and thought about it for a moment, “Breton is spoken in some northern parts of France, so he might know some,” America gave him a blank stare, “Breton is another Celtic language. It’s actually closer to Cornish than Irish is, so he’d be more help to you anyway.”
“Really? Cool! Thanks dude!” but before he could run off to bug France, the meeting started and everyone had to take their seats.
A smile grew on Ireland’s face as he noticed, throughout the meeting, America exchanging notes under the table with France and England glaring suspiciously at them on the other side.
Those two were going to be so happy together.
~*~*~*~
France did not appreciate the incessant poking at his thigh not even five minutes into the meeting. Unfortunately he knew America wasn’t going to let up anytime soon, so he had no choice but to see what he wanted. America handed him a note:
Ireland said you speak Celtic.
France rolled his eyes but wrote back:
I may possibly know a bit of Breton, but why would it matter when I can speak French?
He passed it under the table to America, who quickly read it and scribbled back a response:
1) French is weird.
2) I need you to translate this for me. It’s in Celtic or something.
Along with the piece they’d be writing on, America passed along another paper, a short letter written in was wasn’t French or Breton. France shook his head and wrote:
I can’t read this.
America gave him his patented kicked puppy look that France refused to acknowledge, instead choosing to focus on whatever China was prattling on about at the front of the room. With a sigh, America scribbled something else down on the paper and passed it back:
Please, can you just try? It’s for love.
France took a second look at the letter. It wasn’t Breton, but it was similar, probably Cornish, and he could pick up on at least one word, and if it was written by who he thinks it was, he could at least make an educated guess on the first sentence.
He circled it and passed it back to America:
This means ‘I love you.’ Unfortunately that’s all I can get from it.
America read the note, grinned like an idiot, and nodded his head in thanks.
As France leaned back in his chair, he noticed England shooting him a glare across the table. He responded in kind with a wink, making him go red and turn away. France chuckled at the display as he turned his attention back to China, reveling in the sound of America’s scribbling attempts to translate the letter and the satisfied look England was giving the boy out of the corner of his eye.
~*~*~*~
New Zealand was the first to notice that, after the meeting, America was sitting off to the side, hunched over something and deep in thought. When he went to ask England about it, his mentor merely smirked and made no comment. When he went over to ask America about it himself, he found a piece of paper shoved in his face.
“Translate this for me please?” America asked.
“Well,” New Zealand looked over the paper and tried to remember what little Cornish he knew, “The first part says ‘I love you…’”
“Yeah, already got that,” America leaned over to point out the next sentence, “Can you get that part for me?”
“It’s, well, my Cornish is a little rusty-”
“What’s going on here?” Australia slung an arm across his shoulder and read the paper, “What’s with the Cornish?”
“Australia! Perfect!” America grinned, “You can translate it for me!”
“Don’t really speak Cornish mate. England taught me a bit, but it never really stuck,” he pointed an accusing finger at America, “You know a lot of languages. Why can’t you just translate it yourself?”
“I don’t speak Celtic! Well I might know a little,” he conceded, “but not enough to translate the whole thing!”
“What are you talking about now?” Canada piped in as he appeared over America’s shoulder and glanced at the paper, “Isn’t that Cornish? Can’t you just ask England what it means?”
“I can’t do that, he gave it to me,” America sighed and ran a hand through his hair, “I have less than twelve hours to translate the rest, or England might not marry me.”
“So you finally asked him,” Australia gave him a friendly clap on the shoulder, “Way to go mate!”
“But it won’t mean a thing if I can’t figure out this Celtic.”
“Well, there are four of us,” New Zealand noted as he worked through their current predicament, “and we all know a little bit of Cornish. Between the four of us, I’m sure we can come up with the answer.”
“That’s right Kiwi,” Australia ruffled his hair, “I’m sure we can come up with something.”
Before he could protest, New Zealand found himself dragged along with the others back to America’s hotel room, forced to spend the rest of the night trying to figure out what England wrote.
The things he did for his crazy, adoptive family.
~*~*~*~
England was sitting in his room, reading but not really focusing on the words, when he heard the knock on his door. He snapped his book shut and sprinted across the room, pausing for a moment to collect himself before opening the door to let America in.
“I think I’ve got it!” he announced as he immediately entered the room jumped onto the bed, “We’ve been working on it all afternoon.”
“And?” England crossed his arms and tried to suppress his smirk, “What does it say?”
America pulled the wrinkled paper out of his pocket, cleared his throat, and read, “’America: I love you. You great green toed elephant mackerel of the zombie apocalypse can’t jump. Seventy years from now alpacas will rule the world,’ and there’s something in there about heartburn.”
He tried and failed to suppress the laughter that increased with every word, “Not even close.”
America groaned and fell back on the bed, “Not even a little?”
England crawled onto the bed and lay down next to him, “The first sentence was right,” he conceded as he cuddled up next to his lover, “I’m not exactly sure how you got the rest.”
“Oz kept saying you were talking about koalas,” he sighed, “I guess this means you’re not going to marry me.”
“Well, you still have,” England lifted his head a bit and looked over at the clock on the nightstand, “thirty minutes left,” he put his head down on America’s chest and snuggled closer, “You have time.”
“Yeah, that doesn’t do me much good,” he wrapped an arm around England, “I’ve already asked like, everyone who speaks Celtic.”
“Are you sure?” he shifted up so he was whispering in America’s ear, “I happen to be fluent in Cornish you know.”
America turned his head to look into his eyes and frowned, “Yeah, but I’m translating it for you, so-”
“I said you couldn’t use technology,” he kissed his cheek and pulled out of his embrace with a smirk, “I never said you couldn’t ask me.”
America grinned and sat up, holding the paper out for England, “Hey, do you think you can translate this for me? This guy I’m kinda in love with said he wouldn’t marry me otherwise, so it’s really important.”
England smiled and took the paper, “I’ll see what I can do.”
After about five seconds of writing, he handed the paper back to his fiancé. America promptly read it and tossed it aside, opting instead to pull England into a hug and plant kisses all over his face, repeating in between kisses, “I love you. You’re a jerk, but I love you,” while England laughed and slipped his hand into America’s jacket pocket to pull out the ring he knew was there. Sensing what he was doing, America pulled away and took the ring, carefully putting it on England’s finger himself. England smiled as he looked at his hand before leaning forward and pulling America into a slow kiss, leaving the note on the floor below.
My dear America,
I love you. Stupid idiot, of course I’ll marry you, even if you can’t get this translated, I’d marry you a thousand times. Let’s see how much you like going on pointless searches.
Love always and forever,
England
Title: Describe Love
Characters/Pairings: USUK, Korea
Rating/Warning: PG, Fluff
Summary: Korea is confused, America tries to explain a very complicated emotion, and England overhears.
“What do you see in England anyway?”
England stopped outside of the supposedly empty meeting room when he heard that. Reasonable curiosity struck him as he peeked in through the slightly ajar door and saw Korea talking to America. They were packing up what looked like schematics and doodles, and England took a moment to mentally berate America for playing with Korea when he had more important things to do, before he remembered they were talking about him.
“What are you talking about?” America responded.
“Well,” Korea sat on the table as America shoved more papers into his briefcase, “you guys have been together for what, sixty years now? Seventy?”
“A really long time, yeah,” A small, pleasant smile formed on America’s face, and England felt his heart flutter, just a little.
“How can you stand him?” the fluttering stopped and England shot his fiercest glare in Korea’s direction, not that he was paying any attention, “He’s kind of…” Korea made a vague hand gesture, “naggy. And old fashioned. You two are like complete opposites, how do you stand him?”
England was about two seconds away from storming in there and telling Korea with his fists just how compatible they were, but decided he’d rather hear his lover’s answer instead.
America leaned against the table as he thought about it, “Well, you’re right, we can’t agree on anything. He’s always nagging me and telling me what to do. He considers telling me how he feels or what he’s thinking a personal sacrifice on his part, he smells and tastes like tea, he hates my movies, he can’t cook, and his eyebrows are huge.”
England crossed his arms and turned his glare on America. Like America was so perfect, with his inability to read the atmosphere, and his ‘I do what I want’ attitude, and his persistent grease and hamburger smell, and his obsession with sci-fi, and his fear of scary stories in all their forms, and his stupid Nantucket.
“So, why are you two still together?”
“Because I love him,” he stated, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, and really, by now it should be, “and he loves me too, I guess.”
“Why?” Korea insisted with his line of questioning, and England just wanted to smack him on the head, “You guys are so different, how can you love each other?”
“That’s just because everyone focuses on the differences,” he nodded, “England raised me, and he taught me everything I know. Deep down we’re actually a lot alike.”
England put a hand over his heart nodded. He felt it too, whenever he was with America, that deep down, at their cores, they were one in the same.
“But still,” Korea was looking out the window now, “You listed all those things. He doesn’t piss you off just a little?”
America laughed, “I’m sure he’s got an even longer list for me. And it’s not like I hate those parts about him, I love them too. His eyebrows are really adorable.” England found himself subconsciously touching them before he snapped himself out of it. He didn’t find Nantucket stupid either; it’s a lovely town.
“But why England? Out of everyone in the world you could love, why him?”
England scoffed. What a stupid question.
“Because…” America paused and looked up at the ceiling, “just because, he’s England, and I’m America. I don’t know, it’s just part of who we are, I guess. It’s hard to explain, but,” he glanced down at his hand, which was tracing patterns on the table, “I really can’t imagine what it would be like to not love him.”
England ducked behind door to hide the ridiculous smile on his face that they weren’t looking at anyway. Honestly, as incredibly sappy as it sounded, he didn’t want to imagine a world where he didn’t love America like he did.
“Love sounds annoying,” Korea decided after a pause.
“It is,” England heard America snap his briefcase shut, “It’s the most annoying, fantastic feeling ever, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”
And England knew if given the choice, despite all the pain and heartbreak it had given him over the years, he wouldn’t trade his love for America either.
He heard Korea jump off the table and grab his briefcase too, “You should thank me then. Did you know love originated in Korea?”
“Really?” he asked as their footsteps got closer to the door. England dodged around the corner so they wouldn’t find him listening in, “I thought it came from the heart or something.”
“Yeah, the heart of Korea!” they burst through the door just as England was able to walk down the hall again. America caught sight of him and waved him over while Korea rolled his eyes, exchanged partings with him, and continued to the exit.
“Hey England, what’s-” he was cut off by England wrapping his arms around him in a tight hug and burying his face in his neck, “…You okay?”
“Brilliant actually,” he pulled away a little and kissed America full on the lips. He felt him reciprocate and let it continue for a while before he eventually broke it off, “Where do you want to go for dinner tonight?”
“Well,” America found his hand and threaded their fingers together, “This new burger place opened up on Main Street I wanted to check out…”
England leaned forward and kissed him soundly on the lips again, “If that’s what you want.”
“Awesome!” America brought him in for another kiss before they set off down the hallway towards the exit, “Hey, you know I love you right?”
“And I you, love. More than you’ll ever know.”
Title: How Do You Say...?
Characters/Pairings: USUK, Japan, OC!Ireland, France, Australia, New Zealand, Canada.
Rating/Warning: PG, some linguistic nerding.
Summary: America and England are finally getting married! Or they will, if America can get that Celtic translated...
“Japan quick!” the constant knocking and shouting woke Japan from his peaceful slumber, “I need your help!” He sighed and got out of bed to open the hotel room door.
“Good evening, America-san,” he answered, suppressing a yawn, “How may I be of assistance?”
America responded by shoving a piece of paper in his face, “Quick! Translate this for me!”
Japan blinked and moved the letter so it was at a readable distance, but it was written in a language that he’d never before, “I’m sorry America-san but, what language is this in?”
“Celtic.”
He lowered the paper and gave him a blank look, “I’m very sorry, but I don’t speak Celtic.”
America whined, “Not even a little?”
“Why don’t you ask England-san?” Japan suggested as he handed back the letter, “I’m sure he knows some Celtic.”
“I can’t ask England. He’s the one who gave it to me,” he sighed and scratched the back of his head as Japan waited patiently for the explanation, “You know how I was going to propose to England right?”
Japan nodded. Last week, America had called to ask him, along with just about every other nation he knew, for advice on this matter.
“I ended up hiding the ring in the restaurant and having England look for it,” he laughed, “I guess England didn’t find it as awesome as I did. Instead of a definite yes, he gave me this and told me to translate it. If I can do it in twenty four hours, he said he’ll marry me.”
“Congratulations America-san,” Japan smiled, “I’m happy for both of you.”
“Yeah, well,” America blushed and turned away, “He hasn’t exactly said yes yet.”
“I’m sure he will. You know how he gets with emotional displays. If you want, I could run it through the new translator program I’ve been developing.”
“Yeah, well, England said I can’t use computers and stuff, so…”
“I understand. Then, if you can’t ask England-san, the next logical step would be to ask his brothers, wouldn’t it? I’m sure they would know about as much Celtic as he would.”
“I guess you’re right,” America glanced up and down the hall, “Which room are they in?”
Japan looked over at the digital clock on the nightstand in his room, “It’s two in the morning. Why don’t you try asking them later at the meeting? When they’re awake?”
“But Japan,” he pouted, “Every second counts! I’ll have to pull a Jack Bauer for this! That means no eating, no sleeping, no bathroom breaks until I get England to say yes.”
“I don’t think England-san’s brothers will take very kindly to being awoken in the middle of the night,” he shrugged, “If you want to risk it, however, that is your choice.”
America crossed his arms and thought about it for a moment, “On second thought, a small nap wouldn’t kill me,” he turned and walked away with a wave, “Good night Japan.”
“Good night, America-san,” Japan responded as he closed the door, “I wish you luck on your quest.”
~*~*~*~
“I don’t speak Cornish,” was all Ireland could think to say to America when he found him at the meeting the next day and shoved the paper in his hands.
“It’s not Cornish, it’s Celtic. You speak Celtic right?”
“I speak Irish,” he corrected, “which is a Celtic language that is spoken in Ireland. There are several Celtic languages that I don’t speak, such as Cornish, since it’s spoken in southern England,” he handed the paper back to America, “and that’s what this is.”
“Irish, Cornish,” America shrugged, “same thing if you think about it.”
“That’s like saying English and Swedish are the same thing,” Ireland sighed and rubbed a temple, “I could probably make some sense out of it if I wanted to.”
“Awesome!”
“Problem is I don’t want to. Do your own homework.”
“What? Ireland c’mon! It’s important,” he whined.
Ireland sighed and pointed to the greeting, “This part is your name, or your approximate name, since there is no Cornish word for America. This,” he pointed to the closing, “is England’s name.”
“Gee, thanks for telling me how a letter works,” America rolled his eyes, “England’s not going to marry me unless I translate the whole thing! If you’re not going to help me, do you at least know someone who does speak Celtic?”
“Cornish,” he corrected, “and England speaks it.”
“Not helping.”
Ireland paused and thought about it for a moment, “Breton is spoken in some northern parts of France, so he might know some,” America gave him a blank stare, “Breton is another Celtic language. It’s actually closer to Cornish than Irish is, so he’d be more help to you anyway.”
“Really? Cool! Thanks dude!” but before he could run off to bug France, the meeting started and everyone had to take their seats.
A smile grew on Ireland’s face as he noticed, throughout the meeting, America exchanging notes under the table with France and England glaring suspiciously at them on the other side.
Those two were going to be so happy together.
~*~*~*~
France did not appreciate the incessant poking at his thigh not even five minutes into the meeting. Unfortunately he knew America wasn’t going to let up anytime soon, so he had no choice but to see what he wanted. America handed him a note:
Ireland said you speak Celtic.
France rolled his eyes but wrote back:
I may possibly know a bit of Breton, but why would it matter when I can speak French?
He passed it under the table to America, who quickly read it and scribbled back a response:
1) French is weird.
2) I need you to translate this for me. It’s in Celtic or something.
Along with the piece they’d be writing on, America passed along another paper, a short letter written in was wasn’t French or Breton. France shook his head and wrote:
I can’t read this.
America gave him his patented kicked puppy look that France refused to acknowledge, instead choosing to focus on whatever China was prattling on about at the front of the room. With a sigh, America scribbled something else down on the paper and passed it back:
Please, can you just try? It’s for love.
France took a second look at the letter. It wasn’t Breton, but it was similar, probably Cornish, and he could pick up on at least one word, and if it was written by who he thinks it was, he could at least make an educated guess on the first sentence.
He circled it and passed it back to America:
This means ‘I love you.’ Unfortunately that’s all I can get from it.
America read the note, grinned like an idiot, and nodded his head in thanks.
As France leaned back in his chair, he noticed England shooting him a glare across the table. He responded in kind with a wink, making him go red and turn away. France chuckled at the display as he turned his attention back to China, reveling in the sound of America’s scribbling attempts to translate the letter and the satisfied look England was giving the boy out of the corner of his eye.
~*~*~*~
New Zealand was the first to notice that, after the meeting, America was sitting off to the side, hunched over something and deep in thought. When he went to ask England about it, his mentor merely smirked and made no comment. When he went over to ask America about it himself, he found a piece of paper shoved in his face.
“Translate this for me please?” America asked.
“Well,” New Zealand looked over the paper and tried to remember what little Cornish he knew, “The first part says ‘I love you…’”
“Yeah, already got that,” America leaned over to point out the next sentence, “Can you get that part for me?”
“It’s, well, my Cornish is a little rusty-”
“What’s going on here?” Australia slung an arm across his shoulder and read the paper, “What’s with the Cornish?”
“Australia! Perfect!” America grinned, “You can translate it for me!”
“Don’t really speak Cornish mate. England taught me a bit, but it never really stuck,” he pointed an accusing finger at America, “You know a lot of languages. Why can’t you just translate it yourself?”
“I don’t speak Celtic! Well I might know a little,” he conceded, “but not enough to translate the whole thing!”
“What are you talking about now?” Canada piped in as he appeared over America’s shoulder and glanced at the paper, “Isn’t that Cornish? Can’t you just ask England what it means?”
“I can’t do that, he gave it to me,” America sighed and ran a hand through his hair, “I have less than twelve hours to translate the rest, or England might not marry me.”
“So you finally asked him,” Australia gave him a friendly clap on the shoulder, “Way to go mate!”
“But it won’t mean a thing if I can’t figure out this Celtic.”
“Well, there are four of us,” New Zealand noted as he worked through their current predicament, “and we all know a little bit of Cornish. Between the four of us, I’m sure we can come up with the answer.”
“That’s right Kiwi,” Australia ruffled his hair, “I’m sure we can come up with something.”
Before he could protest, New Zealand found himself dragged along with the others back to America’s hotel room, forced to spend the rest of the night trying to figure out what England wrote.
The things he did for his crazy, adoptive family.
~*~*~*~
England was sitting in his room, reading but not really focusing on the words, when he heard the knock on his door. He snapped his book shut and sprinted across the room, pausing for a moment to collect himself before opening the door to let America in.
“I think I’ve got it!” he announced as he immediately entered the room jumped onto the bed, “We’ve been working on it all afternoon.”
“And?” England crossed his arms and tried to suppress his smirk, “What does it say?”
America pulled the wrinkled paper out of his pocket, cleared his throat, and read, “’America: I love you. You great green toed elephant mackerel of the zombie apocalypse can’t jump. Seventy years from now alpacas will rule the world,’ and there’s something in there about heartburn.”
He tried and failed to suppress the laughter that increased with every word, “Not even close.”
America groaned and fell back on the bed, “Not even a little?”
England crawled onto the bed and lay down next to him, “The first sentence was right,” he conceded as he cuddled up next to his lover, “I’m not exactly sure how you got the rest.”
“Oz kept saying you were talking about koalas,” he sighed, “I guess this means you’re not going to marry me.”
“Well, you still have,” England lifted his head a bit and looked over at the clock on the nightstand, “thirty minutes left,” he put his head down on America’s chest and snuggled closer, “You have time.”
“Yeah, that doesn’t do me much good,” he wrapped an arm around England, “I’ve already asked like, everyone who speaks Celtic.”
“Are you sure?” he shifted up so he was whispering in America’s ear, “I happen to be fluent in Cornish you know.”
America turned his head to look into his eyes and frowned, “Yeah, but I’m translating it for you, so-”
“I said you couldn’t use technology,” he kissed his cheek and pulled out of his embrace with a smirk, “I never said you couldn’t ask me.”
America grinned and sat up, holding the paper out for England, “Hey, do you think you can translate this for me? This guy I’m kinda in love with said he wouldn’t marry me otherwise, so it’s really important.”
England smiled and took the paper, “I’ll see what I can do.”
After about five seconds of writing, he handed the paper back to his fiancé. America promptly read it and tossed it aside, opting instead to pull England into a hug and plant kisses all over his face, repeating in between kisses, “I love you. You’re a jerk, but I love you,” while England laughed and slipped his hand into America’s jacket pocket to pull out the ring he knew was there. Sensing what he was doing, America pulled away and took the ring, carefully putting it on England’s finger himself. England smiled as he looked at his hand before leaning forward and pulling America into a slow kiss, leaving the note on the floor below.
My dear America,
I love you. Stupid idiot, of course I’ll marry you, even if you can’t get this translated, I’d marry you a thousand times. Let’s see how much you like going on pointless searches.
Love always and forever,
England