Godwin Calling
Title: Godwin Calling
Character(s): Germany, America
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Tenuous diplomacy; German street signs
Summary: America sees parallels to himself in everything. Other countries occasionally say "now hold on a second."
It was usually just before sunset when Germany preferred to take his walks. Particularly in the quieter suburbs, and at this time of year, when the air was still warm and gentle Autumn wind roamed the streets, capturing the first fallen leaves of the season and pulling them into a brief whirling dance before moving on and leaving them where they lay, disheveled. He found it peaceful. Presently, he needed peace.
And so he was not in the least bit surprised when someone chose precisely this moment to deny him just that.
"Hey! Hey, Germany, wait up, will ya?"
Long, ungainly strides pounding the sidewalk. Voice booming, heedlessly filling the street and rebounding off the tidy, closely spaced houses. Germany stopped but did not turn around.
"Hello, America."
"Man, I've been looking for you everywhere," exhaled America, catching up and beaming at Germany even as the latter resumed his former pace. He followed suit, breath just a little quicker than usual. "What's up?"
Germany glanced briefly heavenward. Small talk. "I'm going for a walk," he answered.
"Yeah, I can see that. Where to?"
"Nowhere in particular."
"Nowhere?"
"No."
A pause.
"So you're just...walking?"
"Yes," said Germany. "I find it enjoyable," he added, patiently, as though explaining a particularly difficult mathematic theory.
"Huh." America slipped his hands into his jacket pockets and looked around, smiling bemusedly at the novelty of the whole thing. "Nice weather for it," he said, upbeat. Germany suppressed a groan.
"Is there something you want, America?" he asked instead, as they turned toward a street crossing.
America snapped his head around. "Oh! Oh, yeah, I was just gonna--good grief, you really love signs over here, don't you?" he interjected in awe, stopping in his tracks to stare at the post at the corner.
Germany, caught off guard, stopped as well and turned to look at America, then the post, then back at America again. "What makes you say that? It's perfectly normal," he said.
"Oh man. Germany. That?" America snickered, removing one hand from his jacket to point. "Is insane."
"They're a necessary tool in establishing and maintaining orderly traffic procedure," said Germany, a touch defensively.
"Really, now." He grinned and approached the signpost, circling, inspecting. "Ok, so the 'stop' sign's a given, and I'm assuming that--" he pointed "--is some kinda pedestrian crossing thing, right? And then here's something or other for bike riders, and over on this side, what's..." He frowned, concentrating. "What's...'Umleitung?'" he tried.
"Detour. That one's pointing towards a detour, down that other street," Germany said, arms crossed. The sun would be setting soon.
"Ok, ok, and what about, uh, 'N--Natur...'"
"--'Naturschutzgebiet'", supplied Germany. "It's a nature reserve, of sorts. That's where my detour is." And he walked past America and around the corner, where the first line of trees was just visible surrounding the rough pathway behind the last row of houses.
"Whoa, like a forest? Just--right here?" America caught up again, wide-eyed. "You guys are weird."
The light dimmed suddenly as they entered under the thinning canopy together. "America, if you've nothing better to do than follow me and make petty comments, might I suggest-"
"--Ah, don't be such a wet blanket, man. I just came to congratulate you and stuff."
Germany furrowed his brow and made to step carefully over a rather large branch blocking their path. "Congratulate me? On what?"
"You know, on the anniversary."
His foot came down too soon, breaking the weaker twigs off with a hollow crack. America moved to catch him when he stumbled, but he pulled away and righted himself.
For a moment, Germany stared, distrusting. "What did you say?"
"Well, hey, you don't have to freak out about it or anything," said America, taken aback at the sudden change in tone. He held his hands up placatingly. "I guess I just thought, you know, it'd be the kind of thing you guys would celebrate. I mean, yeah, it's been a while and I know East's folks are still kinda pissed about having to switch to a new kind of money again so soon, but--"
"Oh. Oh," said Germany, realization dawning. His shoulders dropped slightly as the tension loosened. "You're talking about the reunion, aren't you. But you've made a mistake, America," he said, relaxing further and continuing the walk. "We celebrate that in October."
"Whaaat?" America pouted, whipping a datebook out and thumbing through it impatiently as he once again moved in step with Germany. "Totally unfair! Since when?"
"Since the document was signed on October third," drawled Germany. Somewhere above them, a leaf broke away audibly and fell; he watched its spiraling descent dispassionately.
America huffed and shoved the tiny notebook in his back pocket again. "Well, that's lame. Why not today, though? That's when the stupid wall came down, isn't it? Loads more exciting than some piece of paper. It's so much more..." he gestured grandly in front of him, as though framing the world within his own hands, "--heroic!"
"Because the ninth of November is already an anniversary."
"Oh."
Germany knew unenlightenment when he heard it and took pity. "Several, in fact," he sighed. "But more recently in 1923. And again in '38." He left it at that and hoped to himself that America had at least enough of a rudimentary timeline in his head to supply the meaning, if not the content.
"...Oh. Oh."
Evidently, he did.
"...I'm sorry."
"Don't be."
"No, really, I--"
"It's alright, America. That's why we opted to focus on October for this instead. It holds more of its own meaning that way."
"Yeah. I'll bet."
Silence, but for the crackling of leaves underfoot. America kicked idly at a stone in his path, sending it skidding off into the brush.
He turned suddenly. "So I guess it's good that I didn't have time to wrap that gift I brought, then, huh?"
Germany looked at him, nonplussed. "You brought me something?"
"Er, yeah," America admitted, a bit apologetically. He reached into the folds of his jacket and pulled out--a book, Germany realized, and the surprise on his face grew more evident despite himself.
"All the King's Men," said America, a smile tugging uncertainly at his lips. "Um. I don't know if you've read it before."
"I've heard of it," replied Germany. He peered at the cover. "Warren. One of your better ones, wasn't he?"
"One of the best!" America grinned, warming up instantly. "And it's a really, really good book, too." He waved it in his hand matter-of-factly. "I read it, you know. Twice."
And that was impressive, thought Germany. "What's it about?"
"Oh man, ok, so it's totally all about, like, life and love and, and trying to find your place in the world even when it looks like there might not be one, and there's this stuff about twitching and bad fathers and--"
"I see. But tell me, what happens in it?" said Germany, by now more or less accustomed to America's fumbling romanticism. Their meandering steps had taken them to a small clearing, where America's voice echoed buoyantly.
"Right, right. Ok. So, um, there's this guy, right? And he works for this really screwed up politician and he basically thinks that life sucks and nothing matters so why even bother trying and all that. But then there're these other people, see, good ones, and he watches all this stuff that they go through while he's going through the same stuff, and by the end he's still confused but he's sort of starting to feel like maybe life doesn't suck quite as bad as he thought and..." He floundered, as though trying to articulate something for which he had no words. "It's just really really good," he finished lamely, handing the book over.
Germany took it and granted him a small smile. "It certainly sounds like it. Thank you. Perhaps I'll start it tonight." He tucked it under his arm and led America down the turn he knew would eventually take them back to the neighborhood.
"'S based on real people, too," added America, confidentially. "Well, not completely, 'cause Warren always said that the characters weren't these guys, only they totally were."
"Really? You don't think you might be reading into it a bit too much?"
America shook his head and waved a hand dismissively. "Nah, nah. Listen. So that really awful politician I was telling you about? He's definitely supposed to be this real politician who lived around that time. Same state and everything. Long, that was his name. Total whacko."
"Mm."
They trudged on a while in silence, this time of the more companionable variety. America's hands were getting cold, so he shoved them back in his pockets, shoulders hunching slightly. As they walked, he thought for a minute or two and blinked suddenly, eyebrows raised.
"Actually," he began, watching Germany from the corner of his eye, "it's kind of weird if you think about it."
"What is?"
"Well...Ok, this Long guy, right? Governor of Louisiana, then senator for a while. And this was way back in the thirties, remember, back when everything was kind of messed up 'cause...'cause of all that..."
"Yes, I remember."
"Yeah, and so he had all these ideas about fixing that for people, giving them money back from the big companies and giving them jobs building roads and everything, and people really really liked that, 'cause they were all going broke..."
"I imagine they would, in that situation." The same branch from before crossed their path, and they stepped over it together.
"--Only it wasn't totally like he said, 'cause once he got in he started kind of getting too much power, way too much, until he controlled practically everything, but he was still keeping his promises so most of the people still loved him, they honestly loved him, and he was even thinking of running for president and he probably could have done it, too, that's the crazy thing--"
"America."
He stopped, suddenly realizing that he was several paces ahead, just at the edge of the trees. He turned to look back at Germany, frowning. "What's up?"
Germany watched him wearily. "Where are you going with this, America?"
"Nowhere, nothing, I'm just saying that it's kind of funny--"
"No it's not." Germany shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, forehead wrinkling. "And it's not the same, America. Whatever you're thinking, it is not at all the same."
America stared at him, exhaling deeply in a long, low whistle. "I just keep on offending you today, don't I?" he said.
Sighing, Germany dropped his hand back down and glanced aside. "Forget it. Honestly. It's just...it's a delicate subject. It always will be."
"I know," said America. He tried a sympathetic smile. "But that doesn't mean you have to always worry so much about it."
Germany shook his head and laughed just a little too harshly. "Yes, actually, yes I do, and you really don't know what you're talking about--"
"--I know that you weren't the only one," said America quietly.
"That doesn't excuse anything."
"I'm not saying it does," America stressed, drawing the words out deliberately. Behind him, the last rays of daylight sank below the furthermost row of housetops, orange on red on violet. "I'm just saying, that kind of crazy isn't just a part of you. It's happened to some of us before. It could happen to any of us."
"Maybe." Germany shrugged uncomfortably, but he finally returned America's gaze. "We should go, though. It's getting cold out. Can I offer you a coffee?"
"You most certainly could." America smiled graciously, relief visibly washing over him, and they left, once more side by side. The concrete under their feet was new and the houses had long since been rebuilt, replaced (like so many other things), but the change scarcely mattered to Germany, who had been there well before any of that and who by now knew his own streets more by feel than by any other means. Overhead, the sky deepened gradually in shade, the first stars just barely beginning to glimmer in the wide expanse. America zipped up his jacket.
A moment later, he looked up from his sneakers. "Except for me, of course. It could never happen to me. 'Cause o' democracy."
Germany snorted. "I certainly hope so." A pause, then: "What became of this Mr. Long, anyway?"
"Oh, they shot him."
"Really."
"Oh yeah. Guy came right up to him and shot him. Well, I mean, obviously that guy got shot too, right afterwards, but it still--" America clapped his hands over his mouth, horrified. "Oh geeze, I'm totally ruining the ending for you, aren't I?"
This time, Germany's laugh was a real one.
---
Very good book indeed. I recommend it.
1923 and 1938, respectively.
Character(s): Germany, America
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Tenuous diplomacy; German street signs
Summary: America sees parallels to himself in everything. Other countries occasionally say "now hold on a second."
It was usually just before sunset when Germany preferred to take his walks. Particularly in the quieter suburbs, and at this time of year, when the air was still warm and gentle Autumn wind roamed the streets, capturing the first fallen leaves of the season and pulling them into a brief whirling dance before moving on and leaving them where they lay, disheveled. He found it peaceful. Presently, he needed peace.
And so he was not in the least bit surprised when someone chose precisely this moment to deny him just that.
"Hey! Hey, Germany, wait up, will ya?"
Long, ungainly strides pounding the sidewalk. Voice booming, heedlessly filling the street and rebounding off the tidy, closely spaced houses. Germany stopped but did not turn around.
"Hello, America."
"Man, I've been looking for you everywhere," exhaled America, catching up and beaming at Germany even as the latter resumed his former pace. He followed suit, breath just a little quicker than usual. "What's up?"
Germany glanced briefly heavenward. Small talk. "I'm going for a walk," he answered.
"Yeah, I can see that. Where to?"
"Nowhere in particular."
"Nowhere?"
"No."
A pause.
"So you're just...walking?"
"Yes," said Germany. "I find it enjoyable," he added, patiently, as though explaining a particularly difficult mathematic theory.
"Huh." America slipped his hands into his jacket pockets and looked around, smiling bemusedly at the novelty of the whole thing. "Nice weather for it," he said, upbeat. Germany suppressed a groan.
"Is there something you want, America?" he asked instead, as they turned toward a street crossing.
America snapped his head around. "Oh! Oh, yeah, I was just gonna--good grief, you really love signs over here, don't you?" he interjected in awe, stopping in his tracks to stare at the post at the corner.
Germany, caught off guard, stopped as well and turned to look at America, then the post, then back at America again. "What makes you say that? It's perfectly normal," he said.
"Oh man. Germany. That?" America snickered, removing one hand from his jacket to point. "Is insane."
"They're a necessary tool in establishing and maintaining orderly traffic procedure," said Germany, a touch defensively.
"Really, now." He grinned and approached the signpost, circling, inspecting. "Ok, so the 'stop' sign's a given, and I'm assuming that--" he pointed "--is some kinda pedestrian crossing thing, right? And then here's something or other for bike riders, and over on this side, what's..." He frowned, concentrating. "What's...'Umleitung?'" he tried.
"Detour. That one's pointing towards a detour, down that other street," Germany said, arms crossed. The sun would be setting soon.
"Ok, ok, and what about, uh, 'N--Natur...'"
"--'Naturschutzgebiet'", supplied Germany. "It's a nature reserve, of sorts. That's where my detour is." And he walked past America and around the corner, where the first line of trees was just visible surrounding the rough pathway behind the last row of houses.
"Whoa, like a forest? Just--right here?" America caught up again, wide-eyed. "You guys are weird."
The light dimmed suddenly as they entered under the thinning canopy together. "America, if you've nothing better to do than follow me and make petty comments, might I suggest-"
"--Ah, don't be such a wet blanket, man. I just came to congratulate you and stuff."
Germany furrowed his brow and made to step carefully over a rather large branch blocking their path. "Congratulate me? On what?"
"You know, on the anniversary."
His foot came down too soon, breaking the weaker twigs off with a hollow crack. America moved to catch him when he stumbled, but he pulled away and righted himself.
For a moment, Germany stared, distrusting. "What did you say?"
"Well, hey, you don't have to freak out about it or anything," said America, taken aback at the sudden change in tone. He held his hands up placatingly. "I guess I just thought, you know, it'd be the kind of thing you guys would celebrate. I mean, yeah, it's been a while and I know East's folks are still kinda pissed about having to switch to a new kind of money again so soon, but--"
"Oh. Oh," said Germany, realization dawning. His shoulders dropped slightly as the tension loosened. "You're talking about the reunion, aren't you. But you've made a mistake, America," he said, relaxing further and continuing the walk. "We celebrate that in October."
"Whaaat?" America pouted, whipping a datebook out and thumbing through it impatiently as he once again moved in step with Germany. "Totally unfair! Since when?"
"Since the document was signed on October third," drawled Germany. Somewhere above them, a leaf broke away audibly and fell; he watched its spiraling descent dispassionately.
America huffed and shoved the tiny notebook in his back pocket again. "Well, that's lame. Why not today, though? That's when the stupid wall came down, isn't it? Loads more exciting than some piece of paper. It's so much more..." he gestured grandly in front of him, as though framing the world within his own hands, "--heroic!"
"Because the ninth of November is already an anniversary."
"Oh."
Germany knew unenlightenment when he heard it and took pity. "Several, in fact," he sighed. "But more recently in 1923. And again in '38." He left it at that and hoped to himself that America had at least enough of a rudimentary timeline in his head to supply the meaning, if not the content.
"...Oh. Oh."
Evidently, he did.
"...I'm sorry."
"Don't be."
"No, really, I--"
"It's alright, America. That's why we opted to focus on October for this instead. It holds more of its own meaning that way."
"Yeah. I'll bet."
Silence, but for the crackling of leaves underfoot. America kicked idly at a stone in his path, sending it skidding off into the brush.
He turned suddenly. "So I guess it's good that I didn't have time to wrap that gift I brought, then, huh?"
Germany looked at him, nonplussed. "You brought me something?"
"Er, yeah," America admitted, a bit apologetically. He reached into the folds of his jacket and pulled out--a book, Germany realized, and the surprise on his face grew more evident despite himself.
"All the King's Men," said America, a smile tugging uncertainly at his lips. "Um. I don't know if you've read it before."
"I've heard of it," replied Germany. He peered at the cover. "Warren. One of your better ones, wasn't he?"
"One of the best!" America grinned, warming up instantly. "And it's a really, really good book, too." He waved it in his hand matter-of-factly. "I read it, you know. Twice."
And that was impressive, thought Germany. "What's it about?"
"Oh man, ok, so it's totally all about, like, life and love and, and trying to find your place in the world even when it looks like there might not be one, and there's this stuff about twitching and bad fathers and--"
"I see. But tell me, what happens in it?" said Germany, by now more or less accustomed to America's fumbling romanticism. Their meandering steps had taken them to a small clearing, where America's voice echoed buoyantly.
"Right, right. Ok. So, um, there's this guy, right? And he works for this really screwed up politician and he basically thinks that life sucks and nothing matters so why even bother trying and all that. But then there're these other people, see, good ones, and he watches all this stuff that they go through while he's going through the same stuff, and by the end he's still confused but he's sort of starting to feel like maybe life doesn't suck quite as bad as he thought and..." He floundered, as though trying to articulate something for which he had no words. "It's just really really good," he finished lamely, handing the book over.
Germany took it and granted him a small smile. "It certainly sounds like it. Thank you. Perhaps I'll start it tonight." He tucked it under his arm and led America down the turn he knew would eventually take them back to the neighborhood.
"'S based on real people, too," added America, confidentially. "Well, not completely, 'cause Warren always said that the characters weren't these guys, only they totally were."
"Really? You don't think you might be reading into it a bit too much?"
America shook his head and waved a hand dismissively. "Nah, nah. Listen. So that really awful politician I was telling you about? He's definitely supposed to be this real politician who lived around that time. Same state and everything. Long, that was his name. Total whacko."
"Mm."
They trudged on a while in silence, this time of the more companionable variety. America's hands were getting cold, so he shoved them back in his pockets, shoulders hunching slightly. As they walked, he thought for a minute or two and blinked suddenly, eyebrows raised.
"Actually," he began, watching Germany from the corner of his eye, "it's kind of weird if you think about it."
"What is?"
"Well...Ok, this Long guy, right? Governor of Louisiana, then senator for a while. And this was way back in the thirties, remember, back when everything was kind of messed up 'cause...'cause of all that..."
"Yes, I remember."
"Yeah, and so he had all these ideas about fixing that for people, giving them money back from the big companies and giving them jobs building roads and everything, and people really really liked that, 'cause they were all going broke..."
"I imagine they would, in that situation." The same branch from before crossed their path, and they stepped over it together.
"--Only it wasn't totally like he said, 'cause once he got in he started kind of getting too much power, way too much, until he controlled practically everything, but he was still keeping his promises so most of the people still loved him, they honestly loved him, and he was even thinking of running for president and he probably could have done it, too, that's the crazy thing--"
"America."
He stopped, suddenly realizing that he was several paces ahead, just at the edge of the trees. He turned to look back at Germany, frowning. "What's up?"
Germany watched him wearily. "Where are you going with this, America?"
"Nowhere, nothing, I'm just saying that it's kind of funny--"
"No it's not." Germany shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, forehead wrinkling. "And it's not the same, America. Whatever you're thinking, it is not at all the same."
America stared at him, exhaling deeply in a long, low whistle. "I just keep on offending you today, don't I?" he said.
Sighing, Germany dropped his hand back down and glanced aside. "Forget it. Honestly. It's just...it's a delicate subject. It always will be."
"I know," said America. He tried a sympathetic smile. "But that doesn't mean you have to always worry so much about it."
Germany shook his head and laughed just a little too harshly. "Yes, actually, yes I do, and you really don't know what you're talking about--"
"--I know that you weren't the only one," said America quietly.
"That doesn't excuse anything."
"I'm not saying it does," America stressed, drawing the words out deliberately. Behind him, the last rays of daylight sank below the furthermost row of housetops, orange on red on violet. "I'm just saying, that kind of crazy isn't just a part of you. It's happened to some of us before. It could happen to any of us."
"Maybe." Germany shrugged uncomfortably, but he finally returned America's gaze. "We should go, though. It's getting cold out. Can I offer you a coffee?"
"You most certainly could." America smiled graciously, relief visibly washing over him, and they left, once more side by side. The concrete under their feet was new and the houses had long since been rebuilt, replaced (like so many other things), but the change scarcely mattered to Germany, who had been there well before any of that and who by now knew his own streets more by feel than by any other means. Overhead, the sky deepened gradually in shade, the first stars just barely beginning to glimmer in the wide expanse. America zipped up his jacket.
A moment later, he looked up from his sneakers. "Except for me, of course. It could never happen to me. 'Cause o' democracy."
Germany snorted. "I certainly hope so." A pause, then: "What became of this Mr. Long, anyway?"
"Oh, they shot him."
"Really."
"Oh yeah. Guy came right up to him and shot him. Well, I mean, obviously that guy got shot too, right afterwards, but it still--" America clapped his hands over his mouth, horrified. "Oh geeze, I'm totally ruining the ending for you, aren't I?"
This time, Germany's laugh was a real one.
---
Very good book indeed. I recommend it.
1923 and 1938, respectively.