Request answers~! 2!
amygirl's request: England and America during the Great Depression. Hurt/comfort.
America couldn't decide on whether he wanted to kick the covers off the bed or draw them closer until he was just a ball of blankets and shivering sick Nation. For now he puzzled it out through the fever, blinking blearily at the ceiling of his house. This wasn't right. Heroes didn't get sick. Or so he had thought.
"Sometimes the hero needs to get worse before he can get better." Said England's voice, though it sounded rather dry and croaky. Oh yeah, he had a cold too. "It makes his return for the climactic battle all the more exciting."
A refreshing cold towel was dabbed over his face. Wait, where was Texas? What if Mexico-
"I have them right here, don't fret." he soothed. It was really kind of weird not to have England shouting at him and calling him an idiot. How sick was he? "I'm fine, I'll tough it out. Stiff upper lip and all that rot."
Can you hear my thoughts Iggy?
"No, you're babbling aloud."
Oh.
"You have a fever Alfred, it's best if you try to stop talking a little."
Well that's all fine and good but he doesn't know what's coming out of his mouth and what's just staying in his head so is Arthur just asking him to stop thinking now?
The cold compress is warm again, and England takes it away. He can hear the sound of the lukewarm water being wrung out into a bowl and the towel refreshed with some cooler water, the majority squeezed out as well so America didn't end up with a wetter face than he already had with the fever sweat.
He'd been sick before, he realised, a long time ago, when England had brought a blanket for him from London. It had some kind of nasty virus on it, though, that the New World wasn't immune to. Lots of his people died. England had sat with him like this, though, dabbing at his fevered brow and holding his hand through the nightmares until it got better.
He'd liked that.
He liked it now too.
"I-..." England sounded surprised, and cut himself off before he'd even started. A long silence ensued. Breaking it, England stood from his chair and hastily grabbed the bowl of water. "I-I'll be back in a second with cooler water, just stay there!"
...
He'd said that all out loud hadn't he.
Aw shit.
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starrose17's request: England, America and problems with politics. Sorry it didn't come out exactly how you said. ^^;;;
Hung parliament. Maybe he should shoot himself now and save his brothers the pain of a mercy kill. Last time this had happened it had been the 70s and that had not been fun in the slightest. But it had only been three days, and nothing had shut down. Nothing was wrong so far. He was lying on his bed and wasn't fading out of existence quite yet.
'Struth, the awful noise was doing his head in if anything else.
"Now see here Brown, you have had your chance and you have failed." came the rather Eton-influenced tones of David Cameron. Didn't half grate on the ears.
"I can pick us back up again if given the chance!" defended the Prime Minister (or former, or not? God only knew), though it was in the voice of a man who already knew he'd lost.
"I still don't see how this "National Personification" thing even works." Nick Clegg seemed rather astounded actually. The fact of the matter was that the three of them had been sitting in his front room arguing from the moment Gordon had decided to invite the three of them over to his house and introduce them. If there was to be a coalition government then the both of them would have to know about him.
"Please don't distract from the point, Clegg." It seemed that Gordon was getting a little grouchy. England pressed his hands over his ears to try and shut out the noise, but all that got him was an internal focus on the protesters in streets far away from his countryside house, angry citizens who had been turned away from polling stations and refused their rights purely because of poor organisation.
Something pinged his magical barriers, and he took his hands off his ears and opened his eyes just in time to see America climbing through his second floor bedroom window, grinning like the idiot he was.
"I sincerely hope you didn't damage the ivy while climbing up here." England said dryly, too tired to do anything but glare from his bed.
"Nah, it's tough stuff." the other blonde brushed it off, sitting on the sofa at the end of England's bed and turning around to stare at him. "I hear you've got troubles."
"You hear correctly for once. Hung Parliament."
"Goin' a bit medieval ain'tcha?"
"Not literally, idiot." He pushed up onto his elbows. "It means to horrifically simplify it, that there aren't enough seats for one party to form a government on its own."
America's eyebrows pulled together in a convincing impression of a confused puppy. "See, this is why I only have two parties instead of a bajillion like you do. Way easier."
"Bajillion is not a word, and my system is- or was- more fair."
America made a disgusted face. "Yeah, dude, what the hell was with denying people votes. Not cool man."
"It wasn't my sodding fault that nobody could organise properly!" England yelled, then realised that was all the energy he'd been saving today and flopped back onto the bed. "This is humiliating. France is now the most powerful Nation in Europe and I am the weakest. This is sick and wrong and degrading."
America patted him awkwardly on the shoulder. "There there? Come on Iggy, you'll be fine. You're always fine, remember?"
At that moment, the door of England's room burst open and three men in suits bustled inside. Everyone paused once they saw there was one more person in the room than they'd expected. An awkward silence ensured.
"Uh..." said Cameron. "Are you... Wales, or something?"
America looked mildly affronted. "Do I look like I have the eyebrows for it?" he indicated his own raised brows. Understanding dawned as the accent stood out.
"Oh, America then. Nice to meet you." Clegg nodded, walking over to shake the Nation's hand before pausing. "Ah, touching you is alright, isn't it?"
"I'm not going to automatically make you an American citizen if that's what you mean." laughed the blonde. England sat up, looking tired and grumpy.
"America, stop seducing my politicians."
Both men spluttered and quickly withdrew their handshake. "I'm not!"
"Go back to your oh-so-glorious Obama and let me sort this out."
"Hey, I was just trying to help."
"Well you're not helping, you're being annoying as usual so either go and make me a cuppa or- actually. Make me a cuppa."
"Tea is gross and icky and belongs in the harbor."
"How many times have I told you not to bring that up?!"
"Are they... always like this?" whispered Cameron to Brown, looking concerned. The older man nodded.
"Oh yes, you should see him and France. Wear protective gear if you do."
The door slammed downstairs, and a loud voice yelled "Oi Artie, ye sorted yerself out yet?"
"NO, NOW SOD OFF BACK TO YOUR FUCKING SEPARATIONIST PARTIES YOU TRAITOR!" England roared, red in the face with frustration and gripping the bedsheets with such strength he would probably rip them soon.
"Steady on there Art-" called another voice with a different accent.
"FUCK YOU TOO WALES, I SAW THOSE PLAID VOTES! NORTH DON'T YOU SAY A SINGLE WORD!"
"I wasn't fecking going to!"
Brown had a sort of mean smile on his face as he regarded his potential successors. "So, still want to govern this lot?"
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lovelylurker's request: America, Mexico and red hot retribution.
"Take it back."
"Never!"
"Take it back, gringo dog."
"No! You can't make me!"
"I'm going to count to three. On three, my finger will slip and you are going to experience pain untold by any other human."
"Good thing I'm a hero and therefore not just any other human!"
"Uno..."
"You don't scare me, sis~!"
"Dos..."
"I've had worse before I bet."
"Tres!"
And Mexico poured pure chili sauce, followed by chili powder, followed by a red hot chili pepper itself right into America's gaping mouth. Then she taped it closed.
Seconds later, the poor, unfortunate blonde Nation was writhing in the chair he was strapped into, tears streaming from his eyes. Mexico stood back with her hands on her hips, smiling triumphantly.
"You should never have made the mistake of trying to install a Taco Bell on my side of the border."
America couldn't decide on whether he wanted to kick the covers off the bed or draw them closer until he was just a ball of blankets and shivering sick Nation. For now he puzzled it out through the fever, blinking blearily at the ceiling of his house. This wasn't right. Heroes didn't get sick. Or so he had thought.
"Sometimes the hero needs to get worse before he can get better." Said England's voice, though it sounded rather dry and croaky. Oh yeah, he had a cold too. "It makes his return for the climactic battle all the more exciting."
A refreshing cold towel was dabbed over his face. Wait, where was Texas? What if Mexico-
"I have them right here, don't fret." he soothed. It was really kind of weird not to have England shouting at him and calling him an idiot. How sick was he? "I'm fine, I'll tough it out. Stiff upper lip and all that rot."
Can you hear my thoughts Iggy?
"No, you're babbling aloud."
Oh.
"You have a fever Alfred, it's best if you try to stop talking a little."
Well that's all fine and good but he doesn't know what's coming out of his mouth and what's just staying in his head so is Arthur just asking him to stop thinking now?
The cold compress is warm again, and England takes it away. He can hear the sound of the lukewarm water being wrung out into a bowl and the towel refreshed with some cooler water, the majority squeezed out as well so America didn't end up with a wetter face than he already had with the fever sweat.
He'd been sick before, he realised, a long time ago, when England had brought a blanket for him from London. It had some kind of nasty virus on it, though, that the New World wasn't immune to. Lots of his people died. England had sat with him like this, though, dabbing at his fevered brow and holding his hand through the nightmares until it got better.
He'd liked that.
He liked it now too.
"I-..." England sounded surprised, and cut himself off before he'd even started. A long silence ensued. Breaking it, England stood from his chair and hastily grabbed the bowl of water. "I-I'll be back in a second with cooler water, just stay there!"
...
He'd said that all out loud hadn't he.
Aw shit.
-----------------
starrose17's request: England, America and problems with politics. Sorry it didn't come out exactly how you said. ^^;;;
Hung parliament. Maybe he should shoot himself now and save his brothers the pain of a mercy kill. Last time this had happened it had been the 70s and that had not been fun in the slightest. But it had only been three days, and nothing had shut down. Nothing was wrong so far. He was lying on his bed and wasn't fading out of existence quite yet.
'Struth, the awful noise was doing his head in if anything else.
"Now see here Brown, you have had your chance and you have failed." came the rather Eton-influenced tones of David Cameron. Didn't half grate on the ears.
"I can pick us back up again if given the chance!" defended the Prime Minister (or former, or not? God only knew), though it was in the voice of a man who already knew he'd lost.
"I still don't see how this "National Personification" thing even works." Nick Clegg seemed rather astounded actually. The fact of the matter was that the three of them had been sitting in his front room arguing from the moment Gordon had decided to invite the three of them over to his house and introduce them. If there was to be a coalition government then the both of them would have to know about him.
"Please don't distract from the point, Clegg." It seemed that Gordon was getting a little grouchy. England pressed his hands over his ears to try and shut out the noise, but all that got him was an internal focus on the protesters in streets far away from his countryside house, angry citizens who had been turned away from polling stations and refused their rights purely because of poor organisation.
Something pinged his magical barriers, and he took his hands off his ears and opened his eyes just in time to see America climbing through his second floor bedroom window, grinning like the idiot he was.
"I sincerely hope you didn't damage the ivy while climbing up here." England said dryly, too tired to do anything but glare from his bed.
"Nah, it's tough stuff." the other blonde brushed it off, sitting on the sofa at the end of England's bed and turning around to stare at him. "I hear you've got troubles."
"You hear correctly for once. Hung Parliament."
"Goin' a bit medieval ain'tcha?"
"Not literally, idiot." He pushed up onto his elbows. "It means to horrifically simplify it, that there aren't enough seats for one party to form a government on its own."
America's eyebrows pulled together in a convincing impression of a confused puppy. "See, this is why I only have two parties instead of a bajillion like you do. Way easier."
"Bajillion is not a word, and my system is- or was- more fair."
America made a disgusted face. "Yeah, dude, what the hell was with denying people votes. Not cool man."
"It wasn't my sodding fault that nobody could organise properly!" England yelled, then realised that was all the energy he'd been saving today and flopped back onto the bed. "This is humiliating. France is now the most powerful Nation in Europe and I am the weakest. This is sick and wrong and degrading."
America patted him awkwardly on the shoulder. "There there? Come on Iggy, you'll be fine. You're always fine, remember?"
At that moment, the door of England's room burst open and three men in suits bustled inside. Everyone paused once they saw there was one more person in the room than they'd expected. An awkward silence ensured.
"Uh..." said Cameron. "Are you... Wales, or something?"
America looked mildly affronted. "Do I look like I have the eyebrows for it?" he indicated his own raised brows. Understanding dawned as the accent stood out.
"Oh, America then. Nice to meet you." Clegg nodded, walking over to shake the Nation's hand before pausing. "Ah, touching you is alright, isn't it?"
"I'm not going to automatically make you an American citizen if that's what you mean." laughed the blonde. England sat up, looking tired and grumpy.
"America, stop seducing my politicians."
Both men spluttered and quickly withdrew their handshake. "I'm not!"
"Go back to your oh-so-glorious Obama and let me sort this out."
"Hey, I was just trying to help."
"Well you're not helping, you're being annoying as usual so either go and make me a cuppa or- actually. Make me a cuppa."
"Tea is gross and icky and belongs in the harbor."
"How many times have I told you not to bring that up?!"
"Are they... always like this?" whispered Cameron to Brown, looking concerned. The older man nodded.
"Oh yes, you should see him and France. Wear protective gear if you do."
The door slammed downstairs, and a loud voice yelled "Oi Artie, ye sorted yerself out yet?"
"NO, NOW SOD OFF BACK TO YOUR FUCKING SEPARATIONIST PARTIES YOU TRAITOR!" England roared, red in the face with frustration and gripping the bedsheets with such strength he would probably rip them soon.
"Steady on there Art-" called another voice with a different accent.
"FUCK YOU TOO WALES, I SAW THOSE PLAID VOTES! NORTH DON'T YOU SAY A SINGLE WORD!"
"I wasn't fecking going to!"
Brown had a sort of mean smile on his face as he regarded his potential successors. "So, still want to govern this lot?"
-----------------
lovelylurker's request: America, Mexico and red hot retribution.
"Take it back."
"Never!"
"Take it back, gringo dog."
"No! You can't make me!"
"I'm going to count to three. On three, my finger will slip and you are going to experience pain untold by any other human."
"Good thing I'm a hero and therefore not just any other human!"
"Uno..."
"You don't scare me, sis~!"
"Dos..."
"I've had worse before I bet."
"Tres!"
And Mexico poured pure chili sauce, followed by chili powder, followed by a red hot chili pepper itself right into America's gaping mouth. Then she taped it closed.
Seconds later, the poor, unfortunate blonde Nation was writhing in the chair he was strapped into, tears streaming from his eyes. Mexico stood back with her hands on her hips, smiling triumphantly.
"You should never have made the mistake of trying to install a Taco Bell on my side of the border."