[Axis Powers Hetalia, America/England: Alfred Jones and the Lost City of Gold 4/?]
Title: Alfred Jones and the Lost City of Gold 4/? [FF.Net Link] [ Previous Chapters]
Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
Genre: Action/Adventure/Romance
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairing: America/England, Poland/Lithuania, Tony
Word Count: 3,506
Summary: Sequel to Alfred Jones and the Curse of the Pharaoh. America and England embark on a journey to seek out the Inca Lost City of Gold and are drawn into a web of mystery that spans three countries as well as into depths never before explored by another person. But they'll need more than just luck tackle this adventure, for the city is not just lost....it is hidden and well-protected by very strong magic.
Chapter 4 Summary: Turning back to the bear, as if to clarify something, America nodded his head in understanding as the bear gave a growl followed by a whine.
“England, what’s been bothering you since we landed?” America asked, suddenly looking very serious.
England just stared. “…Why?”
“Because you aren’t the only one who’s been getting a bad feeling from the mountain this afternoon.”
Notes: Sorry again for the delay! Also, I'd like to give a shoutout and thank you to dunya01 for drawing this amazing fanart inspired by the fic! Thank you so much <3
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The bear before them by no means looked evil or worrisome or anything like that at all. But America wasn’t about to take any risks, given their luck so far.
“It’s an Andean Bear, England,” he remarked, sounding a bit excited. “Aren’t you, little guy?”
England crept up behind America and put a hand on his shoulder. “While I won’t deny his species, I must say he is far from little, America.”
The light pressure on his shoulder didn’t detour America from his query, and he slowly edged forward closer to the bear, babbling as he did so.
“Well I mean in comparison to other bears, he’s small. Most of them are so much bigger and I think this guy’s full grown. Oh and this is only type of bear in South America too!”
He gave an uneasy laugh on realizing he was babbling because he nervous.
“Hey Mr. Bear, what’s up?”
At that, the bear took a few steps forward and locked eyes with America. The younger nation could feel England tensing up behind him, but as soon as he looked into the bear’s eyes, America knew everything would be just fine.
“He’s a friend England, chill out.”
England balked. “Oh yes, let’s just sit down and have a nice cup of tea and some scones. America, it’s a bloody bear, it’s not your friend.”
With a sigh, America shifted his hat on his head and took another step forward. “Don’t listen to him, Mr. Bear. He’s just a bit skittish around your type.”
The bear gave a grunt at that and England crossed his arms. “What pray tell is that supposed to mean?”
America blinked. “Huh? Did you mean me or Mr. Bear?”
England glared, clearly thinking them both mad. “Are you actually talking to it?”
“See. He talks to imaginary friends all the time and when I try and strike up a conversation with a real forest creature, he gets upset.”
The bear gave a low growl that sounded like it was agreeing with America.
“But really, he’s a great guy. It’s just he’s not been around wild bears since he was really little so he doesn’t exactly take kindly to them. So if you’d just…”
“America,” England cut in. “What is going on?”
Acting like it was nothing out of the ordinary to be chatting with a bear, America just shrugged. “Mr. Bear says we really need to get out of this pathway or we’re going to get hurt.”
“By him?”
Turning back to the bear, as if to clarify something, America nodded his head in understanding as the bear gave a growl followed by a whine.
“England, what’s been bothering you since we landed?” America asked, suddenly looking very serious.
England just stared. “…Why?”
“Because you aren’t the only one who’s been getting a bad feeling from the mountain this afternoon.”
Green eyes went wide and England looked around as if he could see something approaching. America, sensing that this statement had rattled England more than he cared to let on, stepped back over to his side and wrapped his good arm loosely around him.
“Hey, it’s okay. We knew we might be facing this, what with that creepy writing warning right?”
England nodded. “But if the animals are sensing it too, then perhaps…”
America started as a distant rumble caught his ears.
“America, it might be far worse than I anticipated.”
With a dashing (well, at least he thought it was pretty dashing) grin, America pressed a quick kiss to England’s forehead and deposited his fedora onto England’s head.
“Well, don’t you worry for right now, because Alfred F. Jones is on the case!”
Still looking skeptical, England glanced over to the bear (who had seated himself and began to lick his paws) then back to America.
“I don’t think you understand what we’re dealing with, America…”
America shook his head. “Right now I’m going to assume it’s a really nasty Apu using his mountain spirit-y powers to try and scare us off from his turf. But even if it’s not that, I do understand that whatever it is has you scared so much you’ve been fretting up a storm. And since I know you don’t scare this way that easily, well...” He shrugged, “I think I know that we’re in for a hell of a problem, whatever it is. But at least we’re in it together.”
England gave a small smile. “You’ve come to know me pretty well, haven’t you?”
“Once you peel back all the prickly, stodgy layers there is a whole different England just waiting to be discovered underneath,” America teased.
That got England to chuckle lightly, and both of them felt a bit more at ease now that they were facing this mystery head-on, together.
“Oh and Mr. Bear says we can hide out in his tree bed for the night if we want a safe place,” America said, matter of factly a moment later.
England gave a sigh. “Is this going to be like your rabbit friend when you were little?”
America gave England a look. “Mr. Bunny’s feelings really were hurt when you wouldn’t let him stay with me in my bedroom…”
“But…I just…why are we supposed to trust…that?” he asked, pointing at the bear.
The bear and America both let out a huff, and exchanged a look that was easily read even by England as one of exasperation.
“He talks to unicorns and when I happen to listen to the wilderness, he just doesn’t believe me,” America remarked to no one in particular.
At that, the bear stood up and began to climb up into the nearest tree, looking down every few branches as if to say “follow me, please!”
America fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, then injured elbow, back and all, began trying to climb up the tree after the bear.
“You are just going to injure yourself further, you git!”
But America wouldn’t listen and was, despite his struggles to climb with the pain shooting through his elbow, following the bear as quickly as he could manage. Once he made it up to the first sturdy branch, he called down to England.
“Hey, toss up my whip!”
England grumbled something under his breath that America swore was something about “pointless to argue with idiots” before snatching up the whip from America’s bag and tossing it upwards. It took a few tosses, but finally America’s fingers clasped the handle of the whip and he grinned.
“All right, let’s get our belongings up here first.”
England pointedly ignored America as he hauled up his bag via whip, going to his own bag and pulling on his shirt. He was just about to ask if America wanted his ridiculous hat as well when he felt the cold chill run down his spine. The fedora tumbled out of his hand and onto the ground.
In the tree above, America’s eyes had gone wide in horror as their Andean bear friend began to keen out a low, distraught cry.
“England, something’s coming, get up here now!”
But as much as America’s words and even the bear’s cries made England want to bolt up into the tree, he found he was frozen to the spot as if some invisible force was holding him there.
With all the strength he could muster, he met America’s eyes and said.
“America, I…I can’t move.”
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Poland was in full swing at America’s house, insisting that everyone needed a full makeover and home spa treatment before he’d be caught dead on the streets of New York. Lithuania wasn’t quite sure about this, but Tony was more than happy to assist Poland in giving Lithuania a hot oil massage.
Whale was currently singing to himself in the indoor pool he lived in during the cold winter months in D.C., which had been turned into a lavender-scented bubble bath courtesy Poland.
“Like guys, I totally got the avocado facials ready and stuff!”
Lithuania looked skeptically over to Tony who was lounging beside him in one of the pool side chairs. “Uh Tony, is this okay with you?”
The alien nodded, taking off his sunglasses and setting them aside. “I just need to check one fucking thing first.”
Stepping outside the room, Tony crossed the house until he went to the bookcase. Glancing around to make sure no one was watching him, he stood on the balls of his feet and tugged on a battered old copy of Journey to the Center of the Earth. The book slid out and a click echoed in the empty room. Quietly, Tony pulled open the secret doorway and descended the staircase into what served as both America’s secret room and, to a degree, Tony’s workshop.
Passing various artifacts, Tony crossed over to a large wall-sized computer that was lit up with what looked like an old Mac computer game on it in big blocky pixel graphics. He frowned as he noticed a nearby monitor beeping and flickering its red light.
“Fucking hell, what now?”
Picking up an old Nintendo Game controller he’d modified into use for his hardware, Tony punched in a quick succession of A-B keys until the computer pulled up a secret file, showing all the statistics on one Alfred F. Jones, aka. America.
The alien’s frown turned into an expression of great alarm when he saw just how much his human’s heart rate was racing.
“No pleasure neurons in the brain are lit up and his adrenaline is fucking skyrocketing,” he muttered to himself, punching in a few more keys. This screen pulled up the blocky pixel graphics again, but this time with two white silhouettes lightly etched in.
For a brief moment, Tony thought how proud his people back on the home planet would be if they could see his advanced technological skills in such a primitive world as Earth. Using a mere human cell phone device to track all health stats for America was not what Tony had originally asked for his phone for, but it had come to him as he was installing that other program.
His three hearts clenched in concern. Tony really didn’t want to be invasive at all, but after seeing America’s neck almost cut open after the last adventure along with that writing England had conjured up, the alien was quite honestly, worried sick.
While he would never, ever, admit it (he’d rather eat England’s cooking than do so) Tony knew that if England couldn’t protect America during their adventure, then it was possible his dear human would come to even greater injury.
And if England was so worried about this…writing.
Tony shook his head and glanced back at the monitor, which was beeping even more rapidly now.
Something had caused America great distress, but all his own personal vitals were still well in the green. This meant the cause could be nothing else but…
Tony glared at the second white silhouette as if he could see him in person.
“Fucking limey,” he swore.
Of course America’s heart was racing because England was in danger. Tony could have figured that out without his technology to confirm it. It was a common trait in most life forms after all, to value the life of your mate above one’s own.
“Fucking fucking limey.”
And although he swore, and cursed, and even did so in a few foreign alien tongues outside his own, Tony did the one thing he could to help his America.
He began punching in satellite override coding so he could use his powers to save England’s life.
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England felt as if a giant hand had gripped him firm around the middle.
His arms held flush against his sides and his feet unable to move nary a centimeter without being held back by some unseen adversary.
England looked intently at the air around him and wasn’t surprised in the least bit to see that there was that slight glow of magic to it. It was as he had feared ever since America had been able to use the radio and he had not.
Whatever this foe was, be it a vengeful mountain spirit or ancient magic curse, it had singled out England. Sensing the old magic about him, it had decided to eliminate him first and foremost before moving onto easier prey, such as America and his lack of magical sight.
“England, hang on! I’ll get you!” America called out from the branch above.
But that foreboding feeling got worse, as if the air had tightened around his lungs, and England gasped. “No, not yet! I must break it first.”
If America was perplexed by England’s strange statement, the extreme worry and concern on his face did well to mask his confusion. But the last thing England wanted was for America to make some foolhardy strike and draw the ire of the curse towards him. It was best to let magic fight magic first before any dashing American heroics came into play.
Not that America was dashing, not in the least.
Closing his eyes, England let his aura search out around him, looking for any weaknesses in the curse keeping him frozen. As if it was indeed a large hand, a few small gaps, as if in between large fingers, in the magic remained at intervals every meter or so apart.
England allowed himself a small smile at that. This foe had underestimated him greatly.
Inwardly envisioning the curse surrounding him, England began to chant, tendrils of purple smoke beginning to swirl out around him.
That which is frozen shall now flow yet again. That which is bound shall be as free as the wind. Untangle your entanglements, unhinge your locked doors, and let loose that you hold which is not yours.
The smoke hissed emerald as it canceled out the freezing spell, clouds of green so large that even America couldn’t deny that something had been holding England there.
“England!” He called out once more, warily looking off towards the distance. His bear friend was doing the same, and both of them seemed to be mixture of relieved and yet still extremely worried.
Wasting not a second, England snatched up his bag and rushed to the bottom of the tree. “Get this up, quickly now!”
He wasn’t sure what was headed their direction that was making such a loud rumbling noise, but England knew that whatever was out to get him had all intents of him standing in that spot until the source of the rumbling arrived to do him in.
In no time at all, America had used his whip to haul up the second bag. Looking to England, he gave him a nervous smile.
“Are you going to magic yourself up here or can I help?”
Sensing America’s insecurity about being inadequate protection against this invisible curse, and figuring he still owed him for taking the brunt of the fall on his back, England sighed, a smidgen of a smile hidden just beneath his frown.
“All right then, America, hero away.”
America lit up like a child on Christmas morning, and eyeing the next branch higher than the one he was perched on, he gave a swift flick of his whip and tugged it secure on that branch.
Immediately, England knew what he was up to and he barely had time to grab up America’s hat before the idiot began his swing downward.
As if he was some Hollywood action hero (which was clearly what the git was aiming for), America swung down from the tree holding to his whip with his good hand, his shirt billowing in the breeze and a toothpaste-commercial white smile on his face. On reaching England, he swept him up dramatically in his right arm (wincing as his injured elbow twinged in pain) and gave him a grin. “One hero, at your service, darling.”
Before England could berate him, or even manage a scowl, the rumbling drew to a cacophonous peak as a large boulder came barreling into the clearing.
Not about to let America get any more injured, England twisted as they swung upward to block him from the incoming hit.
But the boulder never came.
Mere inches from where they’d been, a large blue glow had shot down from the sky and brought the boulder to an instant halt.
America gave England a look as they swung safely up into the branches. “Was that blue glow you?”
England shook his head, looking to where the boulder was sitting at a standstill.
“No. But whatever it is, it’s on our side so I’m not complaining.”
Hearing America hiss in pain as he wracked his elbow against the tree trunk beside them, England swatted his hands off his waist. “All right Tarzan, I can take it from here.”
But before he could get loose from America’s grip, their bear friend (well, England supposed he could consider it a friend) let out another whine.
If the rumbling from before was loud, this noise was ten times so, as a huge rockslide of boulders came crashing into the clearing. The blue light that had saved them before seemed to know they were safe up the tree, for it did nothing to hinder the onslaught of boulders as they slammed into the first boulder and covered the entire forest floor of the area in debris.
“England…” America murmured.
England gulped and pressed a reassuring kiss to America’s cheek. “Hush love, I’m quite all right.”
“But, you could have been…”
“Shh, we’re safe now. Both of us are safe and well,” England chuckled, glancing up to where the dark fur of the bear peeked out amidst the foliage of the tree. “Looks like our friend Mr. Bear is safe as well.”
America’s grin resurfaced at that. “Hey, you called him Mr. Bear!”
“You always were so eloquent with names. I still can’t believe your whale is named…Whale.”
With a pout, America started to clamber up in the tree to a more spacious branch. “It’s not my fault that’s the name he responded to. I was going to name him something more awesome like…”
“Mr. Whale?” England teased, following America up into the higher branches of the tree.
“NO!”
But his deep blush made England suspect that perhaps that had been the intended name after all.
After climbing up a bit higher, and carefully bringing their bags with them, America reached a roomy part of the bough where several branches and leaves had been pulled and bent down against the trunk to form a sort of…platform or nest or bed.
“Ta-da! Mr. Bear said he could loan us his extra bed for the night.”
England blinked at it, then at America, then to the bear (which was up even higher in the tree watching over them). He could have sworn the bear was smiling at him, but that would be downright ridiculous.
Tossing his bag up into the nest, England raised an eyebrow as it didn’t fall through immediately. “Rather sturdy construction.”
America snatched his fedora back off England’s head, and tucked it and his whip safely to the side of the large bear-made platform with his bag.
“Home sweet home,” he quipped.
England sat down and found that it was rather comfortable, for a leaf and branch bed, that is. America was looking around at the landscape from their high perch above the forest, the sunset just barely eking through the dense tree leaves to catch on the metal of his eyeglass frames from time to time.
“You sir,” England began, tugging America back against him so he could rest his still-ice packed back against his chest, “are overdue for a good rest.”
America smiled warmly, letting himself relax into the circle of England’s arms. “I guess I am.”
They sat in silence, outside the quiet snufflings of their bear friend up above them, just the two of them curled up together in the branches of the tree watching the tiny streaks of sunset dwindle as the dark night skies descended over the forest.
England had pulled out a lantern and turned it on a dim setting, letting America cradle against his chest so his heavily bruised back didn’t get any worse for the wear by sleeping at any odd angles against a tree trunk. That, England thought to himself as he shifted his own back against the tree trunk, was his duty for the night.
“Hey England?”
“Hmm?”
America shifted slightly so he could see England’s face illuminated in the lantern light. “Do you really have no idea what that blue light was that saved us?”
He shook his head. “No idea. It wasn’t like any magic I’m familiar with. I’m just…”
“…glad it stopped that boulder from hitting you,” they said simultaneously.
They both blushed a bit at that, but small, timid smiles quirked at their lips all the same.
Little did they know that thousands of miles away from them, their alien savior was sitting back down to let an eccentric blond nation finish up his facial.
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Notes:
[1] The Andean Bear is a relatively small species of bear native to South America. It has black fur with a distinctive beige-coloured marking across its face and upper chest.
[2] Bears became extinct in the United Kingdom in the 10th century after years of habitat destruction and persecution by hunters.
[3] In the religion and mythology of Peru, Ecuador, and Bolivia, Apus are the spirits of the mountains that protect the local people in the highlands. The term dates back to the Inca Empire.
Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
Genre: Action/Adventure/Romance
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairing: America/England, Poland/Lithuania, Tony
Word Count: 3,506
Summary: Sequel to Alfred Jones and the Curse of the Pharaoh. America and England embark on a journey to seek out the Inca Lost City of Gold and are drawn into a web of mystery that spans three countries as well as into depths never before explored by another person. But they'll need more than just luck tackle this adventure, for the city is not just lost....it is hidden and well-protected by very strong magic.
Chapter 4 Summary: Turning back to the bear, as if to clarify something, America nodded his head in understanding as the bear gave a growl followed by a whine.
“England, what’s been bothering you since we landed?” America asked, suddenly looking very serious.
England just stared. “…Why?”
“Because you aren’t the only one who’s been getting a bad feeling from the mountain this afternoon.”
Notes: Sorry again for the delay! Also, I'd like to give a shoutout and thank you to dunya01 for drawing this amazing fanart inspired by the fic! Thank you so much <3
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The bear before them by no means looked evil or worrisome or anything like that at all. But America wasn’t about to take any risks, given their luck so far.
“It’s an Andean Bear, England,” he remarked, sounding a bit excited. “Aren’t you, little guy?”
England crept up behind America and put a hand on his shoulder. “While I won’t deny his species, I must say he is far from little, America.”
The light pressure on his shoulder didn’t detour America from his query, and he slowly edged forward closer to the bear, babbling as he did so.
“Well I mean in comparison to other bears, he’s small. Most of them are so much bigger and I think this guy’s full grown. Oh and this is only type of bear in South America too!”
He gave an uneasy laugh on realizing he was babbling because he nervous.
“Hey Mr. Bear, what’s up?”
At that, the bear took a few steps forward and locked eyes with America. The younger nation could feel England tensing up behind him, but as soon as he looked into the bear’s eyes, America knew everything would be just fine.
“He’s a friend England, chill out.”
England balked. “Oh yes, let’s just sit down and have a nice cup of tea and some scones. America, it’s a bloody bear, it’s not your friend.”
With a sigh, America shifted his hat on his head and took another step forward. “Don’t listen to him, Mr. Bear. He’s just a bit skittish around your type.”
The bear gave a grunt at that and England crossed his arms. “What pray tell is that supposed to mean?”
America blinked. “Huh? Did you mean me or Mr. Bear?”
England glared, clearly thinking them both mad. “Are you actually talking to it?”
“See. He talks to imaginary friends all the time and when I try and strike up a conversation with a real forest creature, he gets upset.”
The bear gave a low growl that sounded like it was agreeing with America.
“But really, he’s a great guy. It’s just he’s not been around wild bears since he was really little so he doesn’t exactly take kindly to them. So if you’d just…”
“America,” England cut in. “What is going on?”
Acting like it was nothing out of the ordinary to be chatting with a bear, America just shrugged. “Mr. Bear says we really need to get out of this pathway or we’re going to get hurt.”
“By him?”
Turning back to the bear, as if to clarify something, America nodded his head in understanding as the bear gave a growl followed by a whine.
“England, what’s been bothering you since we landed?” America asked, suddenly looking very serious.
England just stared. “…Why?”
“Because you aren’t the only one who’s been getting a bad feeling from the mountain this afternoon.”
Green eyes went wide and England looked around as if he could see something approaching. America, sensing that this statement had rattled England more than he cared to let on, stepped back over to his side and wrapped his good arm loosely around him.
“Hey, it’s okay. We knew we might be facing this, what with that creepy writing warning right?”
England nodded. “But if the animals are sensing it too, then perhaps…”
America started as a distant rumble caught his ears.
“America, it might be far worse than I anticipated.”
With a dashing (well, at least he thought it was pretty dashing) grin, America pressed a quick kiss to England’s forehead and deposited his fedora onto England’s head.
“Well, don’t you worry for right now, because Alfred F. Jones is on the case!”
Still looking skeptical, England glanced over to the bear (who had seated himself and began to lick his paws) then back to America.
“I don’t think you understand what we’re dealing with, America…”
America shook his head. “Right now I’m going to assume it’s a really nasty Apu using his mountain spirit-y powers to try and scare us off from his turf. But even if it’s not that, I do understand that whatever it is has you scared so much you’ve been fretting up a storm. And since I know you don’t scare this way that easily, well...” He shrugged, “I think I know that we’re in for a hell of a problem, whatever it is. But at least we’re in it together.”
England gave a small smile. “You’ve come to know me pretty well, haven’t you?”
“Once you peel back all the prickly, stodgy layers there is a whole different England just waiting to be discovered underneath,” America teased.
That got England to chuckle lightly, and both of them felt a bit more at ease now that they were facing this mystery head-on, together.
“Oh and Mr. Bear says we can hide out in his tree bed for the night if we want a safe place,” America said, matter of factly a moment later.
England gave a sigh. “Is this going to be like your rabbit friend when you were little?”
America gave England a look. “Mr. Bunny’s feelings really were hurt when you wouldn’t let him stay with me in my bedroom…”
“But…I just…why are we supposed to trust…that?” he asked, pointing at the bear.
The bear and America both let out a huff, and exchanged a look that was easily read even by England as one of exasperation.
“He talks to unicorns and when I happen to listen to the wilderness, he just doesn’t believe me,” America remarked to no one in particular.
At that, the bear stood up and began to climb up into the nearest tree, looking down every few branches as if to say “follow me, please!”
America fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, then injured elbow, back and all, began trying to climb up the tree after the bear.
“You are just going to injure yourself further, you git!”
But America wouldn’t listen and was, despite his struggles to climb with the pain shooting through his elbow, following the bear as quickly as he could manage. Once he made it up to the first sturdy branch, he called down to England.
“Hey, toss up my whip!”
England grumbled something under his breath that America swore was something about “pointless to argue with idiots” before snatching up the whip from America’s bag and tossing it upwards. It took a few tosses, but finally America’s fingers clasped the handle of the whip and he grinned.
“All right, let’s get our belongings up here first.”
England pointedly ignored America as he hauled up his bag via whip, going to his own bag and pulling on his shirt. He was just about to ask if America wanted his ridiculous hat as well when he felt the cold chill run down his spine. The fedora tumbled out of his hand and onto the ground.
In the tree above, America’s eyes had gone wide in horror as their Andean bear friend began to keen out a low, distraught cry.
“England, something’s coming, get up here now!”
But as much as America’s words and even the bear’s cries made England want to bolt up into the tree, he found he was frozen to the spot as if some invisible force was holding him there.
With all the strength he could muster, he met America’s eyes and said.
“America, I…I can’t move.”
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Poland was in full swing at America’s house, insisting that everyone needed a full makeover and home spa treatment before he’d be caught dead on the streets of New York. Lithuania wasn’t quite sure about this, but Tony was more than happy to assist Poland in giving Lithuania a hot oil massage.
Whale was currently singing to himself in the indoor pool he lived in during the cold winter months in D.C., which had been turned into a lavender-scented bubble bath courtesy Poland.
“Like guys, I totally got the avocado facials ready and stuff!”
Lithuania looked skeptically over to Tony who was lounging beside him in one of the pool side chairs. “Uh Tony, is this okay with you?”
The alien nodded, taking off his sunglasses and setting them aside. “I just need to check one fucking thing first.”
Stepping outside the room, Tony crossed the house until he went to the bookcase. Glancing around to make sure no one was watching him, he stood on the balls of his feet and tugged on a battered old copy of Journey to the Center of the Earth. The book slid out and a click echoed in the empty room. Quietly, Tony pulled open the secret doorway and descended the staircase into what served as both America’s secret room and, to a degree, Tony’s workshop.
Passing various artifacts, Tony crossed over to a large wall-sized computer that was lit up with what looked like an old Mac computer game on it in big blocky pixel graphics. He frowned as he noticed a nearby monitor beeping and flickering its red light.
“Fucking hell, what now?”
Picking up an old Nintendo Game controller he’d modified into use for his hardware, Tony punched in a quick succession of A-B keys until the computer pulled up a secret file, showing all the statistics on one Alfred F. Jones, aka. America.
The alien’s frown turned into an expression of great alarm when he saw just how much his human’s heart rate was racing.
“No pleasure neurons in the brain are lit up and his adrenaline is fucking skyrocketing,” he muttered to himself, punching in a few more keys. This screen pulled up the blocky pixel graphics again, but this time with two white silhouettes lightly etched in.
For a brief moment, Tony thought how proud his people back on the home planet would be if they could see his advanced technological skills in such a primitive world as Earth. Using a mere human cell phone device to track all health stats for America was not what Tony had originally asked for his phone for, but it had come to him as he was installing that other program.
His three hearts clenched in concern. Tony really didn’t want to be invasive at all, but after seeing America’s neck almost cut open after the last adventure along with that writing England had conjured up, the alien was quite honestly, worried sick.
While he would never, ever, admit it (he’d rather eat England’s cooking than do so) Tony knew that if England couldn’t protect America during their adventure, then it was possible his dear human would come to even greater injury.
And if England was so worried about this…writing.
Tony shook his head and glanced back at the monitor, which was beeping even more rapidly now.
Something had caused America great distress, but all his own personal vitals were still well in the green. This meant the cause could be nothing else but…
Tony glared at the second white silhouette as if he could see him in person.
“Fucking limey,” he swore.
Of course America’s heart was racing because England was in danger. Tony could have figured that out without his technology to confirm it. It was a common trait in most life forms after all, to value the life of your mate above one’s own.
“Fucking fucking limey.”
And although he swore, and cursed, and even did so in a few foreign alien tongues outside his own, Tony did the one thing he could to help his America.
He began punching in satellite override coding so he could use his powers to save England’s life.
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England felt as if a giant hand had gripped him firm around the middle.
His arms held flush against his sides and his feet unable to move nary a centimeter without being held back by some unseen adversary.
England looked intently at the air around him and wasn’t surprised in the least bit to see that there was that slight glow of magic to it. It was as he had feared ever since America had been able to use the radio and he had not.
Whatever this foe was, be it a vengeful mountain spirit or ancient magic curse, it had singled out England. Sensing the old magic about him, it had decided to eliminate him first and foremost before moving onto easier prey, such as America and his lack of magical sight.
“England, hang on! I’ll get you!” America called out from the branch above.
But that foreboding feeling got worse, as if the air had tightened around his lungs, and England gasped. “No, not yet! I must break it first.”
If America was perplexed by England’s strange statement, the extreme worry and concern on his face did well to mask his confusion. But the last thing England wanted was for America to make some foolhardy strike and draw the ire of the curse towards him. It was best to let magic fight magic first before any dashing American heroics came into play.
Not that America was dashing, not in the least.
Closing his eyes, England let his aura search out around him, looking for any weaknesses in the curse keeping him frozen. As if it was indeed a large hand, a few small gaps, as if in between large fingers, in the magic remained at intervals every meter or so apart.
England allowed himself a small smile at that. This foe had underestimated him greatly.
Inwardly envisioning the curse surrounding him, England began to chant, tendrils of purple smoke beginning to swirl out around him.
That which is frozen shall now flow yet again. That which is bound shall be as free as the wind. Untangle your entanglements, unhinge your locked doors, and let loose that you hold which is not yours.
The smoke hissed emerald as it canceled out the freezing spell, clouds of green so large that even America couldn’t deny that something had been holding England there.
“England!” He called out once more, warily looking off towards the distance. His bear friend was doing the same, and both of them seemed to be mixture of relieved and yet still extremely worried.
Wasting not a second, England snatched up his bag and rushed to the bottom of the tree. “Get this up, quickly now!”
He wasn’t sure what was headed their direction that was making such a loud rumbling noise, but England knew that whatever was out to get him had all intents of him standing in that spot until the source of the rumbling arrived to do him in.
In no time at all, America had used his whip to haul up the second bag. Looking to England, he gave him a nervous smile.
“Are you going to magic yourself up here or can I help?”
Sensing America’s insecurity about being inadequate protection against this invisible curse, and figuring he still owed him for taking the brunt of the fall on his back, England sighed, a smidgen of a smile hidden just beneath his frown.
“All right then, America, hero away.”
America lit up like a child on Christmas morning, and eyeing the next branch higher than the one he was perched on, he gave a swift flick of his whip and tugged it secure on that branch.
Immediately, England knew what he was up to and he barely had time to grab up America’s hat before the idiot began his swing downward.
As if he was some Hollywood action hero (which was clearly what the git was aiming for), America swung down from the tree holding to his whip with his good hand, his shirt billowing in the breeze and a toothpaste-commercial white smile on his face. On reaching England, he swept him up dramatically in his right arm (wincing as his injured elbow twinged in pain) and gave him a grin. “One hero, at your service, darling.”
Before England could berate him, or even manage a scowl, the rumbling drew to a cacophonous peak as a large boulder came barreling into the clearing.
Not about to let America get any more injured, England twisted as they swung upward to block him from the incoming hit.
But the boulder never came.
Mere inches from where they’d been, a large blue glow had shot down from the sky and brought the boulder to an instant halt.
America gave England a look as they swung safely up into the branches. “Was that blue glow you?”
England shook his head, looking to where the boulder was sitting at a standstill.
“No. But whatever it is, it’s on our side so I’m not complaining.”
Hearing America hiss in pain as he wracked his elbow against the tree trunk beside them, England swatted his hands off his waist. “All right Tarzan, I can take it from here.”
But before he could get loose from America’s grip, their bear friend (well, England supposed he could consider it a friend) let out another whine.
If the rumbling from before was loud, this noise was ten times so, as a huge rockslide of boulders came crashing into the clearing. The blue light that had saved them before seemed to know they were safe up the tree, for it did nothing to hinder the onslaught of boulders as they slammed into the first boulder and covered the entire forest floor of the area in debris.
“England…” America murmured.
England gulped and pressed a reassuring kiss to America’s cheek. “Hush love, I’m quite all right.”
“But, you could have been…”
“Shh, we’re safe now. Both of us are safe and well,” England chuckled, glancing up to where the dark fur of the bear peeked out amidst the foliage of the tree. “Looks like our friend Mr. Bear is safe as well.”
America’s grin resurfaced at that. “Hey, you called him Mr. Bear!”
“You always were so eloquent with names. I still can’t believe your whale is named…Whale.”
With a pout, America started to clamber up in the tree to a more spacious branch. “It’s not my fault that’s the name he responded to. I was going to name him something more awesome like…”
“Mr. Whale?” England teased, following America up into the higher branches of the tree.
“NO!”
But his deep blush made England suspect that perhaps that had been the intended name after all.
After climbing up a bit higher, and carefully bringing their bags with them, America reached a roomy part of the bough where several branches and leaves had been pulled and bent down against the trunk to form a sort of…platform or nest or bed.
“Ta-da! Mr. Bear said he could loan us his extra bed for the night.”
England blinked at it, then at America, then to the bear (which was up even higher in the tree watching over them). He could have sworn the bear was smiling at him, but that would be downright ridiculous.
Tossing his bag up into the nest, England raised an eyebrow as it didn’t fall through immediately. “Rather sturdy construction.”
America snatched his fedora back off England’s head, and tucked it and his whip safely to the side of the large bear-made platform with his bag.
“Home sweet home,” he quipped.
England sat down and found that it was rather comfortable, for a leaf and branch bed, that is. America was looking around at the landscape from their high perch above the forest, the sunset just barely eking through the dense tree leaves to catch on the metal of his eyeglass frames from time to time.
“You sir,” England began, tugging America back against him so he could rest his still-ice packed back against his chest, “are overdue for a good rest.”
America smiled warmly, letting himself relax into the circle of England’s arms. “I guess I am.”
They sat in silence, outside the quiet snufflings of their bear friend up above them, just the two of them curled up together in the branches of the tree watching the tiny streaks of sunset dwindle as the dark night skies descended over the forest.
England had pulled out a lantern and turned it on a dim setting, letting America cradle against his chest so his heavily bruised back didn’t get any worse for the wear by sleeping at any odd angles against a tree trunk. That, England thought to himself as he shifted his own back against the tree trunk, was his duty for the night.
“Hey England?”
“Hmm?”
America shifted slightly so he could see England’s face illuminated in the lantern light. “Do you really have no idea what that blue light was that saved us?”
He shook his head. “No idea. It wasn’t like any magic I’m familiar with. I’m just…”
“…glad it stopped that boulder from hitting you,” they said simultaneously.
They both blushed a bit at that, but small, timid smiles quirked at their lips all the same.
Little did they know that thousands of miles away from them, their alien savior was sitting back down to let an eccentric blond nation finish up his facial.
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Notes:
[1] The Andean Bear is a relatively small species of bear native to South America. It has black fur with a distinctive beige-coloured marking across its face and upper chest.
[2] Bears became extinct in the United Kingdom in the 10th century after years of habitat destruction and persecution by hunters.
[3] In the religion and mythology of Peru, Ecuador, and Bolivia, Apus are the spirits of the mountains that protect the local people in the highlands. The term dates back to the Inca Empire.