Mi Vida Contigo [5/?]
anonymous
August 19 2009, 06:27:38 UTC
Alfred had always loved Boston. It had been many things since its founding-a city for Puritan settlers, the birthplace of the Revolution, one of the primary cities of the new nation, a vibrant, modern city in the age of technology, a city full of life and history. The history of Boston was the history of himself. So many memories were contained here, in those streets. A far cry from its early Puritan years, Alfred knew that if there was any city where the personification of America could marry his same-sex somewhat psychotic former arch-enemy three days after proposing to him, without anyone batting an eye, it would be modern Boston.
But the best thing about Boston was that it was far, far away from Mexico. And that was why he chose the location for his wedding to Russia.
Russia…who was standing next to him outside the chapel, still wearing his scarf over his neatly pressed tuxedo.
“Ivan…” Alfred whispered sharply. “Could you at least take your scarf off? It’s summertime. And it clashes with your lovely red tie.”
“Silly Alfred.” Ivan smiled, and Alfred was left wondering why he’d even mentioned it.
“Seriously, is your head separate from your body and that scarf the only thing holding it on?”
“I was nearly decapitated once,” Ivan said contemplatively. “It was a thrilling sensation, that cold blade on my neck, pressing into my skin, drawing little rivulets of blood…”
“I was only joking!” Alfred exclaimed, cutting Russia off in horror.
“And I was being completely serious,” Ivan said, flashing Alfred a huge grin.
“Er…we can talk about that later!” Alfred cried. “We’re about to go in there and get married.”
“Ah. Right. The matter at hand. I seem to have forgotten, dear Alfred, that I am about to become your husband.”
“Who says you get to be the husband?” Alfred protested. “I’m the superpower here!”
“Alfred, will you never learn?” Russia shook his head as though he was chastising a small child. “Once you are one with me, I will be unstoppable.”
“Bring it on,” America challenged. “I dare you.”
“I would be more careful with my words, dear America,” Russia replied nonchalantly.
The people surrounding the two of them were looking more terrified by the minute.
“Okay…gentlemen, it’s time to go in,” one of them announced quite loudly. “You can start World War III later. Right now you’re getting married.”
And then, the door to the chapel was opened and Alfred and Ivan walked in, making their way to the altar.
There were more guests sitting in the pews than Alfred had expected-he had been very careful with the news and only told a couple people. He was sure that some of the people in the audience were just there to make sure he was telling the truth. Bulgaria was there, as was Belgium, Seychelles, and several other nations he hardly even saw, let alone spoke to. Canada was sitting in the front row next to France, whispering frantically in the latter nation’s ear, looking very worried. France, in turn, was doing his best to make Canada forget his worries, in the form of some rather inappropriate touching.
There was a rustle of fabric as a small group of nations tried to sneak into the back of the chapel unnoticed. Of course, they failed, and everyone turned around to look at the latecomers. China, Vietnam, North Korea, and Cuba tried to look innocent and oblivious to the stares as they sat down very quickly.
“Mind your own business,” China whispered just loud enough that the whole chapel could hear.
Alfred was very relieved not to see Mexico in the crowd, and he was sure that Russia was just as glad not to see Belarus. England was also noticeably absent, but that was no surprise to Alfred. He was probably getting drunk somewhere, taking his anger out on some poor confused barkeeper. This made America feel slightly sadder than it should have, especially considering that the rest of his family had showed up.
But the best thing about Boston was that it was far, far away from Mexico. And that was why he chose the location for his wedding to Russia.
Russia…who was standing next to him outside the chapel, still wearing his scarf over his neatly pressed tuxedo.
“Ivan…” Alfred whispered sharply. “Could you at least take your scarf off? It’s summertime. And it clashes with your lovely red tie.”
“Silly Alfred.” Ivan smiled, and Alfred was left wondering why he’d even mentioned it.
“Seriously, is your head separate from your body and that scarf the only thing holding it on?”
“I was nearly decapitated once,” Ivan said contemplatively. “It was a thrilling sensation, that cold blade on my neck, pressing into my skin, drawing little rivulets of blood…”
“I was only joking!” Alfred exclaimed, cutting Russia off in horror.
“And I was being completely serious,” Ivan said, flashing Alfred a huge grin.
“Er…we can talk about that later!” Alfred cried. “We’re about to go in there and get married.”
“Ah. Right. The matter at hand. I seem to have forgotten, dear Alfred, that I am about to become your husband.”
“Who says you get to be the husband?” Alfred protested. “I’m the superpower here!”
“Alfred, will you never learn?” Russia shook his head as though he was chastising a small child. “Once you are one with me, I will be unstoppable.”
“Bring it on,” America challenged. “I dare you.”
“I would be more careful with my words, dear America,” Russia replied nonchalantly.
The people surrounding the two of them were looking more terrified by the minute.
“Okay…gentlemen, it’s time to go in,” one of them announced quite loudly. “You can start World War III later. Right now you’re getting married.”
And then, the door to the chapel was opened and Alfred and Ivan walked in, making their way to the altar.
There were more guests sitting in the pews than Alfred had expected-he had been very careful with the news and only told a couple people. He was sure that some of the people in the audience were just there to make sure he was telling the truth. Bulgaria was there, as was Belgium, Seychelles, and several other nations he hardly even saw, let alone spoke to. Canada was sitting in the front row next to France, whispering frantically in the latter nation’s ear, looking very worried. France, in turn, was doing his best to make Canada forget his worries, in the form of some rather inappropriate touching.
There was a rustle of fabric as a small group of nations tried to sneak into the back of the chapel unnoticed. Of course, they failed, and everyone turned around to look at the latecomers. China, Vietnam, North Korea, and Cuba tried to look innocent and oblivious to the stares as they sat down very quickly.
“Mind your own business,” China whispered just loud enough that the whole chapel could hear.
Alfred was very relieved not to see Mexico in the crowd, and he was sure that Russia was just as glad not to see Belarus. England was also noticeably absent, but that was no surprise to Alfred. He was probably getting drunk somewhere, taking his anger out on some poor confused barkeeper. This made America feel slightly sadder than it should have, especially considering that the rest of his family had showed up.
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