The Chains That Bind [1a/7]
anonymous
August 24 2009, 02:22:09 UTC
So. Yes. This shall have seven parts, one for each day they are handcuffed. I’ll try to put in as much humor/fluff as I can. ;) [Note: this is the second Writer!Anon that wanted to try this out.] ~*~*~* The meeting had been going on as normal, and they still hadn’t gotten anything done. When it ended, America decided to stay behind and accompany England and France to the hotel. In the morning, the Englishman and Frenchman met him in the lobby, and they took the same taxi. America honestly regretted his decision to go with them. He and England got into a very heated argument, paying no heed to France. That was their first mistake. The rule was to always keep an eye on the Frenchman, no matter what.
America’s second mistake was when he glanced over at France and noticed a glint in his eyes. He ignored it and continued the argument with England. Strike two. America had also seen France going into his bag, but ignored that. Strike three and they were out. Well, more like handcuffed together. America just thanked his lucky stars that they weren’t fuzzy and pink (he had seen a pair just like that at Spencer’s). The blond American stared at the handcuffs while England was sputtering something. France was simply amused.
“You two need to understand each other more. Therefore, you will spend a week handcuffed together, starting today. When the week is through, I will come to your,” the Frenchman pointed at America, “house and free you from your…kinky predicament.”
America had to lie against England in order to keep the man from throttling France.
Day 1
America sighed a little as he remembered how he got into the whole “handcuffed-to-England” mess. An awkward silence had fallen over the two men as they stood in the doorway of America’s house. The blond American glanced at the clock, deciding that it shouldn’t hurt to make some dinner for them.
How the fuck we’ll be able to eat like this is BEYOND me. Alfred thought before turning to England. He smiled a little at the older nation, trying to be a little optimistic about the situation. Hard to do when the man he was chained to was pessimistic to the extreme. Not only that, but Alfred was also trying to distract himself from how fucking kinky their position was.
…Oh, shit, I don’t even wanna THINK about taking a shower…
The Chains That Bind [1b/7]
anonymous
August 24 2009, 14:49:05 UTC
“So…uh…what do you want for dinner, England?” the blond asked nervously when acid green eyes met his sky blue. He was silent for a moment, considering the question seriously.
“Something simple,” Arthur vaguely replied, waving his cuffed hand. Alfred nodded and practically dragged his companion into the kitchen. It was painfully obvious at that moment that their strides were completely different. The American’s was long and fast-paced, but England took shorter strides than the other. Arthur sputtered indignantly as he tried to match America’s pace.
Upon entering the kitchen, America had decided against actually cooking anything. With the way their luck had been going, they would probably just get caught on fire or burn themselves because of the Goddamn handcuffs. Therefore, Alfred decided it best to just stick with making sandwiches for them. He was in the mood for a peanut butter and honey sandwich anyway. Arthur told him he was fine with just PB&J.
Eating was…awkward. The two had to sit close together in order to take a bite without jerking the other’s arm around. Not only that, but they would have to share the same bed. Luckily, America had a king-sized bed, so it would fit two people just fine. Still, the very thought of it was awkward to the two nations and tried to prolong it as long as possible.
Eventually, the two of them were done eating. America lead the way to his room, but made sure he matched his stride with England. He opened the door and walked with the Englishman to his dresser. The blond American pulled out a couple nightshirts, one for him and one for England, and a pair of pants for himself. His shirts would cover pretty much everything on Arthur. Still, it left one problem.
How the hell were they going to get their shirts off?
Alfred did have an idea, but he knew that Arthur would need persuasion.
The Chains That Bind [1c/7]
anonymous
August 24 2009, 16:46:10 UTC
The blond American cleared his throat, catching his companion’s attention.
“So…England…um, we have a bit of a problem with taking our shirts off,” he started out, avoiding the other nation’s emerald eyes. Alfred repressed a shiver when he felt those same eyes boring into the side of his head. Oh, man, England was going to kill him for the suggestion. “I…have a pair or two of fabric scissors, so…”
“No. Absolutely not,” England replied, “You will not destroy this suit, America!”
“Damn it, England, what choice do we have?! Do you want to sleep in your work clothes?! We can always buy new ones!” America stated, his tone surprisingly firm and logical to the Englishman. The two continued to bicker back and forth, but Alfred was not giving an inch. Eventually, England sighed in frustration and gave up. During the argument, the American had also remembered that they were going to have trouble putting shit on as well.
Fucking hell… Alfred sighed and pointed out the “putting clothes on” problem to his companion. They were silent for a moment, each lost in their thoughts as they tried to come up with a solution. Eventually, the two decided to just sleep in their shirts and try to make do with what they could. So, Alfred pulled out a pair of pants for England and the two climbed into bed. It took hours for the two to get over the awkwardness of the handcuffs before falling asleep. ~*~*~* And with this, I finish Day 1. Day 2 will be when I start getting the humor out. ;)
Augh sorry it took me so long to review this. Anon, this is lovely, and it's exactly what I wanted. I was smiling all the way through - lol, I hadn't even considered the clothes thing. They have to use the same shirt for the whole week (and I definetly want to see them taking a shower, lolz).
ILU, please update soon! <3
ReCaptcha: awarding has. See, he loves you too. \o/
It's alright. Haha, I'm just glad you like it. And the clothes thing I just considered during the writing. You'll see what happens with the shirt situation, although Arthur won't like it. ;)
ILU2 for coming up with this idea. :3
ReCaptcha: vagabond kind. Why, yes, he does love me if that is my reward. XD
~*~*~*
The meeting had been going on as normal, and they still hadn’t gotten anything done. When it ended, America decided to stay behind and accompany England and France to the hotel. In the morning, the Englishman and Frenchman met him in the lobby, and they took the same taxi. America honestly regretted his decision to go with them. He and England got into a very heated argument, paying no heed to France. That was their first mistake. The rule was to always keep an eye on the Frenchman, no matter what.
America’s second mistake was when he glanced over at France and noticed a glint in his eyes. He ignored it and continued the argument with England. Strike two. America had also seen France going into his bag, but ignored that. Strike three and they were out. Well, more like handcuffed together. America just thanked his lucky stars that they weren’t fuzzy and pink (he had seen a pair just like that at Spencer’s). The blond American stared at the handcuffs while England was sputtering something. France was simply amused.
“You two need to understand each other more. Therefore, you will spend a week handcuffed together, starting today. When the week is through, I will come to your,” the Frenchman pointed at America, “house and free you from your…kinky predicament.”
America had to lie against England in order to keep the man from throttling France.
Day 1
America sighed a little as he remembered how he got into the whole “handcuffed-to-England” mess. An awkward silence had fallen over the two men as they stood in the doorway of America’s house. The blond American glanced at the clock, deciding that it shouldn’t hurt to make some dinner for them.
How the fuck we’ll be able to eat like this is BEYOND me. Alfred thought before turning to England. He smiled a little at the older nation, trying to be a little optimistic about the situation. Hard to do when the man he was chained to was pessimistic to the extreme. Not only that, but Alfred was also trying to distract himself from how fucking kinky their position was.
…Oh, shit, I don’t even wanna THINK about taking a shower…
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I was smiling the whole time, anon, this is lovely and looks really promissing! I'll be F5ing like mad now. \o/
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“Something simple,” Arthur vaguely replied, waving his cuffed hand. Alfred nodded and practically dragged his companion into the kitchen. It was painfully obvious at that moment that their strides were completely different. The American’s was long and fast-paced, but England took shorter strides than the other. Arthur sputtered indignantly as he tried to match America’s pace.
Upon entering the kitchen, America had decided against actually cooking anything. With the way their luck had been going, they would probably just get caught on fire or burn themselves because of the Goddamn handcuffs. Therefore, Alfred decided it best to just stick with making sandwiches for them. He was in the mood for a peanut butter and honey sandwich anyway. Arthur told him he was fine with just PB&J.
Eating was…awkward. The two had to sit close together in order to take a bite without jerking the other’s arm around. Not only that, but they would have to share the same bed. Luckily, America had a king-sized bed, so it would fit two people just fine. Still, the very thought of it was awkward to the two nations and tried to prolong it as long as possible.
Eventually, the two of them were done eating. America lead the way to his room, but made sure he matched his stride with England. He opened the door and walked with the Englishman to his dresser. The blond American pulled out a couple nightshirts, one for him and one for England, and a pair of pants for himself. His shirts would cover pretty much everything on Arthur. Still, it left one problem.
How the hell were they going to get their shirts off?
Alfred did have an idea, but he knew that Arthur would need persuasion.
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“So…England…um, we have a bit of a problem with taking our shirts off,” he started out, avoiding the other nation’s emerald eyes. Alfred repressed a shiver when he felt those same eyes boring into the side of his head. Oh, man, England was going to kill him for the suggestion. “I…have a pair or two of fabric scissors, so…”
“No. Absolutely not,” England replied, “You will not destroy this suit, America!”
“Damn it, England, what choice do we have?! Do you want to sleep in your work clothes?! We can always buy new ones!” America stated, his tone surprisingly firm and logical to the Englishman. The two continued to bicker back and forth, but Alfred was not giving an inch. Eventually, England sighed in frustration and gave up. During the argument, the American had also remembered that they were going to have trouble putting shit on as well.
Fucking hell… Alfred sighed and pointed out the “putting clothes on” problem to his companion. They were silent for a moment, each lost in their thoughts as they tried to come up with a solution. Eventually, the two decided to just sleep in their shirts and try to make do with what they could. So, Alfred pulled out a pair of pants for England and the two climbed into bed. It took hours for the two to get over the awkwardness of the handcuffs before falling asleep.
~*~*~*
And with this, I finish Day 1. Day 2 will be when I start getting the humor out. ;)
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Can't wait for the rest, anon!
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ILU, please update soon! <3
ReCaptcha: awarding has. See, he loves you too. \o/
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ILU2 for coming up with this idea. :3
ReCaptcha: vagabond kind. Why, yes, he does love me if that is my reward. XD
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