America/England, learning how to snowboard
anonymous
October 6 2009, 16:16:56 UTC
So the request is this:
America had once again one of his 'eureka!' moments and decided that he has to taught England how to snowboard (because he himself is of course awesome at it)! So they travel together to someplace with lots of snow and ski slopes and maybe a cabin rented for only the two of them (or there can be some others with them, if author!anon wants) and America starts teaching England how to snowboard.
Of course, as easily excited as England is, he's "thrilled" about this idea (but somehow America managed to drag him out and in to the middle of nowhere) and absolutely refuses to step on a snowboard. But maybe America then says something like 'you're too old for this, I knew it' or something (it's up to the author!anon :D whatever you come up with!) and England, well, you know "I'll show you bloody old!!" and decides to show America that he's perfectly capable of snowboarding. Which he isn't. He just does not get the hang of it but America tries his best to teach him. Hilarity, fluff and anything the author!anon wants to include ensues.
BONUS: England gets hurt or almost gets hurt some time sliding down a hill (or trying) and really startles America who then runs for him, really worried and all although England's not severely hurt and is absolutely fine. BONUS 2: Some evening they sit together next to the fireplace and snuggle ♥ *coughclichécough*
If you want to add smut, go ahead! And you don't have to follow this request accurately to the word if you have some awesome ideas to include this on your own, but I'd really appreciate it being America/England (or England/America, I don't care, it's the same to me) and a happy ending ♥.
THANK YOU SO MUCH! Hopefully someone (or some) will have a lot of fun with this!!
Operation Awesome [1/?]
anonymous
October 10 2009, 06:53:14 UTC
Alright, I'm going to try my hand at this; I hope it's what you're looking for.
So far, Operation Awesome was going smoothly.
Not only had America managed to book an all-expenses paid week at the Alpine Meadows in California, he had also managed to coerce England into coming along for the ride. For anyone else, this feat would have been impossible, but not for America; he is a hero after all.
Admittedly, the Englishman had no idea what America really intended to do on this trip, which was why, at that moment, the older nation was carting around a pair of skis. Pfft. Skis. America, like any sensible person, had come equipped with a snowboard.
“It has the Stars and Stripes on the bottom,” America informed England with his characteristic exuberance. They were on their way to the townhouse that America had booked for the week in a rental car they’d received from the airport. The car wasn’t in good condition; the interior reeked of stale McDonald’s cheeseburgers, and the seats were stained dark gray from years of abuse. America was right at home, merrily tapping in time to the radio on the steering wheel, but England looked rather ill.
“America, when I signed up for this trip I was not informed that we would be making half of the journey in a deathtrap,” England grumbled.
“She’s just well-loved,” America said as he stopped at a light. The brakes shrieked when they were applied; England grit his teeth. “Besides, I don’t see what the car has to do with my snowboard. Didn’t you hear England? It’s got my flag on the bottom!” He looked over at the European, a silly grin plastered across his face. “Isn’t that cool?”
“I don’t see how having your flag on the bottom of your snowboard is ‘cool,’” England grumbled, gripping his seat tightly as the car jerked forward when the light turned green. An ominous cloud of black smoke was emitting from under the hood, but it didn’t seem to bother the American, who continued down the road at his usual breakneck pace. “It’s not as though you see it when you’re snowboarding.”
“Shredding,” America corrected.
“Pardon?”
“I don’t snowboard, I shred,” America clarified. “Jeez England, get it right.”
England took a deep breath, his knuckles white as he gripped the sides of his seat to prevent himself from getting launched from the car as America slammed on the breaks, the car screaming to a stop, the engine grumbling in complaint.
Operation Awesome [2/?]
anonymous
October 10 2009, 06:56:12 UTC
“Alright then, America,” England said after collecting himself. “While you’re ‘shredding,’ you don’t see the bottom of your board, so what’s the purpose of having a decal on it?”
“Well, when I gain some big air and do some sick nasty trick, like a backside rodeo, everyone can see my board so it should have something amazing on it, and what’s better than the American Flag?” America looked over at England, only to find the other nation staring at him like he’d just grown a second head. “What?” America exclaimed indignantly. “It’s true!”
“Do you have any idea of the extent to which you just butchered the English language?”
“C’mon England, lighten up. We’re here to have fun on this trip y’know, not worry about grammar.”
“America, stop.”
“England, you need to unbend a bit. Maybe if you saw how epic it can be when you pull a fakie off of the pipe-”
“Bloody hell America, hit the sodding brake! You’re going to hit the tree-!”
The rental car smashed into a tree off to the side of the road with a sickening smash, the front fender promptly falling off of the car on impact. The two countries were saved from injury by their airbags which had (miraculously) deployed. The engine was now chugging unhappily, a thick, black smoke permeating from under the hood.
America began to laugh.
“I don’t see the humor in this situation,” England snarled. “You almost got us killed, you git!”
“We weren’t in any danger, lighten up, England,” America said, still chuckling to himself. “That was a lot of fun!”
“Fun! How in the world was that fun?”
“It’s not like you get to fall into an airbag everyday,” America said with glee as he extracted himself from his seat, wiggling out from between the airbag and his seat into the bright sunshine of the outdoors. “C’mon England, let’s call a cab!”
Three hours later, after a brief visit to the hospital (at England’s insistence) to make sure that they were alright, America and England arrived at their townhouse with their luggage. Unfortunately, England’s skis had been broken in the crash, and America promised that he would find a replacement for the Englishman as soon as possible. Little did England know that America already had said replacement, a wonderful little snowboard he had packed “just in case” something awful happened to any of their gear.
It was just coincidental that the Union Jack was on the bottom of it; really.
Operation Awesome [3/?]
anonymous
October 12 2009, 06:23:17 UTC
Operation Awesome hit a slight snag the next day.
“No, absolutely not,” England grumbled when the snowboard was presented to him. “There is no way in hell I am getting on that thing.”
“Oh come on England, please? For me?” America pleaded, waving the board back and forth, as though the movement would increase the aesthetic value of the Union Jack. “You know you want to try it.”
“No,” England growled, crossing his arms. “I refuse to step foot on that bloody thing.”
“It was the only thing left in the shop, you’re stuck with it,” America tried this time.
“How could a ski resort run out of skis?”
“It’s possible! Really!” Actually, when America had traveled to the lodge that morning to get a cup of coffee, at least a score of skis had been sitting in the window of the rental shop.
“I don’t believe you,” England sighed, straightening his scarf. “I’m going to go down there and see for myself.” He turned and started down the path toward the base lodge, his stride purposeful. America could see Operation Awesome crumble before his eyes, and he scrambled to think of something, anything, that would get England onto the snowboard.
“You’re just chicken, aren’t you?” America called, but England continued walking, not at all fazed by the insult. America scrubbed at his hair in frustration; he was usually so good at getting under England’s skin, what was he missing? What hadn’t he tried that usually worked…?
Oh. Oh! America’s face lit up as an idea came to him. Why hadn’t he thought of it before?
“Fine then England, leave,” America called. “You’re too old for this, I knew it.” This got a reaction out of the Englishman who stopped mid-step, his shoulders rigid. “Go on and get those lame skis, you can go party with the old fogies on the bunny hill. Meanwhile, I’ll go and snowboard with all of the cool people.”
First, there was silence. Then, suddenly, England had turned around and was marching back up the trail, his face murderous.
“What did you just call me?” He snarled. America stood his ground (though the snowboard was held between himself and England for good measure), a smirk plastered over his features.
“I didn’t call you anything,” America chirped. “I was just stating the obvious, old man. You’re too much of a geezer to snowboard; I should’ve known.”
“I’ll show you bloody old,” England snapped, ripping the snowboard from America’s hands before resuming his journey down the slope, muttering darkly under his breath the entire way. America followed after the Englishman, an inane smile on his face, his own snowboard clutched firmly in his hands.
Operation Awesome [4/?]
anonymous
October 13 2009, 02:56:01 UTC
An hour later saw America attempting to teach England how to snowboard.
“The most important thing is to keep your balance,” America said as the Brit wobbled unsteadily on his board. England had, so far, refused any assistance from the American, but that didn’t mean that the man wasn’t trying to help. Operation Awesome involved England learning how to snowboard, after all; if America wanted to see the Briton fail miserably at anything, all he had to do was invite the man into his kitchen.
“I know that, you git,” England grumbled as he leaned over to buckle his left foot into the snowboard. He was having some difficulty with doing up the strap, and America watched with growing concern as the older nation continued to fumble. America certainly never had that much trouble when he first put on his snowboard… And certainly none of the children at the bunny slope were struggling quite as much as England was.
“Um, England, do you need some help?” America queried, taking a step forward.
“I don’t need your bloody help,” England mumbled, “sod off.”
“Well it just looks like you’re having some trouble, and I thought I could help,” America tried again, taking another step forward. “I’ll just do up one of the straps so you can see how to do it-”
“America!” England snapped. Whatever angry remark he was going to make next was cut off when one of the straps clicked into place, and the Englishman stood up with a shout of joy.
…Only to promptly fall over, sending snow flying everywhere.
“That was your fault!” England called from his position on the ground. America was trying very hard not to laugh, but all of his restraint went away when England tried getting up on his own, only to flop back into the snow.
“England, you look so funny right now,” America gasped. “I wish I had my camera on me. You know what? You stay right there, and I’ll go run back to the cabin and grab my-”
“There is no way in hell you are going to get your camera. Help me up, you idiot!”
America reached out his hand to grab England’s and helped the man to his feet.
“Next time, try to buckle both of the straps before you try anything,” America sniggered as the Brit leaned down once more to attempt to fasten the second buckle. “That way you won’t fall down so easily.” England didn’t supply a ready answer, and America sighed, absently adjusting his hat as he watched the Englishman’s progress. After the strap was secured, England was able to stand without falling over, and he cast America a smug smile.
“No problem.” England said, still managing to look dignified even when he was brushing snow off of his pants.
“Alright then; let’s get snowboarding!” America cried with his usual enthusiasm. He strapped on his board (taking about five seconds, to England’s dismay), before sliding over to the line for the chair lift.
It took about twenty seconds for the American to realize that England wasn’t following him.
“C’mon England,” he called over his shoulder. “You’re getting slow in your old age!”
England bit his lip and pushed off, sliding forward about three feet before capsizing, face planting into the snow. America winced, and was about to give up his spot in line when England stirred, determinedly getting to his feet, slowly sliding the remaining few feet to America.
“Are you okay?” America asked in concern. The fall looked nasty, and England had a large lump of snow sticking to his hat. America reached over to brush the snow off, and England irritably smacked his hands away, glowering up at the American under his thick brows.
“I would be better if you’d told me that we had to snowboard over to the lift line,” England muttered darkly, patting snow off of his thick jacket.
“How else did you expect to get to the lift?” America asked in confusion.
England grumbled something under his breath that America didn’t quite catch (though to be honest, America was pretty sure he didn’t want to know what the Briton had said.)
Re: Operation Awesome [4/?]
anonymous
October 19 2009, 12:27:35 UTC
OP here !
Afdlsakfjasdl THIS IS SO AWESOME >u< ! Thank you so much for filling this and I just LOVE your America and England! They're so perfectly like themselves :'DD.
Oh god, this is so lovely, can't wait 'till the next chapter @u@ I love you to no end author!anon!! *hughug* <3
Operation Awesome [5/?]
anonymous
October 23 2009, 23:38:25 UTC
A few minutes time found the two nations on the chair lift up to the top of the bunny slope.
“Look England! A snowman!” America cried, leaning forward in his seat, pointing at a lump of snow assembled in the middle of the bunny slope. The chair wobbled as America shifted, and England angrily rebuked the American for moving. England looked rather pale, and he was gripping the edge of the chair so hard that his knuckles were white.
“Are you okay, England?” America asked with concern, now peering down at the other man.
“I’m perfectly fine,” England replied, but he refused to look up at the American, his eyes firmly set straight ahead.
“You’re lying,” America persisted.
“I am not.”
“You are to.”
“I am not and that is final, America!” England grumbled. “I am perfectly fine. There is absolutely, positively nothing wrong with me right now.”
“Okay, good,” America said, though he still looked unconvinced. He slumped back in his seat, his arms crossed over his chest. The chair began to swing as soon as he moved, and England made a small, unhappy noise in the back of his throat.
The light bulb went off in America’s head. “You’re afraid of falling off the chair lift, aren’t you?” He asked, suddenly sitting up, causing the chair to swing violently back and forth.
“No!” England said, though his response sounded weak.
“You’re lying.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Are to!”
“I am not.”
“Are to! C’mon England, fess up!”
“Will you just sod off, America?” England growled. If looks could kill, America certainly would have been dead five times over from the impressive glower England gave him. (The effect of the glare was increased by the older nation’s prodigious eye-brows, but America wisely chose not to mention the fact to the Brit. He did not feel like getting pushed out of the chair lift that day.)
Silence encompassed the two for several minutes. America amused himself by swinging his legs to and fro, watching his snowboard wobble. England continued to clutch the sides of the chair, looking rather queasy as the apparatus continued to lurch.
Finally, they reached the top.
“Alright England,” America said, sitting up straight and yanking on his gloves to make sure they were on tight. “When you get off the lift, you want to place your free foot on the middle of the board and slide down easily to the top of the hill, okay?”
“I believe I can do something as simple as that,” England sniffed, though to America he still looked a bit apprehensive.
America pushed up the bar and easily hopped off of the chair, gracefully sliding down the gentle hill to the top of the bunny slope. He was just about to buckle his free foot into his snowboard when he realized that England had not followed him off the chair lift. Looking back over his shoulder, he saw that England was still in the chair lift, now descending down the mountain.
“Hey, England!” America cried. “You know you’re supposed to get off the chair lift, right?”
“I know that you wanker!” England shouted back. “Get me off this bloody contraption!”
Chuckling under his breath, America strapped himself into his snowboard and started down the bunny hill. England would need some company on his second trip up the mountain, after all.
Operation Awesome [6/?]
anonymous
October 25 2009, 03:58:13 UTC
“Okay, now that we’ve got the lift out of the way, we can get to the fun part,” America announced when the duo had finally reached the top of the mountain. After arguing with England over the appropriate way to get off the chair lift for the better part of the second trip up the mountain, when the time came and the Englishman hesitated, America had decided to take things into his own hands and “accidentally” shoved England out of the chair onto the slope. (It certainly was not his fault that the Brit tumbled all the way down the incline, nor was it his fault that there was snow inside England’s jacket.) The two nations were now standing (or in England’s case, sitting) proudly at the top of the bunny slope, willing (or in England’s case, unwilling) to take on the challenge ahead of them.
“What fun part?” England grumbled, sullenly shaking his scarf in a feeble attempt to loosen the snow from the wool. “I fail to see the amusement gained from hurtling downhill at breakneck speeds on a flimsy board.”
“You could always bow out,” America informed him with a shrug. “But then you’d just be admitting that you’re too old to do anything fun anymore.”
“I’m not bloody old, you git!” England grumbled as he put on his scarf, shivering as a few bits of snow still remaining in the fabric came in contact with his skin. He got to his feet with minimal effort, and America was pleased to see that he was able to keep his balance while fiddling with his gloves and coat. Perhaps England was actually getting the hang of snowboarding! Operation Awesome was definitely off to a fine start. Now all America had to do was get England down the bunny slope a few times, and then they could move on to the harder trails. Who knew? Maybe sometime during this trip England could hit the half pipe!
“Alright,” America said, “England, you go first.”
“What do you mean I go first? Shouldn’t you go first? You’re the one who’s teaching me how to use this stupid thing!”
“I want to see what you can do on your own before I teach you anything,” America replied with a shrug. “That way it’ll be easier for me to correct your mistakes rather than just guess where the problem is. For instance, if I see that you have trouble turning, I could easily instruct you on how to turn. If I didn’t know you had trouble turning, I might try teaching you about stopping instead, or about one-eighties, or how, when the wind blows in your face real hard and you lean forward, it sort of feels like you’re flying, and when this happens you should-”
“Alright America, I think I’ve got the picture,” England sighed. “I’ll go down the bloody hill first, if that’s what you want.”
“Thanks for seeing it my way.”
“I would like to inform you that, if I die going down this slope, I am coming back to haunt you,” England grumbled as he fastened on his helmet (something he insisted on. America didn’t understand why the Brit was bothering with it, but then again, America never wore a helmet. Heroes are too awesome for head protection, after all. Besides, helmets made him look frumpy.)
“Alright, awesome,” America replied with a grin. “Now start down the hill.”
“I will come back,” England continued, remaining stationary next to the crest of the hill. He did not look like he was going anywhere fast.
“You’re stalling, aren’t you?” America asked.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” England said with a sniff.
“The sooner you start, the sooner you’ll get it over with, you know.”
“I am just preparing myself, that’s all. Do be patient, America.”
“Here, how about I give you a push to start you off.”
“A push? How old do you think I am, America? I can start myself off all on my own thank you very mu-!”
America gave England a shove, and the older nation began his descent down the bunny slope. Things seemed to be going pretty smoothly (disregarding England’s pin wheeling arms and rampant cussing), that is until the Englishman lost his balance and fell backwards into the soft snow about five feet away from the top of the hill.
America sighed.
Operation Awesome was going to be much harder to complete than he had thought.
America had once again one of his 'eureka!' moments and decided that he has to taught England how to snowboard (because he himself is of course awesome at it)! So they travel together to someplace with lots of snow and ski slopes and maybe a cabin rented for only the two of them (or there can be some others with them, if author!anon wants) and America starts teaching England how to snowboard.
Of course, as easily excited as England is, he's "thrilled" about this idea (but somehow America managed to drag him out and in to the middle of nowhere) and absolutely refuses to step on a snowboard. But maybe America then says something like 'you're too old for this, I knew it' or something (it's up to the author!anon :D whatever you come up with!) and England, well, you know "I'll show you bloody old!!" and decides to show America that he's perfectly capable of snowboarding. Which he isn't. He just does not get the hang of it but America tries his best to teach him. Hilarity, fluff and anything the author!anon wants to include ensues.
BONUS: England gets hurt or almost gets hurt some time sliding down a hill (or trying) and really startles America who then runs for him, really worried and all although England's not severely hurt and is absolutely fine.
BONUS 2: Some evening they sit together next to the fireplace and snuggle ♥ *coughclichécough*
If you want to add smut, go ahead! And you don't have to follow this request accurately to the word if you have some awesome ideas to include this on your own, but I'd really appreciate it being America/England (or England/America, I don't care, it's the same to me) and a happy ending ♥.
THANK YOU SO MUCH! Hopefully someone (or some) will have a lot of fun with this!!
Reply
So far, Operation Awesome was going smoothly.
Not only had America managed to book an all-expenses paid week at the Alpine Meadows in California, he had also managed to coerce England into coming along for the ride. For anyone else, this feat would have been impossible, but not for America; he is a hero after all.
Admittedly, the Englishman had no idea what America really intended to do on this trip, which was why, at that moment, the older nation was carting around a pair of skis. Pfft. Skis. America, like any sensible person, had come equipped with a snowboard.
“It has the Stars and Stripes on the bottom,” America informed England with his characteristic exuberance. They were on their way to the townhouse that America had booked for the week in a rental car they’d received from the airport. The car wasn’t in good condition; the interior reeked of stale McDonald’s cheeseburgers, and the seats were stained dark gray from years of abuse. America was right at home, merrily tapping in time to the radio on the steering wheel, but England looked rather ill.
“America, when I signed up for this trip I was not informed that we would be making half of the journey in a deathtrap,” England grumbled.
“She’s just well-loved,” America said as he stopped at a light. The brakes shrieked when they were applied; England grit his teeth. “Besides, I don’t see what the car has to do with my snowboard. Didn’t you hear England? It’s got my flag on the bottom!” He looked over at the European, a silly grin plastered across his face. “Isn’t that cool?”
“I don’t see how having your flag on the bottom of your snowboard is ‘cool,’” England grumbled, gripping his seat tightly as the car jerked forward when the light turned green. An ominous cloud of black smoke was emitting from under the hood, but it didn’t seem to bother the American, who continued down the road at his usual breakneck pace. “It’s not as though you see it when you’re snowboarding.”
“Shredding,” America corrected.
“Pardon?”
“I don’t snowboard, I shred,” America clarified. “Jeez England, get it right.”
England took a deep breath, his knuckles white as he gripped the sides of his seat to prevent himself from getting launched from the car as America slammed on the breaks, the car screaming to a stop, the engine grumbling in complaint.
Reply
“Well, when I gain some big air and do some sick nasty trick, like a backside rodeo, everyone can see my board so it should have something amazing on it, and what’s better than the American Flag?” America looked over at England, only to find the other nation staring at him like he’d just grown a second head. “What?” America exclaimed indignantly. “It’s true!”
“Do you have any idea of the extent to which you just butchered the English language?”
“C’mon England, lighten up. We’re here to have fun on this trip y’know, not worry about grammar.”
“America, stop.”
“England, you need to unbend a bit. Maybe if you saw how epic it can be when you pull a fakie off of the pipe-”
“Bloody hell America, hit the sodding brake! You’re going to hit the tree-!”
The rental car smashed into a tree off to the side of the road with a sickening smash, the front fender promptly falling off of the car on impact. The two countries were saved from injury by their airbags which had (miraculously) deployed. The engine was now chugging unhappily, a thick, black smoke permeating from under the hood.
America began to laugh.
“I don’t see the humor in this situation,” England snarled. “You almost got us killed, you git!”
“We weren’t in any danger, lighten up, England,” America said, still chuckling to himself. “That was a lot of fun!”
“Fun! How in the world was that fun?”
“It’s not like you get to fall into an airbag everyday,” America said with glee as he extracted himself from his seat, wiggling out from between the airbag and his seat into the bright sunshine of the outdoors. “C’mon England, let’s call a cab!”
Three hours later, after a brief visit to the hospital (at England’s insistence) to make sure that they were alright, America and England arrived at their townhouse with their luggage. Unfortunately, England’s skis had been broken in the crash, and America promised that he would find a replacement for the Englishman as soon as possible. Little did England know that America already had said replacement, a wonderful little snowboard he had packed “just in case” something awful happened to any of their gear.
It was just coincidental that the Union Jack was on the bottom of it; really.
Reply
Reply
Reply
“No, absolutely not,” England grumbled when the snowboard was presented to him. “There is no way in hell I am getting on that thing.”
“Oh come on England, please? For me?” America pleaded, waving the board back and forth, as though the movement would increase the aesthetic value of the Union Jack. “You know you want to try it.”
“No,” England growled, crossing his arms. “I refuse to step foot on that bloody thing.”
“It was the only thing left in the shop, you’re stuck with it,” America tried this time.
“How could a ski resort run out of skis?”
“It’s possible! Really!” Actually, when America had traveled to the lodge that morning to get a cup of coffee, at least a score of skis had been sitting in the window of the rental shop.
“I don’t believe you,” England sighed, straightening his scarf. “I’m going to go down there and see for myself.” He turned and started down the path toward the base lodge, his stride purposeful. America could see Operation Awesome crumble before his eyes, and he scrambled to think of something, anything, that would get England onto the snowboard.
“You’re just chicken, aren’t you?” America called, but England continued walking, not at all fazed by the insult. America scrubbed at his hair in frustration; he was usually so good at getting under England’s skin, what was he missing? What hadn’t he tried that usually worked…?
Oh. Oh! America’s face lit up as an idea came to him. Why hadn’t he thought of it before?
“Fine then England, leave,” America called. “You’re too old for this, I knew it.” This got a reaction out of the Englishman who stopped mid-step, his shoulders rigid. “Go on and get those lame skis, you can go party with the old fogies on the bunny hill. Meanwhile, I’ll go and snowboard with all of the cool people.”
First, there was silence. Then, suddenly, England had turned around and was marching back up the trail, his face murderous.
“What did you just call me?” He snarled. America stood his ground (though the snowboard was held between himself and England for good measure), a smirk plastered over his features.
“I didn’t call you anything,” America chirped. “I was just stating the obvious, old man. You’re too much of a geezer to snowboard; I should’ve known.”
“I’ll show you bloody old,” England snapped, ripping the snowboard from America’s hands before resuming his journey down the slope, muttering darkly under his breath the entire way. America followed after the Englishman, an inane smile on his face, his own snowboard clutched firmly in his hands.
Reply
it's just so amusing, more please <33
Reply
More is on the way :D
Reply
“The most important thing is to keep your balance,” America said as the Brit wobbled unsteadily on his board. England had, so far, refused any assistance from the American, but that didn’t mean that the man wasn’t trying to help. Operation Awesome involved England learning how to snowboard, after all; if America wanted to see the Briton fail miserably at anything, all he had to do was invite the man into his kitchen.
“I know that, you git,” England grumbled as he leaned over to buckle his left foot into the snowboard. He was having some difficulty with doing up the strap, and America watched with growing concern as the older nation continued to fumble. America certainly never had that much trouble when he first put on his snowboard… And certainly none of the children at the bunny slope were struggling quite as much as England was.
“Um, England, do you need some help?” America queried, taking a step forward.
“I don’t need your bloody help,” England mumbled, “sod off.”
“Well it just looks like you’re having some trouble, and I thought I could help,” America tried again, taking another step forward. “I’ll just do up one of the straps so you can see how to do it-”
“America!” England snapped. Whatever angry remark he was going to make next was cut off when one of the straps clicked into place, and the Englishman stood up with a shout of joy.
…Only to promptly fall over, sending snow flying everywhere.
“That was your fault!” England called from his position on the ground. America was trying very hard not to laugh, but all of his restraint went away when England tried getting up on his own, only to flop back into the snow.
“England, you look so funny right now,” America gasped. “I wish I had my camera on me. You know what? You stay right there, and I’ll go run back to the cabin and grab my-”
“There is no way in hell you are going to get your camera. Help me up, you idiot!”
America reached out his hand to grab England’s and helped the man to his feet.
“Next time, try to buckle both of the straps before you try anything,” America sniggered as the Brit leaned down once more to attempt to fasten the second buckle. “That way you won’t fall down so easily.” England didn’t supply a ready answer, and America sighed, absently adjusting his hat as he watched the Englishman’s progress. After the strap was secured, England was able to stand without falling over, and he cast America a smug smile.
“No problem.” England said, still managing to look dignified even when he was brushing snow off of his pants.
“Alright then; let’s get snowboarding!” America cried with his usual enthusiasm. He strapped on his board (taking about five seconds, to England’s dismay), before sliding over to the line for the chair lift.
It took about twenty seconds for the American to realize that England wasn’t following him.
“C’mon England,” he called over his shoulder. “You’re getting slow in your old age!”
England bit his lip and pushed off, sliding forward about three feet before capsizing, face planting into the snow. America winced, and was about to give up his spot in line when England stirred, determinedly getting to his feet, slowly sliding the remaining few feet to America.
“Are you okay?” America asked in concern. The fall looked nasty, and England had a large lump of snow sticking to his hat. America reached over to brush the snow off, and England irritably smacked his hands away, glowering up at the American under his thick brows.
“I would be better if you’d told me that we had to snowboard over to the lift line,” England muttered darkly, patting snow off of his thick jacket.
“How else did you expect to get to the lift?” America asked in confusion.
England grumbled something under his breath that America didn’t quite catch (though to be honest, America was pretty sure he didn’t want to know what the Briton had said.)
Reply
"You were supposed to carry me over, you git!"
Or something to that effect 8D
Reply
Afdlsakfjasdl THIS IS SO AWESOME >u< ! Thank you so much for filling this and I just LOVE your America and England! They're so perfectly like themselves :'DD.
Oh god, this is so lovely, can't wait 'till the next chapter @u@ I love you to no end author!anon!! *hughug* <3
Reply
Reply
“Look England! A snowman!” America cried, leaning forward in his seat, pointing at a lump of snow assembled in the middle of the bunny slope. The chair wobbled as America shifted, and England angrily rebuked the American for moving. England looked rather pale, and he was gripping the edge of the chair so hard that his knuckles were white.
“Are you okay, England?” America asked with concern, now peering down at the other man.
“I’m perfectly fine,” England replied, but he refused to look up at the American, his eyes firmly set straight ahead.
“You’re lying,” America persisted.
“I am not.”
“You are to.”
“I am not and that is final, America!” England grumbled. “I am perfectly fine. There is absolutely, positively nothing wrong with me right now.”
“Okay, good,” America said, though he still looked unconvinced. He slumped back in his seat, his arms crossed over his chest. The chair began to swing as soon as he moved, and England made a small, unhappy noise in the back of his throat.
The light bulb went off in America’s head. “You’re afraid of falling off the chair lift, aren’t you?” He asked, suddenly sitting up, causing the chair to swing violently back and forth.
“No!” England said, though his response sounded weak.
“You’re lying.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Are to!”
“I am not.”
“Are to! C’mon England, fess up!”
“Will you just sod off, America?” England growled. If looks could kill, America certainly would have been dead five times over from the impressive glower England gave him. (The effect of the glare was increased by the older nation’s prodigious eye-brows, but America wisely chose not to mention the fact to the Brit. He did not feel like getting pushed out of the chair lift that day.)
Silence encompassed the two for several minutes. America amused himself by swinging his legs to and fro, watching his snowboard wobble. England continued to clutch the sides of the chair, looking rather queasy as the apparatus continued to lurch.
Finally, they reached the top.
“Alright England,” America said, sitting up straight and yanking on his gloves to make sure they were on tight. “When you get off the lift, you want to place your free foot on the middle of the board and slide down easily to the top of the hill, okay?”
“I believe I can do something as simple as that,” England sniffed, though to America he still looked a bit apprehensive.
America pushed up the bar and easily hopped off of the chair, gracefully sliding down the gentle hill to the top of the bunny slope. He was just about to buckle his free foot into his snowboard when he realized that England had not followed him off the chair lift. Looking back over his shoulder, he saw that England was still in the chair lift, now descending down the mountain.
“Hey, England!” America cried. “You know you’re supposed to get off the chair lift, right?”
“I know that you wanker!” England shouted back. “Get me off this bloody contraption!”
Chuckling under his breath, America strapped himself into his snowboard and started down the bunny hill. England would need some company on his second trip up the mountain, after all.
Reply
Have you posted this in the fill list by the way? It's over here.
http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/7233.html?page=87#comments
Keep it up!
Reply
“What fun part?” England grumbled, sullenly shaking his scarf in a feeble attempt to loosen the snow from the wool. “I fail to see the amusement gained from hurtling downhill at breakneck speeds on a flimsy board.”
“You could always bow out,” America informed him with a shrug. “But then you’d just be admitting that you’re too old to do anything fun anymore.”
“I’m not bloody old, you git!” England grumbled as he put on his scarf, shivering as a few bits of snow still remaining in the fabric came in contact with his skin. He got to his feet with minimal effort, and America was pleased to see that he was able to keep his balance while fiddling with his gloves and coat. Perhaps England was actually getting the hang of snowboarding! Operation Awesome was definitely off to a fine start. Now all America had to do was get England down the bunny slope a few times, and then they could move on to the harder trails. Who knew? Maybe sometime during this trip England could hit the half pipe!
“Alright,” America said, “England, you go first.”
“What do you mean I go first? Shouldn’t you go first? You’re the one who’s teaching me how to use this stupid thing!”
“I want to see what you can do on your own before I teach you anything,” America replied with a shrug. “That way it’ll be easier for me to correct your mistakes rather than just guess where the problem is. For instance, if I see that you have trouble turning, I could easily instruct you on how to turn. If I didn’t know you had trouble turning, I might try teaching you about stopping instead, or about one-eighties, or how, when the wind blows in your face real hard and you lean forward, it sort of feels like you’re flying, and when this happens you should-”
“Alright America, I think I’ve got the picture,” England sighed. “I’ll go down the bloody hill first, if that’s what you want.”
“Thanks for seeing it my way.”
“I would like to inform you that, if I die going down this slope, I am coming back to haunt you,” England grumbled as he fastened on his helmet (something he insisted on. America didn’t understand why the Brit was bothering with it, but then again, America never wore a helmet. Heroes are too awesome for head protection, after all. Besides, helmets made him look frumpy.)
“Alright, awesome,” America replied with a grin. “Now start down the hill.”
“I will come back,” England continued, remaining stationary next to the crest of the hill. He did not look like he was going anywhere fast.
“You’re stalling, aren’t you?” America asked.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” England said with a sniff.
“The sooner you start, the sooner you’ll get it over with, you know.”
“I am just preparing myself, that’s all. Do be patient, America.”
“Here, how about I give you a push to start you off.”
“A push? How old do you think I am, America? I can start myself off all on my own thank you very mu-!”
America gave England a shove, and the older nation began his descent down the bunny slope. Things seemed to be going pretty smoothly (disregarding England’s pin wheeling arms and rampant cussing), that is until the Englishman lost his balance and fell backwards into the soft snow about five feet away from the top of the hill.
America sighed.
Operation Awesome was going to be much harder to complete than he had thought.
Reply
As a former skier, I can sympathize with England. Those damn boards look really hard! xD
Reply
Leave a comment