Something In The Way 1/?
anonymous
October 17 2009, 05:01:10 UTC
This may be a bit slowgoing as I haven't been feeling well lately, but here's the first part!
-----------------
They say the road to hell is paved with good intentions, and looking back, America had to wonder if France knew this when he decided to confront him.
It had started off innocently enough, at least.
"My dear Amérique, just when are you going to put Angleterre out of his misery?" France quipped out of the blue one day.
Why France was there in the first place was beyond America, he was only supposed to meet briefly with England, to discuss their current situation or something, but there was France regardless. At least he wasn’t trying to reach into his pants...yet.
"You shot who in the what now?" America replied with a blank look. France’s moonspeak never failed to confuse him.
"L’amour, Amérique! You must reach out and take what is yours!" France made a grand display of interpretive gestures and using the lighting to achieve the perfect dramatic effect.
Too bad it was all lost on America.
"Dude, I’m totally not following you." His brow furrowed.
"You two are truly perfect for each other," France muttered under his breath as he rubbed his temples with one hand, then raised his voice. "Please, for big brother’s...for everyone’s sake, just...tell England you’re in love with him. We can’t take much more of your sexual tension complicating already complicated meetings."
America froze. "In love with England?" He laughed nervously. What the hell, weren’t those his secret feelings that he hid so well? So why did France know? "Have you finally snapped? Eaten too many snails and frogs’ legs or something? As if I’d even be friends with that prickly bastard!"
As if on cue, England entered the room before France could respond. He looked around the room and seemed to steel himself as he caught sight of America. It might have been America’s imagination, but his hair seemed to be styled just so, and his suit tailored to perfection. He had a look in his eye...vulnerability? as he approached.
"Ah, America, there you are. May I speak with you? Alone." He accentuated the last word with a pointed look in France’s direction, who merely smirked knowingly in return.
This is it, America thought, and panic set in. That vulnerable look could only mean one thing, and damn France for smirking like that, because he wanted to hear what England had to say so badly but he couldn’t lose face after he had just denied having any feelings for him. So he did the only thing he could do.
"Why...why would I want to be alone with you? Ha ha! You’re a stuffy asshole and your cooking sucks. No wonder it’s always raining at your place! You’re damned depressing!"
You could hear a pin drop in the silence that followed, and America would have sworn that time had stopped if England’s vulnerable expression wasn’t slowly dissolving into a cold, but calm storm.
"...I see. If that’s the way you feel, then you just saved me the trouble of making a fool of myself."
"Wha-" Take it back, take it back, his mind screamed, but his tongue seemed to be glued to the roof of his mouth, and his limbs frozen in place, leaving him completely powerless to stop England from turning away.
"Good day then, America. Believe me when I say you won’t have to worry about being alone with me ever again."
The finality of the statement, coupled with England’s icy tone, made America’s heart lurch, but his body still wouldn’t cooperate with his brain until England was long gone. He swallowed hard and wondered if he shouldn’t run after him, when a clap on his shoulder brought him back to reality.
"Congratulations, mon cher. You truly are an idiot."
At that moment he couldn’t bring himself to disagree.
But he figured it would be easy enough to patch things up with England, even take things further! England would most likely drown himself in alcohol and leave himself wide open to a sneak attack where America could sweep him off his feet and assure their mutual happiness. Yes, it would be a piece of cake!
But when he later heard that England was challenging Spain and France to a game of Risk, he knew he should probably back off for awhile.
Re: Something In The Way 1/?
anonymous
October 17 2009, 08:35:35 UTC
wtf, me. i was teary-eyed over america's stupidity and then i am now laughing over the line that said that england is challenging france and spain to play risk (maybe with a little pity too but i was too amused). ahahahahah
;afjdl;aj;glfkdl;hkfadl;lgfl;hdkajh;dlgjlkagdkl;ahd;ljalfjd;lgkjda;ghl;da FUCKING HELL I LOVE YOU.
Maybe it's just the fact that this is the first time anyone's filled something for me, but this is so - argh - and so - umpf - and the characterization is - largh - and America is - mmfpf - and England, oh God, England is - rargh - so yeah. I love you.
My heart hurts.
I think that one line - "...I see. If that’s the way you feel, then you just saved me the trouble of making a fool of myself." - just killed me. Because FUCKING HELL this is the first part and I'm already in love with your England.
OP!Anon will try to close up her jaw and type something constructive, but frankly can't think of anything right now. Speed = no problem. You're filling this at all, and that's what matters. I can wait. Unless, you know, my F5 button breaks or something (which it will, pretty soon, if the ominous beeping is any indication.)
Something In The Way 2/?
anonymous
October 20 2009, 06:44:42 UTC
We interrupt your regularly scheduled fic for a bit of a serious interlude.
----------
After his conquest of Spain and France, England had swept across the whole of Europe like a wildfire, demanding Risk matches wherever he went and leaving terror in his wake. It didn't take long for the rumors of his scorned love to circulate, and everyone knew who the perpetrator was.
America spent most of that time alone with his thoughts, away from the accusations and the dirty looks. He was beating himself up enough without the rest of the world joining in. At any rate, it gave him time to reflect on the past and what he might have missed along the way.
He might have always been in love with England, even back when he was just a scared child peering through the grass at the strange newcomers, but even for as fast as he grew up, he hadn't recognized his feelings for what they were until he was much, much older. And he remembered, very clearly, seeing England step off that ship, and the immeasurable joy he had felt in his heart at the sight. When he was finally taller, big enough to bowl England over and squash him with the weight of his delighted hug.
Old enough to know that he couldn’t bear to live with things the way they were.
He had rebelled for his people, for their sake, but also for himself. He didn’t want to be England's "little brother", the one he took care of. He wanted to be on equal ground with him, someone he could love, really love.
He hadn't expected England to take it as badly as he did, and cause that seemingly impassable rift between them for those many years to come afterward. It was painful, but he eventually gave up on hoping that England might love him, even as a little brother, ever again. It's easier to push someone away and not risk getting hurt than to hope against hope that they might feel the same.
But England had always been there in recent history, hadn't he? Never giving up on him no matter what stupid things he did? Had he taken that for granted? Had the signs been there all along and he had just been too stupid (too afraid?) to notice them?
He couldn't stop thinking of England on that day. That styled hair, that perfect suit, that vulnerable hope in his eyes...
But now he had pissed him off to the point where he wondered if England wouldn't revert back to his former imperializing self. That was a scary thought.
The only option at that point, he decided, was to make it up to England. Show that he hadn't been foolish to hope that America would accept and return his feelings. Show that Hollywood happy endings weren't anything to scoff at.
Besides, it was about time he owned up to his feelings for England.
Being with him for even a moment was akin to several sunny days on a beach in July (even when they were at each others' throats, or, if he was being honest with himself, especially when they were at each others' throats), but he'd sooner shoot himself than ever say that out loud. And anyway, it had been his own words that had been his undoing in the first place. Nothing to it but to use the words of others.
And what better way to do so than through song?
This time, he thought, his plan really was perfect.
Re: Something In The Way 2/?
anonymous
October 20 2009, 22:48:59 UTC
I'm stalking this fill \o/
Your style is perfect, and I love everything about this story. And this line He couldn't stop thinking of England on that day. That styled hair, that perfect suit, that vulnerable hope in his eyes... broke my heart again... Ç_Ç I'm glad America is working to fix this mess even if I have a bad feeling about his tactics, lol
Something In The Way 3/?
anonymous
October 22 2009, 04:57:40 UTC
Just a quick update here, since I really hate this part. orz
------
But as they say, the road to hell is paved with good intentions.
He wasn't too proud to admit that his first attempt at mending things with England had crashed and burned in spectacular flames.
For a time after England's "European conquest", America had been afraid that news of pirate attacks would include something about the ships flying a Jolly Roger that looked suspiciously like the Union Jack, but England had apparently calmed down. Enough that he even deigned to accompany his boss on a visit to the States.
America had been antsy during the meeting of their bosses, amicable though it had been, and anxious to get England alone.
That was his big chance, and in his excitement at the opportunity he hadn't really thought things through (well, even less so than usual). When they were all enjoying a drink in a local bar later, America rather hurriedly scoured the jukebox list for something to properly convey his feelings and remorse at what he'd done. A song titled "Since U Been Gone" caught his eye. With a title like that, it could only express what he wanted to say, right? Kelly Clarkson, the first winner of his American Idol, wouldn't let him down!
With a smile, he punched the button and turned to address England.
"Hey England, this song's for you!"
There was a glimmer of hopeful curiosity in England's eyes, and everyone fell silent to listen to America’s dedication.
But then as the song played, a horrible realization came over him. This was definitely not the kind of song he wanted England to hear! Meanwhile Miss Clarkson went ahead singing, "Since you’ve been gone I can breathe for the first time. I'm so moving on, yeah yeah."
"You sodding bastard-!"
It had taken nearly the whole bar to pry England off America before he killed the younger nation.
After some hasty negotiations, and a whole lot of effort to appease the enraged England, it was then agreed that America and England would not both be present in any subsequent meetings between their bosses. At least not until America learned some tact.
But America wouldn't let that deter him in the slightest, rather he steeled himself with new resolve. He'd stick with his plan, only this time he decided he'd sing the song himself. That way he'd have to check the lyrics first.
-----------------
They say the road to hell is paved with good intentions, and looking back, America had to wonder if France knew this when he decided to confront him.
It had started off innocently enough, at least.
"My dear Amérique, just when are you going to put Angleterre out of his misery?" France quipped out of the blue one day.
Why France was there in the first place was beyond America, he was only supposed to meet briefly with England, to discuss their current situation or something, but there was France regardless. At least he wasn’t trying to reach into his pants...yet.
"You shot who in the what now?" America replied with a blank look. France’s moonspeak never failed to confuse him.
"L’amour, Amérique! You must reach out and take what is yours!" France made a grand display of interpretive gestures and using the lighting to achieve the perfect dramatic effect.
Too bad it was all lost on America.
"Dude, I’m totally not following you." His brow furrowed.
"You two are truly perfect for each other," France muttered under his breath as he rubbed his temples with one hand, then raised his voice. "Please, for big brother’s...for everyone’s sake, just...tell England you’re in love with him. We can’t take much more of your sexual tension complicating already complicated meetings."
America froze. "In love with England?" He laughed nervously. What the hell, weren’t those his secret feelings that he hid so well? So why did France know? "Have you finally snapped? Eaten too many snails and frogs’ legs or something? As if I’d even be friends with that prickly bastard!"
As if on cue, England entered the room before France could respond. He looked around the room and seemed to steel himself as he caught sight of America. It might have been America’s imagination, but his hair seemed to be styled just so, and his suit tailored to perfection. He had a look in his eye...vulnerability? as he approached.
"Ah, America, there you are. May I speak with you? Alone." He accentuated the last word with a pointed look in France’s direction, who merely smirked knowingly in return.
This is it, America thought, and panic set in. That vulnerable look could only mean one thing, and damn France for smirking like that, because he wanted to hear what England had to say so badly but he couldn’t lose face after he had just denied having any feelings for him. So he did the only thing he could do.
"Why...why would I want to be alone with you? Ha ha! You’re a stuffy asshole and your cooking sucks. No wonder it’s always raining at your place! You’re damned depressing!"
You could hear a pin drop in the silence that followed, and America would have sworn that time had stopped if England’s vulnerable expression wasn’t slowly dissolving into a cold, but calm storm.
"...I see. If that’s the way you feel, then you just saved me the trouble of making a fool of myself."
"Wha-" Take it back, take it back, his mind screamed, but his tongue seemed to be glued to the roof of his mouth, and his limbs frozen in place, leaving him completely powerless to stop England from turning away.
"Good day then, America. Believe me when I say you won’t have to worry about being alone with me ever again."
The finality of the statement, coupled with England’s icy tone, made America’s heart lurch, but his body still wouldn’t cooperate with his brain until England was long gone. He swallowed hard and wondered if he shouldn’t run after him, when a clap on his shoulder brought him back to reality.
"Congratulations, mon cher. You truly are an idiot."
At that moment he couldn’t bring himself to disagree.
But he figured it would be easy enough to patch things up with England, even take things further! England would most likely drown himself in alcohol and leave himself wide open to a sneak attack where America could sweep him off his feet and assure their mutual happiness. Yes, it would be a piece of cake!
But when he later heard that England was challenging Spain and France to a game of Risk, he knew he should probably back off for awhile.
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my god, how does it work between to tsunderes? 8D
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Maybe it's just the fact that this is the first time anyone's filled something for me, but this is so - argh - and so - umpf - and the characterization is - largh - and America is - mmfpf - and England, oh God, England is - rargh - so yeah. I love you.
My heart hurts.
I think that one line - "...I see. If that’s the way you feel, then you just saved me the trouble of making a fool of myself." - just killed me. Because FUCKING HELL this is the first part and I'm already in love with your England.
OP!Anon will try to close up her jaw and type something constructive, but frankly can't think of anything right now. Speed = no problem. You're filling this at all, and that's what matters. I can wait. Unless, you know, my F5 button breaks or something (which it will, pretty soon, if the ominous beeping is any indication.)
F5F5F5F5F5F5F5F5F5F5F5F5F5F5F5F5F5F5F5F5F5F5F5F5F5F5F5F5F5F5F5F5F5F5F5F5-
Reply
I'll do my best to post the next part ASAP! o/
Reply
Reply
----------
After his conquest of Spain and France, England had swept across the whole of Europe like a wildfire, demanding Risk matches wherever he went and leaving terror in his wake. It didn't take long for the rumors of his scorned love to circulate, and everyone knew who the perpetrator was.
America spent most of that time alone with his thoughts, away from the accusations and the dirty looks. He was beating himself up enough without the rest of the world joining in. At any rate, it gave him time to reflect on the past and what he might have missed along the way.
He might have always been in love with England, even back when he was just a scared child peering through the grass at the strange newcomers, but even for as fast as he grew up, he hadn't recognized his feelings for what they were until he was much, much older. And he remembered, very clearly, seeing England step off that ship, and the immeasurable joy he had felt in his heart at the sight. When he was finally taller, big enough to bowl England over and squash him with the weight of his delighted hug.
Old enough to know that he couldn’t bear to live with things the way they were.
He had rebelled for his people, for their sake, but also for himself. He didn’t want to be England's "little brother", the one he took care of. He wanted to be on equal ground with him, someone he could love, really love.
He hadn't expected England to take it as badly as he did, and cause that seemingly impassable rift between them for those many years to come afterward. It was painful, but he eventually gave up on hoping that England might love him, even as a little brother, ever again. It's easier to push someone away and not risk getting hurt than to hope against hope that they might feel the same.
But England had always been there in recent history, hadn't he? Never giving up on him no matter what stupid things he did? Had he taken that for granted? Had the signs been there all along and he had just been too stupid (too afraid?) to notice them?
He couldn't stop thinking of England on that day. That styled hair, that perfect suit, that vulnerable hope in his eyes...
But now he had pissed him off to the point where he wondered if England wouldn't revert back to his former imperializing self. That was a scary thought.
The only option at that point, he decided, was to make it up to England. Show that he hadn't been foolish to hope that America would accept and return his feelings. Show that Hollywood happy endings weren't anything to scoff at.
Besides, it was about time he owned up to his feelings for England.
Being with him for even a moment was akin to several sunny days on a beach in July (even when they were at each others' throats, or, if he was being honest with himself, especially when they were at each others' throats), but he'd sooner shoot himself than ever say that out loud. And anyway, it had been his own words that had been his undoing in the first place. Nothing to it but to use the words of others.
And what better way to do so than through song?
This time, he thought, his plan really was perfect.
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Your style is perfect, and I love everything about this story. And this line He couldn't stop thinking of England on that day. That styled hair, that perfect suit, that vulnerable hope in his eyes... broke my heart again... Ç_Ç I'm glad America is working to fix this mess even if I have a bad feeling about his tactics, lol
Reply
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------
But as they say, the road to hell is paved with good intentions.
He wasn't too proud to admit that his first attempt at mending things with England had crashed and burned in spectacular flames.
For a time after England's "European conquest", America had been afraid that news of pirate attacks would include something about the ships flying a Jolly Roger that looked suspiciously like the Union Jack, but England had apparently calmed down. Enough that he even deigned to accompany his boss on a visit to the States.
America had been antsy during the meeting of their bosses, amicable though it had been, and anxious to get England alone.
That was his big chance, and in his excitement at the opportunity he hadn't really thought things through (well, even less so than usual). When they were all enjoying a drink in a local bar later, America rather hurriedly scoured the jukebox list for something to properly convey his feelings and remorse at what he'd done. A song titled "Since U Been Gone" caught his eye. With a title like that, it could only express what he wanted to say, right? Kelly Clarkson, the first winner of his American Idol, wouldn't let him down!
With a smile, he punched the button and turned to address England.
"Hey England, this song's for you!"
There was a glimmer of hopeful curiosity in England's eyes, and everyone fell silent to listen to America’s dedication.
But then as the song played, a horrible realization came over him. This was definitely not the kind of song he wanted England to hear! Meanwhile Miss Clarkson went ahead singing, "Since you’ve been gone I can breathe for the first time. I'm so moving on, yeah yeah."
"You sodding bastard-!"
It had taken nearly the whole bar to pry England off America before he killed the younger nation.
After some hasty negotiations, and a whole lot of effort to appease the enraged England, it was then agreed that America and England would not both be present in any subsequent meetings between their bosses. At least not until America learned some tact.
But America wouldn't let that deter him in the slightest, rather he steeled himself with new resolve. He'd stick with his plan, only this time he decided he'd sing the song himself. That way he'd have to check the lyrics first.
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recapta: more generating..I hope so recapta...I hope so!
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