Even a Miracle (1/?)
anonymous
December 3 2009, 13:23:46 UTC
Even a Miracle (1/?)
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Because there's so few Christmas requests.
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America had a lot of Christmas traditions that England didn't enjoy. As soon as American Thanksgiving had passed, Alfred would start in on the Christmas songs. It wasn't that America was a bad singer - though his taste in music left a few things to be desired - but Arthur could only listen to so much holiday music before he was ready to rip his own ears off. Then there were the movies. The same movies, every year. America could quote Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer verbatim - and despite Arthur's objections, he always DID and sang along with every damn song too. So, he figured that he should have known better than to actually agree to visit when America had called him up with that desperate note in his voice.
He knew what to expect, so when America met him at the door and wasn't already dressed in a tacky Christmas sweater or wearing a Santa hat, he felt his expectations begin to falter. When Alfred ushered him inside, he saw the usual decorations and relaxed a little, only pausing to stare as he noticed not the two stockings he was used to, but all fifty of them, lined up in an immaculate fashion on the mantle.
"Are you having all the states over for Christmas, Alfred?"
The younger nation's back was to him, but he saw the flinch anyway. Arthur opened his mouth to say something, wondering just what was wrong, then the rest of the scene registered with him. Not only the stockings, but the tree was out as well, decorated with all the little ornaments that Alfred had always made with his states over the years. Children's books littered the end table and there was a pile of stuffed animals on the couch - he recognized them as the state animals Alfred had sewn for his children while they were growing up. He hadn't even known America had kept those. As weird as that was, it had nothing on the neat row of baby bottles with the name of each state on them.
"No." America's voice was cheerful, but the sort of cheerful you would normally hear from a lunatic recently escaped from an insane asylum. "None of them could make it this year. They're 'too big for Family Christmas, mom'." Alfred was doing air quotes. England quickly scoped out the nearest heavy object just in case America were to come at him.
Taking a step backward, Arthur gave a nervous laugh. "Well, you know how children can be..."
Alfred sank down on the couch, pulling a plush from the pile and cuddling it against his chest - England recognized it as the seal as belonging to Hawaii. "I know... they get too big and then they move out and they don't even send a Christmas card..."
Bloody hell... Arthur fought back the urge to box America's ears and point out that Alfred had done the same damn thing, but a lot less politely. He couldn't believe that he was beginning to think the Christmas songs were preferable to this moping. "And that's why you called me and told me I absolutely needed to come over and it was an emergency?"
The young nation blinked a few times before looking up from cuddling the stuffed seal. "I said that?" Then, a few seconds later. "Oh!" England rolled his eyes, then almost jumped back as America launched himself off of the couch, scattering plush animals everywhere. "No, no it's not that!"
Sigh. "Then what is it, Alfred?"
"It's these!" America leaned over the back of the couch and retrieved a large sack. As he tugged it into his lap, a few envelopes drifted out of the open mouth and landed on the floor. Gingerly, Arthur reached down and picked up the nearest one.
"Letters to Santa?" They were already postmarked. So much for the American mail system.
"They were on my doorstep when I was checking for my remastered 'It's a Wonderful Life' dvd." Alfred fretted, "They refused to take them back at the post office, can you believe that? What happened to the holiday spirit?"
"Commercialism." England replied dryly. Then, because he knew America was going to say it, and because one of his own authors had penned the words, "Bah Humbug."
Even a Miracle (1b/?)
anonymous
December 3 2009, 13:24:39 UTC
America took an envelope out of the bag, looking at it. "And it just... it got me thinking you know. I remember when Alaska and Hawaii were writing letters to Santa." His smile was wistful. "Of course, I didn't have the heart to tell them he wasn't real."
"You didn't believe he wasn't real until Canada told you he'd been sucked into a jet turbine a few years back." Oh, the bawling at that one... Arthur still had nightmares about Alfred crawling into his bed and crying on him until he'd finally managed to get it through the other nation's thick skull that Santa hadn't been ground into a bloody pulp because he wasn't really a person. England still wasn't entirely convinced that Alfred's new cavalier attitude towards Santa wasn't just because he really believed that Santa was now delivering gifts to all the good little angels in heaven.
The look America gave him was more than a little sour. "That's beside the point, Iggy."
"I see, so when I say something that makes you look ridiculous, it's beside the point?"
Silence, then Alfred was back to that chipper tone, though it seemed a little forced. "So, I was trying to decide what to do about it, and now that you're here, I have a plan."
Oh no. No no no... He didn't like that speculative look America was giving him.
"Well, glad to be of help," England took a few steps backward, taking a moment to glance over his shoulder at the closed door and wondering if he could make a run for it. "So, you should just... go work on your plan now, and I'll get back to what I was doing."
Alfred laughed, reaching out and grabbing one of his hands. "But Arthur, you're part of the plan!" He was beaming as he leapt to his feet, gathering the letters together from where they'd scattered across the floor.
And he was singing a song that England vaguely recognized as he stuffed the envelopes back into the bag, bouncing around like a child on a sugar rush.
"You hope, and I'll hurry! "You pray, and I'll plan! "We'll do what's necessary "Cause, even a miracle needs a hand!"
Okay... strike that theory. The singing was still worse than the moping...
Arthur sighed. -
Notes: The song Alfred is singing (and the source of the title) is "Even a Miracle Needs a Hand" from the Rankin-Bass animation "T'was the Night Before Christmas".
Even a Miracle (2/?)
anonymous
December 6 2009, 15:43:38 UTC
Even a Miracle (2/?)
- Part 2: Plan A is for "Armageddon"
"So, that's the plan. What do you think?" When no reply was immediately forthcoming, America leaned forward a little, bouncing on his toes. "Brilliant, huh?"
'Brilliant' was not the word England would have used, but he couldn't come up with a proper insult for the plan either. He had no idea what any of America's scribbles were supposed to mean. "Alfred... why in god's name do you have Dracula poking a cow with a stick? What does that stand for? And... is that Darth Vader stabbing a fish-man in the head?"
America blinked at the white board for a second before rubbing at the back of his neck. "Oh, yeah, sorry. Must've left that up from the time I was planning to get back at George Lucas for Episode One." He rubbed at it with the edge of his sleeve until it was just a smear.
"So, what was Dracula supposed to be revenge for? Twilight?"
"Eh?" America scowled at the stick figures. "That's you, Arthur! See, you're an angel!" He pointed to the misshapen lump. England could sort of see it now, if he tilted his head to one side, squinted his eyes until he couldn't see the board anymore and used his imagination to picture it there.
"Okay, I'll bite. What is angel me doing?"
"You're going to bring Santa back from the dead so he can save Christmas!"
"Alfred..."
"With some help from me, of course. I am the hero."
"Alfred-"
"Don't worry, you'll get to do something too! You can be our backup!"
"Alfred!" He bellowed it this time and America finally drew up short, staring at him with wide eyes. England rubbed at his temples, trying to stave off the inevitable headache. "I am not going to become Britannia Angel to bring Santa back from the dead." And, a bit quieter, "I should've known better than to try explaining anything to you."
America's eyes narrowed as he regarded England, his gaze intent. Then he gasped a little, featurs twisting into a horrified expression. "You're right, Arthur! I mean, what if you were to mess it up and bring him back as a zombie? All the unsuspecting children of the world would fall victim to the evil ravages of Santa's army of undead elves. He would be unstoppable! It would be armageddon!" America turned his big blue eyes on the other nation - that hurt puppy look - biting his lip as tears threatened. "Why would you do that, Arthur? Do you really hate Christmas that much?"
"Oh for heavens-" England clenched his fists, "He's not real, you idiot!"
"Well, now that's just rude." America gave a haughty little sniff. "Of course I knew he wasn't real. I was just... testing you." A brief pause, then in a softer tone. "Not even a little real?"
"No."
"Well, I guess we'll have to go straight to Plan B, then!" Despite his grief and dismay of only a moment ago, it didn't take America long to recover and he was apparently already over the trauma of a Zombie Santa who might not even exist.
"Dare I ask what Plan B is?"
"Please do!" Sigh. Some nations simply could not take a hint.
"Okay... what is Plan B?" He wanted to think it couldn't possibly be as bad as Plan A, but he knew his luck dealing with America had a direct line to Murphy's Law. America could make everything worse when he set his mind to it.
As soon as the question was asked, America was up and at the board again, scribbling frantically. "Since Santa is de-" He caught himself, "- not real we're going to have to do his job for him and answer all of these letters ourselves!"
Even a Miracle (2b/?)
anonymous
December 6 2009, 15:44:11 UTC
England blinked a few times, swallowed, then looked at the huge sack which was stuffed to the brim with letters. "All of them? Alfred, there are hundreds of letters here!"
"I know. But just think, that's hundreds of children whose Christmas we'll be saving."
He was about to say no, under no circumstances, because this was a ridiculous undertaking at best, but then America said the one thing that America never said. "Please, Arthur." America's tone was a little softer now, and England turned to see what he was doing. The young nation had plucked a plushie off of the pile and was hugging it to his chest, giving him that look he'd never quite managed to develop an immunity to: the big sad eyes that always had Arthur kicking himself for being suckered into doing what Alfred wanted.
Oh, he was so going to regret this...
"Fine." He groaned. "Stop mauling that poor bear, Alfred. This is your crazy plan, so I expect you're not going to make me do all the work."
"Awesome!" Tossing the stuffed bear back onto the couch, America flung himself at England for a bone-crushing hug. "I knew I could count on you! The holiday will never know what hit it!"
Probably not. Arthur mused, already feeling sorry for himself. Probably not...
-
Notes: In case you're wondering, the plush bear Alfred is hugging is the Grizzly, the state animal of California.
-
Because there's so few Christmas requests.
-
America had a lot of Christmas traditions that England didn't enjoy. As soon as American Thanksgiving had passed, Alfred would start in on the Christmas songs. It wasn't that America was a bad singer - though his taste in music left a few things to be desired - but Arthur could only listen to so much holiday music before he was ready to rip his own ears off. Then there were the movies. The same movies, every year. America could quote Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer verbatim - and despite Arthur's objections, he always DID and sang along with every damn song too. So, he figured that he should have known better than to actually agree to visit when America had called him up with that desperate note in his voice.
He knew what to expect, so when America met him at the door and wasn't already dressed in a tacky Christmas sweater or wearing a Santa hat, he felt his expectations begin to falter. When Alfred ushered him inside, he saw the usual decorations and relaxed a little, only pausing to stare as he noticed not the two stockings he was used to, but all fifty of them, lined up in an immaculate fashion on the mantle.
"Are you having all the states over for Christmas, Alfred?"
The younger nation's back was to him, but he saw the flinch anyway. Arthur opened his mouth to say something, wondering just what was wrong, then the rest of the scene registered with him. Not only the stockings, but the tree was out as well, decorated with all the little ornaments that Alfred had always made with his states over the years. Children's books littered the end table and there was a pile of stuffed animals on the couch - he recognized them as the state animals Alfred had sewn for his children while they were growing up. He hadn't even known America had kept those. As weird as that was, it had nothing on the neat row of baby bottles with the name of each state on them.
"No." America's voice was cheerful, but the sort of cheerful you would normally hear from a lunatic recently escaped from an insane asylum. "None of them could make it this year. They're 'too big for Family Christmas, mom'." Alfred was doing air quotes. England quickly scoped out the nearest heavy object just in case America were to come at him.
Taking a step backward, Arthur gave a nervous laugh. "Well, you know how children can be..."
Alfred sank down on the couch, pulling a plush from the pile and cuddling it against his chest - England recognized it as the seal as belonging to Hawaii. "I know... they get too big and then they move out and they don't even send a Christmas card..."
Bloody hell... Arthur fought back the urge to box America's ears and point out that Alfred had done the same damn thing, but a lot less politely. He couldn't believe that he was beginning to think the Christmas songs were preferable to this moping. "And that's why you called me and told me I absolutely needed to come over and it was an emergency?"
The young nation blinked a few times before looking up from cuddling the stuffed seal. "I said that?" Then, a few seconds later. "Oh!" England rolled his eyes, then almost jumped back as America launched himself off of the couch, scattering plush animals everywhere. "No, no it's not that!"
Sigh. "Then what is it, Alfred?"
"It's these!" America leaned over the back of the couch and retrieved a large sack. As he tugged it into his lap, a few envelopes drifted out of the open mouth and landed on the floor. Gingerly, Arthur reached down and picked up the nearest one.
"Letters to Santa?" They were already postmarked. So much for the American mail system.
"They were on my doorstep when I was checking for my remastered 'It's a Wonderful Life' dvd." Alfred fretted, "They refused to take them back at the post office, can you believe that? What happened to the holiday spirit?"
"Commercialism." England replied dryly. Then, because he knew America was going to say it, and because one of his own authors had penned the words, "Bah Humbug."
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America took an envelope out of the bag, looking at it. "And it just... it got me thinking you know. I remember when Alaska and Hawaii were writing letters to Santa." His smile was wistful. "Of course, I didn't have the heart to tell them he wasn't real."
"You didn't believe he wasn't real until Canada told you he'd been sucked into a jet turbine a few years back." Oh, the bawling at that one... Arthur still had nightmares about Alfred crawling into his bed and crying on him until he'd finally managed to get it through the other nation's thick skull that Santa hadn't been ground into a bloody pulp because he wasn't really a person. England still wasn't entirely convinced that Alfred's new cavalier attitude towards Santa wasn't just because he really believed that Santa was now delivering gifts to all the good little angels in heaven.
The look America gave him was more than a little sour. "That's beside the point, Iggy."
"I see, so when I say something that makes you look ridiculous, it's beside the point?"
Silence, then Alfred was back to that chipper tone, though it seemed a little forced. "So, I was trying to decide what to do about it, and now that you're here, I have a plan."
Oh no. No no no... He didn't like that speculative look America was giving him.
"Well, glad to be of help," England took a few steps backward, taking a moment to glance over his shoulder at the closed door and wondering if he could make a run for it. "So, you should just... go work on your plan now, and I'll get back to what I was doing."
Alfred laughed, reaching out and grabbing one of his hands. "But Arthur, you're part of the plan!" He was beaming as he leapt to his feet, gathering the letters together from where they'd scattered across the floor.
And he was singing a song that England vaguely recognized as he stuffed the envelopes back into the bag, bouncing around like a child on a sugar rush.
"You hope, and I'll hurry!
"You pray, and I'll plan!
"We'll do what's necessary
"Cause, even a miracle needs a hand!"
Okay... strike that theory. The singing was still worse than the moping...
Arthur sighed.
-
Notes: The song Alfred is singing (and the source of the title) is "Even a Miracle Needs a Hand" from the Rankin-Bass animation "T'was the Night Before Christmas".
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Part 2: Plan A is for "Armageddon"
"So, that's the plan. What do you think?" When no reply was immediately forthcoming, America leaned forward a little, bouncing on his toes. "Brilliant, huh?"
'Brilliant' was not the word England would have used, but he couldn't come up with a proper insult for the plan either. He had no idea what any of America's scribbles were supposed to mean. "Alfred... why in god's name do you have Dracula poking a cow with a stick? What does that stand for? And... is that Darth Vader stabbing a fish-man in the head?"
America blinked at the white board for a second before rubbing at the back of his neck. "Oh, yeah, sorry. Must've left that up from the time I was planning to get back at George Lucas for Episode One." He rubbed at it with the edge of his sleeve until it was just a smear.
"So, what was Dracula supposed to be revenge for? Twilight?"
"Eh?" America scowled at the stick figures. "That's you, Arthur! See, you're an angel!" He pointed to the misshapen lump. England could sort of see it now, if he tilted his head to one side, squinted his eyes until he couldn't see the board anymore and used his imagination to picture it there.
"Okay, I'll bite. What is angel me doing?"
"You're going to bring Santa back from the dead so he can save Christmas!"
"Alfred..."
"With some help from me, of course. I am the hero."
"Alfred-"
"Don't worry, you'll get to do something too! You can be our backup!"
"Alfred!" He bellowed it this time and America finally drew up short, staring at him with wide eyes. England rubbed at his temples, trying to stave off the inevitable headache. "I am not going to become Britannia Angel to bring Santa back from the dead." And, a bit quieter, "I should've known better than to try explaining anything to you."
America's eyes narrowed as he regarded England, his gaze intent. Then he gasped a little, featurs twisting into a horrified expression. "You're right, Arthur! I mean, what if you were to mess it up and bring him back as a zombie? All the unsuspecting children of the world would fall victim to the evil ravages of Santa's army of undead elves. He would be unstoppable! It would be armageddon!" America turned his big blue eyes on the other nation - that hurt puppy look - biting his lip as tears threatened. "Why would you do that, Arthur? Do you really hate Christmas that much?"
"Oh for heavens-" England clenched his fists, "He's not real, you idiot!"
"Well, now that's just rude." America gave a haughty little sniff. "Of course I knew he wasn't real. I was just... testing you." A brief pause, then in a softer tone. "Not even a little real?"
"No."
"Well, I guess we'll have to go straight to Plan B, then!" Despite his grief and dismay of only a moment ago, it didn't take America long to recover and he was apparently already over the trauma of a Zombie Santa who might not even exist.
"Dare I ask what Plan B is?"
"Please do!" Sigh. Some nations simply could not take a hint.
"Okay... what is Plan B?" He wanted to think it couldn't possibly be as bad as Plan A, but he knew his luck dealing with America had a direct line to Murphy's Law. America could make everything worse when he set his mind to it.
As soon as the question was asked, America was up and at the board again, scribbling frantically. "Since Santa is de-" He caught himself, "- not real we're going to have to do his job for him and answer all of these letters ourselves!"
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England blinked a few times, swallowed, then looked at the huge sack which was stuffed to the brim with letters. "All of them? Alfred, there are hundreds of letters here!"
"I know. But just think, that's hundreds of children whose Christmas we'll be saving."
He was about to say no, under no circumstances, because this was a ridiculous undertaking at best, but then America said the one thing that America never said. "Please, Arthur." America's tone was a little softer now, and England turned to see what he was doing. The young nation had plucked a plushie off of the pile and was hugging it to his chest, giving him that look he'd never quite managed to develop an immunity to: the big sad eyes that always had Arthur kicking himself for being suckered into doing what Alfred wanted.
Oh, he was so going to regret this...
"Fine." He groaned. "Stop mauling that poor bear, Alfred. This is your crazy plan, so I expect you're not going to make me do all the work."
"Awesome!" Tossing the stuffed bear back onto the couch, America flung himself at England for a bone-crushing hug. "I knew I could count on you! The holiday will never know what hit it!"
Probably not. Arthur mused, already feeling sorry for himself. Probably not...
-
Notes: In case you're wondering, the plush bear Alfred is hugging is the Grizzly, the state animal of California.
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This is so sweet and brings out a good Christmas cheer~ Nicely done author!anon.
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Oh boy, this is gonna be good.
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