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.
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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