Re: Hot n Cold (UsUk) [3b/3]
anonymous
December 21 2009, 18:21:56 UTC
“You! You don't really want to stay, no.”
All three America’s began to advance towards England with their respective entourages behind them. They formed something of a circle around England, with the three America’s being the closest to him and the rest of the nation surrounding them and oh please somebody tell him he did not just see Sealand in a mini-skirt.
“You! But you don't really want to go-oh.”
”You're hot then you're cold. You're yes then you're no. You're in and you're out. You're up and you're down.”
All the blood rushing to England’s face immediately changed directions and went straight down. Mini-skirt!America was back, and he seemed to have recruit a few more back up dancers as well as found a few more poles. France seemed to have made a miraculous recovery (dammit) and Prussia and Spain had recruited Hungary and North Italy. Meanwhile, South Italy was in mafia mode due to the fact that his sort-of-lover and younger brother were pole dancing in scandalously revealing outfits. This would not end well.
Yet again, England pried his eyes away from the American (how did he move his hips like that? It looked like it would feel good against… England, give yourself a mental slap. It’s not like you love him. Right? Maybe? I don’t even bloody know anymore. Bugger.) He looked around for the door. This turned out to be a mistake.
“You're wrong when it's right. It's black and it's white. We fight, we break up. We kiss, we make up.”
”You're hot then you're cold. You're yes then you're no. You're in and you're out. You're up and you're down.”
All the blood rushing to England’s face immediately changed directions and went straight down. Mini-skirt!America was back, and he seemed to have recruit a few more back up dancers as well as found a few more poles. France seemed to have made a miraculous recovery (dammit) and Prussia and Spain had recruited Hungary and North Italy. Meanwhile, South Italy was in mafia mode due to the fact that his sort-of-lover and younger brother were pole dancing in scandalously revealing outfits. This would not end well.
Yet again, England pried his eyes away from the American (how did he move his hips like that? It looked like it would feel good against… England, give yourself a mental slap. It’s not like you love him. Right? Maybe? I don’t even bloody know anymore. Bugger.) He looked around for the door. This turned out to be a mistake.
“You're wrong when it's right. It's black and it's white. We fight, we break up. We kiss, we make up.”
Apparently, two Americas weren’t enough. No, this crazy ass crack dance party needed three Americas, two of who were flaunting short skirts, and one who was gangsta. Clothes far too large, improperly worn hats, obnoxiously huge shiny symbols worn on long chains, sunglasses, the works. This America was breakdancing with what seemed to be the entire former Soviet Union. Russia had never seemed so scary in civilian clothes. He would never be able to look at Estonia again without imagining the poor nerdy white boy attempting to dance which would probably produce violent fits of laughter. And why the hell was Lithuania dressed as a ho… never mind, he didn’t want to know the answer to that.
And somehow, despite the fact the Ukraine’s shirt looked like it was about to burst open, England only had eyes for America. The way he moved was so graceful, so confident, despite the fact that his moves were completely moronic. But when he flashed that cocksure smile, England did not care one bit. Oh fuck it, now he was sounding like some lovesick teen girl.
“You! You don't really want to stay, no.”
All three America’s began to advance towards England with their respective entourages behind them. They formed something of a circle around England, with the three America’s being the closest to him and the rest of the nation surrounding them and oh please somebody tell him he did not just see Sealand in a mini-skirt.
All three America’s began to advance towards England with their respective entourages behind them. They formed something of a circle around England, with the three America’s being the closest to him and the rest of the nation surrounding them and oh please somebody tell him he did not just see Sealand in a mini-skirt.
“You! But you don't really want to go-oh.”
”You're hot then you're cold. You're yes then you're no. You're in and you're out. You're up and you're down.”
All the blood rushing to England’s face immediately changed directions and went straight down. Mini-skirt!America was back, and he seemed to have recruit a few more back up dancers as well as found a few more poles. France seemed to have made a miraculous recovery (dammit) and Prussia and Spain had recruited Hungary and North Italy. Meanwhile, South Italy was in mafia mode due to the fact that his sort-of-lover and younger brother were pole dancing in scandalously revealing outfits. This would not end well.
Yet again, England pried his eyes away from the American (how did he move his hips like that? It looked like it would feel good against… England, give yourself a mental slap. It’s not like you love him. Right? Maybe? I don’t even bloody know anymore. Bugger.) He looked around for the door. This turned out to be a mistake.
“You're wrong when it's right. It's black and it's white. We fight, we break up. We kiss, we make up.”
”You're hot then you're cold. You're yes then you're no. You're in and you're out. You're up and you're down.”
All the blood rushing to England’s face immediately changed directions and went straight down. Mini-skirt!America was back, and he seemed to have recruit a few more back up dancers as well as found a few more poles. France seemed to have made a miraculous recovery (dammit) and Prussia and Spain had recruited Hungary and North Italy. Meanwhile, South Italy was in mafia mode due to the fact that his sort-of-lover and younger brother were pole dancing in scandalously revealing outfits. This would not end well.
Yet again, England pried his eyes away from the American (how did he move his hips like that? It looked like it would feel good against… England, give yourself a mental slap. It’s not like you love him. Right? Maybe? I don’t even bloody know anymore. Bugger.) He looked around for the door. This turned out to be a mistake.
“You're wrong when it's right. It's black and it's white. We fight, we break up. We kiss, we make up.”
Apparently, two Americas weren’t enough. No, this crazy ass crack dance party needed three Americas, two of who were flaunting short skirts, and one who was gangsta. Clothes far too large, improperly worn hats, obnoxiously huge shiny symbols worn on long chains, sunglasses, the works. This America was breakdancing with what seemed to be the entire former Soviet Union. Russia had never seemed so scary in civilian clothes. He would never be able to look at Estonia again without imagining the poor nerdy white boy attempting to dance which would probably produce violent fits of laughter. And why the hell was Lithuania dressed as a ho… never mind, he didn’t want to know the answer to that.
And somehow, despite the fact the Ukraine’s shirt looked like it was about to burst open, England only had eyes for America. The way he moved was so graceful, so confident, despite the fact that his moves were completely moronic. But when he flashed that cocksure smile, England did not care one bit. Oh fuck it, now he was sounding like some lovesick teen girl.
“You! You don't really want to stay, no.”
All three America’s began to advance towards England with their respective entourages behind them. They formed something of a circle around England, with the three America’s being the closest to him and the rest of the nation surrounding them and oh please somebody tell him he did not just see Sealand in a mini-skirt.
“You! But you don't really want to go-oh.”
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