Sing Sung Songs [8/?]
anonymous
February 27 2010, 20:42:09 UTC
Another meeting.
Canada sits no longer able to feel annoyed that he’s ignored, but is on the other hand, he’s always surprised when someone takes notice to him (unless it’s America). No one usually does. No one does now, and everyone is formulating into their usual cliques, Italy tugs on Germany’s arm, China and Japan only glance at each other and part before one begrudgingly and another contemplative join to walk together at least down that last bit of the hall civilly, right to the elevator. And America-
“Say, Canada do you want to come too?”
Canada makes a wondering sound, an inquisitive hmmm- “This is rare, do you really want me to come?”
“Of course!”
Canada fidgets, “I don’t know….”
“Ah jeeze, Canada! See this is why I don’t usually invite you! You always say you have things to do, or it’d be better not to and then you go home and attempt to clean but really fall asleep in front of the tv after stuffing your face with maple syrup drenched pancakes-”
“Hey! I can say the same for you and those burgers! And I do clean! I think…”
Oh, but sometimes he just gets so sleepy looking at the vacuum and it’s chilly so he always wants to cook something nice and warm, pancakes… there was nothing wrong in a little relaxing! America was just a busybody, a workaholic, a bit like someone else even if he did often come off as lazy and childish, he always did his work (it was just a lot of work, Canada had to admit sometimes).
America pats his shoulder, “Well think about it then.”
Before running off and in springing step to the figure up ahead, slings an arm over said figure’s shoulders, much to that figure’s displeasure, Canada can already see those shoulders seizing up, the face half turned that Canada may see, almost reddened, his yelling countenance.
“America! What are you doing?! Your arm is heavy stupid-”
But America leaves it there and leans, to the now hunching- “Ahhh, England! Don’t be sour! You need to lighten up! Shall we go to that place you like so much? Get drinks?”
“The pub you mean, I suppose…”
“You were about to go with France too right?”
“Tch! Stupid! I don’t do that all the time!”
“Eh? But I thought you two were getting along better, so going to drinks is-”
Because the very idea of getting along with France makes England ill.
“Just stop talking, stop talking and we’ll go.”
America looks over his shoulder and gives Canada a wave, yells, “You coming?”
Canada slowly starts to walk after them, after giving America a nod, who only flashes him a smile while tugging England along for the first few steps and who doesn’t seem to mind all too much keeping America’s arm there and looks downright disappointed when it slips off, even more disappointed when he sees it’ll not be just the two of them- “Uh, who-”
“Canada,” America says to him, a pout of his lips having pronounced each syllable of his brother’s name, “You’re really getting old if you have such a bad memory already-”
“SHUT UP.”
-- Canada is almost surprised to see France waiting for them, he was usually fashionable late not… fashionable early? (Canada thinks more that most things France does- they are all fashionable.) Besides hadn’t England just said- never mind.
“Hey,” France greets them, they all sit along the bar, order respective drinks.
When they come, Canada opens a jar of maple syrup- best to sweeten.
Canada sits no longer able to feel annoyed that he’s ignored, but is on the other hand, he’s always surprised when someone takes notice to him (unless it’s America). No one usually does. No one does now, and everyone is formulating into their usual cliques, Italy tugs on Germany’s arm, China and Japan only glance at each other and part before one begrudgingly and another contemplative join to walk together at least down that last bit of the hall civilly, right to the elevator. And America-
“Say, Canada do you want to come too?”
Canada makes a wondering sound, an inquisitive hmmm- “This is rare, do you really want me to come?”
“Of course!”
Canada fidgets, “I don’t know….”
“Ah jeeze, Canada! See this is why I don’t usually invite you! You always say you have things to do, or it’d be better not to and then you go home and attempt to clean but really fall asleep in front of the tv after stuffing your face with maple syrup drenched pancakes-”
“Hey! I can say the same for you and those burgers! And I do clean! I think…”
Oh, but sometimes he just gets so sleepy looking at the vacuum and it’s chilly so he always wants to cook something nice and warm, pancakes… there was nothing wrong in a little relaxing! America was just a busybody, a workaholic, a bit like someone else even if he did often come off as lazy and childish, he always did his work (it was just a lot of work, Canada had to admit sometimes).
America pats his shoulder, “Well think about it then.”
Before running off and in springing step to the figure up ahead, slings an arm over said figure’s shoulders, much to that figure’s displeasure, Canada can already see those shoulders seizing up, the face half turned that Canada may see, almost reddened, his yelling countenance.
“America! What are you doing?! Your arm is heavy stupid-”
But America leaves it there and leans, to the now hunching- “Ahhh, England! Don’t be sour! You need to lighten up! Shall we go to that place you like so much? Get drinks?”
“The pub you mean, I suppose…”
“You were about to go with France too right?”
“Tch! Stupid! I don’t do that all the time!”
“Eh? But I thought you two were getting along better, so going to drinks is-”
Because the very idea of getting along with France makes England ill.
“Just stop talking, stop talking and we’ll go.”
America looks over his shoulder and gives Canada a wave, yells, “You coming?”
Canada slowly starts to walk after them, after giving America a nod, who only flashes him a smile while tugging England along for the first few steps and who doesn’t seem to mind all too much keeping America’s arm there and looks downright disappointed when it slips off, even more disappointed when he sees it’ll not be just the two of them- “Uh, who-”
“Canada,” America says to him, a pout of his lips having pronounced each syllable of his brother’s name, “You’re really getting old if you have such a bad memory already-”
“SHUT UP.”
--
Canada is almost surprised to see France waiting for them, he was usually fashionable late not… fashionable early? (Canada thinks more that most things France does- they are all fashionable.) Besides hadn’t England just said- never mind.
“Hey,” France greets them, they all sit along the bar, order respective drinks.
When they come, Canada opens a jar of maple syrup- best to sweeten.
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