(Damn, I screwed up. Q_Q Thank you for the comments, anons! AuthorAnon is touched. <3)
Russia sat in Canada's living room with England on his left and a polar bear nuzzling against his ribs, seemingly fond of the Russian. He had wanted to go home right after the meeting, but he decided to tag along with England. There were more important matters to attend to.
Earlier that day, Greece had proposed a no-swearing policy which escalated into a sort of mini-war between France and England. Now, Russia wouldn't care if those two died by forcing liquor bottles down each other's throats, no (they were going to become one with him anyway). That was until America voiced an alliance with France.
Any other nation would think that Russia's decision was fuelled by America's lousy cheating in the Space Race. No, that zalupa didn't win; that footage was obviously fake. Russia was still the winner, and he deserved to be called the winner. Well, whoever thought that way was partly correct. It wasn't like Russia was insecure about his win. The other reason was Plushenko's loss in the Winter Olympics this year. Yet another one of the victories the American pig acquired by cheating. He wasn't going to let America get away with it this time.
England was hesitant about letting him join at first, muttering something about a chair that Russia didn't even know about. Only after Russia mentioned Napoleon did the Englishman agree. Those were good times, yes. He also informed England about China's alliance with France. This made worried him, just as Russia had expected. This also prompted him to try to recruit the Canadian.
Canada came back with a tray and three mugs that had the Vancouver 2010 Winter Olympics logo. Ah yes, it was expected that he'd still have some left. China still had plenty the last time he visited.
Canada gave him a mug with an unsure smile and turned to England. "If America finds out about this..." he heard the Canadian whisper to the thick-browed nation in a panicky voice, obviously not willing Russia to hear it.
"Don't worry, no one else is visiting you tonight, unless they want a nasty case of the chills," said England nonchalantly. Russia had made sure of that, after England's insistence.
Canada laughed weakly. Russia smiled at him.
"S-So...to what do I owe the pleasure?" the Canadian said, sipping his hot chocolate as he sat down.
England set his cup down without even taking a sip. "I want you to speak in nothing but French for the coming meetings."
Canada choked on his drink and hot chocolate went to his nose. "Y-You want me to what? I thought you hate hearing me speak French?"
"W-well," said England uneasily, avoiding his eyes. "I think it would be splendid if it was recognized as an official version of the French language, don't you agree?"
Canada's eyes narrowed. "You just want to use me against P--France, eh?"
England spluttered.
"Da," Russia answered for the Englishman. England shot him a glare.
"Forget it," said Canada, rubbing his temples.
Russia looked at England and the latter glared back at him. In the first place, Russia didn't want Canada in the game. He knew that Canada would later turn against them and become America's spy. England reasoned that America wasn't the real enemy, but France. England was wrong, as usual. The Russian didn't bother to argue and instead suggested to threaten him into joining, but the Englishman wouldn't have it. Despite being a former powerful empire, England was soft. This was probably why his empire crumbled. Russia gave a tight smile at his weak ally.
"Please, Canada," pleaded England. "You don't understand how dire the consequences are if France wins. We're outnumbered; he already has America and China on his side."
"China?" asked Canada.
"Da," said Russia, nodding his head. "He is with France now."
"Don't worry about him," said England. "I already have a few things planned."
"And why are you helping England?"
The Russian shrugged. "Triple Entente." It was a convenient excuse.
The Canadian looked at him suspiciously before turning to England. "The consequences can't be that bad," he said.
"Y-You don't understand!" England wailed. "The loser has to sing the winner's national anthem naked and have a tattoo of the winner's flag on their..." he trailed off.
Canada cocked an eyebrow. "Their...?"
England flushed a deep red.
"Penis," answered Russia with a smile. He wasn't going to sit there and watch as England made a fool of himself with his substandard negotiation skills.
"WHAT?" Canada stood up in shock, almost spilling his chocolate on his favorite hoodie. "W-Why would you people bet like that?!?"
"Please, Canada, I need your help," implored a red-faced England.
Canada merely looked at England. Russia was sure that the negotiations were off. So much for "Canada's too polite to refuse". Maybe crushing his fingers would convince him otherwise?
"I don't really want France's flag tattooed on my..."
"Don't worry about that," said England. "The consequences apply to only France and I. Will you join us?" England's face looked like he was on the verge of crying.
"A-All right," Canada agreed reluctantly. "But you have to promise to try not to swear."
Russia smiled. The boy had sense after all.
England jumped up and hugged Canada. "Good lad," he muttered all too happily.
Russia looked at Canada and saw that the younger nation was already regretting it. It was a good thing that the Russian didn't really swear much; now he'd have a lot of time to deal with that fat svolotch America. Hopefully, Ukraine won't swear herself to ruins.
"I can't wait to see the bloody pom's face when I put this on his scones," said Australia, snickering, toying with a Sydney Funnel-web spider.
"L'Australie, calm down, s'il te plait. We are not trying to kill 'im."
Australia pouted and sat back down on France's fashionable chair.
"We don't really need this meeting," said America, drinking his soda noisily. "I mean, he already swears when he sees you, France. And nobody's helping him anyway."
"Oui," said France as patiently as he could. "But l'Angleterre is a shrewd one. It eez better to be prepared, non?" China gave him a piece of paper, which the Frenchman read and then sighed again. "Je repete: we are not trying to kill 'im." He massaged the bridge of his nose. Maybe he should not have built an alliance?
"You're no fun," muttered Australia, putting the spider back in the plastic cage.
France slumped into the couch next to China.
"Faguo, you are being paranoid. Just leave it to us, aru," said China, sipping his tea. "We promise not to kill him."
France looked at him. China was a tricky one. He remembered at the time the Chinese man was still under him. China, he could trust. He wasn't sure about the younger members of the alliance.
"More importantly, what should we call ourselves?" America asked excitedly.
"L'Amerique, zee name eez not important."
"Of course it is!" exclaimed Australia. "What did you have in mind?"
"How about Team Glorious Freedom?"
Mon dieu. France covered his face and groaned. He needed wine. Probably a barrel of it. He looked at his side. Looks like China might need one too.
(I need suggestions for their team name. I'm lame with team names. Oh and I might not be able to update any time soon. Anyway, if this part fill is full by the time I return, I'll post the rest on past-part fills 2. More bad language to come. :P)
zalupa = dickhead mon dieu = My god svolotch = swine
(Damn, I can't believe I forgot to put this one in from my draft. By the way, you guys are fast. o___o thank you for the comments <3)
"Ah, before I forget," said England, pointing at Canada.
Canada waited for England to finish his sentence.
"What are you waiting for, lad?" England said impatiently.
"I'm waiting for you to finish your sentence," Canada said.
"Stop playing games and take her," snapped England.
Canada gave him a bewildered look. Russia was also confused, and then it dawned on him: England was probably holding out a fairy to the Canadian.
"Take who?"
Russia tapped England's shoulder before the Englishman snapped. "He cannot see her, yes?"
England's expression relaxed. He put his hand near his face and whispered to it before putting his hand down. "Gwen will monitor you in case France does something he will regret," he said as-a-matter-of-factly. "She'll inform me where you are and if you're in trouble."
Russia knew that this was mostly for keeping track of Canada because England couldn't tell him and America apart. He didn't mind; at least he would know if Canada turns against them.
Canada forced laughed. "Why can't we use phones instead?"
England's expression turned sour. "Well you can't call me when you're already in trouble now, can you?" He fixed his collar. "Don't worry. Gwen will just perch on your shoulder. You won't even notice that she's there."
If she really was there.
With a last wave of good-bye, Russia and England left Canada.
Re: @#$% 2d/?
anonymous
March 9 2010, 23:15:58 UTC
*falls over laughing* Then again, fairies would make very good English spies. :3 Love how Russia actually realized England's intentions. He's very smart, da? Me looking forward to moar! ^-^
Lol, yea, I do tend to comment fast. I'm a ninja like that. ;D
Russia sat in Canada's living room with England on his left and a polar bear nuzzling against his ribs, seemingly fond of the Russian. He had wanted to go home right after the meeting, but he decided to tag along with England. There were more important matters to attend to.
Earlier that day, Greece had proposed a no-swearing policy which escalated into a sort of mini-war between France and England. Now, Russia wouldn't care if those two died by forcing liquor bottles down each other's throats, no (they were going to become one with him anyway). That was until America voiced an alliance with France.
Any other nation would think that Russia's decision was fuelled by America's lousy cheating in the Space Race. No, that zalupa didn't win; that footage was obviously fake. Russia was still the winner, and he deserved to be called the winner. Well, whoever thought that way was partly correct. It wasn't like Russia was insecure about his win. The other reason was Plushenko's loss in the Winter Olympics this year. Yet another one of the victories the American pig acquired by cheating. He wasn't going to let America get away with it this time.
England was hesitant about letting him join at first, muttering something about a chair that Russia didn't even know about. Only after Russia mentioned Napoleon did the Englishman agree. Those were good times, yes. He also informed England about China's alliance with France. This made worried him, just as Russia had expected. This also prompted him to try to recruit the Canadian.
Canada came back with a tray and three mugs that had the Vancouver 2010 Winter Olympics logo. Ah yes, it was expected that he'd still have some left. China still had plenty the last time he visited.
Canada gave him a mug with an unsure smile and turned to England. "If America finds out about this..." he heard the Canadian whisper to the thick-browed nation in a panicky voice, obviously not willing Russia to hear it.
"Don't worry, no one else is visiting you tonight, unless they want a nasty case of the chills," said England nonchalantly. Russia had made sure of that, after England's insistence.
Canada laughed weakly. Russia smiled at him.
"S-So...to what do I owe the pleasure?" the Canadian said, sipping his hot chocolate as he sat down.
England set his cup down without even taking a sip. "I want you to speak in nothing but French for the coming meetings."
Canada choked on his drink and hot chocolate went to his nose. "Y-You want me to what? I thought you hate hearing me speak French?"
"W-well," said England uneasily, avoiding his eyes. "I think it would be splendid if it was recognized as an official version of the French language, don't you agree?"
Canada's eyes narrowed. "You just want to use me against P--France, eh?"
England spluttered.
"Da," Russia answered for the Englishman. England shot him a glare.
"Forget it," said Canada, rubbing his temples.
Russia looked at England and the latter glared back at him. In the first place, Russia didn't want Canada in the game. He knew that Canada would later turn against them and become America's spy. England reasoned that America wasn't the real enemy, but France. England was wrong, as usual. The Russian didn't bother to argue and instead suggested to threaten him into joining, but the Englishman wouldn't have it. Despite being a former powerful empire, England was soft. This was probably why his empire crumbled. Russia gave a tight smile at his weak ally.
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"Please, Canada," pleaded England. "You don't understand how dire the consequences are if France wins. We're outnumbered; he already has America and China on his side."
"China?" asked Canada.
"Da," said Russia, nodding his head. "He is with France now."
"Don't worry about him," said England. "I already have a few things planned."
"And why are you helping England?"
The Russian shrugged. "Triple Entente." It was a convenient excuse.
The Canadian looked at him suspiciously before turning to England. "The consequences can't be that bad," he said.
"Y-You don't understand!" England wailed. "The loser has to sing the winner's national anthem naked and have a tattoo of the winner's flag on their..." he trailed off.
Canada cocked an eyebrow. "Their...?"
England flushed a deep red.
"Penis," answered Russia with a smile. He wasn't going to sit there and watch as England made a fool of himself with his substandard negotiation skills.
"WHAT?" Canada stood up in shock, almost spilling his chocolate on his favorite hoodie. "W-Why would you people bet like that?!?"
"Please, Canada, I need your help," implored a red-faced England.
Canada merely looked at England. Russia was sure that the negotiations were off. So much for "Canada's too polite to refuse". Maybe crushing his fingers would convince him otherwise?
"I don't really want France's flag tattooed on my..."
"Don't worry about that," said England. "The consequences apply to only France and I. Will you join us?" England's face looked like he was on the verge of crying.
"A-All right," Canada agreed reluctantly. "But you have to promise to try not to swear."
Russia smiled. The boy had sense after all.
England jumped up and hugged Canada. "Good lad," he muttered all too happily.
Russia looked at Canada and saw that the younger nation was already regretting it. It was a good thing that the Russian didn't really swear much; now he'd have a lot of time to deal with that fat svolotch America. Hopefully, Ukraine won't swear herself to ruins.
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"L'Australie, calm down, s'il te plait. We are not trying to kill 'im."
Australia pouted and sat back down on France's fashionable chair.
"We don't really need this meeting," said America, drinking his soda noisily. "I mean, he already swears when he sees you, France. And nobody's helping him anyway."
"Oui," said France as patiently as he could. "But l'Angleterre is a shrewd one. It eez better to be prepared, non?" China gave him a piece of paper, which the Frenchman read and then sighed again. "Je repete: we are not trying to kill 'im." He massaged the bridge of his nose. Maybe he should not have built an alliance?
"You're no fun," muttered Australia, putting the spider back in the plastic cage.
France slumped into the couch next to China.
"Faguo, you are being paranoid. Just leave it to us, aru," said China, sipping his tea. "We promise not to kill him."
France looked at him. China was a tricky one. He remembered at the time the Chinese man was still under him. China, he could trust. He wasn't sure about the younger members of the alliance.
"More importantly, what should we call ourselves?" America asked excitedly.
"L'Amerique, zee name eez not important."
"Of course it is!" exclaimed Australia. "What did you have in mind?"
"How about Team Glorious Freedom?"
Mon dieu. France covered his face and groaned. He needed wine. Probably a barrel of it. He looked at his side. Looks like China might need one too.
(I need suggestions for their team name. I'm lame with team names. Oh and I might not be able to update any time soon. Anyway, if this part fill is full by the time I return, I'll post the rest on past-part fills 2. More bad language to come. :P)
zalupa = dickhead
mon dieu = My god
svolotch = swine
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Author!Anon, this is win ♥
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I can't think of a team name either.... XD;;; It will probably have "awesome" in it though due to Alfred's insistence, yes?
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"Ah, before I forget," said England, pointing at Canada.
Canada waited for England to finish his sentence.
"What are you waiting for, lad?" England said impatiently.
"I'm waiting for you to finish your sentence," Canada said.
"Stop playing games and take her," snapped England.
Canada gave him a bewildered look. Russia was also confused, and then it dawned on him: England was probably holding out a fairy to the Canadian.
"Take who?"
Russia tapped England's shoulder before the Englishman snapped. "He cannot see her, yes?"
England's expression relaxed. He put his hand near his face and whispered to it before putting his hand down. "Gwen will monitor you in case France does something he will regret," he said as-a-matter-of-factly. "She'll inform me where you are and if you're in trouble."
Russia knew that this was mostly for keeping track of Canada because England couldn't tell him and America apart. He didn't mind; at least he would know if Canada turns against them.
Canada forced laughed. "Why can't we use phones instead?"
England's expression turned sour. "Well you can't call me when you're already in trouble now, can you?" He fixed his collar. "Don't worry. Gwen will just perch on your shoulder. You won't even notice that she's there."
If she really was there.
With a last wave of good-bye, Russia and England left Canada.
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Then again, fairies would make very good English spies. :3
Love how Russia actually realized England's intentions. He's very smart, da?
Me looking forward to moar! ^-^
Lol, yea, I do tend to comment fast. I'm a ninja like that. ;D
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