It Begins with an End [3b/?]
anonymous
June 14 2010, 12:57:33 UTC
“So the Olympics,” America muttered, looking up from the folder in front of him. “Is everything coming along? I mean, there's a lot still going on at your place.”
England had hummed something over the rim of his tea cup, taking a sip before setting it down on the table before him. “There won't be a lot,” he admitted, and America was sure he could see something akin to pain behind the dull green eyes. “We're still rebuilding. We have Wembley for the events, but housing for the athletes... We can't build new housing for visitors when our people are still suffering. We can only use what we have.”
America nodded, and his lips twisted into a smile. “I'll beat you,” he said, and he winked. “Promise.”
England nodded slowly, rubbing his neck with his gloved hand. America watched every twitched of the fingers when England's hand returned to his tea cup, and he was very tempted to reach forward and take them in his own hand, and twine their fingers together. England was strong. So very, very strong. Even if he did act like an old man sometimes, and even if he was sick.
America hated that he was looking farther east than England. Russia was acting suspiciously; they both knew and acknowledged it. Neither wanted another war. They had become exhausted by the second World War (though America had come out if it far better than the others; England was still recovering), and couldn't imagine Russia. Russia had lost so many people in the war, far more than the other fighters. He had cracked, bit by bit, and he was threatening the world around them. America feared the results of Russia's imminent actions. Especially where England was concerned.
It seemed that both were thinking the same thing. America had looked across at England, his bright eyes worried. “I'll never let you down,” America promised, and England's shoulders fell, relaxing from the tensed posture he had kept.
“You'd better not,” England mumbled. “I expect you at the games, and you'd better keep up.”
Re: It Begins with an End [3b/?]
anonymous
June 15 2010, 13:11:45 UTC
OP here. Maybe a bit? But it's ok, because it's great ;) Olympics, yayy! And England is still so proud even feeling unwell, I like that. Aw, America, you're cute
Re: It Begins with an End [3b/?]
anonymous
June 20 2010, 15:54:36 UTC
I really like this fill, especially the pace of their developing relationship. I like that they're testing the waters instead of jumping straight into being fluffy. England's characterisation is also lovely. He doesn't come across as weak or needy despite the setting. Also I appreciate the incorporation of RL events. In other words, totally looking forward to your update!
“So the Olympics,” America muttered, looking up from the folder in front of him. “Is everything coming along? I mean, there's a lot still going on at your place.”
England had hummed something over the rim of his tea cup, taking a sip before setting it down on the table before him. “There won't be a lot,” he admitted, and America was sure he could see something akin to pain behind the dull green eyes. “We're still rebuilding. We have Wembley for the events, but housing for the athletes... We can't build new housing for visitors when our people are still suffering. We can only use what we have.”
America nodded, and his lips twisted into a smile. “I'll beat you,” he said, and he winked. “Promise.”
England nodded slowly, rubbing his neck with his gloved hand. America watched every twitched of the fingers when England's hand returned to his tea cup, and he was very tempted to reach forward and take them in his own hand, and twine their fingers together. England was strong. So very, very strong. Even if he did act like an old man sometimes, and even if he was sick.
America hated that he was looking farther east than England. Russia was acting suspiciously; they both knew and acknowledged it. Neither wanted another war. They had become exhausted by the second World War (though America had come out if it far better than the others; England was still recovering), and couldn't imagine Russia. Russia had lost so many people in the war, far more than the other fighters. He had cracked, bit by bit, and he was threatening the world around them. America feared the results of Russia's imminent actions. Especially where England was concerned.
It seemed that both were thinking the same thing. America had looked across at England, his bright eyes worried. “I'll never let you down,” America promised, and England's shoulders fell, relaxing from the tensed posture he had kept.
“You'd better not,” England mumbled. “I expect you at the games, and you'd better keep up.”
They weren't talking about the Olympics anymore.
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Olympics, yayy! And England is still so proud even feeling unwell, I like that. Aw, America, you're cute
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