Misplaced Soil | USUK | 8/?
anonymous
April 29 2010, 19:21:43 UTC
America’s eyes flickered to him. Their gazes locked for a moment and it seemed that America saw what England wasn’t saying.
“Yeah?” he asked, and almost sounded defensive.
England shrugged one shoulder, stepping further into the bathroom to arrange the toothbrushes and toothpaste on the sink side, eyes down and refusing to look at America. He couldn’t understand why he was hesitating-it was his own decisions, after all. But if he was honest with himself he’d know why he was being evasive about this topic at all.
“My administration is interesting in discovering a way to decrease our presence, if at all possible.”
He waited for the reaction-and it was almost instantaneous.
America’s razor dropped down into the sink and the boy widened his eyes, looking betrayed-and how England hated to see that look on the boy’s face, more than anything. “Wait, wait, wait-no! You can’t do that, England!”
“I beg your pardon, but I don’t think you can tell me what it is that I can and cannot do.” England didn’t lift his eyes, finished arranging the things on the side of the sink and went to arrange them again, making sure everything was perfectly lined up. All the while, he avoided America’s eyes, knowing that America was staring at him desperately.
“You’re probably like one of the only big presences I’ve got let over there-!” America protested.
“I know, that’s just it, America,” England said calmly, trying to pacify the boy before he went ballistic or at the very least superior on him.
“But you can’t-”
“I can,” England said, “and if my administration has any say in it, I will.”
“But I mean… I don’t really have anyone else there, you know that! I mean, I’ve got a couple of Canada and Germany’s guys, but it’s really you who-look, you can’t just pull out now. You-I… I need you, England.”
England frowned as he adjusted his tie, straightening his hair in the mirror and peering over the shoulder in his reflection to capture America’s eyes. He sighed and had to look away.
“I’m sorry, America. But I have to do what’s right for my country and I-”
America pushed his hand against the doorframe, using his bulk to keep England inside the bathroom, blocking England’s getaway. England’s eyebrows furrowed, but America looked rather annoyed now, as opposed to betrayed. Perhaps still a little betrayed. But England held firm, and tried to step around the arm. America blocked him.
“Yeah?” he asked, and almost sounded defensive.
England shrugged one shoulder, stepping further into the bathroom to arrange the toothbrushes and toothpaste on the sink side, eyes down and refusing to look at America. He couldn’t understand why he was hesitating-it was his own decisions, after all. But if he was honest with himself he’d know why he was being evasive about this topic at all.
“My administration is interesting in discovering a way to decrease our presence, if at all possible.”
He waited for the reaction-and it was almost instantaneous.
America’s razor dropped down into the sink and the boy widened his eyes, looking betrayed-and how England hated to see that look on the boy’s face, more than anything. “Wait, wait, wait-no! You can’t do that, England!”
“I beg your pardon, but I don’t think you can tell me what it is that I can and cannot do.” England didn’t lift his eyes, finished arranging the things on the side of the sink and went to arrange them again, making sure everything was perfectly lined up. All the while, he avoided America’s eyes, knowing that America was staring at him desperately.
“You’re probably like one of the only big presences I’ve got let over there-!” America protested.
“I know, that’s just it, America,” England said calmly, trying to pacify the boy before he went ballistic or at the very least superior on him.
“But you can’t-”
“I can,” England said, “and if my administration has any say in it, I will.”
“But I mean… I don’t really have anyone else there, you know that! I mean, I’ve got a couple of Canada and Germany’s guys, but it’s really you who-look, you can’t just pull out now. You-I… I need you, England.”
England frowned as he adjusted his tie, straightening his hair in the mirror and peering over the shoulder in his reflection to capture America’s eyes. He sighed and had to look away.
“I’m sorry, America. But I have to do what’s right for my country and I-”
America pushed his hand against the doorframe, using his bulk to keep England inside the bathroom, blocking England’s getaway. England’s eyebrows furrowed, but America looked rather annoyed now, as opposed to betrayed. Perhaps still a little betrayed. But England held firm, and tried to step around the arm. America blocked him.
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