Can't help but love you (1/?)
anonymous
March 13 2011, 00:31:00 UTC
I.
Aside from drinking spiked tea, talking to his fairies was England’s favorite way to de-stress after a meeting. The fact that no one else could see them made them wonderful observers. And since it was easier to have little chats with them in between speeches than it was to make himself a proper drink, he spoke to them quite often. He had even developed an uncanny, radar-like ability to locate empty rooms so he could get to talk with his friends in private as fast as possible, for as long as possible. Yes, everyone gave him odd looks when he rushed out of the conference room during breaks, but they gave him odd looks anyway. They probably spoke about him behind his back, the bastards.
It was only fair that he spoke about them too. Really. And it was their fault anyway. He wouldn’t be able to insult them if they stopped being such complete idiots.
The blue fairy had just said something amusing about Russia’s pipe (honestly, the subject never got old, it was just so odd), and England was laughing with the rest of his friends when the green fairy made a statement. He almost missed it, because the green fairy had always been the quietest and he was, after all, laughing like a madman. But he did hear her... or maybe he misheard her, because what she was saying sounded very strange, even for a fairy.
“America had a new face today.”
At first, he didn’t understand. But he wouldn’t admit that, of course. So he tried to come up with a meaning that made sense. Perhaps she was simply referring to America’s style of dress. The damned (former colony) nation’s appearance varied widely. She was almost as bad as France and his inane fashions. Did she expect people to emulate her? Really, now that he thought about it, he could see why the fairy thought America had a new “face”. She was wearing lipstick, a different look for her. He had noticed because it was a darker shade than her natural lip color, an almost cartoonish red that she somehow managed to pull off. While he was glad it hadn’t made her look stupid (he hated it when she looked stupid, because he still felt it reflected on him), he didn’t like it. He thought her lips looked fine when they were pink.
In a purely objective way, of course. How that could be objective, he had no idea, but he could pretend, couldn’t he? He could lie to himself, even if it would fool no one. The truth was that he had desired America for a long time. But he could never have her. They were split by more than an ocean, after all.
He reminded his fairies about lipstick, and then reassured them that it was a perfectly acceptable mistake to make.
Aside from drinking spiked tea, talking to his fairies was England’s favorite way to de-stress after a meeting. The fact that no one else could see them made them wonderful observers. And since it was easier to have little chats with them in between speeches than it was to make himself a proper drink, he spoke to them quite often. He had even developed an uncanny, radar-like ability to locate empty rooms so he could get to talk with his friends in private as fast as possible, for as long as possible. Yes, everyone gave him odd looks when he rushed out of the conference room during breaks, but they gave him odd looks anyway. They probably spoke about him behind his back, the bastards.
It was only fair that he spoke about them too. Really. And it was their fault anyway. He wouldn’t be able to insult them if they stopped being such complete idiots.
The blue fairy had just said something amusing about Russia’s pipe (honestly, the subject never got old, it was just so odd), and England was laughing with the rest of his friends when the green fairy made a statement. He almost missed it, because the green fairy had always been the quietest and he was, after all, laughing like a madman. But he did hear her... or maybe he misheard her, because what she was saying sounded very strange, even for a fairy.
“America had a new face today.”
At first, he didn’t understand. But he wouldn’t admit that, of course. So he tried to come up with a meaning that made sense. Perhaps she was simply referring to America’s style of dress. The damned (former colony) nation’s appearance varied widely. She was almost as bad as France and his inane fashions. Did she expect people to emulate her? Really, now that he thought about it, he could see why the fairy thought America had a new “face”. She was wearing lipstick, a different look for her. He had noticed because it was a darker shade than her natural lip color, an almost cartoonish red that she somehow managed to pull off. While he was glad it hadn’t made her look stupid (he hated it when she looked stupid, because he still felt it reflected on him), he didn’t like it. He thought her lips looked fine when they were pink.
In a purely objective way, of course. How that could be objective, he had no idea, but he could pretend, couldn’t he? He could lie to himself, even if it would fool no one. The truth was that he had desired America for a long time. But he could never have her. They were split by more than an ocean, after all.
He reminded his fairies about lipstick, and then reassured them that it was a perfectly acceptable mistake to make.
The fairies looked at him as if he had gone mad.
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