Battleships [2a/10]
anonymous
September 2 2011, 09:31:31 UTC
England traced little circles in his ankles, gazing wistfully after his socks, as he considered crouching precariously (and unbecomingly) over the side of the bed to try and get his shirt, and those lovely, dignified socks of his. Whilst he would have liked to have at least some of his body covered, the chances of America bursting back into the room at any moment, he hoped, were abnormally high. He just wanted something to do really, and maybe - he curled his toes - socks. His socks, however, were wedged between the wall and bed. With an overt grumble, England gave in, twisted round and shoved his arm down the side of the bed, butt invitingly facing the doorway. The doorway he sincerely hoped America would not come running through.
"Hey, I'm back Eng- -ooh."
"For fuck's sake..." England muttered as America's chirpy greeting transformed into an appreciative noise.
"It's a nice view!" America protested, as England struggled to pull his arm out. Meeting resistance, he decided to instead go after the socks again. He fussed and pulled and fussed some more for a few moments, and America waited, eyes locked quite firmly on a single spot, eyes flickering to follow the movement.
"Can you not?" England snapped his head round, green eyes narrowed in embarrassment that he quickly smothered in a few healthy gulps of rage.
America shrugged. "I can." He decided, and to prove it turned round, idly whistling The Entertainer. Of all things.
Typical for the American to come back into the room just when England was in a compromising position (a variation on ass over tits, minus alcohol) and he yanked his arm out, only one sock rescued. He fully expected America to pounce on him after he'd no doubt wriggled his butt, or at least had it far too visible whilst he went after the socks. He was actually disappointed when instead, America called over his shoulder, mid-whistle;
"Hey, can I look now, baby?"
England rolled over, pulling the single sock onto his foot. "If you grab my shirt, then yes."
With a heroic swoop, America gracefully grabbed the shirt and almost skipping flopped onto the bed, more excitable than particularly horny, to England's puzzled but accepting expression. America stretched, bunching the shirt up, and wrinkling it - England gave him a restrained glare, wriggled his toes, mindful of the lone sock on his left foot, and prodded America's shoulder. America grinned, opening one eye.
"Yes, doll?"
"Can I have my shirt, please?"
America tossed the shirt into England's face, playfully pulling England into his lap, as he scooched up the bed to lean back against the pillows, mostly upright, but looking far too comfortable. Ah, there's my randy young lad, England thought, settling on America's lap, and pressing his hips down thoughtfully. America gave a half-groan, and flopped his head back.
"Ahhh..." America purred. "That's th'stuff. Bit lower," America squirmed under him, blatantly trying to rub himself on England. "On my dickpleaseyes?" America opened his eyes, and angled his head to sparkle them hopefully at England.
Battleships [2b/10]
anonymous
September 2 2011, 09:33:05 UTC
"Eager, aren't we?" England leaned down, fingers lacing in his shirt as he kissed America, and America nibbled at the corner of his mouth. England pulled back for a small breath of air, but stayed close, blowing some of the air in America's face teasingly. "Still a rabbit?"
"Ohh yes." America jerked his head - it might have been a nod. "Very needy rabbit, ohyes."
"Darling, your words run together when you're excited," England gave another squirm which translated to a tiny moan from America, who promptly licked a stripe down England's neck, nipping at the curve where shoulder met neck. "I can hardly understand you - pray - what did you say?"
"Engl-aand." America plaintively whined, the whine hummed against England's shoulder, and then morphed into a kiss; continued, scattering down England's shoulders and on his collars. "You'resex-yy."
"Yes," England agreed, twisting to press his nose into America's all-over-the-place-last-night-sure-was-nice hair. "You most certainly are, my love."
America groaned against England's skin, and then suddenly stopped, twisted about, hands moving away from their happy sentry on England's hips and that beautiful point of waist that America couldn't help but want to feel whenever and as frequently as possible. Instead the hands cupped England's face and pulled England away so America could look him in the eye. Leaning their foreheads together, America smiled shyly at England.
"Hm? You're not usually reserved at all," England laughed gently. "What's with that face?"
"Shirt on please." America rubbed his nose against England, flushing, and England could feel America's heart hammer where they pressed against each other. An unusual request, but not too unusual, and certainly not objectional.
"No need to be so nervous about that." England gently kissed America on the forehead, before leaning back and unbundling the shirt.
America merely continued with his shaky, happy smile.
From the recesses of the shirt, a small box tumbled out and dropped to America's chest, and America breathed, voice scarcely there, and even squeaking with nervousness; "Marry me?"
England's mind blanked out, popped, and fizzled, disappeared, ran around the room, spoke a mixed jargon of Frisian, gurgled a few hated french phrases, and finally span down back into his head.
"Yes," England managed, choking it out, and after that it kept coming out. "Yes, oh yes, yes please, yes, yes yes, definitely, absolutely, oh yes, yes-" America cut him off with a firm, but extremely content kiss, even as one hand left England's face to ring an invisible jubilatory bell. America's happy fist pumping was interrupted by England coiling his fingers in America's hair and pulling insistently, tongue prodding and teeth grazing until America opened his mouth with the smallest of chuckles.
And then England, as if remembering he's left the stove on (not that it'd make much difference, America thought meanly, if fairly) stopped his extremely diligent exploration of America's mouth, and pulled away, one hand still cupping America's face and the other snared in his hair. America let his hands drop to England's shoulders, and glanced down between them at the prod and poke of the velvet box. "Erm." England stuttered, and America cocked his head curiously. "C-can I take a raincheck on that, actually?"
"...raincheck?" America's expression had transformed from euphoric, curious and now into shock - and hurt.
"Ah... uh.. yes." England's didn't meet America's eyes, his gaze flitting somewhere on the ceiling and all over the place as he tried to find a handful of explanations. "Uhm. Just for a bit."
Battleships [2c/10]
anonymous
September 2 2011, 09:39:41 UTC
"Let me get this straight." America tried again, swallowed clunkily. "You would like to raincheck - let me get this quite, quite clear in my head - me proposing to - you would like to raincheck me proposing to-" America stopped and wild-eyed, vulnerably stared at England, shaking his shoulders ever so slightly until England looked at him finally. "I love you - you do want me, r-right?" The wide, wide expression conveyed a desperate terror, and England quickly stroked America's face, shushing and soothing him.
"Of course I want you, please don't think," England kissed under America's eyes, the bridge of his nose, space between lips and finally his lips, repeatedly, soft and constant dusting kisses. "Please," Kiss, "Of course," touch, "I always want," brush "You." Repeat. England finally stopped, only after the miserable expression had faded from America's face and he stopped looking so horrible insecure. Stilling, and leaning his head in America's shoulder, England murmured softly into the curve of his neck. "Don't ever think that, Alfred..."
"You still need that raincheck?" America asked, face falling.
"...yes." England sighed, nuzzling America.
"Can you tell me why?" England pulled away and gave America a pained look - not irritation - but actual unhappiness and America gazed at the hollow bottoms of too pretty green eyes. Softly, he pulled England into his arms. "Don't worry about it." He dropped his hands to England's behind. "Now... where were we?"
----
Not writing any nookie here, though it did cross my mind, but we have plot to get to and wriggle up in and I reallyreallysuckatwritingnook so anyways. England stayed pretty soft, but to be honest, the above commentators reminded me that a tsundere has some dere in him too.
Battleships [3a/10]
anonymous
September 10 2011, 00:48:32 UTC
England had managed to catch her sometimes after the Eurozone meeting, getting her attention before she left. Naturally, several other nations had paused by the doorway as England searched for a polite way to bring up this particular loose end. Spain and France, in extra particular seemed to be exceptionally clumsy, repeatedly dropping and picking up their notes and briefcases: "Oh silly me." France murmured again, tone transparent, as he swept down to grab yet another leaf of paper and England scowled, trying to focus on his intended target.
Portugal - said target- had crossed her arms over her chest, short-sleeved but crisp white shirt neat over a business skirt that made her look either a great deal older or great deal younger than she actually was (depending on how you looked at it). What struck England the most was how her bandana was tied loosely on her upper-arm, which seemed odd to England, as it was there rather than in its customary place around her neck. A position currently taken up by a pair of goggles; both items were her remaining archipelagoes, Madeira and the Azores respectively. Whilst Madeira had generally remained somewhere on Portugal since she'd first found the kerchief in her sailing days, the Azores had seen their share of scratches, stolen by Spain at one point, and lent to the Allies during some of their Atlantic Missions in the wars. England even had a very goofy picture of America wearing the Azores, and giving a victory pose taken at some point during World War II.
America probably had no idea who the goggles had belonged to. Which was just as well.
"I'm really sorry to detain you," England smiled apologetically. Portugal adjusted the Azores onto her forehead with a sparky smile back.
"Senhor Inglaterra," Portugal gestured expressively with both hands, tucking them behind her head and laughing lightly. "It's been awhile since we spoke anything except business, so fixe, então? Tudo be-"
"One moment, please?"
England eyed the door where most of Europe was taking its time to leave. Green eyes leveled with France's blue ones, and narrowed warningly. Sniffily, France shrugged and stepped out, followed by the other lurkers with equal reluctance.
"Ah, so where were we, Pip?"
"You were giving me Gibraltar."
"Har har," England huffed, and Portugal gave her most disingenuous smile, coaxing a genuine one from England. "To tell you the truth, I was actually hoping to discuss a sensitive matter with you."
"It's not Cornwall, because I really wish that had been a euphemis-"
"Pip!" England cut over, voice slightly too much of a squeak for Portugal's jibe to be entirely false, and she arched an eyebrow. "Please be serious."
Portugal poked her tongue out, but pulled her chair back out and flopped into it energetically, but England noted the thinness about her wrists; the recession was hitting her hard.
"Now, this is a bit of a sensitive matter, well, I suppose," England paused. "I'm hoping it won't be that much of a sensitive matter, quite frankly I'd plain forgotten about it, and-"
"Shiu, shiu," Portugal yawned, stretching tiredly on the spot, arms stretched in the air, and shirt hitching as she tried to crack her back. Working the kinks out. "To the point, apressar-se?"
"Ah, of course." England reached into his suit jacket, and took out a meticulously folded series of forms, and uncreased them on the table in front of Portugal. "I apologize for being such a bother, and taking up your time, but it won't take too long."
Portugal surveyed the affidavit of service forms, green eyes catching on the emblazoned word DIVORCE that jumped out at it. "You would like a divorce?"
"Yes, though I can assure you I'll manage the paperwork so truly, it won't be too much of an annoyance for you," A winning smile, but Portugal only looked confused. "But I will require your signatures on these for-"
Battleships [3b/10]
anonymous
September 10 2011, 00:52:47 UTC
"Ih? I thought we divorced when Espanha came to live with me." Portugal sounded more puzzled than anything else.
"No, we didn't, actually," England gave a laugh, relaxing. "Almost an oversight really, since you called him your husba-"
"Psiu," Portugal laughed back. "He was so bossy!"
"I suppose that made him a typical husband," England was smiling quite happily; of course he could trust his oldest ally to not hold such a thing over his head. It had been many years ago, and aside from Angola, things had been pleasant on both sides, of course she'd not threaten to tell anyone. In such a good mood, he plucked a pen out of his shirt pocket, and clicking it neatly offered it to Portugal, who took it. Paused, looking at the pen, and then squinting at England.
"Não." She decided, setting it down.
"E-Excuse me?" His voice came out in a startled staccato.
"You're excused." Portugal rejoined, used to England's little outbursts.
"Why ever not?"
"Well," Portugal adjusted the Azores, a grin spreading over her face. "To think we've been apart this whole time, mau!" She gave a dramatically dejected face. "You have been a dreadful husband," Portugal gave a long suffering sigh. "Letting me think we weren't married all these years."
"Filipa," He tried to urge her away from such horrible joking. "Filipa Portia Costa Cavalho Gaun-"
"Kirkland" Portugal correct sunnily. "Filipa Portia Costa Cavalho Kirkland Avis."
He glared, and she resolutely grinned back. "Don't play around; this is important."
"Pst, why?"
"Well, I need a divorce..."
"Who do you wish to marry?"
"Uh." England stopped, unwilling to elaborate, and flushed a furious, almost flamboyant in shade, red. "Nobody, my dear, I just don't feel we should be married if we're not actually together."
"Well of course we're together," Portugal explained patiently, so much so, England wanted to tear his hair out. "We're married, tontinho."
"We're not anymore, and I don't feel comfortab-"
"I don't mind."
He studied her, eyes narrowed, and trying to find the slightest hint of ulterior motive behind sparkly, iberian-sun bright green eyes. Portugal gave nothing, except the slightest of hums as she waited for him to reply. Finally, he decided, Portugal's motives were impossible to discern.
"What do you want?"
"Eh?" She gave a shrug, and pushed back her chair to get to her feet. "Nothing really."
"Well surely, there must be something I can offer you."
Battleships [3c/10]
anonymous
September 10 2011, 00:55:52 UTC
"Dinner would be nice." Portugal clambered up to her feet, her grin still toothily tantalizing on her face. Oh she knew, alright, she knew England wanted to get married to somebody else, and she was going to grind him to the bone and make him jump through hoops for it. The thought of appeasing her - always a capricious nation - soured England's mood further.
"You'll sign the papers then?" England asked, not truly expecting her to say yes, but at least hopeful.
"Não 'brigada~" And with that honesty, Portugal pecked England on the cheek, bouncing up on her toes to reach him - short though he was, she was still shorter - and danced off towards the door. "Seven's fine; you pick me up from my embassy!" England could only stare after her in mute agony, as he considered exactly what his resources were, and exactly what Portugal would demand of him. At almost 100% GDP in debt, it was astounding that he would have considered money to be the easiest thing to give.
_______
Madeira and Azores are the two remaining external territories of Portugal, both in the Atlantic Ocean. The Azores were lent out to Britain in WWI, and America-England in WWII. My version of Portugal wears Madeira as a bandana round her neck, and the Azores as a pair of goggles on her head.
Fixe - Slang for "cool" in Eu. Portuguese
Então? Tudo Bem? - Translates as casual 'hey, how are you?' i n Eu. Portuguese
Gibraltar - A British territory in the iberian peninsular and thus, near Spain and Portugal. I bet England keeps a "Gibraltar" item on his mantlepiece...
Cornwall - Area in England, I leave you to decide what these two are talking about ;D
Shiu - Bz. Portuguese interjective for hush, I think it carries through to Eu, but my portuguese friend has decided to be stupid and not around D<
Apressar-se - Portuguese for hurry up, common to both variations.
Ih - Interjective of conclusion, similar to British 'huh/eh'
Espanha - Spain; briefly allied to Portugal similar to Austo-Hungary (despite Anglo-Portuguese Alliance, which remained strangely intact) but when Spain tried to interfere in Portugal's internal government, Portugal kicked them out on the curb.
Psiu - Relative to shiu, I think it's more archaic though.
Angola - England and Portugal fought over the territory of Angola, and the Portuguese of the time considered it a horrible breach of the Anglo-Portuguese alliance. In retaliation to the humiliating whipping the British Empire did of them, their national anthem sported several verses on killing the British for quite some time. A variation of this anthem is the current national anthem. Alliance was left intact though - they even fight like a married couple.
Não - Denial, negative, portuguese.
Mau - Portuguese interjective of discontentment, or suffering; bit uncommon to eu though from what I gathered.
Kirkland - Portuguese typically have six names, including four surnames (maternal and paternal lines inclusive, y'see, like the Spanish) and whilst Filipa did not have parents, she does have the correct amount of names. She often swaps them at will, and whim, which is a slight reference to the political shifting of Portugal as a country. Truly quite a bit more dynamic than I would expect. Here she claims Arthur's last name, since they're "married" and interestingly enough puts the name second to Avis xD
Pst - Interjective, used to attract attention. I suspect I am using it wrong... =/
Tontinho - Diminutive of a word that literally means "dizzy" and is used to mean a "fool" colloquially.
Não 'brigada - No thank you, feminine reflective form.
GDP - Gross Domestic Product, last I checked UK was on 95% but I'm lazy and don't re-check.
ALSO! I will reply to your comments and pop part four up hopefully by tonight or tomorrow morning; sorry about the delays though. I intend to make it up to you with some reallyfail!art which is apt considering this is reallyfail!writing ono
Things have been a bit hectic right now, so here's some Portugal&ChibBrazil... +Chibimerica for an apology and give me a few days, I apologize /grr.. I had hoped to update by now ;;;
I also apologize for my art - as you might have guessed, I am a writer, not a drawer xD;;
"Hey, I'm back Eng- -ooh."
"For fuck's sake..." England muttered as America's chirpy greeting transformed into an appreciative noise.
"It's a nice view!" America protested, as England struggled to pull his arm out. Meeting resistance, he decided to instead go after the socks again. He fussed and pulled and fussed some more for a few moments, and America waited, eyes locked quite firmly on a single spot, eyes flickering to follow the movement.
"Can you not?" England snapped his head round, green eyes narrowed in embarrassment that he quickly smothered in a few healthy gulps of rage.
America shrugged. "I can." He decided, and to prove it turned round, idly whistling The Entertainer. Of all things.
Typical for the American to come back into the room just when England was in a compromising position (a variation on ass over tits, minus alcohol) and he yanked his arm out, only one sock rescued. He fully expected America to pounce on him after he'd no doubt wriggled his butt, or at least had it far too visible whilst he went after the socks. He was actually disappointed when instead, America called over his shoulder, mid-whistle;
"Hey, can I look now, baby?"
England rolled over, pulling the single sock onto his foot. "If you grab my shirt, then yes."
With a heroic swoop, America gracefully grabbed the shirt and almost skipping flopped onto the bed, more excitable than particularly horny, to England's puzzled but accepting expression. America stretched, bunching the shirt up, and wrinkling it - England gave him a restrained glare, wriggled his toes, mindful of the lone sock on his left foot, and prodded America's shoulder. America grinned, opening one eye.
"Yes, doll?"
"Can I have my shirt, please?"
America tossed the shirt into England's face, playfully pulling England into his lap, as he scooched up the bed to lean back against the pillows, mostly upright, but looking far too comfortable. Ah, there's my randy young lad, England thought, settling on America's lap, and pressing his hips down thoughtfully. America gave a half-groan, and flopped his head back.
"Ahhh..." America purred. "That's th'stuff. Bit lower," America squirmed under him, blatantly trying to rub himself on England. "On my dickpleaseyes?" America opened his eyes, and angled his head to sparkle them hopefully at England.
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"Ohh yes." America jerked his head - it might have been a nod. "Very needy rabbit, ohyes."
"Darling, your words run together when you're excited," England gave another squirm which translated to a tiny moan from America, who promptly licked a stripe down England's neck, nipping at the curve where shoulder met neck. "I can hardly understand you - pray - what did you say?"
"Engl-aand." America plaintively whined, the whine hummed against England's shoulder, and then morphed into a kiss; continued, scattering down England's shoulders and on his collars. "You'resex-yy."
"Yes," England agreed, twisting to press his nose into America's all-over-the-place-last-night-sure-was-nice hair. "You most certainly are, my love."
America groaned against England's skin, and then suddenly stopped, twisted about, hands moving away from their happy sentry on England's hips and that beautiful point of waist that America couldn't help but want to feel whenever and as frequently as possible. Instead the hands cupped England's face and pulled England away so America could look him in the eye. Leaning their foreheads together, America smiled shyly at England.
"Hm? You're not usually reserved at all," England laughed gently. "What's with that face?"
"Shirt on please." America rubbed his nose against England, flushing, and England could feel America's heart hammer where they pressed against each other. An unusual request, but not too unusual, and certainly not objectional.
"No need to be so nervous about that." England gently kissed America on the forehead, before leaning back and unbundling the shirt.
America merely continued with his shaky, happy smile.
From the recesses of the shirt, a small box tumbled out and dropped to America's chest, and America breathed, voice scarcely there, and even squeaking with nervousness; "Marry me?"
England's mind blanked out, popped, and fizzled, disappeared, ran around the room, spoke a mixed jargon of Frisian, gurgled a few hated french phrases, and finally span down back into his head.
"Yes," England managed, choking it out, and after that it kept coming out. "Yes, oh yes, yes please, yes, yes yes, definitely, absolutely, oh yes, yes-" America cut him off with a firm, but extremely content kiss, even as one hand left England's face to ring an invisible jubilatory bell. America's happy fist pumping was interrupted by England coiling his fingers in America's hair and pulling insistently, tongue prodding and teeth grazing until America opened his mouth with the smallest of chuckles.
And then England, as if remembering he's left the stove on (not that it'd make much difference, America thought meanly, if fairly) stopped his extremely diligent exploration of America's mouth, and pulled away, one hand still cupping America's face and the other snared in his hair. America let his hands drop to England's shoulders, and glanced down between them at the prod and poke of the velvet box. "Erm." England stuttered, and America cocked his head curiously. "C-can I take a raincheck on that, actually?"
"...raincheck?" America's expression had transformed from euphoric, curious and now into shock - and hurt.
"Ah... uh.. yes." England's didn't meet America's eyes, his gaze flitting somewhere on the ceiling and all over the place as he tried to find a handful of explanations. "Uhm. Just for a bit."
"A raincheck," America repeated. "On a proposal?"
"Erm, well if it's no problem th-"
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"Of course I want you, please don't think," England kissed under America's eyes, the bridge of his nose, space between lips and finally his lips, repeatedly, soft and constant dusting kisses. "Please," Kiss, "Of course," touch, "I always want," brush "You." Repeat. England finally stopped, only after the miserable expression had faded from America's face and he stopped looking so horrible insecure. Stilling, and leaning his head in America's shoulder, England murmured softly into the curve of his neck. "Don't ever think that, Alfred..."
"You still need that raincheck?" America asked, face falling.
"...yes." England sighed, nuzzling America.
"Can you tell me why?" England pulled away and gave America a pained look - not irritation - but actual unhappiness and America gazed at the hollow bottoms of too pretty green eyes. Softly, he pulled England into his arms. "Don't worry about it." He dropped his hands to England's behind. "Now... where were we?"
----
Not writing any nookie here, though it did cross my mind, but we have plot to get to and wriggle up in and I reallyreallysuckatwritingnook so anyways. England stayed pretty soft, but to be honest, the above commentators reminded me that a tsundere has some dere in him too.
And he wanted to be written that way, so...
Er yes. We meet Port again in the next bit =]
Ignore accidental!deanon -innocent whistle- doobydoo doo doo~
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I love the build up here, the expectation! Ah I really can't wait for the third part! AND theres TEN?? *sends some more love*
So happy I stayed up to check the meme before bed!
Your England is good btw! Part 2 - definitely not UKe there!
(Sorry if this seems a bit scatter!brained! Its ridiculously late/early here,)
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I am loving this like you would not believe.
Who knew I could invest such emotion into a fic. XD
But it thoroughly deserves it! :]
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Can't wait to meet Port again! <3
(Anon, you mentioned another Port + USUK fill you're doing... is that being continued? I loved that one too!)
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<3
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Definitely stalking this, authoranon.
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WHY CAN I NOT SPELL.
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Portugal - said target- had crossed her arms over her chest, short-sleeved but crisp white shirt neat over a business skirt that made her look either a great deal older or great deal younger than she actually was (depending on how you looked at it). What struck England the most was how her bandana was tied loosely on her upper-arm, which seemed odd to England, as it was there rather than in its customary place around her neck. A position currently taken up by a pair of goggles; both items were her remaining archipelagoes, Madeira and the Azores respectively. Whilst Madeira had generally remained somewhere on Portugal since she'd first found the kerchief in her sailing days, the Azores had seen their share of scratches, stolen by Spain at one point, and lent to the Allies during some of their Atlantic Missions in the wars. England even had a very goofy picture of America wearing the Azores, and giving a victory pose taken at some point during World War II.
America probably had no idea who the goggles had belonged to. Which was just as well.
"I'm really sorry to detain you," England smiled apologetically. Portugal adjusted the Azores onto her forehead with a sparky smile back.
"Senhor Inglaterra," Portugal gestured expressively with both hands, tucking them behind her head and laughing lightly. "It's been awhile since we spoke anything except business, so fixe, então? Tudo be-"
"One moment, please?"
England eyed the door where most of Europe was taking its time to leave. Green eyes leveled with France's blue ones, and narrowed warningly. Sniffily, France shrugged and stepped out, followed by the other lurkers with equal reluctance.
"Ah, so where were we, Pip?"
"You were giving me Gibraltar."
"Har har," England huffed, and Portugal gave her most disingenuous smile, coaxing a genuine one from England. "To tell you the truth, I was actually hoping to discuss a sensitive matter with you."
"It's not Cornwall, because I really wish that had been a euphemis-"
"Pip!" England cut over, voice slightly too much of a squeak for Portugal's jibe to be entirely false, and she arched an eyebrow. "Please be serious."
Portugal poked her tongue out, but pulled her chair back out and flopped into it energetically, but England noted the thinness about her wrists; the recession was hitting her hard.
"Now, this is a bit of a sensitive matter, well, I suppose," England paused. "I'm hoping it won't be that much of a sensitive matter, quite frankly I'd plain forgotten about it, and-"
"Shiu, shiu," Portugal yawned, stretching tiredly on the spot, arms stretched in the air, and shirt hitching as she tried to crack her back. Working the kinks out. "To the point, apressar-se?"
"Ah, of course." England reached into his suit jacket, and took out a meticulously folded series of forms, and uncreased them on the table in front of Portugal. "I apologize for being such a bother, and taking up your time, but it won't take too long."
Portugal surveyed the affidavit of service forms, green eyes catching on the emblazoned word DIVORCE that jumped out at it. "You would like a divorce?"
"Yes, though I can assure you I'll manage the paperwork so truly, it won't be too much of an annoyance for you," A winning smile, but Portugal only looked confused. "But I will require your signatures on these for-"
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"No, we didn't, actually," England gave a laugh, relaxing. "Almost an oversight really, since you called him your husba-"
"Psiu," Portugal laughed back. "He was so bossy!"
"I suppose that made him a typical husband," England was smiling quite happily; of course he could trust his oldest ally to not hold such a thing over his head. It had been many years ago, and aside from Angola, things had been pleasant on both sides, of course she'd not threaten to tell anyone. In such a good mood, he plucked a pen out of his shirt pocket, and clicking it neatly offered it to Portugal, who took it. Paused, looking at the pen, and then squinting at England.
"Não." She decided, setting it down.
"E-Excuse me?" His voice came out in a startled staccato.
"You're excused." Portugal rejoined, used to England's little outbursts.
"Why ever not?"
"Well," Portugal adjusted the Azores, a grin spreading over her face. "To think we've been apart this whole time, mau!" She gave a dramatically dejected face. "You have been a dreadful husband," Portugal gave a long suffering sigh. "Letting me think we weren't married all these years."
"Filipa," He tried to urge her away from such horrible joking. "Filipa Portia Costa Cavalho Gaun-"
"Kirkland" Portugal correct sunnily. "Filipa Portia Costa Cavalho Kirkland Avis."
He glared, and she resolutely grinned back. "Don't play around; this is important."
"Pst, why?"
"Well, I need a divorce..."
"Who do you wish to marry?"
"Uh." England stopped, unwilling to elaborate, and flushed a furious, almost flamboyant in shade, red. "Nobody, my dear, I just don't feel we should be married if we're not actually together."
"Well of course we're together," Portugal explained patiently, so much so, England wanted to tear his hair out. "We're married, tontinho."
"We're not anymore, and I don't feel comfortab-"
"I don't mind."
He studied her, eyes narrowed, and trying to find the slightest hint of ulterior motive behind sparkly, iberian-sun bright green eyes. Portugal gave nothing, except the slightest of hums as she waited for him to reply. Finally, he decided, Portugal's motives were impossible to discern.
"What do you want?"
"Eh?" She gave a shrug, and pushed back her chair to get to her feet. "Nothing really."
"Well surely, there must be something I can offer you."
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"You'll sign the papers then?" England asked, not truly expecting her to say yes, but at least hopeful.
"Não 'brigada~" And with that honesty, Portugal pecked England on the cheek, bouncing up on her toes to reach him - short though he was, she was still shorter - and danced off towards the door. "Seven's fine; you pick me up from my embassy!" England could only stare after her in mute agony, as he considered exactly what his resources were, and exactly what Portugal would demand of him. At almost 100% GDP in debt, it was astounding that he would have considered money to be the easiest thing to give.
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Madeira and Azores are the two remaining external territories of Portugal, both in the Atlantic Ocean. The Azores were lent out to Britain in WWI, and America-England in WWII. My version of Portugal wears Madeira as a bandana round her neck, and the Azores as a pair of goggles on her head.
Fixe - Slang for "cool" in Eu. Portuguese
Então? Tudo Bem? - Translates as casual 'hey, how are you?' i n Eu. Portuguese
Gibraltar - A British territory in the iberian peninsular and thus, near Spain and Portugal. I bet England keeps a "Gibraltar" item on his mantlepiece...
Cornwall - Area in England, I leave you to decide what these two are talking about ;D
Shiu - Bz. Portuguese interjective for hush, I think it carries through to Eu, but my portuguese friend has decided to be stupid and not around D<
Apressar-se - Portuguese for hurry up, common to both variations.
Ih - Interjective of conclusion, similar to British 'huh/eh'
Espanha - Spain; briefly allied to Portugal similar to Austo-Hungary (despite Anglo-Portuguese Alliance, which remained strangely intact) but when Spain tried to interfere in Portugal's internal government, Portugal kicked them out on the curb.
Psiu - Relative to shiu, I think it's more archaic though.
Angola - England and Portugal fought over the territory of Angola, and the Portuguese of the time considered it a horrible breach of the Anglo-Portuguese alliance. In retaliation to the humiliating whipping the British Empire did of them, their national anthem sported several verses on killing the British for quite some time. A variation of this anthem is the current national anthem. Alliance was left intact though - they even fight like a married couple.
Não - Denial, negative, portuguese.
Mau - Portuguese interjective of discontentment, or suffering; bit uncommon to eu though from what I gathered.
Kirkland - Portuguese typically have six names, including four surnames (maternal and paternal lines inclusive, y'see, like the Spanish) and whilst Filipa did not have parents, she does have the correct amount of names. She often swaps them at will, and whim, which is a slight reference to the political shifting of Portugal as a country. Truly quite a bit more dynamic than I would expect. Here she claims Arthur's last name, since they're "married" and interestingly enough puts the name second to Avis xD
Pst - Interjective, used to attract attention. I suspect I am using it wrong... =/
Tontinho - Diminutive of a word that literally means "dizzy" and is used to mean a "fool" colloquially.
Não 'brigada - No thank you, feminine reflective form.
GDP - Gross Domestic Product, last I checked UK was on 95% but I'm lazy and don't re-check.
ALSO! I will reply to your comments and pop part four up hopefully by tonight or tomorrow morning; sorry about the delays though. I intend to make it up to you with some reallyfail!art which is apt considering this is reallyfail!writing ono
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This is an exciting read! But wow, this relationship is... complicated.
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Brill work so far a!anon <3
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AAAAAAAA
Things have been a bit hectic right now, so here's some Portugal&ChibBrazil... +Chibimerica for an apology and give me a few days, I apologize /grr.. I had hoped to update by now ;;;
I also apologize for my art - as you might have guessed, I am a writer, not a drawer xD;;
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