Fill 2/?
anonymous
September 19 2011, 00:08:59 UTC
The next time they see each other is a week later in Northern Ireland’s house, because America is trying to build up trading connections and England is visiting his brother.
“Hello, love,” England says with a smile, taking the seat next to America and attempting to take his hand.
America recoils; England looks horrified and Northern Ireland looks amused.
“You’re not still angry at me, are you, love?” England asks, arms falling uselessly by his side.
“Fucking stop with that!” America demands. “When I tell you to stop calling me that, I mean it!”
“I’m sorry,” England says, weakly, but America has already stormed away in an overly theatrical manner.
Northern Ireland leans back in his seat and sighs. “Thanks, Arthur. I was so close to getting on with him until you showed up...”Pulling out the chair next to America as the other nations assemble around the Conference Table, England declares, “We need to talk.”
America looks away. “We really don’t.”
“Have... have we broken up?” England questions, running a hand through his hair.
“I don’t know. Are you willing to apologise?”
“I did apologise...”
“No, not for that,” America says, finally looking England in the eye. “For everything else. I just can’t deal with it all. Last time was the final straw.”
England doesn’t speak, waiting for America to elaborate.
Only too glad to oblige, America continues, “You criticize everything I do, you spread rumours about me to France and you’re always so cold to me in public. I know you’re super-sweet when we get home but whenever there are other people around that don’t know about us you’re just so... you’re so cruel, England.”
Glowering, England folds his arms. “You’re hardly perfect yourself, you know. There are plenty of things you do that annoy me but I never bring them up.”
“Oh, yeah?” America says, stunned. “You talk about everything I do and then get pissed whenever I point out your flaws! How the fuck is that ‘never bringing them up’?”
“Don’t be like this,” England urges, still clearly annoyed. “We can discuss this later.”
America’s voice lowers to half a whisper and half a hiss. “No, let’s do it now. Let’s talk about it in public, England. But wait, you’re too embarrassed about associating yourself with me to admit to everyone you’re in love with me.”
“That’s not true at all. My brothers know...”
“Big fucking whoop.”
And then America’s ears close off to anything England says after that. Eventually, when England works out that he’s being ignored, he walks away and sits with Norway instead.
“Hello, love,” England says with a smile, taking the seat next to America and attempting to take his hand.
America recoils; England looks horrified and Northern Ireland looks amused.
“You’re not still angry at me, are you, love?” England asks, arms falling uselessly by his side.
“Fucking stop with that!” America demands. “When I tell you to stop calling me that, I mean it!”
“I’m sorry,” England says, weakly, but America has already stormed away in an overly theatrical manner.
Northern Ireland leans back in his seat and sighs. “Thanks, Arthur. I was so close to getting on with him until you showed up...”Pulling out the chair next to America as the other nations assemble around the Conference Table, England declares, “We need to talk.”
America looks away. “We really don’t.”
“Have... have we broken up?” England questions, running a hand through his hair.
“I don’t know. Are you willing to apologise?”
“I did apologise...”
“No, not for that,” America says, finally looking England in the eye. “For everything else. I just can’t deal with it all. Last time was the final straw.”
England doesn’t speak, waiting for America to elaborate.
Only too glad to oblige, America continues, “You criticize everything I do, you spread rumours about me to France and you’re always so cold to me in public. I know you’re super-sweet when we get home but whenever there are other people around that don’t know about us you’re just so... you’re so cruel, England.”
Glowering, England folds his arms. “You’re hardly perfect yourself, you know. There are plenty of things you do that annoy me but I never bring them up.”
“Oh, yeah?” America says, stunned. “You talk about everything I do and then get pissed whenever I point out your flaws! How the fuck is that ‘never bringing them up’?”
“Don’t be like this,” England urges, still clearly annoyed. “We can discuss this later.”
America’s voice lowers to half a whisper and half a hiss. “No, let’s do it now. Let’s talk about it in public, England. But wait, you’re too embarrassed about associating yourself with me to admit to everyone you’re in love with me.”
“That’s not true at all. My brothers know...”
“Big fucking whoop.”
And then America’s ears close off to anything England says after that. Eventually, when England works out that he’s being ignored, he walks away and sits with Norway instead.
Reply
Leave a comment