There and Back Again (3/??)
anonymous
March 30 2009, 04:36:14 UTC
The phone booth landed on Earth again, this time in a forested area. Almost immediately, America felt... He turned and opened the door.
"Where are you going?" England growled. "We can't stay and sightsee."
As soon as he stepped out of the booth, America felt the familiar feeling of relief at returning to his own soil. That wholeness. "England, I think we're home. My home, I mean. It feels kinda different, but I'm sure we're in Virginia."
England sighed. "But what year?"
America shrugged. "Can't tell that, but it feels like a long time ago... Like a scent that gives you an old memory you can't place, you know? I can't describe it exactly."
England nodded. "I know what you mean. No matter, we can't stay here. We have to return him...me...to the correct time and place as soon as possible. There's no telling what will happen if we don't correct this."
"Do we have to go right away? I mean, it's a time machine, right? We have enough time to do anything." Now that he was here, he really didn't want to go. He wanted to see more, he wanted to feel what the land and the people were feeling, to see it all again the way it was...
"I know what you're feeling right now, but we don't belong here." England said firmly. "I went too far last time, and look at the mess we're in now. We have to put things right and get back to our own time. I don't know what's going to happen to me and the rest of history if we don't take him back."
Little England wobbled out onto the forest floor. He looked seasick.
"Poor little guy."
"It's going to be poor me," England muttered.
"I remember this place." America said, turning around. "It isn't populated, it's just wilderness. So we don't have to worry about anyone attacking us here. Can't we just stay for a little while?"
"You can go commune with nature back in your own time."
"Englannnddd..." America pouted.
"Damn it ALL." England looked away angrily. "Fine. I have to take a piss anyway. Don't move from here, and don't let him out of your sight either," he said, pointing to his younger self, who was still wobbling about.
After England walked off into the woods, America sprawled out on the grass. He felt so good. Everything was young and fresh, and quiet. It was like he felt when he was little. His memories of his early childhood had become fuzzy, but he remembered how it felt, he remembered the beauty and serenity of the wilderness and how he would play with his friends the animals because he was too afraid to get near the people... Even though he loved to watch the people, so loved them, but afraid to be with them because he was different, and he didn't know, didn't understand what he was or who he should be... Then England came, and he began to understand...
Oh, yeah, England.
America opened his eyes, not realizing he had closed them.
Little England was sitting in front of him now, watching him with those still suspicious eyes. But at least he hadn't tried to run away. And the knife had been put away, so at least he wasn't being aggressive anymore. But that was probably because they had left his land behind, and he wasn't feeling well. It was rougher on the senses to leave home in the beginning.
There and Back Again (4/??)
anonymous
April 16 2009, 22:12:11 UTC
Turning his face towards the treeline, America could see the sun had moved in the sky. How long had he been daydreaming? Why wasn't England back yet? "I think it's been a few hours," he said quietly to the small England in front of him, who probably couldn't understand a word he was saying. "Where'd you go?"
Little England just blinked those big green eyes and said something quietly in response that America couldn't understand. He looked very stern-faced for a little guy. Well, that was England. Disapproving of him even before he knew him.
"I guess I should look for you. I mean, you're capable and all, but who knows if a bear or a puma or something came and ate you. How would I explain that to the rest of NATO?" America stood up and so did little England. "Um...you said not to move though, so stay here near the phone, okay?" He pointed to the ground.
America almost laughed as Little England gave him the classic "what are you on about, git?" quizzical expression he knew so well.
"Stay." America pointed to the ground again. "Stay is good."
The brows came down, little England looked mildly pissed off.
"What? I'm just doing what you told me to. The bigger you, that is." America held his hand up as he started to walk backwards in the direction where England had gone. "Just stay there like a good boy..."
Luckily, little England seemed to get the point, and didn't follow. He just glared at America until he was out of sight.
He wasn't happy about leaving little England alone, he had been told to keep an eye on him. But he had no idea what might have happened to bigger England. It might be safer to leave the little squirt where he was. Well, that's what he should have done in the first place, right?
There and Back Again (5/??)
anonymous
April 16 2009, 22:14:13 UTC
America set off into the woods, hoping that England hadn't gone too far. The sky was turning orange and dusty rays of golden light were filtering through the trees. Daylight was waning, and America didn't want to be caught out there in the dark by himself. After all, most forests were haunted, and ghosts were most active at night. Just thinking about it gave him goosebumps. So he was relieved when he felt the presence of another nation nearby, and knew it must be England. Following it, he came into a small meadow.
He was right, it was England.
Just sitting there.
What was he doing? He knew England had to feel him there, but he wasn't saying anything. Taking a few more steps into the meadow, America came close enough to get a better look. Curled in England's arms was what appeared to be a tiny gold-headed child. His face was cherubic as he slept peacefully. This was the face that England was fixated on, his eyes shining strangely in the waning light.
For an instant, seeing that look on England's face, America remembered a distant memory, when all he had needed to be happy was to be exactly where that kid was now. Back in a much simpler time... He shook off the thick rush of bittersweet emotion and stepped forward again.
"England, it's getting late. Put me back where you found me and let's go."
England's lips moved for a moment before the sound could come out, and he gave a weak sway of his head. "Just can't... can't leave him all alone in the wilderness like this..."
"I lived out here by myself for I don't know how long." America said. "He'll be fine. C'mon. It's okay."
When England closed his eyes, America thought he would refuse. But finally he seemed to double over as if in pain as he turned away and gently lay little America into the meadowgrass. He lingered for a moment, smoothing locks of hair away from his tiny face. Then he slowly pushed to his feet and turned to face America, though he didn't look at him.
"Sorry. Didn't mean to lose track of time. Just wasn't expecting..."
"Yeah, don't worry about it."
England just nodded absently at the ground, still looking at nothing. Then he seemed to see something that wasn't there. "Where's...me?"
"I told him to stay with the phone booth while I came looking for you."
"You did what!?" England's face jerked up to meet his, his eyes all panicky. "You left him alone, after I explicitly told you not to!?"
"Shush, you'll wake me up. Yeah, well, what was I 'sposed to do, I thought you might be in trouble, you were taking so long."
England rubbed between his eyes and nodded wearily. "Alright, alright, so it's my fault. Let's just get back there before something else happens."
The older nation's eyes darted back to the small figure in the grass as they headed out, but then he trudged on beside America and didn't look back. They were quiet as they headed back, and America wanted to say something to break the silence, but it just didn't seem like a good idea.
There and Back Again (6/??)
anonymous
April 16 2009, 22:17:31 UTC
When they reached the phone booth again, it was still strangely quiet. And empty.
"Hey short fry, where are you?" America called out nervously. There was no sign of little England around the booth.
"Wonderful." England grumbled. He called out in that funny language, but there was still no response. He tried again while America looked inside the booth.
"I guess he took off." America said as he came back out. "I really thought he would stay."
"Fuck." England had his hands pressed to his temples now. "Alright. Stay calm. Now... We'll simply have to keep looking, I doubt he could have gone far."
"It's dark now, we might get lost."
England sighed heavily and marched over and grabbed America's hand. "This time we stay together. Come on, we should be able to feel him out, even in the dark."
So again they set out, this time into a much darker forest. America was glad they had landed in the middle of summer, so it wasn't too cold out. As they went deeper into the velvet blackness of the woods, tiny glowing motes popped to life around them and floated through the air like the fairies England always insisted were real. America smiled to himself, remembering a faraway time when England had mistaken the fireflies for magical creatures the first time America had brought him to see them. He held England's hand a little tighter, as the older nation led them through the woods.
He felt a little guilty about enjoying this extra time. Just a little.
England was still calling out occasionally in that old language, and America called out too, even if the kid couldn't understand him. But as the hours passed and they continued to call out, there was still no response.
"I'm getting tired." America finally complained.
"We can't stop." England said, although he did stop. "I don't want him to gain too much ground. Maybe we should change direction."
America was about to complain again, because his feet were killing him, but then there was a sound. "D'you hear-"
"Shhh!" England raised a hand to silence him.
The sound was faint. A soft, high-pitched voice crooning a wordless melody. It was the song of the wind in the trees, the sky singing him to sleep, and... America was nearly overwhelmed by the rush of old memory, even as England's hand squeezed him tight and he moved again, pulling America along with him.
There and Back Again (7/??)
anonymous
April 16 2009, 22:19:08 UTC
As they approached, the sweet little singing voice became clearer, as did another sound accompanying it. Hauntingly beautiful reedy music was following the lead of the singing. America was sure he knew who was singing, but couldn't remember having heard that music before. The voice and the music pipped as they approached.
"Feel that," England whispered, just as he did feel it. It wasn't a surprise, just a confirmation. As they walked through the brush of trees into a clearing awash with moonlight as well as the flittering sparks of fireflies, America realized they had somehow managed to circle back to the same meadow where they had left his younger self.
And there he was. Awake this time, and sitting with England again. But the smaller one this now. America was beginning to sense a pattern here.
The music died before they appeared, though little America was still crooning his little song happily to the open air. Sitting in front of him, little England had dropped a little flute to his lap and sat straight up as he turned to look straight at them. Within moments, he was on his feet.
The next moment little England had pulled little America to his feet and started running away, pulling the other after him. Really damn fast.
"O-Oi!" England shouted, then called out something, but clearly no one was listening.
"Where the hell are you taking me!" America yelled out as England dragged him along as fast as he could after his pipsqueak version who was dragging along America's own pipsqueak version... This was getting so confusing.
"How the fuck should I know!?" England spat.
It turned out England - the shorter one - was taking him -the shorter him - up a tree.
America wasn't sure how the two climbed up that tree so quickly, but they were high up on a big branch like a couple of treed cats. Little England was practically bristling as he yowled angry things down at them that America couldn't understand, but they didn't sound very nice. Sitting next to little England on the branch, little America had so far appeared nonplussed by the situation. Now he looked like he was nodding off against little England's shoulder since they were safely out of reach.
America was tired, and he let go of England to fall to his knees on the forest floor. Anything to finally get off his feet. Meanwhile, England was busy yelling back up at himself, but it didn't sound like the shouting match was getting anywhere.
"What's he sayin'?" America yawned at the ground as he rubbed at his eyes.
England gave a deep, growling sigh. "The little bastard won't listen to reason. He says he's claiming this territory."
America couldn't help the short, breathy laugh that escaped him. "Figures."
"Where are you going?" England growled. "We can't stay and sightsee."
As soon as he stepped out of the booth, America felt the familiar feeling of relief at returning to his own soil. That wholeness. "England, I think we're home. My home, I mean. It feels kinda different, but I'm sure we're in Virginia."
England sighed. "But what year?"
America shrugged. "Can't tell that, but it feels like a long time ago... Like a scent that gives you an old memory you can't place, you know? I can't describe it exactly."
England nodded. "I know what you mean. No matter, we can't stay here. We have to return him...me...to the correct time and place as soon as possible. There's no telling what will happen if we don't correct this."
"Do we have to go right away? I mean, it's a time machine, right? We have enough time to do anything." Now that he was here, he really didn't want to go. He wanted to see more, he wanted to feel what the land and the people were feeling, to see it all again the way it was...
"I know what you're feeling right now, but we don't belong here." England said firmly. "I went too far last time, and look at the mess we're in now. We have to put things right and get back to our own time. I don't know what's going to happen to me and the rest of history if we don't take him back."
Little England wobbled out onto the forest floor. He looked seasick.
"Poor little guy."
"It's going to be poor me," England muttered.
"I remember this place." America said, turning around. "It isn't populated, it's just wilderness. So we don't have to worry about anyone attacking us here. Can't we just stay for a little while?"
"You can go commune with nature back in your own time."
"Englannnddd..." America pouted.
"Damn it ALL." England looked away angrily. "Fine. I have to take a piss anyway. Don't move from here, and don't let him out of your sight either," he said, pointing to his younger self, who was still wobbling about.
After England walked off into the woods, America sprawled out on the grass. He felt so good. Everything was young and fresh, and quiet. It was like he felt when he was little. His memories of his early childhood had become fuzzy, but he remembered how it felt, he remembered the beauty and serenity of the wilderness and how he would play with his friends the animals because he was too afraid to get near the people... Even though he loved to watch the people, so loved them, but afraid to be with them because he was different, and he didn't know, didn't understand what he was or who he should be... Then England came, and he began to understand...
Oh, yeah, England.
America opened his eyes, not realizing he had closed them.
Little England was sitting in front of him now, watching him with those still suspicious eyes. But at least he hadn't tried to run away. And the knife had been put away, so at least he wasn't being aggressive anymore. But that was probably because they had left his land behind, and he wasn't feeling well. It was rougher on the senses to leave home in the beginning.
Reply
Reply
squeee!
please continue
Reply
/F5's like crazy
Ahhh, this is wonderful~! I can't wait for more!
Reply
Reply
Reply
Little England just blinked those big green eyes and said something quietly in response that America couldn't understand. He looked very stern-faced for a little guy. Well, that was England. Disapproving of him even before he knew him.
"I guess I should look for you. I mean, you're capable and all, but who knows if a bear or a puma or something came and ate you. How would I explain that to the rest of NATO?" America stood up and so did little England. "Um...you said not to move though, so stay here near the phone, okay?" He pointed to the ground.
America almost laughed as Little England gave him the classic "what are you on about, git?" quizzical expression he knew so well.
"Stay." America pointed to the ground again. "Stay is good."
The brows came down, little England looked mildly pissed off.
"What? I'm just doing what you told me to. The bigger you, that is." America held his hand up as he started to walk backwards in the direction where England had gone. "Just stay there like a good boy..."
Luckily, little England seemed to get the point, and didn't follow. He just glared at America until he was out of sight.
He wasn't happy about leaving little England alone, he had been told to keep an eye on him. But he had no idea what might have happened to bigger England. It might be safer to leave the little squirt where he was. Well, that's what he should have done in the first place, right?
Reply
He was right, it was England.
Just sitting there.
What was he doing? He knew England had to feel him there, but he wasn't saying anything. Taking a few more steps into the meadow, America came close enough to get a better look. Curled in England's arms was what appeared to be a tiny gold-headed child. His face was cherubic as he slept peacefully. This was the face that England was fixated on, his eyes shining strangely in the waning light.
For an instant, seeing that look on England's face, America remembered a distant memory, when all he had needed to be happy was to be exactly where that kid was now. Back in a much simpler time... He shook off the thick rush of bittersweet emotion and stepped forward again.
"England, it's getting late. Put me back where you found me and let's go."
England's lips moved for a moment before the sound could come out, and he gave a weak sway of his head. "Just can't... can't leave him all alone in the wilderness like this..."
"I lived out here by myself for I don't know how long." America said. "He'll be fine. C'mon. It's okay."
When England closed his eyes, America thought he would refuse. But finally he seemed to double over as if in pain as he turned away and gently lay little America into the meadowgrass. He lingered for a moment, smoothing locks of hair away from his tiny face. Then he slowly pushed to his feet and turned to face America, though he didn't look at him.
"Sorry. Didn't mean to lose track of time. Just wasn't expecting..."
"Yeah, don't worry about it."
England just nodded absently at the ground, still looking at nothing. Then he seemed to see something that wasn't there. "Where's...me?"
"I told him to stay with the phone booth while I came looking for you."
"You did what!?" England's face jerked up to meet his, his eyes all panicky. "You left him alone, after I explicitly told you not to!?"
"Shush, you'll wake me up. Yeah, well, what was I 'sposed to do, I thought you might be in trouble, you were taking so long."
England rubbed between his eyes and nodded wearily. "Alright, alright, so it's my fault. Let's just get back there before something else happens."
The older nation's eyes darted back to the small figure in the grass as they headed out, but then he trudged on beside America and didn't look back. They were quiet as they headed back, and America wanted to say something to break the silence, but it just didn't seem like a good idea.
Reply
"Hey short fry, where are you?" America called out nervously. There was no sign of little England around the booth.
"Wonderful." England grumbled. He called out in that funny language, but there was still no response. He tried again while America looked inside the booth.
"I guess he took off." America said as he came back out. "I really thought he would stay."
"Fuck." England had his hands pressed to his temples now. "Alright. Stay calm. Now... We'll simply have to keep looking, I doubt he could have gone far."
"It's dark now, we might get lost."
England sighed heavily and marched over and grabbed America's hand. "This time we stay together. Come on, we should be able to feel him out, even in the dark."
So again they set out, this time into a much darker forest. America was glad they had landed in the middle of summer, so it wasn't too cold out. As they went deeper into the velvet blackness of the woods, tiny glowing motes popped to life around them and floated through the air like the fairies England always insisted were real. America smiled to himself, remembering a faraway time when England had mistaken the fireflies for magical creatures the first time America had brought him to see them. He held England's hand a little tighter, as the older nation led them through the woods.
He felt a little guilty about enjoying this extra time. Just a little.
England was still calling out occasionally in that old language, and America called out too, even if the kid couldn't understand him. But as the hours passed and they continued to call out, there was still no response.
"I'm getting tired." America finally complained.
"We can't stop." England said, although he did stop. "I don't want him to gain too much ground. Maybe we should change direction."
America was about to complain again, because his feet were killing him, but then there was a sound. "D'you hear-"
"Shhh!" England raised a hand to silence him.
The sound was faint. A soft, high-pitched voice crooning a wordless melody. It was the song of the wind in the trees, the sky singing him to sleep, and... America was nearly overwhelmed by the rush of old memory, even as England's hand squeezed him tight and he moved again, pulling America along with him.
Reply
As they approached, the sweet little singing voice became clearer, as did another sound accompanying it. Hauntingly beautiful reedy music was following the lead of the singing. America was sure he knew who was singing, but couldn't remember having heard that music before. The voice and the music pipped as they approached.
"Feel that," England whispered, just as he did feel it. It wasn't a surprise, just a confirmation. As they walked through the brush of trees into a clearing awash with moonlight as well as the flittering sparks of fireflies, America realized they had somehow managed to circle back to the same meadow where they had left his younger self.
And there he was. Awake this time, and sitting with England again. But the smaller one this now. America was beginning to sense a pattern here.
The music died before they appeared, though little America was still crooning his little song happily to the open air. Sitting in front of him, little England had dropped a little flute to his lap and sat straight up as he turned to look straight at them. Within moments, he was on his feet.
The next moment little England had pulled little America to his feet and started running away, pulling the other after him. Really damn fast.
"O-Oi!" England shouted, then called out something, but clearly no one was listening.
"Where the hell are you taking me!" America yelled out as England dragged him along as fast as he could after his pipsqueak version who was dragging along America's own pipsqueak version... This was getting so confusing.
"How the fuck should I know!?" England spat.
It turned out England - the shorter one - was taking him -the shorter him - up a tree.
America wasn't sure how the two climbed up that tree so quickly, but they were high up on a big branch like a couple of treed cats. Little England was practically bristling as he yowled angry things down at them that America couldn't understand, but they didn't sound very nice. Sitting next to little England on the branch, little America had so far appeared nonplussed by the situation. Now he looked like he was nodding off against little England's shoulder since they were safely out of reach.
America was tired, and he let go of England to fall to his knees on the forest floor. Anything to finally get off his feet. Meanwhile, England was busy yelling back up at himself, but it didn't sound like the shouting match was getting anywhere.
"What's he sayin'?" America yawned at the ground as he rubbed at his eyes.
England gave a deep, growling sigh. "The little bastard won't listen to reason. He says he's claiming this territory."
America couldn't help the short, breathy laugh that escaped him. "Figures."
Reply
Reply
so cute.
lol, little england and little america!
my new OTP
Reply
I love you! I give you my internets nao! >w<
Reply
Leave a comment