(no subject)
Title: County Convergence.
Fandom: Hetalia.
Genre: Family.
Wordcount: 1670
Pairing(s): Alfred/Arthur-ish.
Rating/Warnings: Minor language and some brotherly violence, but suitable for most ages.
Summary: inspired by all those fics floating about showcasing Alfred's states, here's their counterparts, the counties of England (sorry to any Scots or Welsh readers, but I couldn't find voices for the other UK counties).
Alfred could hear the commotion as he walked up the front path to Arthur's house, which was kinda weird as Alfred was outside and he knew Prussia was on a walking holiday with Germany in the Tyrol region. Nonetheless, despite the fact that the din sounded very violent and not a bit vindictive (more like a lot vindictive), America was not the sort of nation to be put off visiting an old pal by the threat of violence. England threatened him all the time, after all!
He was about to ring the doorbell for the third time when Arthur answered, his head turned away as he yelled at someone to 'stop that racket before I stop it for you and you won't bloody like that!'
When he turned to actually see who it was at the door his eyes widened comically. 'You don't want to come in here.' He told the younger nation with certainty, his voice oddly hollow. Before he could carry on persuading America to leave or America could blithely ignore the advice a rather young man with enormous sideburns as well as the trademark Kirkland eyebrows appeared at England's elbow.
'Come quick! Lancashire and Yorkshire be foightin' agin!'
'Oh for the love of....' Arthur growled and spun on his heel, hurrying back into the house. Alfred took the opportunity to follow him in and shut the door behind him. He arrived in the kitchen to find Arthur between two large, yelling men. England shoved the arguing pair slightly apart and they both looked down, noticing that their nation was seriously cheesed off. 'Sit down, shut up and stop fighting before I confiscate your cricket bats!' England shouted at them, stamping his foot for emphasis. The pair's legs folded automatically, plopping them onto the linoleum floor. Alfred felt his own legs buckle as if to sit thanks to the tone of voice, but remembered he was independant at the last moment and stayed up.
Alfred frowned as he heard something that sounded like 'Pilgrims Grace', which made no sense, the Pilgrims were the ones who went to America!
'Northumberland, why didn't you do something about these two? Hell, why on Earth did you let them sit in the same room? You know what they're like!' He demanded of a skinny woman in jeans and a black and white striped jersey.
'I wus lookin' after the bairn, pet.' She replied, nodding down to a girl of perhaps eight or nine years whose shirt nonetheless reminded Alfred of Arthur's army jacket.
'Ah, good point.' England replied, nodding to the two ladies before turning back to the pair. 'What am I going to do with you lads?' he sighed rhetorically. Whatever he'd planned to say next was interrupted by his most recent house-guest.
'What the Hell's goin' on Artie? Who're all these guys in your house?' Alfred's wail of confusion was almost pitiful. Almost, because Alfred is a hero and is thus never flustered, even by fighting Brits who talk funny.
England sighed again and pinched the bridge of his nose with a tired frown. 'The counties come to visit for a long weekend every so often.'
Alfred watched Arthur sink into one of the kitchen chairs tiredly and felt oddly guilty, before he noticed that everyone else in the room seemed suddenly subdued too. The lady with the incomprehensible accent fussed somewhat and her little shadow helped, pottering around fetching crockery as the older female made a nice pot of tea.
'How many of you guys are there, anyway?' America asked idly.
'I lost count after thirty.' Arthur's voice was muffled as he sprawled forward onto the table to rest his head in his arms in an uncharacteristically slovenly posture.
'It depends how you count, man.' Replied a guy wearing designer jeans and a hot-pink turban with matching shirt that Poland would have totally wet himself over. 'I brought some well-wicked pork pies Dad, try one!'
'I'd rather you'd brought some of that sloe gin instead, Leicestershire. Oh America, do stop staring. Your states are almost always hanging around getting on my wick when you abduct me and force me to stay at your place, did you honestly think that other countries' districts just went without representation?'
To be honest it had never occurred to Alfred to think about it, if pushed, he'd have just figured that his states got represented 'cause he was the United States of America and his place was huge. England was a poky little place and didn't need more representation than Arthur, surely?
'Do you want to come outside and say that?' A high-pitched, very well-spoken little voice asked of his unfortunately externalised internal monologue.
'Rutland, you're turning into a little hooligan!' England exclaimed. He hurriedly stood and ushered her out of the room, mentioning something about Cornwall, Suffolk, Surrey, Wiltshire and Berkshire playing outside and perhaps wanting to join them.
Alfred and Arthur were left alone in the kitchen as Arthur habitually began to clean up the mess left by forty-odd counties bringing local delicacies, having a brew and promptly abandoning both to start a fight with their old traditional enemies.
Alfred stacked dishes while Arthur wrapped up leftovers and put them away in his fridge and wiped down the kitchen surfaces. Then they settled back down with a cuppa and a plate of biscuits. 'Lindsey brought gingerbread.' Arthur offered the plate with the non-explaining explanation. Sure the cookies were nice, but Alfred was getting pretty bored and he said as much, causing yet another weary sigh from his older brother.
'In that case you can go outside and play a game with your English cousins then. I'm too tired to deal with you today.'
Deal with? He, the super special awesome America was not dealt with! But he didn't get to object to that or try and wind Iggy up until his eyebrows bristled cutely. Instead a firm hand landed on his shoulder. 'Awright treacle? You comin' aahrt t'play wiv us? Giles 'as a pony on you losin' like a big jessie.'
Arthur laughed at the strange young man. 'Don't cause an international incident for me to mop up, lad.' He said fondly.
'Blimey guv, do ya take me fer a mug? We'll be good.' He grinned at that, displaying a gold tooth gleaming in his maw. 'Nah, I'll be gentle, after all, Essex finks 'e's well fit.'
That seemed to be news to Arthur who groaned again and reflexively grasped for his cuppa. Alfred was a bit worried, but followed the strange man outside, where he was presented with a weird-looking chunk of wood and stood in front of a set of sticks someone had poked into the lawn. Alfred was glad someone else had done that, Arthur got real pissy when people traipsed all over his lawn.
'Are you alright, Art?' Lindsey asked, surprisingly gently considering she was a rather stocky woman with ruddy rural cheeks wearing jeans and a German army surplus jacket. 'I know all of us being here at once gets a bit hectic and I can't imagine yon brat makes it any easier.'
Rutland popped up from behind her big sister. 'I should really enjoy lamping him one if you'd like.' She offered innocently.
'You'd like to dob 'im one whether Arthur likes it or not, you little savage! That's my girl!' Lindsey laughed, picking her little sister up and swinging her about cheerfully.
Arthur shook his head at the warlike pair, chuckling at their antics. The moment was promptly ruined by the object of the girls' threats legging it past them, closely followed by Yorkshire, Lancashire and Somerset, who were shouting threats in accents so thick they'd broadened out into the old dialects they'd once had. They weren't carrying any weapons much to Arthur's relief. Northumbria, Staffordshire and Derbyshire burst in after them yelling.
'Whut?'
Lindsey grinned at the sound of a loud, suddenly silenced yelp. 'And there's Essex adding her contribution.' Rutland looked confused.
'I'll tell you when you're older, dearheart.' Arthur hurriedly cut in before Lincolnshire could actually explain. 'And I think that may be my cue to go and save the idiot. Would you two see if you can get any sense out of the others?'
Rutland laughed cynically, but followed her sister out where they homed in on Warwickshire, who looked bemused, as usual.
'That was odd.'
'Oh?' Rutland asked, as Lindsey has been distracted by Cornwall and Dorset boasting about some of the waves they'd caught last month when they're gone surfing together in Torbay. The Ridings twins eavesdropped for a moment before returning to their lacemaking. They were in the process of creating a new design and were making the most of their time together for it.
Fortunately Rutland had a slightly longer attention span than her sister at that moment and caught the explanation. 'Ah. The dvds thing.' She nodded understandingly and looked thoughtful for a moment. 'Do you think they'd hold him still for me to put the boot in too?'
She legged it back to the house to find an answer to her question, but was disappointed to find Arthur, hands on his hips and looking very disapprovingly at Yorkshire, Lancashire and Somerset, while Northumbria was holding onto a very disappointed Essex, whose lipstick was very smudged. The fearsome aura an angry Arthur was projecting was slightly dampened by the fact that America was clinging to him and the US appeared to have the same taste in lipstick that Essex did.
Eventually though the counties filtered out, leaving Arthur slumped in the wreckage of his house, mourning the loss of his good scotch tucked under the arms of Staffordshire and Herefordshire as they'd wandered out singing rude songs about ladies fair. A rueful smile shaped his lips as he listened to the quiet which was disturbed only by Alfred clattering around in the kitchen trying to find the coca-cola while whingeing about his cousins. The jealousy wasn't hard to detect in his tone and Arthur chuckled indulgently at the antics of all his darling children, barmy though they were. He started riffling through his dvds, a movie night for just the two of them would be nice.
Fandom: Hetalia.
Genre: Family.
Wordcount: 1670
Pairing(s): Alfred/Arthur-ish.
Rating/Warnings: Minor language and some brotherly violence, but suitable for most ages.
Summary: inspired by all those fics floating about showcasing Alfred's states, here's their counterparts, the counties of England (sorry to any Scots or Welsh readers, but I couldn't find voices for the other UK counties).
Alfred could hear the commotion as he walked up the front path to Arthur's house, which was kinda weird as Alfred was outside and he knew Prussia was on a walking holiday with Germany in the Tyrol region. Nonetheless, despite the fact that the din sounded very violent and not a bit vindictive (more like a lot vindictive), America was not the sort of nation to be put off visiting an old pal by the threat of violence. England threatened him all the time, after all!
He was about to ring the doorbell for the third time when Arthur answered, his head turned away as he yelled at someone to 'stop that racket before I stop it for you and you won't bloody like that!'
When he turned to actually see who it was at the door his eyes widened comically. 'You don't want to come in here.' He told the younger nation with certainty, his voice oddly hollow. Before he could carry on persuading America to leave or America could blithely ignore the advice a rather young man with enormous sideburns as well as the trademark Kirkland eyebrows appeared at England's elbow.
'Come quick! Lancashire and Yorkshire be foightin' agin!'
'Oh for the love of....' Arthur growled and spun on his heel, hurrying back into the house. Alfred took the opportunity to follow him in and shut the door behind him. He arrived in the kitchen to find Arthur between two large, yelling men. England shoved the arguing pair slightly apart and they both looked down, noticing that their nation was seriously cheesed off. 'Sit down, shut up and stop fighting before I confiscate your cricket bats!' England shouted at them, stamping his foot for emphasis. The pair's legs folded automatically, plopping them onto the linoleum floor. Alfred felt his own legs buckle as if to sit thanks to the tone of voice, but remembered he was independant at the last moment and stayed up.
Alfred frowned as he heard something that sounded like 'Pilgrims Grace', which made no sense, the Pilgrims were the ones who went to America!
'Northumberland, why didn't you do something about these two? Hell, why on Earth did you let them sit in the same room? You know what they're like!' He demanded of a skinny woman in jeans and a black and white striped jersey.
'I wus lookin' after the bairn, pet.' She replied, nodding down to a girl of perhaps eight or nine years whose shirt nonetheless reminded Alfred of Arthur's army jacket.
'Ah, good point.' England replied, nodding to the two ladies before turning back to the pair. 'What am I going to do with you lads?' he sighed rhetorically. Whatever he'd planned to say next was interrupted by his most recent house-guest.
'What the Hell's goin' on Artie? Who're all these guys in your house?' Alfred's wail of confusion was almost pitiful. Almost, because Alfred is a hero and is thus never flustered, even by fighting Brits who talk funny.
England sighed again and pinched the bridge of his nose with a tired frown. 'The counties come to visit for a long weekend every so often.'
Alfred watched Arthur sink into one of the kitchen chairs tiredly and felt oddly guilty, before he noticed that everyone else in the room seemed suddenly subdued too. The lady with the incomprehensible accent fussed somewhat and her little shadow helped, pottering around fetching crockery as the older female made a nice pot of tea.
'How many of you guys are there, anyway?' America asked idly.
'I lost count after thirty.' Arthur's voice was muffled as he sprawled forward onto the table to rest his head in his arms in an uncharacteristically slovenly posture.
'It depends how you count, man.' Replied a guy wearing designer jeans and a hot-pink turban with matching shirt that Poland would have totally wet himself over. 'I brought some well-wicked pork pies Dad, try one!'
'I'd rather you'd brought some of that sloe gin instead, Leicestershire. Oh America, do stop staring. Your states are almost always hanging around getting on my wick when you abduct me and force me to stay at your place, did you honestly think that other countries' districts just went without representation?'
To be honest it had never occurred to Alfred to think about it, if pushed, he'd have just figured that his states got represented 'cause he was the United States of America and his place was huge. England was a poky little place and didn't need more representation than Arthur, surely?
'Do you want to come outside and say that?' A high-pitched, very well-spoken little voice asked of his unfortunately externalised internal monologue.
'Rutland, you're turning into a little hooligan!' England exclaimed. He hurriedly stood and ushered her out of the room, mentioning something about Cornwall, Suffolk, Surrey, Wiltshire and Berkshire playing outside and perhaps wanting to join them.
Alfred and Arthur were left alone in the kitchen as Arthur habitually began to clean up the mess left by forty-odd counties bringing local delicacies, having a brew and promptly abandoning both to start a fight with their old traditional enemies.
Alfred stacked dishes while Arthur wrapped up leftovers and put them away in his fridge and wiped down the kitchen surfaces. Then they settled back down with a cuppa and a plate of biscuits. 'Lindsey brought gingerbread.' Arthur offered the plate with the non-explaining explanation. Sure the cookies were nice, but Alfred was getting pretty bored and he said as much, causing yet another weary sigh from his older brother.
'In that case you can go outside and play a game with your English cousins then. I'm too tired to deal with you today.'
Deal with? He, the super special awesome America was not dealt with! But he didn't get to object to that or try and wind Iggy up until his eyebrows bristled cutely. Instead a firm hand landed on his shoulder. 'Awright treacle? You comin' aahrt t'play wiv us? Giles 'as a pony on you losin' like a big jessie.'
Arthur laughed at the strange young man. 'Don't cause an international incident for me to mop up, lad.' He said fondly.
'Blimey guv, do ya take me fer a mug? We'll be good.' He grinned at that, displaying a gold tooth gleaming in his maw. 'Nah, I'll be gentle, after all, Essex finks 'e's well fit.'
That seemed to be news to Arthur who groaned again and reflexively grasped for his cuppa. Alfred was a bit worried, but followed the strange man outside, where he was presented with a weird-looking chunk of wood and stood in front of a set of sticks someone had poked into the lawn. Alfred was glad someone else had done that, Arthur got real pissy when people traipsed all over his lawn.
'Are you alright, Art?' Lindsey asked, surprisingly gently considering she was a rather stocky woman with ruddy rural cheeks wearing jeans and a German army surplus jacket. 'I know all of us being here at once gets a bit hectic and I can't imagine yon brat makes it any easier.'
Rutland popped up from behind her big sister. 'I should really enjoy lamping him one if you'd like.' She offered innocently.
'You'd like to dob 'im one whether Arthur likes it or not, you little savage! That's my girl!' Lindsey laughed, picking her little sister up and swinging her about cheerfully.
Arthur shook his head at the warlike pair, chuckling at their antics. The moment was promptly ruined by the object of the girls' threats legging it past them, closely followed by Yorkshire, Lancashire and Somerset, who were shouting threats in accents so thick they'd broadened out into the old dialects they'd once had. They weren't carrying any weapons much to Arthur's relief. Northumbria, Staffordshire and Derbyshire burst in after them yelling.
'Whut?'
Lindsey grinned at the sound of a loud, suddenly silenced yelp. 'And there's Essex adding her contribution.' Rutland looked confused.
'I'll tell you when you're older, dearheart.' Arthur hurriedly cut in before Lincolnshire could actually explain. 'And I think that may be my cue to go and save the idiot. Would you two see if you can get any sense out of the others?'
Rutland laughed cynically, but followed her sister out where they homed in on Warwickshire, who looked bemused, as usual.
'That was odd.'
'Oh?' Rutland asked, as Lindsey has been distracted by Cornwall and Dorset boasting about some of the waves they'd caught last month when they're gone surfing together in Torbay. The Ridings twins eavesdropped for a moment before returning to their lacemaking. They were in the process of creating a new design and were making the most of their time together for it.
Fortunately Rutland had a slightly longer attention span than her sister at that moment and caught the explanation. 'Ah. The dvds thing.' She nodded understandingly and looked thoughtful for a moment. 'Do you think they'd hold him still for me to put the boot in too?'
She legged it back to the house to find an answer to her question, but was disappointed to find Arthur, hands on his hips and looking very disapprovingly at Yorkshire, Lancashire and Somerset, while Northumbria was holding onto a very disappointed Essex, whose lipstick was very smudged. The fearsome aura an angry Arthur was projecting was slightly dampened by the fact that America was clinging to him and the US appeared to have the same taste in lipstick that Essex did.
Eventually though the counties filtered out, leaving Arthur slumped in the wreckage of his house, mourning the loss of his good scotch tucked under the arms of Staffordshire and Herefordshire as they'd wandered out singing rude songs about ladies fair. A rueful smile shaped his lips as he listened to the quiet which was disturbed only by Alfred clattering around in the kitchen trying to find the coca-cola while whingeing about his cousins. The jealousy wasn't hard to detect in his tone and Arthur chuckled indulgently at the antics of all his darling children, barmy though they were. He started riffling through his dvds, a movie night for just the two of them would be nice.