APH: Wanna Be On Top? -Part1 ((England, America))
((Oh yes. I'm finally going to write that story I came up with at an ungodly hour of the morning. Fear it!!! :D))
Title: Wanna Be On Top?
Author: me!
Genre: humor/romance
Rating/Warnings: PG/PG-13? Beware Pissed!Arthur, Loincloths and Gorillas, and most of all, Tyra.
Summary: Alfred brings Arthur to a male-model search for “America’s Next Top Model.” Stuff goes down.
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"Alfred, I swear if you don't turn off that God-awful music this instant- !" The Brit was screaming himself hoarse, but his threats were smothered by the sound of the bass. It was thundering in his chest, filling up the car and making it shake. The powerful vibrations, along with the obnoxious boom of America's voice singing way off-key, were making Arthur sick to his stomach. This time he was lucky enough to beat Alfred's hand to the radio dial; he cut off the song in the middle of another screechy refrain. A heavenly silence settled in the air, and then:
"AWWWWGH..... What'd you do that for?" Alfred whined from the driver's seat. His fingers had at last stopped their incessant drumming on the steering wheel. Arthur observed the pout on the other nation's lips with obvious disdain.
"Honestly. How do you find the nerve to call that garbage 'music?'" he demanded. He crossed his arms and leaned back in the seat to rest his throbbing head against the window.
"Fine. I'll put on something else," America grumbled. He reached over- he was mostly steering with his knees, anyway- and flipped through about fifty stations in under a second -How the bloody hell could he even tell what was playing?- before ultimately deciding on Country. England scoffed but at least the new song had a quieter melody. It was actually kind of soothing. As he listened, he closed his eyes, letting America's less-than-perfect vocals drown out the artist completely.
"All he could think about was I'm too young for this.
Got my whole life ahead.
Hell I'm just a kid myself.
How'm I gonna raise one."
At some point, Alfred had slipped into a Southern accent- consciously or not, Arthur wasn't sure.
"-And he said,
There goes my life.
There goes my future, my everything.
Might as well kiss it all good-bye.
There goes my life......."
The melancholic verses played in his ears as if Alfred were just inches away.
"-She smiles back at him dragging that teddy bear.
Sleep tight, blue eyes and bouncin' curls.
-I love you, daddy good-night."
Arthur's heart clenched for no good reason.
"-She had that Honda loaded down.
With Abercrombie clothes and 15 pairs of shoes and his American Express.
He checked the oil and slammed the hood, said you're good to go.
She hugged them both and headed off to the West Coast.
-And he cried,
There goes my life.
There goes my future, my everything.
I love you.
Baby good-bye."
"...Arthur? Did you fall asleep or something?" England sat up with a jolt, realizing that the song had ended, an ad for "SUPER-AMAZING-CRYSTAL-FRESHNESS-WHITENING-TOOTHPASTE" taking its place. There was a strange and horrible empty feeling left behind. The lyrics were still echoing in Arthur's head as if on a loop. "Dude, are you okay? You look kinda sick. If you're going to throw up or something, open the window, 'cuz we still have a long way to go before we get there and I don't want to be smelling your barf the whole time."
"Wha-? Why you obnoxious little- !" With that comment from a furiously red-faced England starting a heated debate about who was really the "little" one anymore, the song was entirely forgotten.
"...Where in blazes are you taking me, anyway?" Arthur asked after the argument had dwindled back to the usual, occasional bickering, and they'd passed another long hour on the interstate. "For all I know this could be one of your dirty tricks," he muttered under his breath. "...no doubt leave me stranded in the middle of nowhere... It's a wonder I haven't jumped into oncoming traffic just to escape you..."
"'Cuz that would just suck, man," Alfred retorted. "Seriously, can you try to stop being such a downer? I told you this was going to be a fun surprise."
"Fun for whom?" Arthur huffed, furrowing his brow. Alfred never answered.
"Hey, that's it! We're here!"
"What?" Arthur turned to look out the passenger-side window, squinting against the glare of the setting sun. They had pulled into a parking lot packed with shiny cars, across from a very suave-looking restaurant. A few tall buildings loomed over the street like skinny black monsters, making the restaurant appear much more inviting in comparison. It reminded him of the French countryside, though Arthur was loathe to admit it. It looked cozy and exclusive. It looked expensive. "Is this where we're going to eat? Really, Alfred. We didn't have to come all this way just for dinner. I could have easily cooked up something at your place if-"
America gave him a look that shut him up in an instant. Two bright blue eyes glowing at him from across the car, a smirk cast in the fading gold light. The smirk widened until England got a flash of that winning smile. Maybe Alfred used Super-Amazing-Freshness-Whitening-Whatever-Toothpaste....
"Come on, it'll be fun. Don't you trust me?"
Those words should have only confirmed Arthur's suspicions that his former colony had something terrible in store for him, but in spite of his better judgment, the older nation found himself unbuckling his seatbelt and following Alfred across the street.
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((Song: "There Goes My Life"- Kenny Chesney
(Que cheesy and symbolic, non?)
To be continued in Part 2/?
Oh the places we'll go.... :3 ))
Title: Wanna Be On Top?
Author: me!
Genre: humor/romance
Rating/Warnings: PG/PG-13? Beware Pissed!Arthur, Loincloths and Gorillas, and most of all, Tyra.
Summary: Alfred brings Arthur to a male-model search for “America’s Next Top Model.” Stuff goes down.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
"Alfred, I swear if you don't turn off that God-awful music this instant- !" The Brit was screaming himself hoarse, but his threats were smothered by the sound of the bass. It was thundering in his chest, filling up the car and making it shake. The powerful vibrations, along with the obnoxious boom of America's voice singing way off-key, were making Arthur sick to his stomach. This time he was lucky enough to beat Alfred's hand to the radio dial; he cut off the song in the middle of another screechy refrain. A heavenly silence settled in the air, and then:
"AWWWWGH..... What'd you do that for?" Alfred whined from the driver's seat. His fingers had at last stopped their incessant drumming on the steering wheel. Arthur observed the pout on the other nation's lips with obvious disdain.
"Honestly. How do you find the nerve to call that garbage 'music?'" he demanded. He crossed his arms and leaned back in the seat to rest his throbbing head against the window.
"Fine. I'll put on something else," America grumbled. He reached over- he was mostly steering with his knees, anyway- and flipped through about fifty stations in under a second -How the bloody hell could he even tell what was playing?- before ultimately deciding on Country. England scoffed but at least the new song had a quieter melody. It was actually kind of soothing. As he listened, he closed his eyes, letting America's less-than-perfect vocals drown out the artist completely.
"All he could think about was I'm too young for this.
Got my whole life ahead.
Hell I'm just a kid myself.
How'm I gonna raise one."
At some point, Alfred had slipped into a Southern accent- consciously or not, Arthur wasn't sure.
"-And he said,
There goes my life.
There goes my future, my everything.
Might as well kiss it all good-bye.
There goes my life......."
The melancholic verses played in his ears as if Alfred were just inches away.
"-She smiles back at him dragging that teddy bear.
Sleep tight, blue eyes and bouncin' curls.
-I love you, daddy good-night."
Arthur's heart clenched for no good reason.
"-She had that Honda loaded down.
With Abercrombie clothes and 15 pairs of shoes and his American Express.
He checked the oil and slammed the hood, said you're good to go.
She hugged them both and headed off to the West Coast.
-And he cried,
There goes my life.
There goes my future, my everything.
I love you.
Baby good-bye."
"...Arthur? Did you fall asleep or something?" England sat up with a jolt, realizing that the song had ended, an ad for "SUPER-AMAZING-CRYSTAL-FRESHNESS-WHITENING-TOOTHPASTE" taking its place. There was a strange and horrible empty feeling left behind. The lyrics were still echoing in Arthur's head as if on a loop. "Dude, are you okay? You look kinda sick. If you're going to throw up or something, open the window, 'cuz we still have a long way to go before we get there and I don't want to be smelling your barf the whole time."
"Wha-? Why you obnoxious little- !" With that comment from a furiously red-faced England starting a heated debate about who was really the "little" one anymore, the song was entirely forgotten.
"...Where in blazes are you taking me, anyway?" Arthur asked after the argument had dwindled back to the usual, occasional bickering, and they'd passed another long hour on the interstate. "For all I know this could be one of your dirty tricks," he muttered under his breath. "...no doubt leave me stranded in the middle of nowhere... It's a wonder I haven't jumped into oncoming traffic just to escape you..."
"'Cuz that would just suck, man," Alfred retorted. "Seriously, can you try to stop being such a downer? I told you this was going to be a fun surprise."
"Fun for whom?" Arthur huffed, furrowing his brow. Alfred never answered.
"Hey, that's it! We're here!"
"What?" Arthur turned to look out the passenger-side window, squinting against the glare of the setting sun. They had pulled into a parking lot packed with shiny cars, across from a very suave-looking restaurant. A few tall buildings loomed over the street like skinny black monsters, making the restaurant appear much more inviting in comparison. It reminded him of the French countryside, though Arthur was loathe to admit it. It looked cozy and exclusive. It looked expensive. "Is this where we're going to eat? Really, Alfred. We didn't have to come all this way just for dinner. I could have easily cooked up something at your place if-"
America gave him a look that shut him up in an instant. Two bright blue eyes glowing at him from across the car, a smirk cast in the fading gold light. The smirk widened until England got a flash of that winning smile. Maybe Alfred used Super-Amazing-Freshness-Whitening-Whatever-Toothpaste....
"Come on, it'll be fun. Don't you trust me?"
Those words should have only confirmed Arthur's suspicions that his former colony had something terrible in store for him, but in spite of his better judgment, the older nation found himself unbuckling his seatbelt and following Alfred across the street.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
((Song: "There Goes My Life"- Kenny Chesney
(Que cheesy and symbolic, non?)
To be continued in Part 2/?
Oh the places we'll go.... :3 ))