APH: No es como el cuarto de julio. ((Mexico, America, England, France, Spain))
((Here's another Spanish fic! This one's about Cinco de Mayo. It has a small spattering of nations. Translation below. Waaah-laaah~~~!))
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No es como el cuarto de julio.
-C'est une indignation!- Él cerró de golpe sus manos en la mesa. Sus rizos de oro que saltaron contra la cuesta de su cara, que era tanto rugosa como lisa...
Inglaterra realizó que él miraba fijamente en Francia otra vez. ¡Condene el calor de verano! Él sólo no podía pensar claramente en este cuarto congestionado.
-Francis, we aren't pleased with this, either, but Antonio and I both concur that an invasion on our part isn't worth the effort. Permit her to be haughty for a little while longer.- La voz de Inglaterra sonó más como una súplica que le habría gustado.
-Sí, compinche, tienes que relajarse. Hay muchos otros países ahí, esperando a ser triunfado.- España se inclinaba atrás cómodamente en su silla, observando el cuarto con una amplia sonrisa y ojos extrañamente oscuros. Inglaterra supressed un temblor con toda su fuerza.
-...Je peux voir que je gaspille mon temps. Si vous n'avez rien d'autre pour dire, partez s'il vous plaît.- Los puños de Francia fueron apretados. Él rechazó mirar sus caras. Ellos habían roto la promesa, no hizo caso del acuerdo para apoyarlo en su lucha con México. Él era solo. Humillado. Él iba a mostrarles que él no era un país que se acostaría delante de otros.
Con un vistazo atrasado, Inglaterra dejó el cuarto, después de una España que se había escabullido ya desapercibida del mismo modo como siempre.
XXX
-Por mí, Mercedes Fernández Quetzalxochitl, declaro que estas deudas son anuladas. Voy ya no a ser un mío para su pereza.-
Las palabras repitieron en la cabeza de Francia. México rechazó devolverlo para su ayuda durante la guerra. Era como si ella había escupido en su cara.
Pero ahora las probabilidades estaban contra ella. Él tenía a más de ocho mil soldados que marchan a Puebla, y él iba a aplastarla.
XXX
-¿Francis, mi amor, recuerda que el tiempo cuándo usted vino a mi lugar y trató de robar mi dinero de almuerzo?- Ella lo miraba con una cabeza inclinada y una sonrisa juguetona en sus labios.
-Mm... Je ne me souviens pas de ... peut-être vous devriez me rappeler votre férocité?- Él arrastró unos dedos disimulados su lado.
-Seguro,- Mercedes ronroneó. Sus dientes destellaron blanco. Ella lo golpeó en la cara con una cuchara de madera y lo abandonó se enroscó en el suelo.
Las mujeres podrían ser tan crueles...
XXX
-HEYYY! Hey, Cuz, I'm here to help you celebrate! ...Where are you?- América empujó su cabeza en la cocina. México se cernía sobre un pote de los frijoles, tarareando silenciosamente a su misma (Francia había avanzado lentamente ya a la seguridad).
-¡Ah! ¡Hola, mi primo precioso!- Ella giró y le dio su saludo más cortés. Y ella no lo abordó hasta.
-Why aren't you partying?- América preguntó, una mirada incrédula en su cara. Él llevaba puesto un sombrero y fue abrigado en luces multicolores formadas como pimientas. Dos maracas fueron agarrados en sus manos y ella estaba bastante segura que había un pedazo de un piñata se atuvo al fondo de su zapato.
-¿Qué quiere decir usted?- Ella jugó estupida, girando su atención a sus alubias otra vez. Si él fuera a decir el inglés, entonces ella iba a ser vaga.
-It's Cinco de Mayo for God's sake! Where's your pride?-
Mercedes suspiró. A veces hasta ella estuvo sorprendida por las cosas que salieron de la boca de E.E.U.U.
-Le he explicado este antes, querido Alfred. Cinco de Mayo no es como el Cuarto de Julio. Esto no es el día de la independencia mejicana. No es tan importante.- Para decir que ella no saboreó su victoria sobre Francia sería una mentira....
-Pffft. That's lame.- América gimió, sufriendo un colapso en una silla en la mesa. Toda su energía patriótica fue drenada.
Mercedes tuvo que reírse.
-Bueno. Está bien que usted está aquí,- ella le dijo, su voz que se balancea como una canción en el viento. -Es tiempo que teníamos una pequeña lección sobre la cultura.-
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Translation:
"This is an outrage!" He slammed his hands onto the table. His golden curls bounced against the slope of his face, which was both rugged and smooth...
England realized he was staring at France again. Damn the summer heat! He just couldn't think clearly in this stuffy room.
"Francis, we aren't pleased with this, either, but Antonio and I both concur that an invasion on our part isn't worth the effort. Permit her to be haughty for a little while longer." England's voice sounded more like a plea than he would have liked.
"Yeah, buddy, you need to relax. There are many other countries out there, waiting to be conquered." Spain was leaning back comfortably in his chair, observing the room with a wide smile and strangely dark eyes. England supressed a shiver with all his might.
"...I can see that I am wasting my time. If you have nothing else to say, please leave." France's fists were clenched. He refused to look at their faces. They had broken the promise, ignored the agreement to support him in his fight with Mexico. He was alone. Humiliated. He was going to show them that he was not a country who would lie down in front of others.
With a backward glance, England left the room, following a Spain who had already slipped away unnoticed in the same way as always.
XXX
"I, Mercedes Fernández Quetzalxochitl, declare that these debts are annulled. I am no longer going to be a mine for your laziness."
The words repeated in France's head. Mexico refused to pay him back for his help during the war. It was as if she had spit in his face.
Now the odds were against her. He had over eight thousand soldiers marching on Puebla, and he was going to crush her.
XXX
"France, my love, remember that time when you came over to my place and tried to steal my lunch money?" She was watching him with a tilted head and a playful smile on her lips.
"Mm... I don't recall... perhaps you should remind me of your fierceness?" He trailed a few sneaky fingers up her side.
"Sure," Mercedes purred. Her teeth flashed white. She smacked him in the face with a wooden spoon and left him curled up on the floor.
Women could be so cruel...
XXX
"HEYYY! Hey, Cuz, I'm here to help you celebrate! ...Where are you?" America poked his head into the kitchen. Mexico was hovering over a pot of beans, humming quietly to herself (France had crawled to safety long ago).
"Oh! Hello, my precious cousin!" She turned around and gave him her most polite greeting. And she didn't even tackle him.
"Why aren't you partying?" America asked, an incredulous look on his face. He was wearing a sombrero and was wrapped in multicolored lights shaped like peppers. A pair of maracas were clutched in his hands and she was pretty sure there was a piece of a piñata stuck to the bottom of his shoe.
"What do you mean?" She played dumb, turning her attention back to her beans. If he was going to speak English, then she was going to be vague.
"It's Cinco de Mayo for God's sake! Where's your pride?"
Mercedes sighed. Sometimes even she was surprised by the things that came out of the mouth of the U.S.
"I have explained this to you before, dear Alfred. Cinco de Mayo is not like the Fourth of July. It's not the day of Mexican Independence. It's not as important." To say that she didn't relish her victory over France would be a lie....
"Pffft. That's lame," America whined, collapsing into a chair at the table. All his patriotic energy was drained.
Mercedes had to laugh.
"Well. It's good that you're here," she told him, her voice swaying like a song on the wind. "It's time we had a little lesson in culture."