Entry 7: Changes
Title: "Changes"
Entry Number: 7
Author: shuriken7
Fandom: Hetalia
Characters: America <-> England
Rating: PG
Genre: Drama/Angst.
Word Count: 1008
General Warnings: Hetalia regards the personification of nation-states. Some stories will be examining history and some will be examining them as individuals.
Summary: WW2. America invites England out to a new hangar filled with American planes. He was hoping for something and England realized he was too... but he wasn't sure he could give it to him.
He sneezed, the dust from the construction of the airplane hangar bothering his nose. England had to admit that it was a marvelous piece of work. He inspected the workmanship of the planes. They were lined up perfectly, shining and industrial. This was was unlike anything that had ever come before, and the tables were about to turn again.
"Hey, England!" America called from the other side of the cavernous space. England looked for the source of the other man's voice. He appeared from between two landing gears, a big grin on his face. England tried to keep his face passive. He hadn't gotten used to all of the easy smiles America gave him. They weren't the smiles of America in his younger days, these smiles were complicated. England could tell there were layers. The smile he gave him was not the same smile that he gave the others. He didn't know what that meant. He was afraid to find out.
He waved back at the American, and he came closer, pausing just out of arm's reach.
"Well, what do you think?" he asked, gesturing to all of the planes. England looked at them, they would certainly do, although they had that look of assembly line goods. Who knew if that would be a boon or not?
"They better not crash."
America crossed his arms and looked indignant, "They won't. My stuff is great."
England considered that, America's surplus had been extremely helpful since his arrival. Not that he needed to know that, he had inflated his ego enough without England needing to add to it. "Why did you call me out here, trying to show off again?"
"What do you mean trying? It's not like when you're cooking..."
"What did you say?" England asked, crossing his own arms and scowling. America shrugged and gave him a teasing grin this time.
"C'mon dude, I was just messing with you." America reached out and patted him on the shoulder. England could feel the hesitation in the touch.
"Well, I assume you didn't want me here just to 'mess with me'. So what is it? I have important things to be doing..."
"Well, I've been here for a bit, you know, in your country and you've barely said anything to me. You talked to me more during the Great War. And I thought..." he trailed off and in the dim lighting, England thought he could see America's cheeks darken. He assumed he must have imagined it.
"America," he sighed, "I don't have time to baby you..."
America frowned, "I didn't ask for that. I know how to have a war. I was here for the last one you idiots started."
England flushed with anger at the low blow. True, America had been of a great deal of help, not that he would ever tell him, but he had been hopelessly late to the game. As England saw it, America had arrived just in the knick of time to meddle. He had been in no mood to listen to the opinions of someone who was barely out in the world. Someone who didn't realize what it was like yet. England wondered if he would ever really understand what it was like for the rest of them. He opened his mouth to say something, but America cut him off.
"That wasn't fair. Just... don't treat me like a kid, okay? 'Cause I'm not." America had stepped closer to him, England couldn't decide if it was to intimidate him... or... he turned his face away. America was just too close, he wasn't sure what he would do if he came any closer. He was right, he certainly did not look like a child anymore.
"I... well..." He could say something here, something that would change everything that would come in the future between them. He could sense from the moment America stepped closer to him that things could change, he could change them. England couldn't deny that he was happy that America was here. He did recognize that he was no longer the child he knew. But he had to admit, he was only beginning to know the man. The Great War had changed things between them, but he wasn't sure exactly what had changed. His stomach was still doing flip-flops when he considered the embrace America had given him when that war had been over. "Well, I'll treat you like an adult when you start acting like one." he decided on, and the moment was lost.
America stepped back from him, whatever he had been hoping for being denied to him. England couldn't tell if he was sorry or not. "Whatever... I would tell you to drop dead, but that wouldn't make me much of a hero." He turned on his heel and began to walk away, thrusting open the large hangar door and letting in the sunset.
England watched as he disappeared beyond the doorway, off to the room he was staying in until they left for the field. He looked back at the planes, they were splendid really, even if they had been rolled off an assembly line they were certain to help. Why did his tongue turn to insults instead of praise? He had half a mind to go after him, to say... something that would have made America smile instead of frown. But he couldn't do it, perhaps there really was too much water under the bridge. Maybe they wouldn't be able to become anything more than casual allies. Perhaps that was their destiny, after all, he had thought they would always be together in the past.
The last time I stood by you and praised you, you took the heart out of me... I'm not ready, America... I can't risk my heart again, at least not now. There isn't time for... whatever we are right now.
He walked outside the hangar and perched on the hood of his vehicle. He stared into the sunset, watching the horizon for what would inevitably come.
Entry Number: 7
Author: shuriken7
Fandom: Hetalia
Characters: America <-> England
Rating: PG
Genre: Drama/Angst.
Word Count: 1008
General Warnings: Hetalia regards the personification of nation-states. Some stories will be examining history and some will be examining them as individuals.
Summary: WW2. America invites England out to a new hangar filled with American planes. He was hoping for something and England realized he was too... but he wasn't sure he could give it to him.
He sneezed, the dust from the construction of the airplane hangar bothering his nose. England had to admit that it was a marvelous piece of work. He inspected the workmanship of the planes. They were lined up perfectly, shining and industrial. This was was unlike anything that had ever come before, and the tables were about to turn again.
"Hey, England!" America called from the other side of the cavernous space. England looked for the source of the other man's voice. He appeared from between two landing gears, a big grin on his face. England tried to keep his face passive. He hadn't gotten used to all of the easy smiles America gave him. They weren't the smiles of America in his younger days, these smiles were complicated. England could tell there were layers. The smile he gave him was not the same smile that he gave the others. He didn't know what that meant. He was afraid to find out.
He waved back at the American, and he came closer, pausing just out of arm's reach.
"Well, what do you think?" he asked, gesturing to all of the planes. England looked at them, they would certainly do, although they had that look of assembly line goods. Who knew if that would be a boon or not?
"They better not crash."
America crossed his arms and looked indignant, "They won't. My stuff is great."
England considered that, America's surplus had been extremely helpful since his arrival. Not that he needed to know that, he had inflated his ego enough without England needing to add to it. "Why did you call me out here, trying to show off again?"
"What do you mean trying? It's not like when you're cooking..."
"What did you say?" England asked, crossing his own arms and scowling. America shrugged and gave him a teasing grin this time.
"C'mon dude, I was just messing with you." America reached out and patted him on the shoulder. England could feel the hesitation in the touch.
"Well, I assume you didn't want me here just to 'mess with me'. So what is it? I have important things to be doing..."
"Well, I've been here for a bit, you know, in your country and you've barely said anything to me. You talked to me more during the Great War. And I thought..." he trailed off and in the dim lighting, England thought he could see America's cheeks darken. He assumed he must have imagined it.
"America," he sighed, "I don't have time to baby you..."
America frowned, "I didn't ask for that. I know how to have a war. I was here for the last one you idiots started."
England flushed with anger at the low blow. True, America had been of a great deal of help, not that he would ever tell him, but he had been hopelessly late to the game. As England saw it, America had arrived just in the knick of time to meddle. He had been in no mood to listen to the opinions of someone who was barely out in the world. Someone who didn't realize what it was like yet. England wondered if he would ever really understand what it was like for the rest of them. He opened his mouth to say something, but America cut him off.
"That wasn't fair. Just... don't treat me like a kid, okay? 'Cause I'm not." America had stepped closer to him, England couldn't decide if it was to intimidate him... or... he turned his face away. America was just too close, he wasn't sure what he would do if he came any closer. He was right, he certainly did not look like a child anymore.
"I... well..." He could say something here, something that would change everything that would come in the future between them. He could sense from the moment America stepped closer to him that things could change, he could change them. England couldn't deny that he was happy that America was here. He did recognize that he was no longer the child he knew. But he had to admit, he was only beginning to know the man. The Great War had changed things between them, but he wasn't sure exactly what had changed. His stomach was still doing flip-flops when he considered the embrace America had given him when that war had been over. "Well, I'll treat you like an adult when you start acting like one." he decided on, and the moment was lost.
America stepped back from him, whatever he had been hoping for being denied to him. England couldn't tell if he was sorry or not. "Whatever... I would tell you to drop dead, but that wouldn't make me much of a hero." He turned on his heel and began to walk away, thrusting open the large hangar door and letting in the sunset.
England watched as he disappeared beyond the doorway, off to the room he was staying in until they left for the field. He looked back at the planes, they were splendid really, even if they had been rolled off an assembly line they were certain to help. Why did his tongue turn to insults instead of praise? He had half a mind to go after him, to say... something that would have made America smile instead of frown. But he couldn't do it, perhaps there really was too much water under the bridge. Maybe they wouldn't be able to become anything more than casual allies. Perhaps that was their destiny, after all, he had thought they would always be together in the past.
The last time I stood by you and praised you, you took the heart out of me... I'm not ready, America... I can't risk my heart again, at least not now. There isn't time for... whatever we are right now.
He walked outside the hangar and perched on the hood of his vehicle. He stared into the sunset, watching the horizon for what would inevitably come.