1/2 Price Sushi: APH US/UK Fic
½ Price Sushi
By Di Long
“Come on! Hurry up! This is gonna be AWESOME!” America chattered excitedly, pulling England along the cracked pavement of the parking lot, nimbly leaping over dry clumps of grass growing out of the pot holes.
As usual, America was in frayed jeans and a hooded sweatshirt. Since England was visiting his boyfriend on his home ground, he had conceded a small bit and wore khaki Dockers and a black mock turtleneck, leaving off the tie and sweater vest.
Arthur looked speciously at the facility's sign which clearly read “GOLDEN CORRAL” behind a red vinyl banner strung horizontally across it that declared “Kyojin ½ Price Sushi” in blazing yellow letters.
“I've been dying to take you here ever since I found this place!” Alfred tugged on England's hand, urging him along. “Kyojin means 'giant', right? This place has giant sushi!”
Arthur noticed that there were only a few other cars in the lot. Not a good sign. “America, please don't tell me this is a sushi buffet.”
Alfred beamed. “Too good to be true, huh?” He pulled the door open and genteelly waved England past the turn quarter machines full of gumballs, stickers, and temporary tattoos.
“Quite.” England stepped inside and surveyed the mostly empty cavern of a restaurant. Dim lighting highlighted the booths that hugged the walls and the massive configuration of steamer tables, some with warm appetizers and others converted to hold ice upon which platters of sushi, both rolls and pieces, sat on display.
“Hi there, Honey.” America grinned at a bored goth teenager with lots of eyeliner and black chipped nail polish who lounged behind the till. “There'll be two of us.” He pulled out his wallet and edged out a credit card. He looked over to England. “Want any sake or anything?”
England shuddered, just imagining the rot gut they must serve here. “Water will be fine.”
“And two sodas.” Alfred handed his card to the girl. “Please.”
Arthur watched in bemusement. He would have expected that any alternative teenaged girl worth her piercings would have objected to being called 'honey'. However, just like any citizen dealing with their Nation she smiled politely and treated Alfred with respect as she completed the transaction.
“Would you like a receipt, sir?” She handed Alfred the receipt to sign along with his card.
“No, thanks.” Alfred signed quickly and handed the paper back to the girl. He looked at her, or rather through her, his smile dimming into something gentler. “Running away won't fix things. Go home tonight and talk to your folks. I guarantee they will be happy to see you.” He put his credit card away.
“Really?” she asked hopefully.
“I promise.” His smile turned up a notch. “I bet under all of that black makeup is a really pretty girl.”
“Excuse me!” England butted in, sliding in front of America. “Don't listen to this stupid git, at least not about your looks.” He turned and glared at Alfred, then winked at the girl. “You look fine the way you are. In fact, I think you should get another piercing right there,” he said pointing to his own eyebrow.
“Cool!” The girl smiled at England, then drifted dreamy eyes America's way.
Arthur returned the smile and helped himself to a tray, a plate, and silverware then headed towards the seating area. “Come along Alfred, that is if you are finished meddling.”
Alfred's flatware rattled against his tray as he hurried to follow England. “I was just tying to help.”
“Not everyone needs to be the girl next store, you know.” Arthur selected a clean booth by a window and set down his tray with a plastic clatter.
“But she wants to be. I could see it.” Alfred set his tray down opposite of England's. “She's lost and needed a little confidence to find her way back.” He scratched the back of his head, and looked apologetically at Arthur. “You know I'm not against punks or anything, it just wasn't who she really was.”
“Always the hero, eh?” England said fondly. “You can't intervene for them all, you know.”
“I want to though!” America laughed sheepishly. “Let's go get some dinner, yeah?” He flipped his plate from the tray and balanced it on its edge on his palm.
England carefully picked up his plate, holding it firmly in two hands. As he gazed across the sparsely populated space he noticed the few customers were all American servicemen in casual clothes- given away by their buzz cuts and tattoos. That was the only encouraging sign yet, albeit a powerful one.
Alfred made a bee-line to a steamer table, loading his plate with gyoza, shumai, egg rolls, and king crab legs.
“That isn't sushi.” Arthur raised an eyebrow and shook his head.
“Raw fish is disgusting,” Alfred said with a merry grin, dishing himself up a bowl of hot and sour soup. “Did you see that they have a soft serve machine- and sprinkles?”
“I must have missed that.” Arthur toed at a cigarette burn in the carpet.
“And five kinds of pie!” America was somehow managing his plate of appetizers and bowl of soup while simultaneously loading a second plate with spare ribs.
Trying not to encourage his partner to further antics, England approached the chilled offerings with caution. The next time he went out for Sushi, it would be with Kiku.
By Di Long
“Come on! Hurry up! This is gonna be AWESOME!” America chattered excitedly, pulling England along the cracked pavement of the parking lot, nimbly leaping over dry clumps of grass growing out of the pot holes.
As usual, America was in frayed jeans and a hooded sweatshirt. Since England was visiting his boyfriend on his home ground, he had conceded a small bit and wore khaki Dockers and a black mock turtleneck, leaving off the tie and sweater vest.
Arthur looked speciously at the facility's sign which clearly read “GOLDEN CORRAL” behind a red vinyl banner strung horizontally across it that declared “Kyojin ½ Price Sushi” in blazing yellow letters.
“I've been dying to take you here ever since I found this place!” Alfred tugged on England's hand, urging him along. “Kyojin means 'giant', right? This place has giant sushi!”
Arthur noticed that there were only a few other cars in the lot. Not a good sign. “America, please don't tell me this is a sushi buffet.”
Alfred beamed. “Too good to be true, huh?” He pulled the door open and genteelly waved England past the turn quarter machines full of gumballs, stickers, and temporary tattoos.
“Quite.” England stepped inside and surveyed the mostly empty cavern of a restaurant. Dim lighting highlighted the booths that hugged the walls and the massive configuration of steamer tables, some with warm appetizers and others converted to hold ice upon which platters of sushi, both rolls and pieces, sat on display.
“Hi there, Honey.” America grinned at a bored goth teenager with lots of eyeliner and black chipped nail polish who lounged behind the till. “There'll be two of us.” He pulled out his wallet and edged out a credit card. He looked over to England. “Want any sake or anything?”
England shuddered, just imagining the rot gut they must serve here. “Water will be fine.”
“And two sodas.” Alfred handed his card to the girl. “Please.”
Arthur watched in bemusement. He would have expected that any alternative teenaged girl worth her piercings would have objected to being called 'honey'. However, just like any citizen dealing with their Nation she smiled politely and treated Alfred with respect as she completed the transaction.
“Would you like a receipt, sir?” She handed Alfred the receipt to sign along with his card.
“No, thanks.” Alfred signed quickly and handed the paper back to the girl. He looked at her, or rather through her, his smile dimming into something gentler. “Running away won't fix things. Go home tonight and talk to your folks. I guarantee they will be happy to see you.” He put his credit card away.
“Really?” she asked hopefully.
“I promise.” His smile turned up a notch. “I bet under all of that black makeup is a really pretty girl.”
“Excuse me!” England butted in, sliding in front of America. “Don't listen to this stupid git, at least not about your looks.” He turned and glared at Alfred, then winked at the girl. “You look fine the way you are. In fact, I think you should get another piercing right there,” he said pointing to his own eyebrow.
“Cool!” The girl smiled at England, then drifted dreamy eyes America's way.
Arthur returned the smile and helped himself to a tray, a plate, and silverware then headed towards the seating area. “Come along Alfred, that is if you are finished meddling.”
Alfred's flatware rattled against his tray as he hurried to follow England. “I was just tying to help.”
“Not everyone needs to be the girl next store, you know.” Arthur selected a clean booth by a window and set down his tray with a plastic clatter.
“But she wants to be. I could see it.” Alfred set his tray down opposite of England's. “She's lost and needed a little confidence to find her way back.” He scratched the back of his head, and looked apologetically at Arthur. “You know I'm not against punks or anything, it just wasn't who she really was.”
“Always the hero, eh?” England said fondly. “You can't intervene for them all, you know.”
“I want to though!” America laughed sheepishly. “Let's go get some dinner, yeah?” He flipped his plate from the tray and balanced it on its edge on his palm.
England carefully picked up his plate, holding it firmly in two hands. As he gazed across the sparsely populated space he noticed the few customers were all American servicemen in casual clothes- given away by their buzz cuts and tattoos. That was the only encouraging sign yet, albeit a powerful one.
Alfred made a bee-line to a steamer table, loading his plate with gyoza, shumai, egg rolls, and king crab legs.
“That isn't sushi.” Arthur raised an eyebrow and shook his head.
“Raw fish is disgusting,” Alfred said with a merry grin, dishing himself up a bowl of hot and sour soup. “Did you see that they have a soft serve machine- and sprinkles?”
“I must have missed that.” Arthur toed at a cigarette burn in the carpet.
“And five kinds of pie!” America was somehow managing his plate of appetizers and bowl of soup while simultaneously loading a second plate with spare ribs.
Trying not to encourage his partner to further antics, England approached the chilled offerings with caution. The next time he went out for Sushi, it would be with Kiku.