[FIC] Landing
notes: COMPLETELY UNEDITED. Sorry. I wrote this in a kind of sleep-daze (sleep-daze, haha). When I wake up tomorrow, I'll probably be horrified by what I wrote. This is, by the way, for the USxUK Summer Olympics 2012, and therefore is yaoi.
word count: 1,220 including title. Finished in two hours.
Landing
America was brooding again. He slouched against his computer desk, glaring at the screen through his spectacles. England could hear the occasional clicks of the mouse as America browsed through webpage after webpage, the crease between his blue eyes deepening each time.
England had a pretty good idea what America’s problem was, but he didn’t choose to voice it. After all, the U.K. athletes at the Olympics had just won six gold medals that very day, and England didn’t want anyone to spoil his good mood.
So he sipped his tea, picked up his embroidery, and ignored America.
“Ugh . . .”
But then the groaning started.
America lifted his head from the table and slammed it down again, looking extremely pathetic.
Focus on the bunny . . . focus on the bunny . . . he chanted to himself, very carefully poking a needle through a particularly complicated stitch on the fabric rabbit’s right ear. America can save his whining to himself . . . he’ll get over it . . . Just focus on the bunny now, Arthur . . . Focus . . . on . . . the . . . bunny-
“Ugh . . .”
The needle somehow found its way into England’s skin, drawing a bright red drop of blood. But that was nothing compared to his patience, which snapped in two halves like a piece of bamboo.
He stood up, the half-finished portrait of a bunny in the forest falling to his foot. “America!”
Said man looked up from the monitor. His expression was no longer solemn, but surprised. “What is it?” he asked.
England stamped his foot. “You-are-the-worst-ever! Just because you think you’re the center of the world does not mean it’s okay for you to groan and sigh like a bloody child when something doesn’t go your way! Sometimes there are things other people are happy about as well! Just because you apparently find the need to release your anger and frustrations to the rest of the world like an rotten, spoiled teenager does not mean it’s all right to spoil other people’s happiness for you! So China beat you in the Olympics medal counts for one bloody day! So you are in second place for once! Do you really have to go out of your way to do it in front of me?”
America looked at him. On the hotel room’s wall, the second hand of the clock ticked by. Fifty seconds passed, then thirty seconds. Finally, after a full minute, America spoke:
“What are you talking about?”
England froze.
“I-I-I-” His cheeks burned. “I-I was just-Weren’t you sighing over how China beat you in the medal tally, and you’re acting so-so ridiculously pathetic because you always say something like, ‘No way! No one can beat the hero!’ and you . . . I mean . . . Weren’t you?”
America blinked. “Oh-oh yeah, that! Hell no. Who would be worried about that? I mean, psh, yeah, they got a few more gold and they’re beating us in the numbers now, but the game isn’t over yet! Don’t you know, the underdog will always become the hero in the end! My people are awesome! There’s no way we won’t win!”
“Ah . . . is that so . . .”
“Yeah, plus, you know, even if we did lose-which, let’s be honest, what are the chances of that?-it doesn’t matter! Because we all know that after four years, we’ll be back again, stronger and fiercer than before! Heroes never give up!”
England was feeling a bit foolish now. He had just been worked up for nothing and yelled at America for something that he didn’t even do.
“Ah, I see.” He scratched his head. “I-I thought you were-” If possible, his cheeks warmed up even more. “-I just-it was bloody stupid, I-”
“Is there something on your mind?”
Whoa. Did America just read the atmosphere?
“I-why would you ask that? Definitely not. Definitely, definitely not. Why would there be? Nothing is on my mind. I mean, of course, there is the issue with the economy, and of course Frace-that prat is always an issue. And there’s global warming. Greenhouse gas and everything. And there’s-”
“The Olympics.”
Twice in one day? England couldn’t believe this. Did America somehow get smarter in the past hour?
“I-”
“Hey, can you come here for a sec?”
Saved, thought England. He stood up from America’s bed and walked over to the other man’s side. “Yes, what is-”
America had left his seat to kiss him.
“Sorry,” he whispered, breaking away. “I forgot to say this earlier, Artie. Congratulations for today. Your people did pretty damn well out there. London is beautiful. They did a great job, hosting the Olympics. Thank you for inviting me here.”
England thought there must be a limit to how many times he could blush in a day. At this rate, he was about to turn into a cherry.
“I-I don’t need your congratulations, idiot,” he muttered.
America grinned and then enveloped his boyfriend in a bear hug. “You’re very welcome,” he said, burying his head comfortably in England’s neck.
“Insufferable git.”
When America let go, England asked, “Why were you acting so peculiar before, then, if it weren’t about the Olympics?”
“Weeell, I-”
The tune of “The Stars and Stripes Forever” suddenly started playing in the hotel room.
“Eh?” America rummaged around his suitcase for his phone. “Who would call me at such a time? Even my boss wouldn’t-Ah, found it!”
“You really need to organize a bit better,” said England disapprovingly, observing the mess of clothes, candy, and folders of crumpled-up documents.
“Hello?” asked America, holding his cellphone to his ear. “Yeah? Tony? Hey, buddy, what’s-Huh? Really? I . . . Yeah, I didn’t yet. Why? Something wrong? . . . Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Okay. I’ll check right now.”
With a click, he turned the phone off.
“Tony?” asked England as America ran for his computer. “Tony the-” he hesitated “-alien?” The same one who wouldn’t stop calling me “limey”? “Did something bad happen?”
“That . . . depends,” the other answered, his fingers sweeping across the keyboard in a blur. He clicked on something, and a second later, his muscles tensed.
England rushed to his side. “What is it . . . ? Oh.”
“LANDED!” shouted America, pumping a fist into the air. “CURIOSITY HAS LANDED! Yes! Whew, god, that was one hell of a seven-minutes . . . Think that was the longest time in my life since Cuba . . . AND MARS! Do you know what this means? One day, the ones up there will be AMERICANS!”
So that was what he was worried about. That git wasn’t brooding over the Olympics; he was waiting for the news of the Mars rover’s landing.
America was cheering so loudly the entire hotel could hear him. Shaking his head, England turned to the loud, obnoxious, yet adorable blond.
“Alfred?” he asked.
“MARS-MARS-HEAR THAT? SEE THOSE AWESOME, HIGH-DEF-Hm, yeah?”
“Congratulations,” England said, before grabbing America’s collar and kissing him on the lips.
-.-
“Oh yeah, Artie?”
“Hm?”
“Don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll be able to beat me in something one day.”
“You bloody git! I'll have you know that the U.K. has done fantastically in--"
"Yes, yes. Whatever you say."
"What's that supposed to mean?!"
word count: 1,220 including title. Finished in two hours.
Landing
America was brooding again. He slouched against his computer desk, glaring at the screen through his spectacles. England could hear the occasional clicks of the mouse as America browsed through webpage after webpage, the crease between his blue eyes deepening each time.
England had a pretty good idea what America’s problem was, but he didn’t choose to voice it. After all, the U.K. athletes at the Olympics had just won six gold medals that very day, and England didn’t want anyone to spoil his good mood.
So he sipped his tea, picked up his embroidery, and ignored America.
“Ugh . . .”
But then the groaning started.
America lifted his head from the table and slammed it down again, looking extremely pathetic.
Focus on the bunny . . . focus on the bunny . . . he chanted to himself, very carefully poking a needle through a particularly complicated stitch on the fabric rabbit’s right ear. America can save his whining to himself . . . he’ll get over it . . . Just focus on the bunny now, Arthur . . . Focus . . . on . . . the . . . bunny-
“Ugh . . .”
The needle somehow found its way into England’s skin, drawing a bright red drop of blood. But that was nothing compared to his patience, which snapped in two halves like a piece of bamboo.
He stood up, the half-finished portrait of a bunny in the forest falling to his foot. “America!”
Said man looked up from the monitor. His expression was no longer solemn, but surprised. “What is it?” he asked.
England stamped his foot. “You-are-the-worst-ever! Just because you think you’re the center of the world does not mean it’s okay for you to groan and sigh like a bloody child when something doesn’t go your way! Sometimes there are things other people are happy about as well! Just because you apparently find the need to release your anger and frustrations to the rest of the world like an rotten, spoiled teenager does not mean it’s all right to spoil other people’s happiness for you! So China beat you in the Olympics medal counts for one bloody day! So you are in second place for once! Do you really have to go out of your way to do it in front of me?”
America looked at him. On the hotel room’s wall, the second hand of the clock ticked by. Fifty seconds passed, then thirty seconds. Finally, after a full minute, America spoke:
“What are you talking about?”
England froze.
“I-I-I-” His cheeks burned. “I-I was just-Weren’t you sighing over how China beat you in the medal tally, and you’re acting so-so ridiculously pathetic because you always say something like, ‘No way! No one can beat the hero!’ and you . . . I mean . . . Weren’t you?”
America blinked. “Oh-oh yeah, that! Hell no. Who would be worried about that? I mean, psh, yeah, they got a few more gold and they’re beating us in the numbers now, but the game isn’t over yet! Don’t you know, the underdog will always become the hero in the end! My people are awesome! There’s no way we won’t win!”
“Ah . . . is that so . . .”
“Yeah, plus, you know, even if we did lose-which, let’s be honest, what are the chances of that?-it doesn’t matter! Because we all know that after four years, we’ll be back again, stronger and fiercer than before! Heroes never give up!”
England was feeling a bit foolish now. He had just been worked up for nothing and yelled at America for something that he didn’t even do.
“Ah, I see.” He scratched his head. “I-I thought you were-” If possible, his cheeks warmed up even more. “-I just-it was bloody stupid, I-”
“Is there something on your mind?”
Whoa. Did America just read the atmosphere?
“I-why would you ask that? Definitely not. Definitely, definitely not. Why would there be? Nothing is on my mind. I mean, of course, there is the issue with the economy, and of course Frace-that prat is always an issue. And there’s global warming. Greenhouse gas and everything. And there’s-”
“The Olympics.”
Twice in one day? England couldn’t believe this. Did America somehow get smarter in the past hour?
“I-”
“Hey, can you come here for a sec?”
Saved, thought England. He stood up from America’s bed and walked over to the other man’s side. “Yes, what is-”
America had left his seat to kiss him.
“Sorry,” he whispered, breaking away. “I forgot to say this earlier, Artie. Congratulations for today. Your people did pretty damn well out there. London is beautiful. They did a great job, hosting the Olympics. Thank you for inviting me here.”
England thought there must be a limit to how many times he could blush in a day. At this rate, he was about to turn into a cherry.
“I-I don’t need your congratulations, idiot,” he muttered.
America grinned and then enveloped his boyfriend in a bear hug. “You’re very welcome,” he said, burying his head comfortably in England’s neck.
“Insufferable git.”
When America let go, England asked, “Why were you acting so peculiar before, then, if it weren’t about the Olympics?”
“Weeell, I-”
The tune of “The Stars and Stripes Forever” suddenly started playing in the hotel room.
“Eh?” America rummaged around his suitcase for his phone. “Who would call me at such a time? Even my boss wouldn’t-Ah, found it!”
“You really need to organize a bit better,” said England disapprovingly, observing the mess of clothes, candy, and folders of crumpled-up documents.
“Hello?” asked America, holding his cellphone to his ear. “Yeah? Tony? Hey, buddy, what’s-Huh? Really? I . . . Yeah, I didn’t yet. Why? Something wrong? . . . Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Okay. I’ll check right now.”
With a click, he turned the phone off.
“Tony?” asked England as America ran for his computer. “Tony the-” he hesitated “-alien?” The same one who wouldn’t stop calling me “limey”? “Did something bad happen?”
“That . . . depends,” the other answered, his fingers sweeping across the keyboard in a blur. He clicked on something, and a second later, his muscles tensed.
England rushed to his side. “What is it . . . ? Oh.”
“LANDED!” shouted America, pumping a fist into the air. “CURIOSITY HAS LANDED! Yes! Whew, god, that was one hell of a seven-minutes . . . Think that was the longest time in my life since Cuba . . . AND MARS! Do you know what this means? One day, the ones up there will be AMERICANS!”
So that was what he was worried about. That git wasn’t brooding over the Olympics; he was waiting for the news of the Mars rover’s landing.
America was cheering so loudly the entire hotel could hear him. Shaking his head, England turned to the loud, obnoxious, yet adorable blond.
“Alfred?” he asked.
“MARS-MARS-HEAR THAT? SEE THOSE AWESOME, HIGH-DEF-Hm, yeah?”
“Congratulations,” England said, before grabbing America’s collar and kissing him on the lips.
-.-
“Oh yeah, Artie?”
“Hm?”
“Don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll be able to beat me in something one day.”
“You bloody git! I'll have you know that the U.K. has done fantastically in--"
"Yes, yes. Whatever you say."
"What's that supposed to mean?!"