FICLET. HETALIA: part-time privateer (canada/america)
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, FRITZ!
The more I get to know you, the more I find that you're really cool, interesting, and fun to talk to. LOL and we share pairing love and general dorkiness. I'm glad we're friends! Not to mention, you make a fantastic Alfred. ♥ My Matthew would be lost without him, at this point, man. 17 is a big birthday-I hope you have a GREAT day today!
This little ficlet is dedicated to mindlessyouths. ENJOY :)
Haha, um, don't ask me why I'm doing this. I like giving gifts... even if it's a small one, like fic. OTL I feel like I'm always late for my friends' birthdays or I don't have enough online friends I talk to irl who have birthdays or...something, so I was all excited about this! :D This fic was totally inspired by a conversation I had with pyro_o on AIM this morning about Canada being "too nice" to ever be a real scary pirate. :D It turned into Canada/America because... that is all I can write, these days? :o idek.
Part-Time Privateer
Canada/America ; human AU I love me some human AUs. Also, HERE BE FLUFF.
Generally, Matthew hates his job, but it's days like this that make it bearable.
~
"Um. Step right this way onto the ship, please-"
"What kind of pirate are you?" says the ten-year-old girl Matthew is trying to hustle up the gangplank. "Da-ad," she whines over her shoulder at a harassed-looking man behind her. "Dad, this is boring! I wanna go home! Ben said he'd let me play Call of Whatchamacallit if I let him alone for two hours!"
"Call of Duty's not rated E," he says after a beat, smile fighting its way onto his mouth. His amused eyes go to Matthew for an instant, apologetic, and Matthew gets his first good impression: square, dark-rimmed glasses, unruly hair, a Yankees tee and faded jeans, premature worry lines on a boyish face and a blinding grin to soften them. He still doesn't look a day past 25-someone who has had burdens thrust upon him early.
Matthew sighs in silent commiseration. The girl has stopped on the pier, narrowed her eyes as though settling in for the long haul. Then her father leans into Matthew's space conspiratorially, and tells him in an undertone, "Hey, do you think you could be a little more…swashbuckling? Getting her to leave the house in the first place was, like, World War III or something, so I mean-" Matthew catches the scent of cologne, something a bit spicy, a bit smoky. He likes it the second he smells it.
Suddenly, vehemently, Matthew wishes he could take off work, change out of this ridiculous getup. He'd be both more and less than an employee, just go back to cargo pants and a hoodie and scuffed shoes. There'd be no barrier. He'd say, Hey, I'm Matthew, easy. You look like you could use a coffee. There's a Starbucks down the street from here…?
"I'll try," he promises instead, smiling, though he isn't sure he can deliver on that. The fluffy fake feather on Matthew's hat brushes his nose. "You should come back again tomorrow," he adds on a whim. "We fire the cannons every day at noon. Just missed it." It's 12:40, and Matthew can hear his coworkers covering up the big guns on deck.
Later, he thinks, This is a silly place to meet someone, but he can't stop beaming anyway.
The more I get to know you, the more I find that you're really cool, interesting, and fun to talk to. LOL and we share pairing love and general dorkiness. I'm glad we're friends! Not to mention, you make a fantastic Alfred. ♥ My Matthew would be lost without him, at this point, man. 17 is a big birthday-I hope you have a GREAT day today!
This little ficlet is dedicated to mindlessyouths. ENJOY :)
Haha, um, don't ask me why I'm doing this. I like giving gifts... even if it's a small one, like fic. OTL I feel like I'm always late for my friends' birthdays or I don't have enough online friends I talk to irl who have birthdays or...something, so I was all excited about this! :D This fic was totally inspired by a conversation I had with pyro_o on AIM this morning about Canada being "too nice" to ever be a real scary pirate. :D It turned into Canada/America because... that is all I can write, these days? :o idek.
Part-Time Privateer
Canada/America ; human AU I love me some human AUs. Also, HERE BE FLUFF.
Generally, Matthew hates his job, but it's days like this that make it bearable.
~
"Um. Step right this way onto the ship, please-"
"What kind of pirate are you?" says the ten-year-old girl Matthew is trying to hustle up the gangplank. "Da-ad," she whines over her shoulder at a harassed-looking man behind her. "Dad, this is boring! I wanna go home! Ben said he'd let me play Call of Whatchamacallit if I let him alone for two hours!"
"Call of Duty's not rated E," he says after a beat, smile fighting its way onto his mouth. His amused eyes go to Matthew for an instant, apologetic, and Matthew gets his first good impression: square, dark-rimmed glasses, unruly hair, a Yankees tee and faded jeans, premature worry lines on a boyish face and a blinding grin to soften them. He still doesn't look a day past 25-someone who has had burdens thrust upon him early.
Matthew sighs in silent commiseration. The girl has stopped on the pier, narrowed her eyes as though settling in for the long haul. Then her father leans into Matthew's space conspiratorially, and tells him in an undertone, "Hey, do you think you could be a little more…swashbuckling? Getting her to leave the house in the first place was, like, World War III or something, so I mean-" Matthew catches the scent of cologne, something a bit spicy, a bit smoky. He likes it the second he smells it.
Suddenly, vehemently, Matthew wishes he could take off work, change out of this ridiculous getup. He'd be both more and less than an employee, just go back to cargo pants and a hoodie and scuffed shoes. There'd be no barrier. He'd say, Hey, I'm Matthew, easy. You look like you could use a coffee. There's a Starbucks down the street from here…?
"I'll try," he promises instead, smiling, though he isn't sure he can deliver on that. The fluffy fake feather on Matthew's hat brushes his nose. "You should come back again tomorrow," he adds on a whim. "We fire the cannons every day at noon. Just missed it." It's 12:40, and Matthew can hear his coworkers covering up the big guns on deck.
Later, he thinks, This is a silly place to meet someone, but he can't stop beaming anyway.