Blind Carbon Copy (7/?)
Title: Blind Carbon Copy (7/?)
Author: weird_number
Genre: Adventure, Drama
Ratings/Warnings: PG13/Angst/Humor
Summary: Japan's new teleportation machine goes awry, and an America from a world where his Revolution was disastrous comes to visit.
Pairings: US/UK. Germany/France side.
Also at ff.net: [7], Previously on LJ: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5], [6]
It was the third day of the World Conference, and everything had started normally.
Well, as normally as a meeting could be when the nation sitting (silently) by England was not really the right nation.
As normally as it could be when France looked stressed, Germany stony-faced, and England had a feeling it was because their little Eurozone gang was not doing so well. Bailing out Ireland and Greece, he'd laughed to himself, what an intelligent task Germany had undertaken. He tried not to think about how he'd agreed to the Irish bailouts too, how he was really just as screwed as they were, and he didn't even have the solidarity of their union to back himself up...
And there France was, trying to comfort Germany, hoping the nation would stay with Europe and not bail, hoping...
England couldn't help but feel that something was wrong there. Though he told the world that he didn't give a damn about European activities (he was, as he liked to say, hardly European), it was in his interests to observe. This was how these things worked-observe, distract, and destroy. Of course, in their day and age, he could cross off 'destroy' from his list of activities, but that didn't negate the validity of the first two. If America bailed on him, he'd have to depend on the perpetually fickle EU member states, and it was best to know what you were getting into, right?
There was something off about France-the nation had been acting...he couldn't quite put his finger on it, but it felt slimy, much slimier than the usual France-fare. France was definitely up to something, because Germany acted as though he was twirled around France's little finger. How could Germany have failed to notice-France had dubious ideas, French ideas about Europe and its future and France was using Germany to enact them, because-
-because France was goddamn lazy, and was Germany just going to let it slide?
(Was France so mind-blowingly good in bed that Germany just didn't care? Or perhaps it was lingering guilt, guilt from that war-)
But then, England thought bitterly to himself, maybe it wasn't like that, maybe he was just being horribly negative and cynical. Because even if the Eurozone was failing miserably, at least France and Germany had each other. They needed each other, so even if they argued, even if they disagreed, they were bound together by the string of necessity. Being neighbors made nations like that-because if they weren't making love then they were making war, and France and Germany were surely sick of making war.
(When he'd finally escaped the searing burn of Germany's embrace, left his Vichy half hanging out to dry, France had been silent. It was a horrible silence, and England hadn't known what to say. He wanted to ask the usual banalities-"Are you alright? Do you need anything? What happened in there? What-"
But he knew the answers already-because how could he not, how could he not when there was a deep cut marring France's face, when France had visibly limped into the meeting room? Then there was the way the nation had sat-so rigid, so stiff, and so wrong.
Where was the real France, the arrogant, demanding man who would turn up his nose at England's piss-poor cooking and crack jokes about his uniform? Where was the France that didn't stare at the floor, lost in thought, stolen in soul. Where the fuck was France?
-
England had gone down into the warehouse where they were keeping Germany.
(Alone, he had to do this alone.)
He found the nation perched on top of the lone chair, wrists bound together with handcuffs and head bowed. England had pulled up a chair and just sat there, glaring and seething in silence at their prisoner. Germany met England's gaze momentarily, and then he looked down, wringing his hands in discomfort. Good, England thought, he should be uncomfortable.
And so they sat like that for a good hour, England boring his gaze into Germany's head, and Germany shifting uncomfortably in his seat, feeling dirty and sick.
England had wanted to punch the nation, but settled for yelling instead (because he didn't think America would approve if he socked Germany in the jaw). "What did you do, Germany?"
There was no response, and England snarled, "What the fuck did you do, you sorry excuse for a living being?"
Germany didn't answer, but his hands were shaking, and England knew-it would only take a little more, a little more and Germany would go over the edge, a little more and the half-shattered veneer of calm would be expunged, exposing the dirt and grime below, exposing the monster that had been nursed night after night in the early years of the war.
"What, you won't tell me? Are you ashamed, Germany? Ashamed of what you did? Well, guess what? It's too late now, it's too fucking late! Because everyone knows now, and if you thought you could take your dirty secrets to the grave, well, you disgusting cunt, we won't let you!"
Germany looked horrified, and England wanted to laugh. He was right, wasn't he? Just a little more, and Germany would-
The nation sank to the floor, clutching his head, the dirty secrets of the war pouring from his mind in waves.
Germany screamed.
England had left then, because he didn't want to see Germany break down, because whatever was happening now in their modern world, it was terrifying, and he didn't know if he could face it anymore. Because nothing was right anymore-nothing was normal-France was gone, Germany was haunted, Italy was hysterical, and Russia, Russia was downright disgusting, a monster of his own creation.
America-he needed to see America-because America was still in possession of his senses, right? Because America-)
Was that how he'd come to depend on the idiot?
America certainly didn't need England, it was really the other way around, because his own military and defense projects were so damn tied up in America's that he couldn't even tell the difference anymore. So what if he left because he no longer found England useful, because he felt like being callous? It was part of the reason England had been so willing to enter into that military cooperation deal with France, because he had to diversify his holdings, because what if America abandoned him for no reason?
(Not that this America would leave, his current situation was so jarring and different and confusing and now he actually needed England-)
A cellphone rang, loud and shrill and an almost welcome distraction (why his thoughts constantly turned to this bizarre trans-Atlantic tug-of-war he didn't know). China was yelling something in Chinese, making it clear who was the owner of the phone.
"That was my rìjì, nǐ zhègè húndàn! That's utterly unfair, how could-What do you mean I wasn't complaining? It just wasn't on my radar, but now that it is-"
England raised an eyebrow at Hong Kong, who was standing behind China, hoping the boy could shed some light. Hong Kong had been fiddling absent-mindedly with a Rubik cube, and he suddenly raised and lowered his eyebrows several times in rapid succession. What was the boy getting at with-oh-oh-goddamn it, was Hong Kong good or what?
England suddenly felt a surge of pride, because it looked like Hong Kong hadn't forgotten the Morse code he'd taught him years ago, back when they were attempting to build telegraph lines, back when the world had been simpler, smaller, and the sun had never set on his lands.
England shook with barely contained laughter, it was bloody hilarious, watching the rapid fire of Hong Kong's eyebrows: Raise-raise-raise-raise. Raise-raise. Raise-raise-raise. Lower-raise-raise-and he desperately needed to not laugh, because this new communication protocol of theirs was not something he wanted to draw attention to.
When he'd finally parsed what Hong Kong was saying-"His diary got stolen."-England really couldn't stop himself and made a loud, choked noise.
The poor sod's diary had gotten snatched.
He raised his own eyebrows, signalling that he would be replying back in the same manner. Hong Kong's lips pressed into a thin smile and he nodded encouragingly. England reframed his question in his mind carefully, hoping to minimize eyebrow movements. He eventually settled on a short "By whom?" 'B', if he remembered correctly, was a dash followed by three dots, so he quickly scrunched up his thick brows and rapidly raised them three times. 'Y' was mostly dashes, 'w' was a dot followed by two dashes, and 'h' was a series of four dots. 'O' was obviously three dashes, and-
England, still deep in concentration, had failed to notice that, one, China's phone call had ended, and two, that half the nations at the table were gawking at him, jaws ajar in unison.
"Ah, Angleterre," France began, "Is that a new dance you've invented? An eyebrow dance, it is indeed something only Angleterre can invent, as none of the rest of us have such voluptuous eyebrows, correct? We heathens are simply not suited for such stylish dance moves."
"I'll have you know, France, that I was communicating in Morse code!"
England belatedly realized exactly how insane that statement sounded. In fact, there had never been a moment in his life where he'd wanted to die more, because even the usually straight-faced Germany had his mouth twisted into a confused half-grin.
England glared around the room, daring anyone to extend France's statement, hoping that his glare still carried some weight.
Then his gaze fell upon America, who quickly looked away. And England suddenly felt bad, because he really shouldn't be taking out his anger on this...new America. But the way America was biting down on his lips made it obvious-he'd been laughing, just like everyone else, and even though his gaze was averted, England could tell that his eyes were lit with mirth. After being a witness to this, America would probably never take England seriously again-just fucking great.
Still, this was all typical, wasn't it? France finding some stupid excuse to mock him, Germany silently joining in on the fun, America-well, America looking away was not typical. Usually, the nation would be busy conspiring with France, trying to conjure a method to get England to repeat his 'incident' in a different setting. Though actually, in this specific case, he was sure America would've spent the entire meeting using eyebrow Morse code to communicate with him, all the while jabbering on about how they should invent a term called "eyebrow diplomacy" with definition "to be determined".
-
It was Japan's turn to present, and Japan, ever-organized, had prepared a slideshow. His first topic of choice-a robot he was sending into space.
England found himself glaring at the slideshow of Japan's robots, as he couldn't help but think of that one contraption of Japan's that had caused his America to disappear. How could Japan have the gall to come up here and discuss creating robots after what had happened? Japan was lucky that England hadn't felt bitter enough to simply tell the world of this mishap, Japan was goddamn lucky!
(Of course, there was the added problem that America would be in danger if he breathed a word of the matter, but England really didn't want to think about that.)
"Yaponiya," Russia interrupted Japan's monologue, and Japan froze, recognizing a challenge in Russia's tone of voice. Whatever Russia wanted now could not possibly be any good, and America wasn't here to defend him-this America wouldn't understand. "Your robots are certainly very entertaining. I do wonder-have you made sure to program them to stay away from the Kuril Islands?"
Japan narrowed his eyes, willing himself to be brave. "What are you talking about, Roshia? I was not aware that those islands were yours."
"Well, they most certainly are not yours. In fact, I have a proposal-how about we decide who gets to keep the Kuril Islands through popular vote? This democracy thing-" he glanced at America with a pointed grin "-it's very useful, is it not?"
"This affair is between us, Roshia, and I don't see how putting it up to a vote would be useful. And I would like to remind you that without my permission, other nations should not be allowed to enter-"
"The islands are not yours, Yaponiya, and the faster you acknowledge that, the better. I won them fair and square in the Second World War-I distinctly remember you signing them over to the Allies. You have no control over them now, and Kitaj and I intend to make full use of them."
"Kitaj?" Japan repeated, wondering who Russia had invited to the party now. He found himself glancing fleetingly in America's direction, and he told himself to stop, because America wasn't here and he couldn't always depend on America anyway, he couldn't wait for America to fight his battles, he wasn't that weak-
"Yes, Kitaj," Russia said, patting his good friend China on the shoulder. Japan cringed, because of all the nations Russia had to choose, it just had to be China, right?
"We are going to farm scallops together!" Russia punctuated the sentence with a wide smile.
Japan glanced back and forth between the two of them-he could tell what was going on here, and he was not about to allow the Kuril Islands to turn into some sort of a courtship gift from Russia to China! Russia had probably felt more confident because the NATO nations had been more friendly with him recently-they'd gone out to drinks, all of them congregating in some lousy bar, and Russia probably felt like he belonged. So now he could afford a few jabs in Japan's direction, because it wasn't like Japan could do anything, it wasn't like-
Japan gripped the podium, suddenly overcome with worry and disgust, because Russia was acting like an opportunistic goon, and of course China would take any opportunity to tag along, and just where was America when you needed him?
-
England did his best to tune out the commotion at the front of the room. If Japan wanted to drag out some heated game with Russia (and possibly China, it looked like), so be it. It was none of his business, although he'd played with Russia before-and he'd won then too, being brilliant and all-but Russia hadn't been like this back then. He'd remembered the matter with some fondness, as the two of them were actually quite similar, two outsiders from the affairs of continental Europe playing a most European game.
England glanced at America, who looked to be watching the back-and-forth between Russia and Japan with intense interest.
"So..." England began, "Japan ever take on Russia like that in your world?"
There was a slightly strained look on America's face, and England wondered if he was afraid to talk while others were presenting. He felt an urge to shake the nation and say, It doesn't matter, America, just talk whenever you want to and fuck what they think!
"Um..well, Japan was a Briti-"
"Please don't tell me he was a British colony," England groused. Exactly how many overseas territories did this blasted fool hold? And Japan-how had Japan fallen?
America's face broke out into a slight smile. "No, no, I was going to say he's your ally, so, yes, he has taken on Russia. Just not that often, 'cause he usually just lets you deal with Russia's...uh...antics."
"Antics," England nodded, appreciative, "That's a good way to put it." Although he'd probably have applied the term more towards America-his America-than Russia.
Because a proper definition of the word 'antics' could not be written without including an example of that one time America had remapped Russia's keyboard. Pressing 'R' would render an ascii drawing of a penis, and typing any combination of swear words in either English or Russian would cause the laptop to play an audio clip of the word on repeat. Russia, of course, had the misfortune of typing 'fuck' by accident during the meeting, and his laptop had exploded with a crass string of 'fuckfuckfuckfuck' in the middle of his speech.
"Russia-he-ah, do you think he's just trolling Japan?"
England gave the nation an amused look and said, "Troll? Do you mean the monster-under-the-bridge kind or the internet kind?"
America glanced at the trio again and said, "Um, the latter, I think. 'Cause, well...Russia's smiling every time he talks about 'farming scallops' and China's smiling at the exact same time, so I kinda assumed that...that they have some inside joke going on there...and, well, yeah."
England found himself staring at Russia, then Japan, and China, and he had to concede that America was likely quite right. And America had actually gone to the effort to observe them when the matter didn't concern him at all-this Alfred was really quite good at picking up on subtleties, wasn't he?
"Do you think," America began again, "do you think China's been taking pointers from Russia about trolling?"
"Well, it's a possibility, I suppose." England tried to imagine Russia teaching China the art of trolling. He found himself face to face with a monster of Sino-Russian creation, a twin-headed dragon with one head labeled France and the other Germany-and fuck it, how the hell had that happened? Since when did continental Europe even enter into the picture? He swore he was never allowing his imagination to run wild again.
Having recovered a bit from unwelcome images, England looked at America again and realized that the nation looked comfortable, happy even, to make conversation with him. Even if he still made awkward gestures and his speech was punctuated with hesitant pauses, a willingness to joke and smile was always a good sign. Perhaps if he kept America talking, everything would be fine, the kid would recover, handle his affairs like the real America, and-
"So...um, is Russia...what's he like when he's not trolling?" Good, England thought, he's talking without you prompting him to do so.
A shrill scream interrupted England's attempt to explain the complicated landscape of Russia's mindset. He, like his neighbors, shot up from his seat and looked around the room. Then he cringed-because-it was-
South Korea had collapsed.
(And the timing of it was all wrong, so, so wrong.)
South Korea was screaming something incoherent as he fell, hands clawing at the table in desperation and fear. Blood was spilling from an open wound on his arm, and Japan was standing in shock next to him, unsure of what to do. Because they weren't really all that friendly, because South Korea had been so bitter over the years, but it didn't matter, did it? They both knew exactly who had caused it, it was so obvious, so disgusting, so-
Japan looked at England, and they both cringed in understanding. Their America should've been here, because if America was here, he would be the one condemning the attacks, voice spreading like wildfire over their newspapers. But America wasn't here, America was sitting numbly next to England, unsure of the situation and unsure of what his reaction should be.
Canada was staring at his brother too, eyebrows knit together in worry.
(Because something was wrong with America, something was horribly, horribly wrong.)
"Is...is he alright?" America asked, eyes wide with confusion, because everyone was staring at him, and what exactly was he supposed to do? If he was a superpower, how would he react? Would he feel the need to...interfere, perhaps? He had to do something, he had to...
-
notes:
- Japan and Russia are currently having a row over the Kuril Islands. Russia has official jurisdiction over the islands, but Japan lays claim to several. There were treaties after WWII that turned the islands over to the Allies, just not specifically to Russia, and Japan claims Russia shouldn't have had them (and also that Russia violated the Soviet-Japanese neutrality pact). The whole matter is pretty muddled. Note that what I wrote was Japan's perspective, so it's bound to be biased. If Russia could have his say, I'm sure his argument would sound reasonable too.
- Russia recently started a joint scallop-farming business with China on the Kuril Islands. Of course, this annoys Japan to no end.
- Japan wants to send a humanoid robot into space.
- Germany and France were having issues a while back, but please take England's analysis of their relationship with a grain of salt, as his descriptions are very tainted by his own perspective. Basically, Germany was very unhappy about the bailouts (as they're shouldering most of the burden) and thus was thinking of cooling the whole Eurozone project. France, of course, would have none of this, and their focus became keeping Germany in the European project. After much convincing from France, Germany and France are (again) united in support for the euro, which has pissed off the other EU member states.
- Hong Kong basically explains what China says, but the actual translation is: "That was my diary you bastard!" Note that the diary hasn't actually been leaked yet, it's in transition. ;)
- Also, these events are not happening in chronological order-in reality, the scallop-farming was a very recent development and it's not at the same time of China's diary leakage.
Wow, I have never made it so far with a story before (I usually abandon at around the fifth chapter :P). Thanks for the continued support everyone! :)
Author: weird_number
Genre: Adventure, Drama
Ratings/Warnings: PG13/Angst/Humor
Summary: Japan's new teleportation machine goes awry, and an America from a world where his Revolution was disastrous comes to visit.
Pairings: US/UK. Germany/France side.
Also at ff.net: [7], Previously on LJ: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5], [6]
It was the third day of the World Conference, and everything had started normally.
Well, as normally as a meeting could be when the nation sitting (silently) by England was not really the right nation.
As normally as it could be when France looked stressed, Germany stony-faced, and England had a feeling it was because their little Eurozone gang was not doing so well. Bailing out Ireland and Greece, he'd laughed to himself, what an intelligent task Germany had undertaken. He tried not to think about how he'd agreed to the Irish bailouts too, how he was really just as screwed as they were, and he didn't even have the solidarity of their union to back himself up...
And there France was, trying to comfort Germany, hoping the nation would stay with Europe and not bail, hoping...
England couldn't help but feel that something was wrong there. Though he told the world that he didn't give a damn about European activities (he was, as he liked to say, hardly European), it was in his interests to observe. This was how these things worked-observe, distract, and destroy. Of course, in their day and age, he could cross off 'destroy' from his list of activities, but that didn't negate the validity of the first two. If America bailed on him, he'd have to depend on the perpetually fickle EU member states, and it was best to know what you were getting into, right?
There was something off about France-the nation had been acting...he couldn't quite put his finger on it, but it felt slimy, much slimier than the usual France-fare. France was definitely up to something, because Germany acted as though he was twirled around France's little finger. How could Germany have failed to notice-France had dubious ideas, French ideas about Europe and its future and France was using Germany to enact them, because-
-because France was goddamn lazy, and was Germany just going to let it slide?
(Was France so mind-blowingly good in bed that Germany just didn't care? Or perhaps it was lingering guilt, guilt from that war-)
But then, England thought bitterly to himself, maybe it wasn't like that, maybe he was just being horribly negative and cynical. Because even if the Eurozone was failing miserably, at least France and Germany had each other. They needed each other, so even if they argued, even if they disagreed, they were bound together by the string of necessity. Being neighbors made nations like that-because if they weren't making love then they were making war, and France and Germany were surely sick of making war.
(When he'd finally escaped the searing burn of Germany's embrace, left his Vichy half hanging out to dry, France had been silent. It was a horrible silence, and England hadn't known what to say. He wanted to ask the usual banalities-"Are you alright? Do you need anything? What happened in there? What-"
But he knew the answers already-because how could he not, how could he not when there was a deep cut marring France's face, when France had visibly limped into the meeting room? Then there was the way the nation had sat-so rigid, so stiff, and so wrong.
Where was the real France, the arrogant, demanding man who would turn up his nose at England's piss-poor cooking and crack jokes about his uniform? Where was the France that didn't stare at the floor, lost in thought, stolen in soul. Where the fuck was France?
-
England had gone down into the warehouse where they were keeping Germany.
(Alone, he had to do this alone.)
He found the nation perched on top of the lone chair, wrists bound together with handcuffs and head bowed. England had pulled up a chair and just sat there, glaring and seething in silence at their prisoner. Germany met England's gaze momentarily, and then he looked down, wringing his hands in discomfort. Good, England thought, he should be uncomfortable.
And so they sat like that for a good hour, England boring his gaze into Germany's head, and Germany shifting uncomfortably in his seat, feeling dirty and sick.
England had wanted to punch the nation, but settled for yelling instead (because he didn't think America would approve if he socked Germany in the jaw). "What did you do, Germany?"
There was no response, and England snarled, "What the fuck did you do, you sorry excuse for a living being?"
Germany didn't answer, but his hands were shaking, and England knew-it would only take a little more, a little more and Germany would go over the edge, a little more and the half-shattered veneer of calm would be expunged, exposing the dirt and grime below, exposing the monster that had been nursed night after night in the early years of the war.
"What, you won't tell me? Are you ashamed, Germany? Ashamed of what you did? Well, guess what? It's too late now, it's too fucking late! Because everyone knows now, and if you thought you could take your dirty secrets to the grave, well, you disgusting cunt, we won't let you!"
Germany looked horrified, and England wanted to laugh. He was right, wasn't he? Just a little more, and Germany would-
The nation sank to the floor, clutching his head, the dirty secrets of the war pouring from his mind in waves.
Germany screamed.
England had left then, because he didn't want to see Germany break down, because whatever was happening now in their modern world, it was terrifying, and he didn't know if he could face it anymore. Because nothing was right anymore-nothing was normal-France was gone, Germany was haunted, Italy was hysterical, and Russia, Russia was downright disgusting, a monster of his own creation.
America-he needed to see America-because America was still in possession of his senses, right? Because America-)
Was that how he'd come to depend on the idiot?
America certainly didn't need England, it was really the other way around, because his own military and defense projects were so damn tied up in America's that he couldn't even tell the difference anymore. So what if he left because he no longer found England useful, because he felt like being callous? It was part of the reason England had been so willing to enter into that military cooperation deal with France, because he had to diversify his holdings, because what if America abandoned him for no reason?
(Not that this America would leave, his current situation was so jarring and different and confusing and now he actually needed England-)
A cellphone rang, loud and shrill and an almost welcome distraction (why his thoughts constantly turned to this bizarre trans-Atlantic tug-of-war he didn't know). China was yelling something in Chinese, making it clear who was the owner of the phone.
"That was my rìjì, nǐ zhègè húndàn! That's utterly unfair, how could-What do you mean I wasn't complaining? It just wasn't on my radar, but now that it is-"
England raised an eyebrow at Hong Kong, who was standing behind China, hoping the boy could shed some light. Hong Kong had been fiddling absent-mindedly with a Rubik cube, and he suddenly raised and lowered his eyebrows several times in rapid succession. What was the boy getting at with-oh-oh-goddamn it, was Hong Kong good or what?
England suddenly felt a surge of pride, because it looked like Hong Kong hadn't forgotten the Morse code he'd taught him years ago, back when they were attempting to build telegraph lines, back when the world had been simpler, smaller, and the sun had never set on his lands.
England shook with barely contained laughter, it was bloody hilarious, watching the rapid fire of Hong Kong's eyebrows: Raise-raise-raise-raise. Raise-raise. Raise-raise-raise. Lower-raise-raise-and he desperately needed to not laugh, because this new communication protocol of theirs was not something he wanted to draw attention to.
When he'd finally parsed what Hong Kong was saying-"His diary got stolen."-England really couldn't stop himself and made a loud, choked noise.
The poor sod's diary had gotten snatched.
He raised his own eyebrows, signalling that he would be replying back in the same manner. Hong Kong's lips pressed into a thin smile and he nodded encouragingly. England reframed his question in his mind carefully, hoping to minimize eyebrow movements. He eventually settled on a short "By whom?" 'B', if he remembered correctly, was a dash followed by three dots, so he quickly scrunched up his thick brows and rapidly raised them three times. 'Y' was mostly dashes, 'w' was a dot followed by two dashes, and 'h' was a series of four dots. 'O' was obviously three dashes, and-
England, still deep in concentration, had failed to notice that, one, China's phone call had ended, and two, that half the nations at the table were gawking at him, jaws ajar in unison.
"Ah, Angleterre," France began, "Is that a new dance you've invented? An eyebrow dance, it is indeed something only Angleterre can invent, as none of the rest of us have such voluptuous eyebrows, correct? We heathens are simply not suited for such stylish dance moves."
"I'll have you know, France, that I was communicating in Morse code!"
England belatedly realized exactly how insane that statement sounded. In fact, there had never been a moment in his life where he'd wanted to die more, because even the usually straight-faced Germany had his mouth twisted into a confused half-grin.
England glared around the room, daring anyone to extend France's statement, hoping that his glare still carried some weight.
Then his gaze fell upon America, who quickly looked away. And England suddenly felt bad, because he really shouldn't be taking out his anger on this...new America. But the way America was biting down on his lips made it obvious-he'd been laughing, just like everyone else, and even though his gaze was averted, England could tell that his eyes were lit with mirth. After being a witness to this, America would probably never take England seriously again-just fucking great.
Still, this was all typical, wasn't it? France finding some stupid excuse to mock him, Germany silently joining in on the fun, America-well, America looking away was not typical. Usually, the nation would be busy conspiring with France, trying to conjure a method to get England to repeat his 'incident' in a different setting. Though actually, in this specific case, he was sure America would've spent the entire meeting using eyebrow Morse code to communicate with him, all the while jabbering on about how they should invent a term called "eyebrow diplomacy" with definition "to be determined".
-
It was Japan's turn to present, and Japan, ever-organized, had prepared a slideshow. His first topic of choice-a robot he was sending into space.
England found himself glaring at the slideshow of Japan's robots, as he couldn't help but think of that one contraption of Japan's that had caused his America to disappear. How could Japan have the gall to come up here and discuss creating robots after what had happened? Japan was lucky that England hadn't felt bitter enough to simply tell the world of this mishap, Japan was goddamn lucky!
(Of course, there was the added problem that America would be in danger if he breathed a word of the matter, but England really didn't want to think about that.)
"Yaponiya," Russia interrupted Japan's monologue, and Japan froze, recognizing a challenge in Russia's tone of voice. Whatever Russia wanted now could not possibly be any good, and America wasn't here to defend him-this America wouldn't understand. "Your robots are certainly very entertaining. I do wonder-have you made sure to program them to stay away from the Kuril Islands?"
Japan narrowed his eyes, willing himself to be brave. "What are you talking about, Roshia? I was not aware that those islands were yours."
"Well, they most certainly are not yours. In fact, I have a proposal-how about we decide who gets to keep the Kuril Islands through popular vote? This democracy thing-" he glanced at America with a pointed grin "-it's very useful, is it not?"
"This affair is between us, Roshia, and I don't see how putting it up to a vote would be useful. And I would like to remind you that without my permission, other nations should not be allowed to enter-"
"The islands are not yours, Yaponiya, and the faster you acknowledge that, the better. I won them fair and square in the Second World War-I distinctly remember you signing them over to the Allies. You have no control over them now, and Kitaj and I intend to make full use of them."
"Kitaj?" Japan repeated, wondering who Russia had invited to the party now. He found himself glancing fleetingly in America's direction, and he told himself to stop, because America wasn't here and he couldn't always depend on America anyway, he couldn't wait for America to fight his battles, he wasn't that weak-
"Yes, Kitaj," Russia said, patting his good friend China on the shoulder. Japan cringed, because of all the nations Russia had to choose, it just had to be China, right?
"We are going to farm scallops together!" Russia punctuated the sentence with a wide smile.
Japan glanced back and forth between the two of them-he could tell what was going on here, and he was not about to allow the Kuril Islands to turn into some sort of a courtship gift from Russia to China! Russia had probably felt more confident because the NATO nations had been more friendly with him recently-they'd gone out to drinks, all of them congregating in some lousy bar, and Russia probably felt like he belonged. So now he could afford a few jabs in Japan's direction, because it wasn't like Japan could do anything, it wasn't like-
Japan gripped the podium, suddenly overcome with worry and disgust, because Russia was acting like an opportunistic goon, and of course China would take any opportunity to tag along, and just where was America when you needed him?
-
England did his best to tune out the commotion at the front of the room. If Japan wanted to drag out some heated game with Russia (and possibly China, it looked like), so be it. It was none of his business, although he'd played with Russia before-and he'd won then too, being brilliant and all-but Russia hadn't been like this back then. He'd remembered the matter with some fondness, as the two of them were actually quite similar, two outsiders from the affairs of continental Europe playing a most European game.
England glanced at America, who looked to be watching the back-and-forth between Russia and Japan with intense interest.
"So..." England began, "Japan ever take on Russia like that in your world?"
There was a slightly strained look on America's face, and England wondered if he was afraid to talk while others were presenting. He felt an urge to shake the nation and say, It doesn't matter, America, just talk whenever you want to and fuck what they think!
"Um..well, Japan was a Briti-"
"Please don't tell me he was a British colony," England groused. Exactly how many overseas territories did this blasted fool hold? And Japan-how had Japan fallen?
America's face broke out into a slight smile. "No, no, I was going to say he's your ally, so, yes, he has taken on Russia. Just not that often, 'cause he usually just lets you deal with Russia's...uh...antics."
"Antics," England nodded, appreciative, "That's a good way to put it." Although he'd probably have applied the term more towards America-his America-than Russia.
Because a proper definition of the word 'antics' could not be written without including an example of that one time America had remapped Russia's keyboard. Pressing 'R' would render an ascii drawing of a penis, and typing any combination of swear words in either English or Russian would cause the laptop to play an audio clip of the word on repeat. Russia, of course, had the misfortune of typing 'fuck' by accident during the meeting, and his laptop had exploded with a crass string of 'fuckfuckfuckfuck' in the middle of his speech.
"Russia-he-ah, do you think he's just trolling Japan?"
England gave the nation an amused look and said, "Troll? Do you mean the monster-under-the-bridge kind or the internet kind?"
America glanced at the trio again and said, "Um, the latter, I think. 'Cause, well...Russia's smiling every time he talks about 'farming scallops' and China's smiling at the exact same time, so I kinda assumed that...that they have some inside joke going on there...and, well, yeah."
England found himself staring at Russia, then Japan, and China, and he had to concede that America was likely quite right. And America had actually gone to the effort to observe them when the matter didn't concern him at all-this Alfred was really quite good at picking up on subtleties, wasn't he?
"Do you think," America began again, "do you think China's been taking pointers from Russia about trolling?"
"Well, it's a possibility, I suppose." England tried to imagine Russia teaching China the art of trolling. He found himself face to face with a monster of Sino-Russian creation, a twin-headed dragon with one head labeled France and the other Germany-and fuck it, how the hell had that happened? Since when did continental Europe even enter into the picture? He swore he was never allowing his imagination to run wild again.
Having recovered a bit from unwelcome images, England looked at America again and realized that the nation looked comfortable, happy even, to make conversation with him. Even if he still made awkward gestures and his speech was punctuated with hesitant pauses, a willingness to joke and smile was always a good sign. Perhaps if he kept America talking, everything would be fine, the kid would recover, handle his affairs like the real America, and-
"So...um, is Russia...what's he like when he's not trolling?" Good, England thought, he's talking without you prompting him to do so.
A shrill scream interrupted England's attempt to explain the complicated landscape of Russia's mindset. He, like his neighbors, shot up from his seat and looked around the room. Then he cringed-because-it was-
South Korea had collapsed.
(And the timing of it was all wrong, so, so wrong.)
South Korea was screaming something incoherent as he fell, hands clawing at the table in desperation and fear. Blood was spilling from an open wound on his arm, and Japan was standing in shock next to him, unsure of what to do. Because they weren't really all that friendly, because South Korea had been so bitter over the years, but it didn't matter, did it? They both knew exactly who had caused it, it was so obvious, so disgusting, so-
Japan looked at England, and they both cringed in understanding. Their America should've been here, because if America was here, he would be the one condemning the attacks, voice spreading like wildfire over their newspapers. But America wasn't here, America was sitting numbly next to England, unsure of the situation and unsure of what his reaction should be.
Canada was staring at his brother too, eyebrows knit together in worry.
(Because something was wrong with America, something was horribly, horribly wrong.)
"Is...is he alright?" America asked, eyes wide with confusion, because everyone was staring at him, and what exactly was he supposed to do? If he was a superpower, how would he react? Would he feel the need to...interfere, perhaps? He had to do something, he had to...
-
notes:
- Japan and Russia are currently having a row over the Kuril Islands. Russia has official jurisdiction over the islands, but Japan lays claim to several. There were treaties after WWII that turned the islands over to the Allies, just not specifically to Russia, and Japan claims Russia shouldn't have had them (and also that Russia violated the Soviet-Japanese neutrality pact). The whole matter is pretty muddled. Note that what I wrote was Japan's perspective, so it's bound to be biased. If Russia could have his say, I'm sure his argument would sound reasonable too.
- Russia recently started a joint scallop-farming business with China on the Kuril Islands. Of course, this annoys Japan to no end.
- Japan wants to send a humanoid robot into space.
- Germany and France were having issues a while back, but please take England's analysis of their relationship with a grain of salt, as his descriptions are very tainted by his own perspective. Basically, Germany was very unhappy about the bailouts (as they're shouldering most of the burden) and thus was thinking of cooling the whole Eurozone project. France, of course, would have none of this, and their focus became keeping Germany in the European project. After much convincing from France, Germany and France are (again) united in support for the euro, which has pissed off the other EU member states.
- Hong Kong basically explains what China says, but the actual translation is: "That was my diary you bastard!" Note that the diary hasn't actually been leaked yet, it's in transition. ;)
- Also, these events are not happening in chronological order-in reality, the scallop-farming was a very recent development and it's not at the same time of China's diary leakage.
Wow, I have never made it so far with a story before (I usually abandon at around the fifth chapter :P). Thanks for the continued support everyone! :)