Axis Powers Hetalia - America & England - PG - America and England
Title: America and England
Author: Ema (lightningrapier)
Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
Pairing: GUESS. GO AHEAD.
Rating: PG. Well, except for some small mentions of paedophilia (England made me use the British spelling D: ), but what do you expect from a strip with France in it?
Warnings: None.
Word Count: 1,122.
Notes: I really like America and England. They're so cute. Also, I'd like to note how difficult it sometimes is to give plausible background stories to crack manga that just starts wherever it wants. This fic loses some of its hilarity because of that, but just go read it after you read this for yourself. France is lulzy.
Disclaimer: APH is owned by Hidekaz and not be me. This was done so I could have a friend in the fandom, not to rip off of his storylines. This was also done from the lovely scanslation by panjapanja, which you can find here. Thank you for the translation!
England had been planning to visit America for some time now, but he'd never gotten around to it. It had taken a while to clear out his schedule to go and see the little colony and note the progress he was making, but eventually, he found the time. The trip had been long and vexing, and it had been further aggravated by England dwelling on his strained relationships with the other European countries -- specifically France, who'd been rather troublesome just before England had left -- and thus, England wasn't in the best mood when he stepped off the boat and onto his colony's soil. Getting to America's house didn't take long, but it was long enough for England to think and overthink the French encounter, and it was pissing him off.
Damnit, he thought, teeth gritted together as he stepped from the carriage. Being in Europe makes me so mad.
Just as he strode into the house, America (followed by a puppy right at his heels) came bounding towards England, encircling small arms around England's leg and hugging it close.
"England!" he cried, as loud as he could with such a tiny voice. England felt his anger melt away. A little. "You came back!"
America released England's leg and England leaned down, managing a sort of smile as he brushed a hand through America's hair. "Yeah, I did," he said. "Have you been well? I'm sorry I haven't been able to visit."
America grinned. "It's okay!" he said, leaning his head into England's touch. "I'm just happy to have you here again!"
England straightened his stance, glancing around the small house. Between America's grin and the relaxed state of things, he could already feel his annoyance ebbing away. How was America so damn good at relaxing England like that? He was just a kid. Weren't young colonies supposed to be a point of irritation more often than not?
"...Being with you calms me down a lot," England intoned, smiling down to America.
"Really?" America asked, his eyes looking bright, wide, and hopeful. America was definitely all of those things.
"Really," England answered. Somewhere in the back of his head, he could already hear what that pervert France would think of this relationship, and that was enough to make his smile falter and his face flush -- but the smile only faltered for a second. By then, America had already grabbed England's hand and was leading him further into the house, chattering away about this and that.
The day passed, and America was beginning to get cranky from hunger. England pulled the young colony into the kitchen and sat him at the table with a box of pencils and some paper to occupy him and began dinner. It wasn't long before it was ready, and England brought two plates to the table, handing America a fork.
"Enjoy," he said.
"Ohh, yay! It's been a while since I've had your cooking, England!" America said, eagerly taking the fork as he stared down at the food with delight. It wasn't long before he was digging in.
"I know," England answered, frowning a bit. He knew America wasn't meaning to, but the kid had been making little guilt-tripping comments like that all day long. "I wish I could cook like this for you all the time."
America ate on before stopping for a moment, chewing thoughtfully.
"Come to think of it," he said, suddenly, his mouth a bit full, "I've never really known, but... is this food the kind of stuff that's supposed to be called 'delicious'?"
England slammed hands on the table, the temper he'd kept reigned in all day spilling out suddenly. "What?!" he asked, almost shouting. "Ridiculous! Isn't it obvious that it's delicious?!"
America didn't really seem affected by the yelling. He looked thoughtful, really. "Ah, I see," he said, finally. "So this is how delicious food tastes."
(And that's how two world powers came to have no taste in food.
France: "How annoying.")
The next two days passed without real incident. America was clingy and with England every second, which suited England (mostly). When it came time for England to leave, he packed up his meager suitcase and turned to America, a sad sort of smile on his face.
"Well," he said, "I'd better go back to my country."
America's eyes went wide, his face a perfect expression of shock.
"Huh?" he asked. "You're leaving already!?" England, not really sure how to answer, tilted his head a bit, frowning. His expression mirrored America's shock, however, when the young boy suddenly launched himself at England, grabbing his clothes. "No! I won't let you go back!"
"I'll be back! I'll be back! Don't worry!" England cried, trying to pry the child off him. America had the musket England had given him as a gift cradled in one arm, and England was beginning to worry that the gift had been a bit premature, considering his age.
"Don't go back," America begged, tears beginning to shine in his eyes. "Being alone in such a big place is scary! I'll be so sad and lonely..."
England managed to replace the sad smile back on his face, and leaned down to address America in a soft voice. "I'm sorry," he said. "I know very well how it feels to be lonely. I promise I'll be back again to see your progress soon, so do your best and become strong for me, okay?"
America sniffed back tears loudly, trying to meet England's gaze. "O-okay," he answered, his lower lip trembling. England patted America's head kindly, taking his bag and turning to step back into the carriage and make the ride to the pier.
Not much longer than a year or so passed -- America and England kept frequent correspondence on the state of the colony, but England remembered his promise and managed to once again clear out time to visit. He was in a considerably better mood than he had been in last time, and he took the carriage ride from the pier, excitement mounting in visiting the young colony again.
As he stepped into the house, England shouldered his bag, looking around. Not much had changed around here, he noted.
"America!" he called. "I'm back just like I promised! I brought you your favorite tea--"*
The words died on his lips when he stepped out of the house and into the back yard, where America was standing, cleaning the same musket England had given him a year ago. That wasn't what gave England pause, though. When he approached America, the colony was taller than him -- only be a few inches, but...
The young boy England had left behind had grown into a teenager.
"Oh!" America said, turning towards England. "Hey, England!" He grinned, setting the musket down.
England's mouth was hanging open. "Wh--" he started. "But-- you-- you-- what?!"
America, always oblivious, only smiled, looking a little confused, but still happy.
----
A/N: *Lulz, this is a jab at the Boston Tea Party. You probably got that, but.
Author: Ema (lightningrapier)
Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
Pairing: GUESS. GO AHEAD.
Rating: PG. Well, except for some small mentions of paedophilia (England made me use the British spelling D: ), but what do you expect from a strip with France in it?
Warnings: None.
Word Count: 1,122.
Notes: I really like America and England. They're so cute. Also, I'd like to note how difficult it sometimes is to give plausible background stories to crack manga that just starts wherever it wants. This fic loses some of its hilarity because of that, but just go read it after you read this for yourself. France is lulzy.
Disclaimer: APH is owned by Hidekaz and not be me. This was done so I could have a friend in the fandom, not to rip off of his storylines. This was also done from the lovely scanslation by panjapanja, which you can find here. Thank you for the translation!
England had been planning to visit America for some time now, but he'd never gotten around to it. It had taken a while to clear out his schedule to go and see the little colony and note the progress he was making, but eventually, he found the time. The trip had been long and vexing, and it had been further aggravated by England dwelling on his strained relationships with the other European countries -- specifically France, who'd been rather troublesome just before England had left -- and thus, England wasn't in the best mood when he stepped off the boat and onto his colony's soil. Getting to America's house didn't take long, but it was long enough for England to think and overthink the French encounter, and it was pissing him off.
Damnit, he thought, teeth gritted together as he stepped from the carriage. Being in Europe makes me so mad.
Just as he strode into the house, America (followed by a puppy right at his heels) came bounding towards England, encircling small arms around England's leg and hugging it close.
"England!" he cried, as loud as he could with such a tiny voice. England felt his anger melt away. A little. "You came back!"
America released England's leg and England leaned down, managing a sort of smile as he brushed a hand through America's hair. "Yeah, I did," he said. "Have you been well? I'm sorry I haven't been able to visit."
America grinned. "It's okay!" he said, leaning his head into England's touch. "I'm just happy to have you here again!"
England straightened his stance, glancing around the small house. Between America's grin and the relaxed state of things, he could already feel his annoyance ebbing away. How was America so damn good at relaxing England like that? He was just a kid. Weren't young colonies supposed to be a point of irritation more often than not?
"...Being with you calms me down a lot," England intoned, smiling down to America.
"Really?" America asked, his eyes looking bright, wide, and hopeful. America was definitely all of those things.
"Really," England answered. Somewhere in the back of his head, he could already hear what that pervert France would think of this relationship, and that was enough to make his smile falter and his face flush -- but the smile only faltered for a second. By then, America had already grabbed England's hand and was leading him further into the house, chattering away about this and that.
The day passed, and America was beginning to get cranky from hunger. England pulled the young colony into the kitchen and sat him at the table with a box of pencils and some paper to occupy him and began dinner. It wasn't long before it was ready, and England brought two plates to the table, handing America a fork.
"Enjoy," he said.
"Ohh, yay! It's been a while since I've had your cooking, England!" America said, eagerly taking the fork as he stared down at the food with delight. It wasn't long before he was digging in.
"I know," England answered, frowning a bit. He knew America wasn't meaning to, but the kid had been making little guilt-tripping comments like that all day long. "I wish I could cook like this for you all the time."
America ate on before stopping for a moment, chewing thoughtfully.
"Come to think of it," he said, suddenly, his mouth a bit full, "I've never really known, but... is this food the kind of stuff that's supposed to be called 'delicious'?"
England slammed hands on the table, the temper he'd kept reigned in all day spilling out suddenly. "What?!" he asked, almost shouting. "Ridiculous! Isn't it obvious that it's delicious?!"
America didn't really seem affected by the yelling. He looked thoughtful, really. "Ah, I see," he said, finally. "So this is how delicious food tastes."
(And that's how two world powers came to have no taste in food.
France: "How annoying.")
The next two days passed without real incident. America was clingy and with England every second, which suited England (mostly). When it came time for England to leave, he packed up his meager suitcase and turned to America, a sad sort of smile on his face.
"Well," he said, "I'd better go back to my country."
America's eyes went wide, his face a perfect expression of shock.
"Huh?" he asked. "You're leaving already!?" England, not really sure how to answer, tilted his head a bit, frowning. His expression mirrored America's shock, however, when the young boy suddenly launched himself at England, grabbing his clothes. "No! I won't let you go back!"
"I'll be back! I'll be back! Don't worry!" England cried, trying to pry the child off him. America had the musket England had given him as a gift cradled in one arm, and England was beginning to worry that the gift had been a bit premature, considering his age.
"Don't go back," America begged, tears beginning to shine in his eyes. "Being alone in such a big place is scary! I'll be so sad and lonely..."
England managed to replace the sad smile back on his face, and leaned down to address America in a soft voice. "I'm sorry," he said. "I know very well how it feels to be lonely. I promise I'll be back again to see your progress soon, so do your best and become strong for me, okay?"
America sniffed back tears loudly, trying to meet England's gaze. "O-okay," he answered, his lower lip trembling. England patted America's head kindly, taking his bag and turning to step back into the carriage and make the ride to the pier.
Not much longer than a year or so passed -- America and England kept frequent correspondence on the state of the colony, but England remembered his promise and managed to once again clear out time to visit. He was in a considerably better mood than he had been in last time, and he took the carriage ride from the pier, excitement mounting in visiting the young colony again.
As he stepped into the house, England shouldered his bag, looking around. Not much had changed around here, he noted.
"America!" he called. "I'm back just like I promised! I brought you your favorite tea--"*
The words died on his lips when he stepped out of the house and into the back yard, where America was standing, cleaning the same musket England had given him a year ago. That wasn't what gave England pause, though. When he approached America, the colony was taller than him -- only be a few inches, but...
The young boy England had left behind had grown into a teenager.
"Oh!" America said, turning towards England. "Hey, England!" He grinned, setting the musket down.
England's mouth was hanging open. "Wh--" he started. "But-- you-- you-- what?!"
America, always oblivious, only smiled, looking a little confused, but still happy.
----
A/N: *Lulz, this is a jab at the Boston Tea Party. You probably got that, but.