Request was America needing a sleeping partner after watching a scary movie, and having trouble finding one. From here.
“Er. Hey, England.” Arthur nearly hangs up right there. It is almost eleven o’clock. He had just climbed into bed. “This had better be good.” “Oh, totally. Yeah. I was just… listen, are you doing anything tonight?” “Yes. I am going to sleep. Without you clinging to me and screaming every time the house creaks. Honesly, Alfred, The Haunting In Connecticut? My bunny slippers are scarier.” “Yeah, but-” England snaps his cell phone shut and sets it on his nightstand. He pities whoever has to deal with that fool tonight.
“Hey, Francis.” “Allo?” “Um, what are you doing right now?” Francis snorts. “If this is a solicitation, you’re going about it all wrong.” “No. No, I was just wondering. I mean, if you’re busy…” Ah. There it is. He has dealt with America often enough in England’s stead to know exactly why he’s calling so late, so eager to meet with him out of the blue. It is the tone that gives him away. “If you are looking for romance, my dear, you may come over. But I do not permit strange men to sleep in my bed unless I am getting something out of it.” “Oh. Sure. Okay.” “Good luck finding a babysitter.” “Yeah, fuck you too,” Alfred mumbles halfheartedly. He hangs up.
“Canada?” “Yes, who is this?” “Oh, come on, just because people forget who you are doesn’t mean you don’t recognize your own brother on the phone.” Matthew smiles thinly. “How are you, America?” “I’m shitting my pants,” Alfred explodes, his voice shrill. “Are you kidding me? Guess what I just went and saw?” Of course. “A scary movie?” “The scary movie. The scariest one I’ve ever seen.” Matthew tries to sound interested. It is always the scariest movie Alfred has ever seen. He has probably used that same line every time he’s gone to the cinema. “What was the name of it?” “Look, it doesn’t matter. Just let me come over, okay?” “I… well, I would, but I’m a little busy at the moment.” “Busy?” He actually sounds nonplussed at that. “You’re busy? Right now?” “Yes,” Matthew sighs. “It may interest you to know, Alfred, that I have something of a social life.” “Yeah? Fine, humor me. What are you doing?” “It’s none of your business.” Matthew blushes. “Actually, I’m not even at home right now, so don’t bother coming over anyway.” “You? Seriously
( ... )
“Hey, Kiku?” “This is he.” “Yeah. Right, yeah. Who answers their phone like that but you. Listen, are you busy right now?” “I am working.” Japan glances at his computer. “It is three o’clock.” “…Oh. Yeah. Time difference. Look, anyway, can I come over?” “Your house is quite some distance from mine, and I will not be finished working until very late today.” “That’s fine. It’s fine. I just - you’re really at work right now?” “Yes, America.” He thinks he has a good idea of what’s going on. “You went and saw The Haunting, didn’t you?” “Yeah. Freaky as hell.” “I look forward to its release in Japan.” “Oh, it’s gonna freak you out. Way scary.” A short pause. “So um, I guess I can’t come over, can I?” “You may do as you like. I regret that I will not be able to host you properly should you arrive at my home before I am finished with work.” “…So no.” “Perhaps another time.” “…’Kay. Talk to you later, I guess.”
“…..don’t hang up on me.” “And why the bloody hell not?” “Because,” America says quickly, “Because I’ve called everybody I know and none of them will let me sleep over and I can’t sleep by myself, England, I just can’t, okay? Please let me come over.” “Call someone else,” he grunts. He looks at the clock. Midnight. That absolute idiot. “I’ve called everyone else. I called Germany, for chrissakes. I called Russia.” “Call them again. Stop bothering me.” “Come on, when do I ever ask you for anything.” “All the time, actually.” “Well - well this is different. Please, England? I need you.” “That’s -” It does still him for a moment. But… no, Alfred doesn’t, and even if he did, it’s too late for that now. (Isn’t it?) “I need you.” America repeats, sensing an opening. “Please. England.” “….fine.” “Really? You’re serious? Oh, god, thank you. Really.” “Let yourself in when you get here.” He hangs up before America can answer, cursing himself all the while.
England can hear the bloody sod’s stereo from his bedroom when he pulls up a little more than half an hour later, blaring that fucking rap music so loud his windows shake until he finally kills the engine and gets out. He is not in a charitable mood when America stumbles into his room (taking the longest time to do it, turning on every light switch he can reach before he moves on to the next unlit space, then lighting it up also and continuing on - is he really still afraid of the dark?) and even the look on his face (childish terror masked poorly by fake bravado) on his face barely softens England’s temper. “Just get in bed,” he snaps, walking past America through the door to turn out all the lights he left on. “Sorry,” Alfred drawls sarcastically, kicking his shoes off. “Say that again like you mean it,” England says when he returns, “or I’m throwing you out. D’you realize how inconsiderate this is, waking me up twice tonight so you could come over - which, really, Alfred, how do you always manage to break something the minute you
( ... )
“T-take-” Alfred splutters. ““No, I can see very well that you have no regard for me whatsoever.” “You were the first person I called! You’re the one I rely on!” That knocks the argument out of his mouth. “I… really?” “Yes! You’re the one I trust for shit like this!” America blusters. He gets quieter as he continues, losing steam. “You’re the one that always ends up forgiving me when I do something stupid, or - or backs me up when I need you - and I do need you, sometimes.” By this point, his voice is quiet and small. He looks at the floor
( ... )
"Fine. I'm making it up." "You don't sound serious." "Listen, Alfred," Arthur says tiredly. "They're nothing to be afraid of. The worst thing that could possibly happen tonight is Gregory will hide your keys for a bit, or a sprite will sleep in your shoe or something." "Gregory?" "The ghost." "You are shitting me." America scoots closer. "You didn't tell me you had a ghost. You have got to be shitting me about the ghost." "He's perfectly harmless. He's less dangerous than a cat." "Don't talk about it like it's a cat it's gonna hear you." Alfred clutches his arm. "Oh fuck. Did you hear that?" Arthur did. He sighs. "Don't encourage him. He likes the attention." "Fuck." America (home of the brave!) is shaking. There is a thud and the sound of footsteps in the hall. "Do you fucking hear that." "He's just making noise. Ignore him and he'll stop it." For good measure, he sits up and calls, "Gregory, stop all that ruckus. Have you any idea what time it is?" "Don't make it angry." Alfred wraps his arms around Arthur's waist
( ... )
Arthur sighs as, for the third time that night, he lays his head on his pillow. "Hey, that was really cool just now." "Compliment me in the morning when I've slept a little," England gripes, not feeling any of the annoyance in his voice. "It's not as if I did anything worth praising." "Are you kidding? You kicked some ghost ass. That was awesome. Like, hero-awesome." "Stop talking like you're impressed. You're not a child anymore." Arthur turns away from him some more to hide his happy blush. "And that ghost, I'll have you know, has lived here since this house was built, and we've always have a fairly pleasant rapport. He just got excited because you were reacting to him." "Yeah, well." America slides up close to him. "I still thought you were really cool." "Mm." He tries not to grin, not sure if Alfred will see him. "Thank you, I suppose. And I'll thank you to please
( ... )
So cute! This was really enjoyable, I loved their bickering and the way their interaction eventually softened out. Don't worry about the html, it's still perfectly legible. Great job!
I lost count of how many times I burst into giggles and "awww"s, because your characterisation was just pitch perfect. And the ghost incident. XD I wanna sleep over at England's.
This was too much win. I loved EVERYTHING. The set up is awesome, their dialogues are hilarious and the random pixie under the bed was so great and clever and funny, and everything was perfect. I was trying to count my favorite lines but I lost the count after the third chapter. =D
“You said your days of needing me were over," Arthur says softly. "A long time ago.” “Well, fuck,” Alfred mutters. “I’m always saying stupid shit.”
You know, I think this must be the best discussion about this matter that I´ve ever read.
(Amore is french? o.o I thought it was italian...)
“Er. Hey, England.”
Arthur nearly hangs up right there. It is almost eleven o’clock. He had just climbed into bed. “This had better be good.”
“Oh, totally. Yeah. I was just… listen, are you doing anything tonight?”
“Yes. I am going to sleep. Without you clinging to me and screaming every time the house creaks. Honesly, Alfred, The Haunting In Connecticut? My bunny slippers are scarier.”
“Yeah, but-” England snaps his cell phone shut and sets it on his nightstand. He pities whoever has to deal with that fool tonight.
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“Allo?”
“Um, what are you doing right now?”
Francis snorts. “If this is a solicitation, you’re going about it all wrong.”
“No. No, I was just wondering. I mean, if you’re busy…”
Ah. There it is. He has dealt with America often enough in England’s stead to know exactly why he’s calling so late, so eager to meet with him out of the blue. It is the tone that gives him away.
“If you are looking for romance, my dear, you may come over. But I do not permit strange men to sleep in my bed unless I am getting something out of it.”
“Oh. Sure. Okay.”
“Good luck finding a babysitter.”
“Yeah, fuck you too,” Alfred mumbles halfheartedly. He hangs up.
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“Yes, who is this?”
“Oh, come on, just because people forget who you are doesn’t mean you don’t recognize your own brother on the phone.”
Matthew smiles thinly. “How are you, America?”
“I’m shitting my pants,” Alfred explodes, his voice shrill. “Are you kidding me? Guess what I just went and saw?”
Of course. “A scary movie?”
“The scary movie. The scariest one I’ve ever seen.”
Matthew tries to sound interested. It is always the scariest movie Alfred has ever seen. He has probably used that same line every time he’s gone to the cinema. “What was the name of it?”
“Look, it doesn’t matter. Just let me come over, okay?”
“I… well, I would, but I’m a little busy at the moment.”
“Busy?” He actually sounds nonplussed at that. “You’re busy? Right now?”
“Yes,” Matthew sighs. “It may interest you to know, Alfred, that I have something of a social life.”
“Yeah? Fine, humor me. What are you doing?”
“It’s none of your business.” Matthew blushes. “Actually, I’m not even at home right now, so don’t bother coming over anyway.”
“You? Seriously ( ... )
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“This is he.”
“Yeah. Right, yeah. Who answers their phone like that but you. Listen, are you busy right now?”
“I am working.” Japan glances at his computer. “It is three o’clock.”
“…Oh. Yeah. Time difference. Look, anyway, can I come over?”
“Your house is quite some distance from mine, and I will not be finished working until very late today.”
“That’s fine. It’s fine. I just - you’re really at work right now?”
“Yes, America.” He thinks he has a good idea of what’s going on. “You went and saw The Haunting, didn’t you?”
“Yeah. Freaky as hell.”
“I look forward to its release in Japan.”
“Oh, it’s gonna freak you out. Way scary.” A short pause. “So um, I guess I can’t come over, can I?”
“You may do as you like. I regret that I will not be able to host you properly should you arrive at my home before I am finished with work.”
“…So no.”
“Perhaps another time.”
“…’Kay. Talk to you later, I guess.”
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“And why the bloody hell not?”
“Because,” America says quickly, “Because I’ve called everybody I know and none of them will let me sleep over and I can’t sleep by myself, England, I just can’t, okay? Please let me come over.”
“Call someone else,” he grunts. He looks at the clock. Midnight. That absolute idiot.
“I’ve called everyone else. I called Germany, for chrissakes. I called Russia.”
“Call them again. Stop bothering me.”
“Come on, when do I ever ask you for anything.”
“All the time, actually.”
“Well - well this is different. Please, England? I need you.”
“That’s -” It does still him for a moment. But… no, Alfred doesn’t, and even if he did, it’s too late for that now. (Isn’t it?)
“I need you.” America repeats, sensing an opening. “Please. England.”
“….fine.”
“Really? You’re serious? Oh, god, thank you. Really.”
“Let yourself in when you get here.”
He hangs up before America can answer, cursing himself all the while.
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He is not in a charitable mood when America stumbles into his room (taking the longest time to do it, turning on every light switch he can reach before he moves on to the next unlit space, then lighting it up also and continuing on - is he really still afraid of the dark?) and even the look on his face (childish terror masked poorly by fake bravado) on his face barely softens England’s temper.
“Just get in bed,” he snaps, walking past America through the door to turn out all the lights he left on.
“Sorry,” Alfred drawls sarcastically, kicking his shoes off.
“Say that again like you mean it,” England says when he returns, “or I’m throwing you out. D’you realize how inconsiderate this is, waking me up twice tonight so you could come over - which, really, Alfred, how do you always manage to break something the minute you ( ... )
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“You were the first person I called! You’re the one I rely on!”
That knocks the argument out of his mouth. “I… really?”
“Yes! You’re the one I trust for shit like this!” America blusters. He gets quieter as he continues, losing steam. “You’re the one that always ends up forgiving me when I do something stupid, or - or backs me up when I need you - and I do need you, sometimes.” By this point, his voice is quiet and small. He looks at the floor ( ... )
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"You don't sound serious."
"Listen, Alfred," Arthur says tiredly. "They're nothing to be afraid of. The worst thing that could possibly happen tonight is Gregory will hide your keys for a bit, or a sprite will sleep in your shoe or something."
"Gregory?"
"The ghost."
"You are shitting me." America scoots closer. "You didn't tell me you had a ghost. You have got to be shitting me about the ghost."
"He's perfectly harmless. He's less dangerous than a cat."
"Don't talk about it like it's a cat it's gonna hear you." Alfred clutches his arm. "Oh fuck. Did you hear that?"
Arthur did. He sighs. "Don't encourage him. He likes the attention."
"Fuck." America (home of the brave!) is shaking. There is a thud and the sound of footsteps in the hall. "Do you fucking hear that."
"He's just making noise. Ignore him and he'll stop it." For good measure, he sits up and calls, "Gregory, stop all that ruckus. Have you any idea what time it is?"
"Don't make it angry." Alfred wraps his arms around Arthur's waist ( ... )
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"Hey, that was really cool just now."
"Compliment me in the morning when I've slept a little," England gripes, not feeling any of the annoyance in his voice. "It's not as if I did anything worth praising."
"Are you kidding? You kicked some ghost ass. That was awesome. Like, hero-awesome."
"Stop talking like you're impressed. You're not a child anymore." Arthur turns away from him some more to hide his happy blush. "And that ghost, I'll have you know, has lived here since this house was built, and we've always have a fairly pleasant rapport. He just got excited because you were reacting to him."
"Yeah, well." America slides up close to him. "I still thought you were really cool."
"Mm." He tries not to grin, not sure if Alfred will see him. "Thank you, I suppose. And I'll thank you to please ( ... )
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Land of the brave, eh?
That was wonderful author!anon. Thanks for sharing this with us.
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I lost count of how many times I burst into giggles and "awww"s, because your characterisation was just pitch perfect. And the ghost incident. XD I wanna sleep over at England's.
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This was too much win. I loved EVERYTHING. The set up is awesome, their dialogues are hilarious and the random pixie under the bed was so great and clever and funny, and everything was perfect. I was trying to count my favorite lines but I lost the count after the third chapter. =D
“You said your days of needing me were over," Arthur says softly. "A long time ago.”
“Well, fuck,” Alfred mutters. “I’m always saying stupid shit.”
You know, I think this must be the best discussion about this matter that I´ve ever read.
(Amore is french? o.o I thought it was italian...)
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