[Fic Fill] An Overdue Visit
Sep. 9th, 2010 10:56 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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hetaliasunshineTITLE: An Overdue Visit
AUTHOR/ARTIST:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
inner_wings
RECIPIENT:revolutionjack
CHARACTERS/PAIRINGS: England, America, platonic England/America
RATING: PG
SUMMARY: England goes to see his little colony again after a long absence, but a few of England's lessons for America don't go quite as planned.
England was always taken aback by America's open, unabashed delight whenever he came to visit. The boy didn't hold a single thing back, including his abnormal physical strength, as he would fly at England like a ball from a cannon the instant he caught sight of the elder nation exiting the ship and making his way down the dock.
It was clear the lad had grown at a shocking rate in the time England had been gone. The top of his head was now past England's navel, and the charging tackle of a hug that used to merely set him off balance now toppled him right over into an undignified heap on the ground, attracting more than a few raised eyebrows from the other men milling around. It was only luck that America hadn't accidentally knocked them both into the ocean with his enthusiasm.
“You came back!” America cried happily from his current seat on England's stomach. It stung a little, how honestly surprised America seemed, as though he truly expected England to leave for good one day and never return.
“Oh course I did,” England wheezed. The fall had fully knocked the wind out of him, and having a child sit on his chest didn't help speed the recovery. “I promised I would be back...the last time I left...didn't I?”
“But you were gone a long time! For ages and ages! I thought maybe you forgot me.”
“You're impossible to forget,” England laughed breathlessly, ruffling the golden mop of hair. “Now hop up and let me give you a proper hug.”
America was quick to comply with the promise of a hug, and held his arms out expectantly once he climbed to his feet. He had gotten a bit too big for England to scoop him up into his arms anymore, so England instead pushed himself up onto his knees and pulled America to his chest. America squeezed back tightly, nuzzling his cheek against England's coat. England was loath to pull away, but he could feel eyes watching them. Public displays of sentimentality and affection made England squirm, and a glance up at the audience around them was enough to make him untangle his arms from America in an instant.
“We should get back to your house,” England said firmly, fighting back a blush that threatened to bloom across his cheeks. “I'll have my things on the ship sent for later, but I-”
“You want some tea now, right?” America guessed.
“Oh dear, am I that obvious?”
“You always want tea right after you get off the ship! Every time you come to visit!”
“Well it's damn-...erm, impossible to get a decent cup of tea while out at sea,” England said, catching his language at that last minute before steering America back into town. The trip to America's house could be made on foot, but it was a bit of a hike. England had bought that house for America specifically. It was close enough to town for the boy to get anything he needed with relative ease, but far enough away that he was unlikely to draw much attention. It wouldn't do for anyone to notice a little boy who didn't grow like other children.
America practically bounced down the rough trail to his house, tugging at England's hand when the older nation began to slow down.
“Are you tired, England?” he frowned.
“Just a little worn out from the trip,” England admitted. He could see the house through the trees, and sighed happily at the sight.
“I'll make your tea!” America chirped, speeding up and dragging England along behind him. “I can make it all by myself!” He broke away from England then and ran the rest of the way to his house, bolting inside before England could get a word in edgewise.
England followed inside at a slower pace, peering around the house. It was surprisingly well kept, relatively clean and with nothing terribly out of place, save a layer of dust on shelves too tall for America to reach. There was a loud clatter from the kitchen.
“Sit down, England!” America called from around the corner. “I'll bring the tea when it's done!”
Instinct made England want to take over the task from America or follow him into the kitchen to tell him how to do it properly...but the boy clearly wanted to do it by himself. England sighed and took a seat at the table, listening to the scuffling sounds of America's working. The quiet noises and the exhaustion of sea travel had nearly lulled him into a doze when he felt a sharp tap on his arm.
“Finished!” America said proudly, holding out a cup.
England looked down at the offering. The tea was thin and weak, having not been steeped properly, and so loaded down with cream that it was more tea-flavored cream than a real cup of tea. But America was watching expectantly, so England took a gulp and nodded encouragingly. “Very good!” he lied weakly. “You've gotten quite good at taking care of yourself, haven't you?”
America nodded back cheerfully. “I'm learning how to be ind...inder...um...”
“Independent?” England offered.
“Uh huh! I'm learning to be in-de-pen-dent, so I can take care of stuff while you're away and you won't have to worry about me!”
“My dear boy, you could be completely self sufficient and I would still worry about you.”
America wilted slightly. “You don't think I can take care of myself?”
“No, that's not it at all! It's only...that's what big brothers do. They worry about their little brothers and want to look after them, keep them safe. It just means that...er, well...it means that they care.”
“You care about me, England?”
“I'm, ah...qu-quite fond of you.”
“I'm quite fond of you too!” America chirped, with a smile that could melt the coldest hearts. England's didn't stand a chance.
“Well...that...ah,” England floundered helplessly, trying his damnedest to not turn into a soppy, sentimental mess. It was time to change the subject. “Y-You've been keeping up with your studies, haven't you?”
“I practice my letters every day!” America said proudly. “Did you get the letters I sent you? Did you?”
“I did!” England had kept every chicken scratch letter America had sent and showed them off to anyone who held still long enough. Horrific handwriting and questionable grammar and spelling aside, he appeared to have a fair grasp of the language. “Then perhaps we can skip that for now and pick up with your history lessons while I'm here. I was telling you about the Third Crusade last time, wasn't I? About how we bravely took up arms and marched forward to take back the Holy Land and-”
“And how you and France were friends!”
England choked on a sip of tea. “Wha-...what was...I most certainly never-”
“But it said so in the book! It said that Richard the Lionheart...that's a really neat name, I wish I had a name like that. Um, it said Richard the Lionheart was friends with King Philip from France. It was right there in the book you gave me last time!”
Suddenly England was less thrilled with America's fast progress in the written word. “You must have not read any further, because they had a terrible falling out later,” he grumbled. “And I'll have you know that Richard only tolerated Philip for a very short period of time. And only because it suited his own interests. There was no affection there. And certainly none between me and that...that repulsive, filthy minded, snail-eating, cowardly, foul...” England bit down on his tongue before he used any adjectives he didn't want America's innocent young ears to pick up. “Never mind history. We can save those lessons for later. But look here, I brought you something.”
“Is it a story book?” America asked brightly when he saw England pulling a text from his bag.
“No, this is a different kind of book. See here?” England flipped the book open on the table, pushing it closer for America to have a look. “It's full of maps. The entire world is in this book.”
America stared, open mouthed, at the colorfully painted maps. “This is what the world looks like from up high?”
“From very up high,” England laughed. “Higher than birds can fly, I'm sure. Here, turn back a few pages. This is me.”
America followed England's finger with his eyes to the tiny island. “You look so little.”
England bristled at the remark. “Size isn't important! What matters is-”
“Was it lonely? Being off on an island, away from everybody?”
England worked his jaw, caught off guard. “I-I wasn't alone, my brothers are on that island too...although we rarely get along, so I-I suppose it was a little lonely.”
“I get lonely too,” America sighed sadly, petting his finger across England on the map. “You hardly ever visit, and it's a long way to go see Canada, even though he's closer than anyone else to me.” He sighed again, then brightened up. “When I'm big, I'm gonna go make friends with everybody on the map!”
“Not everyone,” England said darkly. “There are quite a few nations who are nothing but trouble. You ought to keep away from them.”
America frowned at the map, as though he could judge the nations based on their shape on the page. “Which ones are the bad ones?”
“First, Spain,” England said, reaching over America to point. “You keep far away from Spain. He's had his eye on this continent for ages, and I don't doubt he'll snap you up if he gets half a chance. And that's to say nothing of the rumors that he's very fond of little boys.”
“What's wrong with liking little boys?” America asked with a tilt of his head. “Don't you like little boys too? You like me and Canada, right?”
England choked at that and hastily shook his head. “Never mind that part. It was only a rumor. Pretend you didn't hear it. N-next, Russia.” England waved his hand over a great stretch of land. “As barmy as they come. You wouldn't like him much anyway. There's nothing at his place but snow.”
“I like snow!” America protested. “I built the biggest snowman ever last winter, remember? Does Russia like snowmen?”
“I take him more as the type to kick over snowmen than build his own.”
America's horrified expression made it clear what he thought of people who kicked over snowmen.
“And of course I shouldn't have to tell you why France should be avoided at all cost,” England concluded when an aggressive stab of his finger at the country in question.
America sighed again. “I don't know. France was nice when I saw him last. He brought me yummy food!”
“Only a trap,” England growled. “Don't trust him. And if he ever gives you any trouble, you be sure to write as soon as you can and let me know. If he lays so much as a finger on you, I'll cut off his-”
“But maybe he really is nice! And maybe Spain is a good guy too, and maybe Russia just needs to be told that it isn't nice to kick over snowmen.” America paused, beaming as though he had just found the answers to all the world's problems.
England shook his head wearily. “You're entirely too trusting, dear boy.”
“Are you just worried that I won't be your friend anymore if I'm friends with everyone else?” America's little hands clapped over England's palm. “Don't worry, England! Even if I'm friends with everybody, you'll still be my first, best, most special friend of all.”
Friend. Colonies were under no obligation to like their empires, let alone consider them friends. England found himself completely speechless. He didn't dare try to force any words yet. He had an uncomfortable feeling that he would tear up if he tried now. America had an awful way of making him embarrassingly softhearted and emotional.
Fortunately, the boy had already found something else to occupy his attention. “Can we look at books later, England?” he asked, leaving his chair to peek out the window. “It was rainy all week, but it's pretty and sunny now! I bet the weather got nice just for you. Can we go out and play? Please?”
As if England could refuse him anything now. “If you promise to be good and not get too muddy,” he managed through a tight throat.
America glowed like a firefly and grabbed England's hand tightly, already babbling about how the blackberries were ready for picking, and where he found a rabbit nest with little baby bunnies inside, and which trees were best for climbing, and which streams were too deep to wade across...and England wracked his brain for a good excuse to send back to the king for why he had to stay in the colonies much longer than he had originally planned.
AUTHOR/ARTIST:
inner_wings RECIPIENT:
revolutionjack CHARACTERS/PAIRINGS: England, America, platonic England/America
RATING: PG
SUMMARY: England goes to see his little colony again after a long absence, but a few of England's lessons for America don't go quite as planned.
England was always taken aback by America's open, unabashed delight whenever he came to visit. The boy didn't hold a single thing back, including his abnormal physical strength, as he would fly at England like a ball from a cannon the instant he caught sight of the elder nation exiting the ship and making his way down the dock.
It was clear the lad had grown at a shocking rate in the time England had been gone. The top of his head was now past England's navel, and the charging tackle of a hug that used to merely set him off balance now toppled him right over into an undignified heap on the ground, attracting more than a few raised eyebrows from the other men milling around. It was only luck that America hadn't accidentally knocked them both into the ocean with his enthusiasm.
“You came back!” America cried happily from his current seat on England's stomach. It stung a little, how honestly surprised America seemed, as though he truly expected England to leave for good one day and never return.
“Oh course I did,” England wheezed. The fall had fully knocked the wind out of him, and having a child sit on his chest didn't help speed the recovery. “I promised I would be back...the last time I left...didn't I?”
“But you were gone a long time! For ages and ages! I thought maybe you forgot me.”
“You're impossible to forget,” England laughed breathlessly, ruffling the golden mop of hair. “Now hop up and let me give you a proper hug.”
America was quick to comply with the promise of a hug, and held his arms out expectantly once he climbed to his feet. He had gotten a bit too big for England to scoop him up into his arms anymore, so England instead pushed himself up onto his knees and pulled America to his chest. America squeezed back tightly, nuzzling his cheek against England's coat. England was loath to pull away, but he could feel eyes watching them. Public displays of sentimentality and affection made England squirm, and a glance up at the audience around them was enough to make him untangle his arms from America in an instant.
“We should get back to your house,” England said firmly, fighting back a blush that threatened to bloom across his cheeks. “I'll have my things on the ship sent for later, but I-”
“You want some tea now, right?” America guessed.
“Oh dear, am I that obvious?”
“You always want tea right after you get off the ship! Every time you come to visit!”
“Well it's damn-...erm, impossible to get a decent cup of tea while out at sea,” England said, catching his language at that last minute before steering America back into town. The trip to America's house could be made on foot, but it was a bit of a hike. England had bought that house for America specifically. It was close enough to town for the boy to get anything he needed with relative ease, but far enough away that he was unlikely to draw much attention. It wouldn't do for anyone to notice a little boy who didn't grow like other children.
America practically bounced down the rough trail to his house, tugging at England's hand when the older nation began to slow down.
“Are you tired, England?” he frowned.
“Just a little worn out from the trip,” England admitted. He could see the house through the trees, and sighed happily at the sight.
“I'll make your tea!” America chirped, speeding up and dragging England along behind him. “I can make it all by myself!” He broke away from England then and ran the rest of the way to his house, bolting inside before England could get a word in edgewise.
England followed inside at a slower pace, peering around the house. It was surprisingly well kept, relatively clean and with nothing terribly out of place, save a layer of dust on shelves too tall for America to reach. There was a loud clatter from the kitchen.
“Sit down, England!” America called from around the corner. “I'll bring the tea when it's done!”
Instinct made England want to take over the task from America or follow him into the kitchen to tell him how to do it properly...but the boy clearly wanted to do it by himself. England sighed and took a seat at the table, listening to the scuffling sounds of America's working. The quiet noises and the exhaustion of sea travel had nearly lulled him into a doze when he felt a sharp tap on his arm.
“Finished!” America said proudly, holding out a cup.
England looked down at the offering. The tea was thin and weak, having not been steeped properly, and so loaded down with cream that it was more tea-flavored cream than a real cup of tea. But America was watching expectantly, so England took a gulp and nodded encouragingly. “Very good!” he lied weakly. “You've gotten quite good at taking care of yourself, haven't you?”
America nodded back cheerfully. “I'm learning how to be ind...inder...um...”
“Independent?” England offered.
“Uh huh! I'm learning to be in-de-pen-dent, so I can take care of stuff while you're away and you won't have to worry about me!”
“My dear boy, you could be completely self sufficient and I would still worry about you.”
America wilted slightly. “You don't think I can take care of myself?”
“No, that's not it at all! It's only...that's what big brothers do. They worry about their little brothers and want to look after them, keep them safe. It just means that...er, well...it means that they care.”
“You care about me, England?”
“I'm, ah...qu-quite fond of you.”
“I'm quite fond of you too!” America chirped, with a smile that could melt the coldest hearts. England's didn't stand a chance.
“Well...that...ah,” England floundered helplessly, trying his damnedest to not turn into a soppy, sentimental mess. It was time to change the subject. “Y-You've been keeping up with your studies, haven't you?”
“I practice my letters every day!” America said proudly. “Did you get the letters I sent you? Did you?”
“I did!” England had kept every chicken scratch letter America had sent and showed them off to anyone who held still long enough. Horrific handwriting and questionable grammar and spelling aside, he appeared to have a fair grasp of the language. “Then perhaps we can skip that for now and pick up with your history lessons while I'm here. I was telling you about the Third Crusade last time, wasn't I? About how we bravely took up arms and marched forward to take back the Holy Land and-”
“And how you and France were friends!”
England choked on a sip of tea. “Wha-...what was...I most certainly never-”
“But it said so in the book! It said that Richard the Lionheart...that's a really neat name, I wish I had a name like that. Um, it said Richard the Lionheart was friends with King Philip from France. It was right there in the book you gave me last time!”
Suddenly England was less thrilled with America's fast progress in the written word. “You must have not read any further, because they had a terrible falling out later,” he grumbled. “And I'll have you know that Richard only tolerated Philip for a very short period of time. And only because it suited his own interests. There was no affection there. And certainly none between me and that...that repulsive, filthy minded, snail-eating, cowardly, foul...” England bit down on his tongue before he used any adjectives he didn't want America's innocent young ears to pick up. “Never mind history. We can save those lessons for later. But look here, I brought you something.”
“Is it a story book?” America asked brightly when he saw England pulling a text from his bag.
“No, this is a different kind of book. See here?” England flipped the book open on the table, pushing it closer for America to have a look. “It's full of maps. The entire world is in this book.”
America stared, open mouthed, at the colorfully painted maps. “This is what the world looks like from up high?”
“From very up high,” England laughed. “Higher than birds can fly, I'm sure. Here, turn back a few pages. This is me.”
America followed England's finger with his eyes to the tiny island. “You look so little.”
England bristled at the remark. “Size isn't important! What matters is-”
“Was it lonely? Being off on an island, away from everybody?”
England worked his jaw, caught off guard. “I-I wasn't alone, my brothers are on that island too...although we rarely get along, so I-I suppose it was a little lonely.”
“I get lonely too,” America sighed sadly, petting his finger across England on the map. “You hardly ever visit, and it's a long way to go see Canada, even though he's closer than anyone else to me.” He sighed again, then brightened up. “When I'm big, I'm gonna go make friends with everybody on the map!”
“Not everyone,” England said darkly. “There are quite a few nations who are nothing but trouble. You ought to keep away from them.”
America frowned at the map, as though he could judge the nations based on their shape on the page. “Which ones are the bad ones?”
“First, Spain,” England said, reaching over America to point. “You keep far away from Spain. He's had his eye on this continent for ages, and I don't doubt he'll snap you up if he gets half a chance. And that's to say nothing of the rumors that he's very fond of little boys.”
“What's wrong with liking little boys?” America asked with a tilt of his head. “Don't you like little boys too? You like me and Canada, right?”
England choked at that and hastily shook his head. “Never mind that part. It was only a rumor. Pretend you didn't hear it. N-next, Russia.” England waved his hand over a great stretch of land. “As barmy as they come. You wouldn't like him much anyway. There's nothing at his place but snow.”
“I like snow!” America protested. “I built the biggest snowman ever last winter, remember? Does Russia like snowmen?”
“I take him more as the type to kick over snowmen than build his own.”
America's horrified expression made it clear what he thought of people who kicked over snowmen.
“And of course I shouldn't have to tell you why France should be avoided at all cost,” England concluded when an aggressive stab of his finger at the country in question.
America sighed again. “I don't know. France was nice when I saw him last. He brought me yummy food!”
“Only a trap,” England growled. “Don't trust him. And if he ever gives you any trouble, you be sure to write as soon as you can and let me know. If he lays so much as a finger on you, I'll cut off his-”
“But maybe he really is nice! And maybe Spain is a good guy too, and maybe Russia just needs to be told that it isn't nice to kick over snowmen.” America paused, beaming as though he had just found the answers to all the world's problems.
England shook his head wearily. “You're entirely too trusting, dear boy.”
“Are you just worried that I won't be your friend anymore if I'm friends with everyone else?” America's little hands clapped over England's palm. “Don't worry, England! Even if I'm friends with everybody, you'll still be my first, best, most special friend of all.”
Friend. Colonies were under no obligation to like their empires, let alone consider them friends. England found himself completely speechless. He didn't dare try to force any words yet. He had an uncomfortable feeling that he would tear up if he tried now. America had an awful way of making him embarrassingly softhearted and emotional.
Fortunately, the boy had already found something else to occupy his attention. “Can we look at books later, England?” he asked, leaving his chair to peek out the window. “It was rainy all week, but it's pretty and sunny now! I bet the weather got nice just for you. Can we go out and play? Please?”
As if England could refuse him anything now. “If you promise to be good and not get too muddy,” he managed through a tight throat.
America glowed like a firefly and grabbed England's hand tightly, already babbling about how the blackberries were ready for picking, and where he found a rabbit nest with little baby bunnies inside, and which trees were best for climbing, and which streams were too deep to wade across...and England wracked his brain for a good excuse to send back to the king for why he had to stay in the colonies much longer than he had originally planned.
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no subject
Date: 2010-09-10 05:58 am (UTC)Nice fic! :)
no subject
Date: 2010-09-13 05:09 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-13 03:53 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-13 05:09 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-15 10:00 pm (UTC)I absolutely love the way America and England interact in this, and this is legit exactly what I had in mind.
I like how you included the little bit where England was teaching America how to say the word independent; making America's eventual revolution all the more bitter from England's perspective.
I absolutely the little "Why I am the only one you can trust" thing that England did, and America's reaction, and they are both sooooo incredibly in character right there I could cry. England is so insecure, and yet awkwardly adorable, and America's so trusting and and caring; I /love/ his reaction to Russia kicking over snowmen and his solution to it.
Over all, your characterisation is /incredible/ and I am sooo jealous of your style; it's utterly beautiful.
/stalks your journal nao
no subject
Date: 2010-10-11 07:23 am (UTC)I'm so glad you liked it! :D The prompt was lots of fun, thanks for it!
no subject
Date: 2010-10-10 04:56 pm (UTC).
Erhem. Also, this made me laugh like a ninny:
America's horrified expression made it clear what he thought of people who kicked over snowmen.
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Date: 2010-10-11 07:27 am (UTC)