![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
azureetherTitle: Love me for Who I Am // [FF.net Link]
Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
Genre: Romance, Comedy, Drama
Rating: PG
Characters, Pairings: America/England, (on this chapter) France.
Summary: Prompt: Thanks to one of England's spells, America becomes the kind of person England always said he wanted him to be. Eventually, however, England realizes that he prefers the old America to this one and searches for a way to turn him back.
Notes: Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
usxuk Secret Santa Exchange. My deepest gratitude to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
tanya_tsuki for betaing this chapter! ♥
Standing inside of the room was America, diligently checking a large pile of papers. He had brought many reports and documents to prepare what was going to be, undoubtedly, a long meeting full of America's speeches.
Since he was with his back turned to the door, he didn't see England coming in. Taking advantage of this, England silently approached America and shyly hugged him from behind, secretly praying for America not to reject him.
His prayers went unheard. As America struggled and stiffened under his embrace, England felt a dull pain inside him.
"E-England! My bad, this isn't a good moment, you know...there's still things to do, this is such an important meeting!" he exclaimed, finally freeing himself from England's embrace. He noticed England's gloomy look. "You don't look good, England...is something wrong?”
England shook his head. "I'm just tired, that's all," he added, giving a sad smile.
America couldn’t hide his worried look. Carefully, he motioned for England to take a seat at the table, so America could be next to England. England stood silent, so after a while, America resumed his work.
“England, I’m…I’m sorry I haven’t gotten in touch with you lately. These weeks have been busy, you know…health care, environment, and with almost every country asking me for advice and support, I don’t have any time for me, or for us…”
England noticed the tone in America’s voice. Apologetic, but also very tired. He knew America had been working very hard, but still, he couldn’t help but think he should have some privileges compared to other countries. They were a couple, for God’s sake! And…
He saw America struggling very hard with a mouse and keyboard. A small netbook, he realized. Not his hideous, hi-tech and expensive red, white, and blue colored notebook he used to carry everywhere with pride. This one was smaller and supposedly easier to use, but apparently it wasn’t easy enough for America to use it.
And still, America kept trying. England could understand; some months ago, no one would take America seriously. Always giving commands over less-than-reasonable ideas, no wonder he wasn't very wanted in meetings. But since he was a superpower, everybody forced themselves to tolerate him. Fake smiles, awkward greetings. Perhaps that's why America loved to take part in meetings when England was around; despite the criticism and the bickering, he knew England was, at least, being honest with him.
Things had changed. Everything America would say now was taken seriously and considered important. Though disliked before, now America was wanted everywhere. It made sense for him to keep giving the best out of himself, now that people would really listen to him and appreciate him. Suddenly, England felt really bad for being jealous over something like this.
Carefully, he placed his arm over America's shoulder on a comforting gesture. "You've been working for weeks. It would do well for you to take a small break, you know?"
America now was looking at England, taken aback. "No way! I only have a minutes left, and there's tons of things I still need to check! My boss really expects for this project to be approved, and people expect a lot from me and...and I can't disappoint them, right?"
England smiled, putting his arm back on the table. "I know, I know. You're the hero, right?"
America chuckled, placing his hand over England's. "I'm not a hero; in the end, I'm just a human made of flesh and blood. Sure, I can try, but... it would be preposterous of me to claim myself as the one able to solve every single problem, you know?"
"I...I guess you're right..." England replied in a low voice. He couldn't help but notice how cold America's hand felt. As far as he could remember, even in the worst climate, America's hands had always felt pleasantly warm.
A cell phone alarm started to play; suddenly, America became really nervous. "The meeting! I'm sorry, England, but I really need to finish this. Can we talk after the meeting?" And saying this, he walked England to the door.
But England wasn't ready to let America go. He caught America's face and hopeful, he brought his lips closer to America's. Struggling, America grabbed England's shoulders to pull him away.
"England, we're in a public place,” he said in a whisper.
"You've never cared about what people would say."
Exasperated, America gave England a brief kiss on his forehead before finally closing the door.
England stood watching the door for a while, his mind blank. Until the pain was too much to bear, and then, he finally let the despair fall on him.
There was a certain trait of America that had changed as well, imperceptible to everyone except England. Just like a child, America was both extremely clingy and touchy-feely; he needed to demonstrate affection through physical language, and he hoped for others to reply in the same way. He was actually quite generous in giving affection; shaking hands and giving big hugs were part of America’s daily routine.
Naturally, England had special treatment. America would occasionally appear out of the blue, asking for a kiss regardless of the surroundings. Sometimes he couldn’t control his own strength, so England would end literally breathless with America’s embraces. The same with tackle hugs, often ending with England against the floor crushed by America’s weight. And England would squirm and yell, and he would never admit that America’s warm weight actually felt kind of good.
Privacy would lead America to use other ways to show affection. He would cuddle, he would nuzzle England’s hair and neck. He would caress every corner of England’s body, and of course, he would kiss England. From fleeting and tender kisses, to passionate and senseless kissing that would make England lose himself in that feeling. Since America wasn’t good with words, he had found the perfect way to express himself using physical language, and England had learned to understand this language and to treasure it, always eager to know what America would try to “say” next.
It was true that sometimes this could bring to him inconveniences and some very embarrassing moments. Not that any of this mattered anymore. America now was as stiff as England, perhaps even more. And while this had been a relief in the beginning, soon it became disturbing, because now, when America lacked his affectionate side, England realized how much he needed it. How much he needed the warmth and care his body so stubbornly refused to receive. How much England needed the affection that would make him forget everything for a moment sending him to the stars. In short, he needed his clingy America.
He could see now, how wrong this was. His dearest America had lost his spark of youth and joy, his dreamer and idealistic self, turning him into a serious, tired, workaholic man. He was kind, he was polite, but there was just no warmth on him anymore. England had managed to take everything he had loved about America in order to turn him into the perfect nation he was now.
But perfection didn't matter to England anymore. He just wanted his old, beloved America.
He fought hard to contain a sob, hoping for nobody to see him in this state. Especially…
“Cher Angleterre!”
…obnoxious Frenchmen.
England turned, giving a killing glare. “What do you want, France? I’m not in a good mood, I warn you…”
“That character, mon ami! Say, it’s a love problem, isn’t it? You should remember I’m the master of romance. Leave everything to Big Brother France, mon petit Angleterre!” France winked.
“I'm not small. And…that’s not of your business,” England replied in a dark tone.
France’s face brightened. “See? I knew I was right! Now, tell everything to Big Brother. Did that mean Amerique treat you badly? Did he speak ill of your food or something…?”
“N-No! He has been very good with me, actually. He’s always polite and kind with me, and…” England trailed off.
France now had a questioning face. “Polite and kind? I think I see the problem now. The kid’s being too gentle and you’re dying to get a good fu—“
“Don’t misinterpret things!” England yelled, his face red out of anger and embarrassment. “Just because you’re a bloody pervert doesn’t mean I’m a horny bastard like you!”
“Tsk, tsk. It seems I touched a delicate issue, didn’t I? Wouldn’t you want me to make it better? If you're lacking love, I can give you lots of it!” France grinned, waiting for England’s reply.
"I don't want your dirty hands over me. I just want..." England trailed off, now looking down, silent and thoughtful.
“You’re really stubborn, aren’t you? If you could just allow me to make my magic…” France said, now looking visibly worried.
England’s eyes went wide. Magic! Surely there should be a way to get the spell undone! It probably wouldn’t be easy to find at all. But he was now determined to find a way to get old America back, now matter how long it could take to do it. There was just one problem left. A certain nation that wouldn’t leave him alone…
“…if I allow you to help, will you stop with your obscene insinuations? Will you be helpful for real?” England stared at France, looking deadly serious.
France gave a sigh, shrugging. “I guess there’s no other choice, isn’t it?”
“Excellent. Now, if you’re kind enough to follow me…”
“Uh…exactly where are we going, mon ami? Amerique’s behind that door!”
England looked at France as if the answer was obvious. “To my house, of course. Do you think I’d try to do something without the proper tools?”
"And... what about the meeting?" France arched an eyebrow.
England stood silent for a moment, thinking. "I'll see you after the end of the meeting. And you better be punctual!” he spat. Then, he headed towards the Conference Room.
England must be really serious about this if he even considered skipping a meeting, France thought. Still, he was glad to see England was the same as always, but he couldn't contain a shiver after thinking what England had meant by 'tools'. He just hoped he wouldn’t regret messing with England…
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
"A spell?"
"Yeah, that's what I said. I made this to America, and...may I know what are you laughing at, you dolt?!"
"That-That's really hard to believe, mon ami! A spell? You, performing magic? Give me a break!"
"I guess you won't believe it until I show you, right? Wait until we're there and you'll see..." England grumbled.
France had been in England's house before. In a way, it scared him, since it was always so tidy and immaculately clean. Therefore, it was a surprise for him to see this old, dark, dirty and really untidy place England called 'his Sanctuary'. Centuries of history were kept here, but also centuries of dust. When was the last time someone had cleaned that place?
He looked around, seeing some interesting pieces long forgotten. He got a glance of a painting, featuring England in armor. He saw England's pirate hat, along with some objects he identified as navigation instruments. There was a wide variety of England's old uniforms, from the old WWII ones to the well known Red Coats. And, along those lines...
He spotted a small wooden soldier. Smiling to himself, and wondering why in the Earth would England keep a child's toy, he went to grab it, just to be stopped forcefully by England.
"Just what do you think you're doing, sodding twat?!"
"Pardon, I was just asking myself why would you keep a toy. Perhaps you like playing with them?" France smirked, looking amused.
England huffed. "That's not mine, you idiot. That soldier belongs...to America..."
France noticed England's change of mood. "I don't quite understand yet. Why would you keep such a relic? I know you're an old man who always lives on the past, but this is too much!"
England didn't react to France's words. Instead, he clutched the little soldier to his chest, and started talking in a small voice. "You could say it would be better for me to forget, but me... I think it's necessary to remember. This helps me to remember why I lost America in first place, so that I won't make the same mistake again. You can see how well that turned out, though..." he stated bitterly.
The air was tense and France was starting to feel uncomfortable and felt the need of lightening the mood. "Whatever. So what are we looking for, your kinky pirate clothes? That would please me, you know!"
"Those are reserved to just one person, and you aren't him," England smirked. "Now, I'd be thankful if you could stop having such obscene thoughts, so you can start helping me for real!"
That's bitchy England for you, France thought. He smiled, feeling satisfied with his work.
Soon, England found what he was looking for: a large pile of books. Some of them looked so old that they seemed to be able to disintegrate just by looking them.
"May I ask what's all of this old junk?".
"For your information, these are magic books. Old junk indeed, but way more useful than a certain old Frenchman I know," he stated.
"Magic, magic. I still don't but any of this shit about magic. And---WHAT?"
France screamed terrified, because with a flick of his sparkling wand, England had turned on an old and heavy lantern. Fortunately, he didn't need to transform into Britannia Angel to perform such a basic spell.
"Excuse me, what were you saying about magic? Now, hold this while I look for the book I need!" England laughed heartily, giving France the lantern. In the meanwhile, England started to check the books one by one.
After what seemed like hours, and several yawns from France, England found what he needed. "Here it is! Fantastic Spells and How to Counter Them. I'm sure you won't appreciate the historical value of this book, my friend, but let me tell you this little thing will solve our problem!"
"Your problem, I'd say. And I think this was too easy. Why do I suspect something unexpected will happen that will make everything more difficult?" France asked in a sarcastic voice.
England huffed. "Nonsense! Why should something go wrong with this...book..."
The counter spell section of the book had several pages burnt, including the one England was looking for. France gave England a look of 'I told you', to England's displeasure.
"I see you really take good care of the historical value of that book, mon ami!"
"Sod off, wine freak. It wasn't me, this was probably one of the books I barely saved during...Salem's trials," England grumbled. "Bloody Americans..."
"So what now, should we have some fun with your pirate clothes?"
"As if I would! Now, grab that lantern and bring your bloody arse here; there's still things we need to check." England spat.
They headed towards a big shelf full of cauldrons and flasks of different sizes. Most of them had common things like mushrooms, herbs, and minerals. But some of them had a really creepy aspect, like white balls that seemed like eyes, dried spiders, a flask full of some viscous substance that seemed like pus, some weird roots that vaguely had a baby-like form, and France could have sworn he saw a shrunk head somewhere.
"We're not going to use this ugly-looking junk, are we?" France stammered, almost sounding scared.
"This time, we're going to try with potions," England said as if it was the most normal thing in the world. He showed France a book. "This is the one, Potions Through the Times. Now, do something useful and start reading the recipe, while I look for the ingredients."
As he turned back to start rumbling among the flasks, France gave a wary look to the book in his hands. He arched an eyebrow upon seeing the page. "Uh, don't take this too badly, Angleterre, but...when was this book published?"
"Uh? Well, you should know those books aren't published anymore on these days. That one in particular is...from the 1600s, I think." He frowned. "Why?"
"Oh, nothing special, I guess. I wonder where you can find a Dodo egg these days, though!" France smirk.
"What?" England snatched the book from France's hands, to make sure he wasn't making a fool of him or something. But there it was: a Dodo egg really was one of the ingredients for the potion. England groaned; clearly, the book wasn't going to help him this time.
"Oh, sod off." he sighed, closing the book quite loudly. "We'll have to try something less sophisticated. Any idea?"
France scratched is head. "Honestly, I think you're making things way too difficult. Have you thought about smacking his head with a big rock or something?"
"Are you mental? I want to get his old self back, not to leave him stupider than before!" England snapped. "What, did you receive that treatment before? Now, it all makes sense..."
"Relax, petit Angleterre. Our friend Amerique is quite thick-headed literally. It shouldn't affect him too much! Not that he would become that different of what he already was, though..."
England gave France such a deadly glare it gave him shivers through his spine. "I'm not going to use your bloody primitive methods. And don't even dare insult America, there's just one person allowed to insult him and it isn't you."
"Sensitive issue, isn't it, mon ami?" France inquired with a smirk.
"More than what you think. Now, if you're kind enough to go back home...it's late and I have lots of things to think and to plan, and those plans don't involve you," England replied, putting special emphasis on the last part.
France shrugged. "As you wish. But give me a call if you need some help from Big Brother! And I mean, any kind of help…" he said, almost in a purr.
Luckily, he was fast enough to dodge the heavy book that was thrown directly towards his head.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
England stayed up late looking for any other spell or potion that could help him, with no luck. Not that it mattered if he would get sleep at all. England's mornings were now quite different from what they used to be: to start with, he was getting used already to waking up alone on a cold bed. America would be probably downstairs, preparing the breakfast, or maybe having a cup of coffee while reading the newspaper. That is, if he was in England's house at all, as in this occasion.
It wasn't like this before. Usually, England would wake up first, but he wouldn't get up immediately, allowing him to spend time with a quiet America; something hard to get with him awake. Sometimes, America would be snoring quite loudly, making England want to kick him to shut him up. Sometimes, America would be in a peaceful slumber, so England would feel satisfied observing America's chest rising and falling. If he felt confident enough, England would softly brush America's bangs and cheeks, taking care not to awake him. If the air was chilly enough, England would cuddle against his chest, looking for the warmth that America never failed to give. And, sometimes, they would both wake up at the same time, so they would look at the eyes of the other, lovingly and quietly for a moment. That is, until America would come up with some stupid comment about England having eye bags, or England's ruffled hair.
Not that he minded, really; even if he reacted quite grumpily. Because, deep down, it made him feel alive.
Many things had changed since then. Still, England wouldn't get up immediately, even if he was already quite late. Instead, he would take a moment to try to catch a little of America's lingering smell on the bed sheets, hoping to get some strength to endure the new day.
America smelled of sunny countries and chilly mountains. Of forests and deserts, of lakes and green valleys. Of course, he would also smell of hamburgers and coffee, of leather and bubble gum. Most of these odors were still present in America's smell, but England couldn't help but feeling that there was something missing, something intrinsically American that just wasn't there anymore.
By then, the alarm would kindly remind him of how late he was. With a sigh, England would finally get up, trying his best to ignore the dull pain on his chest.
A long day was awaiting him. He planned to visit a good friend, a nation as knowledgeable in magic as he was. England just hoped he wouldn't have to face the obnoxious boyfriend this nation had.
And it was snowing outside. He didn't even want to imagine how freezing the weather would be in those Nordic lands. Yes, this was going to be a long day...
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Notes:
- The Dodo was a flightless bird endemic to the Indian Ocean island of Mauritius. It’s believed to have been extinct since the mid-to-late 17th century, although some suggest early 18th century as the right date.
Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
Genre: Romance, Comedy, Drama
Rating: PG
Characters, Pairings: America/England, (on this chapter) France.
Summary: Prompt: Thanks to one of England's spells, America becomes the kind of person England always said he wanted him to be. Eventually, however, England realizes that he prefers the old America to this one and searches for a way to turn him back.
Notes: Written for
usxuk Secret Santa Exchange. My deepest gratitude to tanya_tsuki for betaing this chapter! ♥Standing inside of the room was America, diligently checking a large pile of papers. He had brought many reports and documents to prepare what was going to be, undoubtedly, a long meeting full of America's speeches.
Since he was with his back turned to the door, he didn't see England coming in. Taking advantage of this, England silently approached America and shyly hugged him from behind, secretly praying for America not to reject him.
His prayers went unheard. As America struggled and stiffened under his embrace, England felt a dull pain inside him.
"E-England! My bad, this isn't a good moment, you know...there's still things to do, this is such an important meeting!" he exclaimed, finally freeing himself from England's embrace. He noticed England's gloomy look. "You don't look good, England...is something wrong?”
England shook his head. "I'm just tired, that's all," he added, giving a sad smile.
America couldn’t hide his worried look. Carefully, he motioned for England to take a seat at the table, so America could be next to England. England stood silent, so after a while, America resumed his work.
“England, I’m…I’m sorry I haven’t gotten in touch with you lately. These weeks have been busy, you know…health care, environment, and with almost every country asking me for advice and support, I don’t have any time for me, or for us…”
England noticed the tone in America’s voice. Apologetic, but also very tired. He knew America had been working very hard, but still, he couldn’t help but think he should have some privileges compared to other countries. They were a couple, for God’s sake! And…
He saw America struggling very hard with a mouse and keyboard. A small netbook, he realized. Not his hideous, hi-tech and expensive red, white, and blue colored notebook he used to carry everywhere with pride. This one was smaller and supposedly easier to use, but apparently it wasn’t easy enough for America to use it.
And still, America kept trying. England could understand; some months ago, no one would take America seriously. Always giving commands over less-than-reasonable ideas, no wonder he wasn't very wanted in meetings. But since he was a superpower, everybody forced themselves to tolerate him. Fake smiles, awkward greetings. Perhaps that's why America loved to take part in meetings when England was around; despite the criticism and the bickering, he knew England was, at least, being honest with him.
Things had changed. Everything America would say now was taken seriously and considered important. Though disliked before, now America was wanted everywhere. It made sense for him to keep giving the best out of himself, now that people would really listen to him and appreciate him. Suddenly, England felt really bad for being jealous over something like this.
Carefully, he placed his arm over America's shoulder on a comforting gesture. "You've been working for weeks. It would do well for you to take a small break, you know?"
America now was looking at England, taken aback. "No way! I only have a minutes left, and there's tons of things I still need to check! My boss really expects for this project to be approved, and people expect a lot from me and...and I can't disappoint them, right?"
England smiled, putting his arm back on the table. "I know, I know. You're the hero, right?"
America chuckled, placing his hand over England's. "I'm not a hero; in the end, I'm just a human made of flesh and blood. Sure, I can try, but... it would be preposterous of me to claim myself as the one able to solve every single problem, you know?"
"I...I guess you're right..." England replied in a low voice. He couldn't help but notice how cold America's hand felt. As far as he could remember, even in the worst climate, America's hands had always felt pleasantly warm.
A cell phone alarm started to play; suddenly, America became really nervous. "The meeting! I'm sorry, England, but I really need to finish this. Can we talk after the meeting?" And saying this, he walked England to the door.
But England wasn't ready to let America go. He caught America's face and hopeful, he brought his lips closer to America's. Struggling, America grabbed England's shoulders to pull him away.
"England, we're in a public place,” he said in a whisper.
"You've never cared about what people would say."
Exasperated, America gave England a brief kiss on his forehead before finally closing the door.
England stood watching the door for a while, his mind blank. Until the pain was too much to bear, and then, he finally let the despair fall on him.
There was a certain trait of America that had changed as well, imperceptible to everyone except England. Just like a child, America was both extremely clingy and touchy-feely; he needed to demonstrate affection through physical language, and he hoped for others to reply in the same way. He was actually quite generous in giving affection; shaking hands and giving big hugs were part of America’s daily routine.
Naturally, England had special treatment. America would occasionally appear out of the blue, asking for a kiss regardless of the surroundings. Sometimes he couldn’t control his own strength, so England would end literally breathless with America’s embraces. The same with tackle hugs, often ending with England against the floor crushed by America’s weight. And England would squirm and yell, and he would never admit that America’s warm weight actually felt kind of good.
Privacy would lead America to use other ways to show affection. He would cuddle, he would nuzzle England’s hair and neck. He would caress every corner of England’s body, and of course, he would kiss England. From fleeting and tender kisses, to passionate and senseless kissing that would make England lose himself in that feeling. Since America wasn’t good with words, he had found the perfect way to express himself using physical language, and England had learned to understand this language and to treasure it, always eager to know what America would try to “say” next.
It was true that sometimes this could bring to him inconveniences and some very embarrassing moments. Not that any of this mattered anymore. America now was as stiff as England, perhaps even more. And while this had been a relief in the beginning, soon it became disturbing, because now, when America lacked his affectionate side, England realized how much he needed it. How much he needed the warmth and care his body so stubbornly refused to receive. How much England needed the affection that would make him forget everything for a moment sending him to the stars. In short, he needed his clingy America.
He could see now, how wrong this was. His dearest America had lost his spark of youth and joy, his dreamer and idealistic self, turning him into a serious, tired, workaholic man. He was kind, he was polite, but there was just no warmth on him anymore. England had managed to take everything he had loved about America in order to turn him into the perfect nation he was now.
But perfection didn't matter to England anymore. He just wanted his old, beloved America.
He fought hard to contain a sob, hoping for nobody to see him in this state. Especially…
“Cher Angleterre!”
…obnoxious Frenchmen.
England turned, giving a killing glare. “What do you want, France? I’m not in a good mood, I warn you…”
“That character, mon ami! Say, it’s a love problem, isn’t it? You should remember I’m the master of romance. Leave everything to Big Brother France, mon petit Angleterre!” France winked.
“I'm not small. And…that’s not of your business,” England replied in a dark tone.
France’s face brightened. “See? I knew I was right! Now, tell everything to Big Brother. Did that mean Amerique treat you badly? Did he speak ill of your food or something…?”
“N-No! He has been very good with me, actually. He’s always polite and kind with me, and…” England trailed off.
France now had a questioning face. “Polite and kind? I think I see the problem now. The kid’s being too gentle and you’re dying to get a good fu—“
“Don’t misinterpret things!” England yelled, his face red out of anger and embarrassment. “Just because you’re a bloody pervert doesn’t mean I’m a horny bastard like you!”
“Tsk, tsk. It seems I touched a delicate issue, didn’t I? Wouldn’t you want me to make it better? If you're lacking love, I can give you lots of it!” France grinned, waiting for England’s reply.
"I don't want your dirty hands over me. I just want..." England trailed off, now looking down, silent and thoughtful.
“You’re really stubborn, aren’t you? If you could just allow me to make my magic…” France said, now looking visibly worried.
England’s eyes went wide. Magic! Surely there should be a way to get the spell undone! It probably wouldn’t be easy to find at all. But he was now determined to find a way to get old America back, now matter how long it could take to do it. There was just one problem left. A certain nation that wouldn’t leave him alone…
“…if I allow you to help, will you stop with your obscene insinuations? Will you be helpful for real?” England stared at France, looking deadly serious.
France gave a sigh, shrugging. “I guess there’s no other choice, isn’t it?”
“Excellent. Now, if you’re kind enough to follow me…”
“Uh…exactly where are we going, mon ami? Amerique’s behind that door!”
England looked at France as if the answer was obvious. “To my house, of course. Do you think I’d try to do something without the proper tools?”
"And... what about the meeting?" France arched an eyebrow.
England stood silent for a moment, thinking. "I'll see you after the end of the meeting. And you better be punctual!” he spat. Then, he headed towards the Conference Room.
England must be really serious about this if he even considered skipping a meeting, France thought. Still, he was glad to see England was the same as always, but he couldn't contain a shiver after thinking what England had meant by 'tools'. He just hoped he wouldn’t regret messing with England…
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
"A spell?"
"Yeah, that's what I said. I made this to America, and...may I know what are you laughing at, you dolt?!"
"That-That's really hard to believe, mon ami! A spell? You, performing magic? Give me a break!"
"I guess you won't believe it until I show you, right? Wait until we're there and you'll see..." England grumbled.
France had been in England's house before. In a way, it scared him, since it was always so tidy and immaculately clean. Therefore, it was a surprise for him to see this old, dark, dirty and really untidy place England called 'his Sanctuary'. Centuries of history were kept here, but also centuries of dust. When was the last time someone had cleaned that place?
He looked around, seeing some interesting pieces long forgotten. He got a glance of a painting, featuring England in armor. He saw England's pirate hat, along with some objects he identified as navigation instruments. There was a wide variety of England's old uniforms, from the old WWII ones to the well known Red Coats. And, along those lines...
He spotted a small wooden soldier. Smiling to himself, and wondering why in the Earth would England keep a child's toy, he went to grab it, just to be stopped forcefully by England.
"Just what do you think you're doing, sodding twat?!"
"Pardon, I was just asking myself why would you keep a toy. Perhaps you like playing with them?" France smirked, looking amused.
England huffed. "That's not mine, you idiot. That soldier belongs...to America..."
France noticed England's change of mood. "I don't quite understand yet. Why would you keep such a relic? I know you're an old man who always lives on the past, but this is too much!"
England didn't react to France's words. Instead, he clutched the little soldier to his chest, and started talking in a small voice. "You could say it would be better for me to forget, but me... I think it's necessary to remember. This helps me to remember why I lost America in first place, so that I won't make the same mistake again. You can see how well that turned out, though..." he stated bitterly.
The air was tense and France was starting to feel uncomfortable and felt the need of lightening the mood. "Whatever. So what are we looking for, your kinky pirate clothes? That would please me, you know!"
"Those are reserved to just one person, and you aren't him," England smirked. "Now, I'd be thankful if you could stop having such obscene thoughts, so you can start helping me for real!"
That's bitchy England for you, France thought. He smiled, feeling satisfied with his work.
Soon, England found what he was looking for: a large pile of books. Some of them looked so old that they seemed to be able to disintegrate just by looking them.
"May I ask what's all of this old junk?".
"For your information, these are magic books. Old junk indeed, but way more useful than a certain old Frenchman I know," he stated.
"Magic, magic. I still don't but any of this shit about magic. And---WHAT?"
France screamed terrified, because with a flick of his sparkling wand, England had turned on an old and heavy lantern. Fortunately, he didn't need to transform into Britannia Angel to perform such a basic spell.
"Excuse me, what were you saying about magic? Now, hold this while I look for the book I need!" England laughed heartily, giving France the lantern. In the meanwhile, England started to check the books one by one.
After what seemed like hours, and several yawns from France, England found what he needed. "Here it is! Fantastic Spells and How to Counter Them. I'm sure you won't appreciate the historical value of this book, my friend, but let me tell you this little thing will solve our problem!"
"Your problem, I'd say. And I think this was too easy. Why do I suspect something unexpected will happen that will make everything more difficult?" France asked in a sarcastic voice.
England huffed. "Nonsense! Why should something go wrong with this...book..."
The counter spell section of the book had several pages burnt, including the one England was looking for. France gave England a look of 'I told you', to England's displeasure.
"I see you really take good care of the historical value of that book, mon ami!"
"Sod off, wine freak. It wasn't me, this was probably one of the books I barely saved during...Salem's trials," England grumbled. "Bloody Americans..."
"So what now, should we have some fun with your pirate clothes?"
"As if I would! Now, grab that lantern and bring your bloody arse here; there's still things we need to check." England spat.
They headed towards a big shelf full of cauldrons and flasks of different sizes. Most of them had common things like mushrooms, herbs, and minerals. But some of them had a really creepy aspect, like white balls that seemed like eyes, dried spiders, a flask full of some viscous substance that seemed like pus, some weird roots that vaguely had a baby-like form, and France could have sworn he saw a shrunk head somewhere.
"We're not going to use this ugly-looking junk, are we?" France stammered, almost sounding scared.
"This time, we're going to try with potions," England said as if it was the most normal thing in the world. He showed France a book. "This is the one, Potions Through the Times. Now, do something useful and start reading the recipe, while I look for the ingredients."
As he turned back to start rumbling among the flasks, France gave a wary look to the book in his hands. He arched an eyebrow upon seeing the page. "Uh, don't take this too badly, Angleterre, but...when was this book published?"
"Uh? Well, you should know those books aren't published anymore on these days. That one in particular is...from the 1600s, I think." He frowned. "Why?"
"Oh, nothing special, I guess. I wonder where you can find a Dodo egg these days, though!" France smirk.
"What?" England snatched the book from France's hands, to make sure he wasn't making a fool of him or something. But there it was: a Dodo egg really was one of the ingredients for the potion. England groaned; clearly, the book wasn't going to help him this time.
"Oh, sod off." he sighed, closing the book quite loudly. "We'll have to try something less sophisticated. Any idea?"
France scratched is head. "Honestly, I think you're making things way too difficult. Have you thought about smacking his head with a big rock or something?"
"Are you mental? I want to get his old self back, not to leave him stupider than before!" England snapped. "What, did you receive that treatment before? Now, it all makes sense..."
"Relax, petit Angleterre. Our friend Amerique is quite thick-headed literally. It shouldn't affect him too much! Not that he would become that different of what he already was, though..."
England gave France such a deadly glare it gave him shivers through his spine. "I'm not going to use your bloody primitive methods. And don't even dare insult America, there's just one person allowed to insult him and it isn't you."
"Sensitive issue, isn't it, mon ami?" France inquired with a smirk.
"More than what you think. Now, if you're kind enough to go back home...it's late and I have lots of things to think and to plan, and those plans don't involve you," England replied, putting special emphasis on the last part.
France shrugged. "As you wish. But give me a call if you need some help from Big Brother! And I mean, any kind of help…" he said, almost in a purr.
Luckily, he was fast enough to dodge the heavy book that was thrown directly towards his head.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
England stayed up late looking for any other spell or potion that could help him, with no luck. Not that it mattered if he would get sleep at all. England's mornings were now quite different from what they used to be: to start with, he was getting used already to waking up alone on a cold bed. America would be probably downstairs, preparing the breakfast, or maybe having a cup of coffee while reading the newspaper. That is, if he was in England's house at all, as in this occasion.
It wasn't like this before. Usually, England would wake up first, but he wouldn't get up immediately, allowing him to spend time with a quiet America; something hard to get with him awake. Sometimes, America would be snoring quite loudly, making England want to kick him to shut him up. Sometimes, America would be in a peaceful slumber, so England would feel satisfied observing America's chest rising and falling. If he felt confident enough, England would softly brush America's bangs and cheeks, taking care not to awake him. If the air was chilly enough, England would cuddle against his chest, looking for the warmth that America never failed to give. And, sometimes, they would both wake up at the same time, so they would look at the eyes of the other, lovingly and quietly for a moment. That is, until America would come up with some stupid comment about England having eye bags, or England's ruffled hair.
Not that he minded, really; even if he reacted quite grumpily. Because, deep down, it made him feel alive.
Many things had changed since then. Still, England wouldn't get up immediately, even if he was already quite late. Instead, he would take a moment to try to catch a little of America's lingering smell on the bed sheets, hoping to get some strength to endure the new day.
America smelled of sunny countries and chilly mountains. Of forests and deserts, of lakes and green valleys. Of course, he would also smell of hamburgers and coffee, of leather and bubble gum. Most of these odors were still present in America's smell, but England couldn't help but feeling that there was something missing, something intrinsically American that just wasn't there anymore.
By then, the alarm would kindly remind him of how late he was. With a sigh, England would finally get up, trying his best to ignore the dull pain on his chest.
A long day was awaiting him. He planned to visit a good friend, a nation as knowledgeable in magic as he was. England just hoped he wouldn't have to face the obnoxious boyfriend this nation had.
And it was snowing outside. He didn't even want to imagine how freezing the weather would be in those Nordic lands. Yes, this was going to be a long day...
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Notes:
- The Dodo was a flightless bird endemic to the Indian Ocean island of Mauritius. It’s believed to have been extinct since the mid-to-late 17th century, although some suggest early 18th century as the right date.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2010-01-06 03:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-07 01:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-06 10:46 pm (UTC)thanks a million for this update!!! looking foward to what happens next! :3
no subject
Date: 2010-01-07 01:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-06 10:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-07 01:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-07 12:26 am (UTC)I'm looking forward to the next chapter~!
no subject
Date: 2010-01-07 01:03 pm (UTC)I'm working on it ~
no subject
Date: 2010-01-07 10:35 am (UTC)I just have one comment:
America chucked, placing his hand over England's.
uhmmm...did you mean chuckled instead of chucked?
but anyways great chapter! looking forward for more!
and I'm looking forward to some Nordic appearance in the next chapter XDno subject
Date: 2010-01-07 01:00 pm (UTC)You're really nice ^^
and yes, you might be right with thatno subject
Date: 2010-01-07 01:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-07 01:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-07 09:20 pm (UTC)And this:. THIS just broke me: "I'm not a hero; in the end, I'm just a human made of flesh and blood. Sure, I can try, but... it would be preposterous of me to claim myself as the one able to solve every single problem, you know?"
Ohgod.America. Just...;_;
And him getting upset about England trying to kiss him and just...gahhhh so so heartbreaking. You just make it so vivid how utterly different he is and how wrong this feels. Down to the littlest details, like America's hands now being cold when they used to be so warm. *.*
THIS just sums so much up about how I view America. Just perfect, absolutely perfect wording on this: Since America wasn’t good with words, he had found the perfect way to express himself using physical language, and England had learned to understand this language and to treasure it, always eager to know what America would try to “say” next.
And ohgosh, England teaming up with France. This does not bode well. You know things have to be serious for England to even consider dealing with France or skipping a meeting.
Oh England, keeping the toy soldier to remind him of his past mistakes. That's just so painfully him. And I love the nod to the Salem witch trials! That's something I've never really seen people bring up with England and I love it's inclusion here!
And France being creeped out by all the weird junk in England's magic room. Considering how vividly I can picture all the strange things in jars, I wouldn't blame him!
"And don't even dare insult America, there's just one person allowed to insult him and it isn't you." YES. I totally have this same belief- that England gets ticked when other people insult America, because only he's allowed to do it XD
Because, deep down, it made him feel alive. Once again you pinpoint exactly why I love the dynamic between these two. America gives England's life that spark that's he's just otherwise lacking.
To say I am eagerly awaiting the next part would be an understatement. I'm so caught up in this tale that I honestly want to see England fix this, because it just hurts to see these two like this. Then you added in a promise of Nordics and you might as well say I am figuratively waiting outside on your doorstep for the next part. ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥
no subject
Date: 2010-01-08 06:43 am (UTC)It breaks my heart to write America like that. I know I spend too much time having the focus on details, but what I try to do with them is for people to realize just how WRONG this is.
I owed France a nice role because of how I treated him on my Hetalia Sunshine fic. But having England and France together is never a good thing xP
The scenery of that room was largely based on Harry Potter, no wonder it turned out vivid xD Usually, I'm not good describing sceneries.
I think I saw once a fic with England and Salem witch trials. I was nervous to include this anyway, since I feared I could be doing some history fail. So I'm glad you think it was alright o.o
England without bickering just isn't England. And of course he would think he's the only one allowed to insult America xP
That's right, Nordics are on the way ♥
Again, thanks a lot for your comment. You have been SO nice and considerate, and I really feel I don't deserve such a praising from you ^^'
*hugs*
no subject
Date: 2010-01-08 04:47 am (UTC)Funny, emotional, spiced with great affection and adorable ideas.. this is a wonderful fic, I need the next part right away!!!!
no subject
Date: 2010-01-08 06:25 am (UTC)AND I DON'T WRITE WELL *sobs*
No, really, you're the adorable one for giving me such a nice comment. I'll try to finish the next part as soon as possible o.o
no subject
Date: 2010-01-08 08:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-08 12:31 pm (UTC)England still has some tricks under the sleeve other than spells. But it's yet to be seen if he'll be succesful. We can only hope ~
Thanks for your comment ^^