dear_mun | Joining acquariet... Any nations want to come with?

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canon: hetalia

Joining acquariet... Any nations want to come with?

Well. I guess I really won't need the ring, after all.

So you'll be taking 'em now, huh? For real? For good? Fair enough, I s'pose. There's no real point in keeping memories that are only making me... uh, not myself and stuff? Okay, I can deal. I mean, it's not like I'll remember or anything, and they ain't bein' used, sooo...

Just... stay away from that place, okay? Just 'cause I won't remember, doesn't mean you don't, and you really got a lot of work to do, right? You've only got a week to canon review so Amelia can go to

discedo and the hold over at the water tree... place... town... thing... is gonna expire soon too. Quit lazing aroun' and focus! Get to sleep early, so you can wake up early, and then we can go have pretendy fun times everywhere. You promised a lot of stuff to people, you know!

...Romano's gonna be at this water tree place. He's cranky like England all the time! It'll be almost like old times! Except... y'know, with more hair-curls and better food and all that junk. I'm not sayin' it wouldn't be cool to have more of us! I'm jus' sayin' that it's not gonna be lonely. There's gonna be fresh faces to make friends with and everything! Plus, you already have friends there. You'll find somewhere for Dragon Mom to call home again too someday.

It's gonna be okay, dude. Don't worry. One step 'atta time.

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Oh, you're a fine one for complaining about lack of focus.

[England scowls at the other nation, showcasing that crankiness America just mentioned.]

...And my food's just as good as the damn Italian's.

[ America blinks, surprised at first by the sight of England, but he relaxes after a moment as realization comes to him and he recognizes this particular Briton. He smiles and doesn't bother hiding his amusement when he catches the older nation muttering about Romano. ]

I dare you to say that to him one day. The rest of us can take bets on whose yelling breaks the sound barrier first!

[ He, rather conveniently, seems to have not heard the remark regarding his own attention span, inadvertently proving England right. It's a small price to pay, he figures, for avoiding talking openly about what's got his mun all in a tizzy. ]

[England would be lying if he said he wasn't curious about the ring America mentioned, about the "memories" he'll no longer be keeping. But for now America doesn't look all too willing to discuss it and it's not really his business, so he manages to hold his tongue.]

It's hardly my fault Romano is too much of an idiot to see how brilliant my food is. ...Him and everyone else.

[He frowns, giving America a look that says he is perhaps on the top of that list of "everyone else".]

[ America hardly seems fazed by the look he's given, responding to it simply by wandering over to the other man and putting an arm around him very casually and lightly tapping him on the nose with a forefinger. ]

7 billion people can't be wrong, y'know. Your own people think your food is horrible!

[ And America knows this because lots of England's people have told his mun this. Why, she's only ever met one person before who didn't think scones were terrible and that person was an American. Yes, America is forever ashamed of that incident and he will forever deny said individual citizenship. Yep. Forever. ]

[This is unsurprising, but only makes England's scowl deepen somewhat and he glares up at America, blushing pink despite himself, as the younger nation's arm winds itself around him.]

I have plenty of friends who like my food, you know! [And it's hardly his fault America can't see them.] And my people - they love my food! I know my mun loves it. ...even if she does seem a little too partial to American rubbish sometimes.

[Well. His mun's love for "his" food is mostly true. She is quite sure that if she were given the option to eat food England made himself, she would... well, she would eat it, hate it and tell him it was delicious to save hurt feelings. But ~~true, British~~ scones? Made by a competent baker here? Quite wonderful, actually.]

[ Privately, America can't help but find the ruffling of England's metaphorical feathers cute and amusing, but he doesn't allow the sentiment to reach his features as he continues to grin stupidly and lean against the island nation with the casual air of one who is far too accustomed to such easy friendliness. Perhaps he got that lofty disregard for personal boundaries from France. ('Sorry, England.) ]

There's a difference between actually loving something and saying you love it because you feel sorry for it!

[ He conveniently fails to mention that his own mun is in the habit of baking British dishes for some strange reason nowadays. Admittedly, they are both foreign and somewhat challenging to pull off, but that's no excuse! …Even if he doesn't have a real problem eating it, of course. ]

[England's frown just gets deeper the more America grins (idiotically, of course) at him, though he can't stop the blush that heats his cheeks at the easy disregard for personal boundaries. Annoyed, he uses the opportunity to flick America on the forehead, still scowling.]

No one feels sorry for me or my food! It's- it's very well loved in the United Kingdom.

[He huffs, not really sure he believes his own words, honestly.]

Carry on that way and you'll never get any cooking from me in the future.

[A lie, of course. England will forever cook things for America whether the younger nation liked it or not.]

[ America initially laughs at being flicked, finding the gesture juvenile and almost playful, but he actually looks very offended when England utters his threat. He even gasps. Sure, he complains about England's cooking as much as the next nation, but he honestly doesn't mind it; he even secretly likes it when England dotes on him, even a little bit. ]

Wha— I— Oh, well, see if I care! Maybe I'll live longer if you won't!

[ And then he just... proceeds to pout. ]

[America's pouting succeeds in making England feel guilty almost immediately. And yet he refuses to give in, despite the lack of truth in his words, turning away from the other nation with his arms folded across his chest and honest annoyance written all over his face.]

For goodness sake— don't give me that face! I'm sure you'd much better off without my — what was it? — "horrible" food. I don't need you to eat anything out of pity, anyway. Plenty of others enjoy my food.

I don't eat your food out of pity!

[ America just shouts back, keeping his expression firmly planted on his features. Judging by England's reaction, he can tell the older man is bluffing, but he notices his pouting got a rise out of him, so he decides to keep it up, of course. He can never not be entertained by pushing England's buttons and even if the other nation gets angry, yells, gets cranky, calls him stupid, and drinks too much, he'll never find it unsatisfactory to see little bits of evidence that England cares more about him than he'd really ever like to admit, that England just can't seem to ignore him even when he tries to. ]

I eat it because there's nothin' else to eat when I visit you! I'd starve if I didn't force those rocks you call scones down!

[ And just to be extra annoying, he reaches out and pulls a tuft of straw yellow hair at the back of England's head. ]

[England huffs, slapping away America's unwelcome hand from the back of his head and beginning to pout a little himself now.]

Well, I suppose you'll just have to starve next time you visit then, won't you? Or if you're that damn hungry, you're quite welcome to disappear to some take-away shop.

[There's a degree of bitterness to that last sentence. The thought of America choosing to go off to a take-out rather than eat his own food annoys and upsets England more than he would ever care to admit.]

It isn't like I care whether you eat my food or not.

Even the take-outs bad in your neighborhood!

[ Oh dear. It's never a good sign when England starts jutting out his lower lip a little more than necessary. Hilariously, they often prove that they are each other's Achilles' heel and this moment is no different. America feels a little bad and just moves closer to England instead of letting himself be daunted by the slaps he's on the receiving end of now too. ]

So I may as well just go straight to the source of it all! I can't believe what everyone calls Mexican food at your house!

Everything at my house is delicious, Mexican or not! And if you think all the take-outs are bad you can't have been to many Fish and Chip shops.

[England scowls at the American, rewarding him for coming closer with a light hit around the back of the head. However used England might be to getting teased and insulted for his cooking, it still always comes as a bit of a frustrating sore spot for him. However much he would deny that.]

I'd cook you something delicious right now to prove it, too.

I only eat fish and chips when you force me to! Like I'd shove that stuff down my own throat willingly!

[ Nevermind, of course, that there are actually plenty of places at America's house that serve England's Fish and Chip dish. ]

You wouldn't dare! Not right now!

[ Nevermind, of course, that America is actually kinda hungry and yes, of course, he'll eat whatever England makes. ]

I don't force you to do anything, you eat it yourself! So either you're a greedy masochist, or- or you enjoy it... at least a little bit!

[For England, that's more his own half-hearted hope than anything. Though, however much he grows annoyed with putting up with the American's insults, it is always quite satisfying to see America actually finish the meals he makes.]

And yes, right now.

[With that, he grabs America's wrist, dragging him in the direction of the kitchens. Yes, he is going to cook something for you, America. And yes, it will be delicious, dammit.]

[ America is probably one of the few nations who not only can eat England's cooking and survive, but also will actually pester England on occasion to cook for him (take that, Prussia!). Of course he manages to do a whole lot of complaining in the meantime, but the facts remain.

And gosh, it seems like England is doing a whole lot of dragging him around from place to place lately... ]

...What are you going to cook?!

[Quite determined now, England pulls America through into the Kitchen, letting go of him to go and peer into the fridge.]

Hm, Shepherds Pie, I think. You like Shepherds Pie, don't you?

[Nevermind that the older nation plans on cooking it for him whether the American likes it or not. But then, England reasons to himself that if America really, truly didn't want to eat whatever England is going to serve him, then he had the strength and the chance to pull away before they got into the kitchen.]

[ America's knee-jerk response is to make a face, which he does, but secretly, yes, he freaking loves Shepherds Pie. He'll even eat it burnt to a cinder, just the way England makes it. It actually happens to be one of his favorites. ]

[Entirely ignoring the face America makes, England quickly gets to work. Its a good job America will eat it, regardless of the quality, because it isn't long at all before the rather foul smell of burning wafts up from where England is cooking. England doesn't notice though, enjoying himself now and full of determination to cook something wonderful for that ungrateful American. He's even humming a Beatles tune quietly to himself as he cooks.]

[ It doesn't take America long to notice the black smoke wafting from the kitchen. He gets up and tries to discreetly turn down the heat on the stove, going so far as to give England his very best — although still sheepish — innocent grin. ]

[ He starts humming the Beatles song too as though it'll somehow distract the older nation from his attempt to usurp the would-be chef's role. ]

[It doesn't take long for England to realise the American is standing right beside him, messing with his stove, and England stops his humming to whip around to face the other nation, scowling at him.

Annoyed, he tries to push America away from the food.]

I told you, I'm cooking. Everything's fine. You don't need to do anything but sit down and wait.

[He has, at least, forgotten to turn the heat back up.]

[ Drat. Caught red-handed. America allows himself to be pushed away, but he doesn't stray far. He seems to be watching both just for the sake of watching England work and for the sake of the food. ]

[ He's always been fond of watching the gentle flexing and ripples of muscle beneath the other man's fair skin as he moves about, focusing on the task ahead of him. Taking in the subtle grace and nobility of how England carries himself has always held a bit of odd fascination to America, and it's usually in moments like these where his feelings for the Englishman are reaffirmed. ]

[At first England doesn't notice that America's eyes are lingering on him from just a few metres away, happy to continue his cooking. The food is just about done (very, very well done, not that England seems to realise), and he's begun humming softly to himself again. It's only as he is plating up what is supposed to be Shepherd's Pie that he notices America watching him closely nearby.

His humming halts and he once again turns to glare at America, suddenly quite self concious, his cheeks turning a little pink.]

What? What are you staring at?

Edited 2012-10-24 19:38 (UTC)

[ America says nothing though, just shrugging casually and continuing to stare on back at the older nation. He's not exactly trying to purposely annoy him, but he is trying to provoke him into moving closer to him faster. It just so happens to be that the easiest way to do that is to, well, annoy him! ]

[England just glares at the other nation for a moment before turning around to plate up the rest of the food. Then, he quickly marches over with two plates of, uh, what's supposed to be Shepard's Pie in hand, and pushes one toward America, still flushing in the face of the younger nation's shameless staring.]

Well- don't just stand there like that. Here, it's ready!

Edited 2012-11-08 01:27 (UTC)

[ At that, America can't help but laugh. He thinks he'll get another chance to make good on what he was planning after they eat, so he's appeased by the charred plate of Shephard's Pie that's shoved in front of him. He grabs a fork and starts digging in, making an exaggerated face of disgust even though he doesn't spit out the food. ]

[After putting down his plate next to America's and sitting down, England gives the other nation's disgusted face a glare, before tucking into his own meal. Personally, of course, he finds it just as good as ever and is at least pleased that America is eating it.]

Stop your ridiculous complaining. There's nothing wrong with it.

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Joining acquariet... Any nations want to come with?

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Whoops, wrong account. lol

I was sort of surprised when I saw Scotland in my inbox... |Da

l-lol I've almost done that again so many times.

Oi, Scotty, stfu and wait yo' turn, bro! >:I

IT NEARLY HAPPENED AGAIN. FFS, I'll get to you, Scotland. >:c

I think he needs to get a girlfriend or something to keep himself occupied, gosh.

IKR. Let me spare England attention, Scott. ><

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