"I'm going with you?" Wash stuttered.
He never stuttered. He, the embodiment of Washington, District of Columbia, was one of the smoothest talkers in the country. (Even if he did get a lot of his speeches written out for him.) Still being invited to go outside the borders of the United States of America just didn't happen. Ever. He was under the impression that was what USA's job was.
"What, you don't want to come?" USA asked, furrowing his brow as he popped a vegan donut hole in his sugar-powdered mouth. (Not that Wash was judging or anything... okay, he was totally judging. Supreme Court and all that. But seriously, vegan donuts? Yuck.) Misinterpreting Wash's stunned expression, he mused, "Well, I suppose I could always ask Ames..."
"Don'taskherI'mgoing," Wash snapped out quickly, feeling that familiar rivalry twinge. He always got a bit touchy when New York was mentioned. "I just... why am I going with you exactly? Isn't all the 'outside' stuff your job?"
USA slumped back in his office chair, looking even more like a lumpy potato than usual, particularly with his dark tanned skin and dirt colored bomber jacket. "The nations are doing some kind of sister city program where all the capitals are doing a meet and greet," his country replied with a wave of his hand. "Apparently, they do it in Europe all the time. Efficiency thing. Germany's idea probably. Anyway~ I made it clear that they shouldn't be excluding me of all nations and put my foot down." The smug smile that followed was a little worrisome.
Wash let out a sigh. He had never seen his country in action, but from what he heard from Al when all the nations gathered there for the Olympics... well... Apparently, USA was espousing some grand plan about building a giant robot to combat global warming and tried to strongarm all the other nations into agreeing with him. Japan was the only one who gave the idea any credence, but he suspected that Japan was just looking for an excuse to build a mecha.
Knowing USA a little too intimately himself, seeing as he was basically under his thumb in every way shape or form, Wash didn't see this as much of a stretch.
Then a thought occurred to him. "Will London be there?" he asked, trying to keep his tone casual.
"Definitely," USA nodded, slurping some coke to wash down the donuts. "Toldja, everyone's going to be there. Paris, Sydney, Bombay-"
"New Delhi."
"Whatever," the country replied irritably. He continued to attempt to list off more capitals, invariably getting them mixed up, but Wash's mind was suddenly a million miles away.
Or rather 3,662.
~o~
Only to discover rather unpleasantly that they were only going to be going the 224.8 miles to UN HQ at his sister's place. To say that Wash's mood was sour was an understatement as they took the short flight from Reagan to JFK for the evening event. His mood did not improve when Ames greeted them on the tarmac.
"Oh, hello, baby brother~!" she cried cheerfully, as bright as the lights in Times Square. He was quickly wrapped up in an unwelcome hug perfumed with exotic spices and a faint rot that reminded him of fugly French cheese. Wash tried to extract himself as quickly as possible. "Did you have a nice wil' nap on the pwane, hmm~?"
"For the love of- I'm almost 230!" he cried. It was unbearably young next to Ames's near 400, but he wasn't that much younger than USA for pete's sake. "Will you let me go, you stink."
"Come on you two. Get along," USA grinned, looking perfectly amused by their sibling bickering. Finally released, Wash smoothed out his suit and leveled his older sister a dark glare. "Let's get it on. Don't want you to be late." He carelessly clapped a hard hand on Wash's shoulder - once again forgetting that the Pentagon was in Virginia - and near knocking him onto his face. Wash caught himself just in time, but followed USA to the towncar with a blindingly aching shoulder.
It dulled down to a thrumming sore by the time they neared the retro looking UN building. As it began to tower over them, an unexpected bout of nerves coiled in the pit of Wash's stomach.
See, Wash wasn't exactly the most popular city among his siblings. Most of them thought he was grossly incompetent with a major superiority complex. (Even if he was the fittest city of all of them and was stunningly handsome if he said so himself. Particularly in spring.) And they always thought it was pretentious that he introduced himself as Washington, District of Columbia - even though if he didn't everyone would confuse him for the state.
They also had some terrible misconceptions about how much power he actually wielded. It wasn't as though he liked getting his hill invaded by their bosses and get raging migraines whenever something particularly scandalous was going on in the supreme court. And on top of that, all their bosses were in charge of whether or not he even got his trash picked up every week.
Forget even being cozy with the head honcho. USA had dibs on anything POTUS-related.
And he didn't even get a vote! Him. Alone out of all his siblings. It was ridiculous!
It wasn't so much that he was incompetent as he was impotent. Which honestly was kind of worse.
The introspection did not make his impending encounter with the other capitals any less daunting. What if they saw right through him? Right past his shiny marble facades to all the insecurities that kept him up at night. What if they laughed at how useless he really was?
"We're here," USA said, hopping out of the car as they pulled up. Wash followed with far less enthusiasm. Many of the other nations and their capitals were already present, cliquing up to those who they were far more familiar with. It seemed like USA was doing just the same as he made a beeline for his own brother. "Canadia! Whazzup man!"
The pony-tailed blond grinned, slugging USA with a hard hit to his shoulder. They began to have a mini-scrap of their own, as Wash's attention drew to Canada's companion. He gave a small start when he realized that the blond was nearly identical to him, from his hair, to his face, to his build. Hell, they both even wore glasses. However, Wash recovered quickly enough and gave the capital a bright smile. "Hi there, I'm Washington, District of Columbia. Wash, for short. And you are... Toronto?"
"Ottawa," the city corrected, giving him a shy smile. "You can call me Otto. Is this your first time meeting the other capitals?"
"Ah, yeah! I mean, I don't really get out much. Don't need to," Wash replied, feeling a little better that he'd run into someone so congenial. "You?"
"I've met the other Commonwealth capitals a couple times," Otto? Onto? answered, "Bit of like a pseudo-family reunion."
Commonwealth capitals?
"Oh... Does that mean you've run into London before?" Wash asked, trying to keep his tone casual.
"Oh yes!" the other capital replied with quiet enthusiasm. "We've met before. He's right over there, see?"
Wash turned in the direction indicated. His throat went dry as he spied the face he'd only seen oh-so-recently on television during the jubilee and the summer olympics. Sharp green eyes, refined features, the sex messed choppy hair. Even his heavy eyebrows were endearing. He looked particularly reserved next to UK, who was radiating bubbly eccentricity and passing out cupcakes to anyone who'd take them. Few did. Everyone knew that British cakes were to die for.
"Want me to introduce you?" Onto asked, drawing Wash's attention briefly back to him.
Yes, yes, yes!
But before Wash could say a word, USA was apparently done bro-bashing Canada and had come over to hijack the conversation. "Hey Wash! You done flirting with Toronto!" he exclaimed, loudly enough to draw half the room's attention. Including, mortifyingly, London who glanced in their direction.
Wash wanted to crawl down into a deep dark hole and never see the light of day again.
Toronto looked similarly flustered. "I'm Ottawa," Onto protested, though he could hardly be heard over USA's booming- Come on, let's go see Japan! Wash scarcely had a minute to wave goodbye to his new friend before he was dragged off in a flurry of introductions.
After a while, the embarrassment ebbed as Wash's natural networking mind took over. More and more nations and their capitals arrived, providing a much needed distraction as he engaged in small talk. Wash was even kind of grateful that USA had taken to hovering protectively over him and that he'd not wandered off alone to talk to London just then.
The nations were... intense. And probably more than a little unhinged. Wash didn't know if that was just the nature of nations or if it was because they were all gathered together, but it was taking all his slick lobbying moves to keep the mood light. Particularly when some nations like China or Russia eyed him with creepily hungry looks. Even USA, who Wash had only seen as a doofy teddy bear, seemed to catch the dark, competitive edge in his aura and was making it doubly hard for Wash not to simply go mum from intimidation.
Wash much preferred the company of the other capitals. His fears of them seeing through to his insecurities quickly washed away, when he realized that they were pretty much all in the same boat. No one else understood better what it was like to be so tied up with their nation and how lonely it could be, especially amongst their siblings. It never even needed to be said. A silent understanding. It was liberating. He even found an unlikely compatriot in Ankara as the pair of them bitched about New York and Istanbul respectively.
However, he never did work up the nerve to go and talk to London by the time the reception drew to a close. USA tapped Wash on the shoulder, throwing a thumb towards the door. "C'mon, we're heading out now. You've got plenty of time to talk to everyone tomorrow when we big bosses go have our meeting."
Slightly disappointed, Wash nonetheless nodded and followed USA out to the car. Ames was waiting, naturally, a wide grin on her face. "So~ how did baby bro do?" she asked as they climbed into the back.
"Not too bad," USA replied, looking quite pleased. "Looks like I don't need to swap the pair of you out for tomorrow."
...Wait a minute.
Ames pouted, before she shrugged it off. "Fine, I suppose Wash should have his day once in awhile~" she said, as though she were indulging a puppy. Then she perked up, "Oh! Bossman, I have an amazing restaurant picked out for us tonight. It's supposed to be this hot new molecular gastronomic vegan place."
"Nice!" USA crowed.
Wash briefly wondered if the food was even edible. Then again, it was probably bound to be absolutely delicious. (As usual. Damn it.)
Which did give him an idea. "Ames, what is your nicest restaurant?"
His older sister gave him a Look. "What? Are you sure you can afford it?" she asked sardonically. "Aren't you on some ridiculously tight budget now?"
Wash reddened. "I'm fine," he said, even though he wasn't. "I just thought... since we're all here and this is a good opportunity... that I should try to build relations by taking one of the capitals out to dinner."
Ames gave him another Look, this one distinctly more mischievous and teasing than the first. However, USA looked particularly concerned as he frowned at him. "Who?" he demanded.
"...London," Wash replied with forced lightness.
Ames and USA looked at him, then looked to each other.
Then immediately broke out into laughter.
"What?" Wash demanded, his hackles rising as they laughed at his expense.
"Oh, that is so cute!" Ames guffawed, pinching her brother's cheek. "Our wil' Wishy-Washy has a cwush~!" Wash batted her hand away, cheeks flaming. "And a Brit too. Jeez, how predictable. But he's sooo out of your league."
"Oh stop teasing him with the baby talk," USA chided, still chuckling as he wiped a tear from his eye. "Man, I'm just relieved you didn't say Moscow or something. You're liable to get kidnapped."
"Or be razed to the ground," Ames added unhelpfully.
"That happened one time!" Wash cried.
"Or Berlin. I mean, that guy is bipolar to the extreme," USA went on, completely ignoring his capital. "But Ames is totally right. London's way out of your league."
All the righteous indignation snuffed out like a light. "Wha-what? But why?" Wash asked, a nasty sick feeling rising up his pipe.
"Oh honey," Ames said in that nastily patronizing way. "London's just one of those cities that has it all going on. Money, power, culture, influence, history. I mean, UK damn near got spliced because people said London had too much power."
"Well, UK has always been a bit loopy," USA admitted. "Although I don't think that whole Scotland thing helped."
"Well anyway," his sister continued, "point is, no offense Wishy-Washy, you're a bit of a hot mess by comparison. You're so indecisive, you push everything until the very last minute, you have no follow-through on all your talk and you're kinda boring. I mean, do you have any good night clubs? And the guy's ancient. Like First Century. You're basically a baby."
No offense, his ass.
"Ames, don't be too hard on your little brother," USA chided more sternly now. "Just because he's a bit overshadowed by your popularity doesn't mean he has no redeeming qualities. Jeez, I expected the pair of you to be as thick as thieves since '01."
Ames went very quiet. So did Wash. "There's no need to bring that up," he said in a subdued voice. "Ames was just being obnoxious. It's what she does." He felt a smaller hand take his, giving it a grateful squeeze.
USA seemed to take this in and simply nodded. Turning his attention back to the previous conversation, he said, "Well, Wash, if you really want to ask London out, it's okay. You have my blessing. Even though UK's a bit of a nutbag. Like for realz full on personality disorder."
"Just don't expect much to come from it," Ames muttered.
Wash didn't reply, but thankfully no one expected him to. By the time they arrived at the restaurant, his sister was back to her old self and was talking up a storm with USA. Wash merely prodded at his seaweed foam soup, lost in thought for the rest of the night.
~o~
The next day, as promised, the capitals were left to their own devices in a separate room as the nations went off to their usual World Meeting. Most of the capitals took the opportunity to get some work done, pulling out laptops or smartphones to tend to things on the homefront.
Since it was August, Wash didn't have all that much to do, truth be told. Every year, like clockwork, he reverted to his swamp-like tendencies and Congress got the hell out of Dodge. (Or the District, as it were.) He answered a few emails on his blackberry, but quickly grew bored. Now, his attention didn't have much choice but to draw towards the object that had slowly been occupying more and more of his daydreams.
Once again, his mouth went a little dry. Apparently, the allure was not diminished without the dim lighting of a ballroom reception. In the light of day, London's green eyes and blond hair looked even brighter, shining like gold and emerald. He also looked pretty flippin' sharp in his bespoke three-piece suit, making Wash feel just a bit shabby in comparison. London chatted away with whom Wash could only assume was Paris, though he was starting to look a bit annoyed at the other city's overly romantic gestures.
Wash wondered, if, perhaps, maybe, he ought to go over there and try to help him out? Maybe?
Maybe Ames had a point about the indecisiveness.
"Hi again," a voice called to his left, drawing Wash's attention up to see his near mirror reflection.
"Oh, hi... Onto," Wash greeted, trying not to flub the name.
"Otto," Otto corrected, giving him a small smile. "Mind if I sit?" Wash merely shrugged, so he settled and continued. "You looked a bit bored. Not much going on?"
"Yeah, Congress pretty much evacuates in August," Wash replied.
"Kind of like Rome, eh?" Otto said cheerfully. "Everyone there left to head to the beach for the month."
Wash slowly glanced over in Rome's direction. The guy was draped over his table in a siesta, a snot bubble working itself in and out one nostril as he snored. "Uhhh, suuure," Wash grimaced. "What about you?"
"Besieged by tourists," Otto replied sheepishly. "They've sort of invaded Parliament Hill." At Wash's puzzled look, he smiled and brought out his phone. "This is it."
What he showed Wash was essentially a series of ridiculously ornate stone cathedrals of government.
"Daamn," he whistled. "That's some tight neo-gothic shit."
"It's alright," Otto smiled shyly. "I like your architecture as well. It's modeled after ancient Rome, right?"
"Excusez-moi," a voice interrupted, bringing both their gazes up as a smog of cologne enveloped them. "I believe that Monsieur Washington is modeled after moi."
Paris. The man was oozing a scandalous amount of cheese, not at all helped by his mind-numbing perfume. Instead of France's cig, he carried a rose between his fingers, brandishing it like a baton. Moreover, he was smiling at Wash to the point of gloating. "Ah, I so 'ad 'oped to talk to you mon petit Washington. To 'ave been modeled after moi is such an 'onneur. Why, per'aps I should consider you as mon fils."
"Uhhh..." Wash replied intelligently. Not that he couldn't understand the words. He just couldn't comprehend them.
"Paris, stop it. You're frightening the lad," another voice interrupted.
Wash turned and with a start, he realized that London had strode up to them, idling somewhat behind Paris. He'd never heard the Brit's voice before, but it was so much better than whatever his imagination had come up with. His face went through a strange metamorphosis of white to red to white again, mouth agape as he tried to squeak out something to say.
"Is 'e always like this?" Paris asked Otto, gesturing at the American with his rose.
The Canadian was giving Wash a very peculiar look himself, his eyes flicking over to London with suspicion. "I'm not sure," he admitted. "He was doing fine until you two showed." There was an odd abrasiveness to his voice as he addressed Paris, which helped to draw Wash out of it.
Paris, however, ignored it. "We could not 'elp our curiosité. After all, the pair of you looks so alike. You could be twins. Do you not think so, Londres?"
"Quite remarkable," London agreed with a small nod, his green eyes passing over the pair of them. Some odd whirl of emotions clutched Wash's chest, a little bit of happiness that he was noticed but also a strong dab of annoyance it was only because he looked like someone else. He was about to say something about it, when London smiled and his mind completely blanked. "You're quite lucky. You seem to be getting on well and your nations are close. I'm sure that you could forge a true sister-city partnership, as was intended with this entire venture."
Otto and Wash glanced at each other, before breaking into twin smiles. "What about you?" Wash asked, finally finding his voice as he looked to London and Paris. "You seem close...?" he added, trying not to sound too interested.
"Only because we have been at each other's throats for so long," London replied, folding his arms over his chest as the gave Paris a sharp look.
"Ah, Londres, tu m'aimes," Paris said sweetly.
"You're right. I do enjoy maiming you," London responded dryly. That was when he turned to Otto. "I wonder if we could borrow you for an hour or so. I would like to get all the Commonwealth together to chat on a few items. Before we have our EU meeting. Are you free?"
"What? Oh, of course," Otto replied, popping up to his feet. "I'll talk to you later Wash."
"Mm, sure," Wash replied, disappointed he was losing the pair of them in one blow. He waved them off as they went to a separate room and turned back to his blackberry. Then he realized that Paris was still looming over him with a wide smirk. "...Can I help you?"
"Oh, I simply wanted to speak with you," Paris replied, stealing Otto's seat and coming uncomfortably close to him. Like, inside the Beltway close. "Let me 'ave a look at you. Je suis curieuse."
"W-wait a minute," Wash started, a chill running up his spine. He stayed stock still, hoping that USA didn't sense how alarmed he was and didn't have some kind of freak out. Then again, part of him kind of wanted 'Daddy' to barge in at this very second.
But USA didn't show and after a moment of studying, Paris pulled back as well. "Not the most beautiful of cities, but you do 'ave a certain... shall we say charme?" He smiled lecherously, leaning in closer again. "Per'aps you would be interested in another partnership that is not so, ah, sisterly?"
"Didn't you say I was like your son a minute ago?!" Wash squeaked, quickly backing up.
However, Paris only grabbed the arm of his chair and rolled him back towards him. "Ah, but that is the romance of it. L'amour interdit. That taste, that spice of the forbidden. A dark taboo enacted under the secrecy of night," he purred, straddling Wash until he was pressed into the leather. "Now, let's 'ave a closer look at that obelisk, mon chou~"
Finally, USA barged into the room, a whirlwind of righteous fury. That stopped everyone dead, making them freeze up like meerkats. "Who's attacking my city?!" he howled, brandishing a nail bat.
A voice behind USA boomed. "Do you go after my capital now, дворняжка?!"
Then all hell broke loose.
~o~
After things finally calmed and WWIII was averted, the meetings that day were wisely postponed. USA and Russia left from opposite sides of the room, while Germany berated France to get his house in order with the threat of stupefyingly kinky BDSM. Anyone would be more than a little rattled and there was no doubt that Paris was going to be on his best behavior for the rest of the meetings.
For his part, Wash couldn't be more exasperated. "I'm fine," he told USA for the umpteenth time. "Honestly, he's not that much worse than Nola." Okay, that was kind of a lie. "You were totally overreacting."
"The dude was about to assrape you and nobody was even stopping him!" USA snapped back. He showed Wash into the car, slamming the door shut and making Wash wince. "This is just flippin' typical! Everything I've done for everyone over the years and they don't even give two shits about my own capital. Tomorrow, you're not talking to anyone. You understand? Not even Toronto, got it?"
Otto, Wash wanted to correct, but he didn't dare. When USA got like this, it was like trying to stifle a firestorm with a hand towel. He only hoped USA calmed down after a night's rest. When they got to the hotel, he was escorted to the suite and put under heavily armed guard. Then did a sweep of the suite for bugs just for good measure. Wash wondered if he was getting a bit too used to these lock-downs and headed to the privacy of his room to shower and change.
Thank God, London didn't see any of that, he thought. It was the only good thing to come out of the whole affair. To think he wanted to try to rescue London from Paris earlier. He may as well have shot himself in the face à la Dick Cheney-style.
Sighing, Wash curled up under the covers and resolved himself to tomorrow's vow of silence.
~o~
Which was immediately tested almost as soon as they arrived back at the UN.
UK and London were waiting for them outside of the building under the shelter of an umbrella, obviously wanting to talk. London was as stunning as ever, though a little damp under the light morning shower. Wash wondered how he could acknowledge him without talking, managing only a half-hearted wave.
UK did the talking for them. "Good morning, you two!" he said brightly, a suspicious looking box in his hands. "Wanted to catch you before you went in. Mind?"
"What for?" USA asked a little grumpily, eyeing the box. He hadn't had his coffee yet, so it was hard to tell if he was still in a bad mood or just decaffeinated.
UK patted London on the back, who was looking terribly awkward. "This one wanted a chat with your capital. In private." Before USA could object, he opened the box revealing heaps of baked goods. "Biscuit?" he asked with a smile and a tilt of his head. "No quadrupeds or feathered friends harmed or violated in anyway."
USA looked at London, then Wash, then at the cookies. "...Fine," he said curtly. "But they're staying in range of sight."
"Bless~" UK said sweetly, taking USA by the arm. "Come, let's stand over here out of the rain." The pair whisked themselves away under the outcrop of roof to enjoy the sweets. Leaving Wash with London.
Swallowing hard, Wash said, "So... you wanted to talk to me?"
London worried his lower lip, awkwardly toying with the handle of his umbrella. He was obviously quite flustered and the tinge of pink on his cheeks was doing bad, bad things to Wash's heart. "I... I just... wanted to apologize. For yesterday," London finally managed.
Wash blinked.
At his confusion, the Brit elaborated, "I heard about what happened. I should not have been so thoughtless as to leave you alone with Paris. I am the one that usually deals with him, so I know what he's like. However, most cities are completely unprepared for the likes of him..."
"Oh..." Wash intoned, both touched and kind of disappointed. "Heard about that, huh?" He sighed, "You know, London, that's really not your fault. I could have handled that better. And I don't think anyone expected USA to rush in with a... bat."
"Even so..." London muttered, shifting awkwardly as he looked at his shoes.
There wasn't much Wash could say to that.
They stood for an eternal, silent minute in the rain.
Finally, Wash managed, "You know... You could make it up to me?"
Those green eyes drew up again. "How so?" London asked, earnest and sincere. It almost made Wash feel a bit bad, but...
"Treat me to dinner?" Wash suggested, giving the Brit a winning smile. "My sis, Ames - New York, that is - she has a lot of really amazing restaurants. It would be a shame if you went back without trying something."
Rather than skepticism, relief washed over London's features. "Oh. Yes, of course. That sounds like an excellent idea. I need to check with UK, but it should be alright." Oh crap, he forgot about USA. Then London smiled and Wash completely forgot what he was thinking again. "Of course, if I'm going out with you I think I should know what to call you. I don't think we've been properly introduced." He held out a hand. "London. Nice to meet you."
"DC," Wash blurted out, taking the hand. (What, DC? He never called himself that. It sounded so childish. The hell was he thinking?)
"What an adorable nickname," London said, obliterating all of Wash's mental objections. "DC it is then. What is your number? I'll message you after the meetings are over."
Wash briefly wondered if he was violating national security, before he decided to just screw it. They exchanged their numbers just in time for USA and UK to wander back with an empty sweets box. "All set?" UK asked brightly, turning to the lobby. "Good. London, come along now. Time to get busy." The pair of them departed, heading to the meeting rooms.
"You aight?" USA asked, pulling Wash aside.
"He said yes to dinner," Wash replied with the goofiest smile he'd ever worn on his face. "I can go, right? Right?" he demanded, grabbing USA by the shoulders.
"Wait. You sealed the deal? You're going on a date?" USA asked, both eyebrows raising.
"Well, I don't know if it's a date so much as an apology dinner..." Wash started.
However, USA seemed to ignore that as he guffawed. "Damn, Wash! You actually came through! Congrats!" Wash had no idea what UK put in those cookies, but he was eternally grateful. "I totally win the bet with Ames!"
Ah.
"Lot of money?" Wash asked dryly.
"Loads," USA grinned wickedly, rubbing his hands together. "Oh, but that whole talking to London was an exception. You're not talking to anyone else today. Got it?"
"Sure," Wash muttered. Not that he was going to be focused on talking much anyway. As they headed into HQ, his phone was already pulled out, violently texting Ames as he tried to figure out what to do for dinner. ("Oh he's paying? Well, that changes things," she'd snapchatted, grudgingly impressed.)
Not to mention waiting for that text from a certain someone...
~o~
Ames: Ok, place is called Masa.
Ames: It's almost impossible to get a rez, so u owe me BIG
"Masa?" London had said as they met up at Columbus Circle. "I've heard of it actually. It's quite famous."
"Oh yeah?" Wash replied brightly, trying hard to mimic London's reserved nature and stifle his woot of joy. He so owed Ames one, for sure.
"Yes, it's supposed to be one of the most expensive restaurants in the world. It's £300 minimum a seat."
And just like that Wash's brotherly gratitude plummeted into a pit of fiery outrage.
"Oh," was all he could manage, his face going lobster red. What the hell was Ames thinking?! A £600++ dinner?! Was this deliberate sabotage? It had to be. Wait, what was the exchange rate again? Wasn't it more than that in dollars?! What was she thinking, that this was a fundraising dinner?!
London studied the facade of the Time Warner Center in silent contemplation, whilst Wash was having his mental freakout. After a pause, he said lightly, "Well, let's try it. Shall we go in?"
"W-wait, seriously?" Wash stuttered. "Look, my sister picked the place. We really don't need to go. I'm sure we could find some other nice restaurant."
"No, it's quite alright," London replied with a shake of his head. His feet were already taking him towards the entrance. "I wouldn't want to put your sibling out after she went to such trouble."
"At least let me pay my own way," Wash pressed, quickly following. "This is a bit ridiculous for an apology dinner."
There was a brief misstep to London's motions, though Wash couldn't see the other city's expression from his back to know what caused it. Then without looking back, the Brit replied, "I'm a man of my word. I must insist I pay. I am more than capable."
"Well..." Wash floundered, still trying to think of some way to save himself from the worst impression ever. "Then I'll pay next time. Anywhere you want to go. At your place."
That gave London pause, as he turned to look at his dinner companion in surprise. A pleased smile came to his face that just about turned Wash into goo. "Very well. Shall we?"
Masa, it turned out, was a ridiculously exclusive sushi bar. (No wonder.) They were shown with the greatest of Japanese-style courtesy to their seats at the bar made of rare hinoki wood imported from Japan. All the fish was imported from Japan too, flown in just for this place. The style of dinner was a 20-25 course omakase dinner. Which in American meant, 'shut up and eat it.' There was even the option to make their meal more expensive with a $150 supplement each of wagyu with truffles, which London agreed to without so much as a glance at Wash. And then ordered some $200 bottle of sake on top of it.
As the mental dollar signs kept piling up in his head (it had been on his mind a lot lately), a hand suddenly brushed the top of his, making him nearly jump out of his chair. London pulled his hand back quickly, making an apologetic gesture. Then he said kindly, "Don't worry about the bill."
"Sorry," Wash replied sheepishly, and then didn't.
After that, the night passed more like a dream rather than a nightmare. As expected, the sushi and the other unexpected warm complements were absolutely divine. However, it was the company that Wash found more delightful by far. London's obvious pleasure at the food only seemed to enhance the flavor of his own.
Not to mention, the Brit was a perfect gentleman the entire time. Witty, charming and oh-so-polite. He didn't seem to mind that Wash was as young as he was. Instead he regaled him with stories about what it was like to pass through the ages, from the Romans, to the Blitz, to the Clash. ("It is still a bit odd to call them ancient Romans," London jested, "It makes me feel a bit old.") All of which Wash listened to with rapt attention.
Oh man, I've got it bad, he realized, crushed by disappointment as the dinner drew to a close. It was so late at night it was probably already the next day and he was tired to the bone, but he was still reluctant to head back to the hotel. Eventually, it was leave or be kicked out, so after another quick tussle over the bill (London paid) they grabbed their coats and headed out.
Thankfully, Ames's place was still kicking when they came out and they strolled slowly along the brightly lit avenue.
"I must apologize again," London said as they walked. "I cannot believe I took up nearly all the conversation. It was inconsiderate of me."
"Dude, stop," Wash laughed. "You just dropped, what, $1,500 for dinner? I think you're covered on faux pas for a while." Plus he didn't mind listening to his voice in the least, was something he was absolutely not going to say.
"Even so, you must think me a terrible dinner companion," London fretted. He was awfully good at the fretting bit. "I'm sure that Ottawa is much less of a bore."
Wash wasn't sure what Ottawa had to do with this, but he said, "No, I liked listening to your stories. Honest. I haven't been through a whole lot in comparison. I mean, there was that one time when I was a kid that I was invaded by the... um. Oh." Just like that a look of pain came to London's face as Wash hastily tried to backtrack. "No, no, no! It's okay!" he said, gesticulating wildly. "I mean, no, it's not okay. But it's just a 'sweep it under the rug' thing. I promise. No hard feelings." London, however, did not look convinced.
God, he was such a moron!
"I had a really, really nice time tonight," Wash insisted, holding his hands together as if he were praying. "Can we please just forget I said anything? I don't want this to end on a bad note."
After an eternity of silence as Wash waited for a response, the Brit finally spoke softly. "If you're sure..."
"I am," Wash interjected fervently.
"Very well. It would be ungentlemanly of me to make you uncomfortable," London decided with a firm nod.
Despite his words, it was a bit difficult to carry on the conversation after that. Instead they descended into a heavy silence. Hands in his pockets, Wash gave up on overcoming the awkwardness. Looking on ahead, he stole sidelong glances at London, wishing he was as good at honest conversation as he was at bullshitting small talk.
"This is me," London said, suddenly stopping. He turned, waiting, giving the American an expectant look. Wash looked up and saw the Plaza Hotel emblazoned on the glass doors. The only thing that occurred to him just then, was they somehow completely missed his own hotel. Oops.
"Oh, hah! That's funny. I'm right over there," he said, pointing over to the Ritz.
"Oh..." London frowned, "...How convenient."
Another terrible, awkward pause.
"S'pose I should get going..." Wash said reluctantly, turning back towards his hotel. His stomach felt full of lead, not sure how he could possibly salvage this tomorrow. By then it would probably be too late...
So he stopped.
Took a long breath.
And asked:
"Hey, you want to have lunch tomorrow?"
London looked properly startled. "You want to- I mean, yes!" he said, more emphatically than Wash had ever seen him do. "I would love to."
"Good. I'm buying," Wash replied, a huge grin stretching over his features. A spring of pure bliss rose up in him, wiping away all of the tension like melting snow.
"You better," the Brit responded good naturedly. "I'll see you tomorrow." He turned to his hotel, before a thought seemed to come to him and he paused. "DC, what's your name? The one you're registered under."
"Huh? Oh, Alfred F. Jones. Why?" Wash asked, cocking his head.
"No reason," London replied with a mysterious smile before he turned away. "Good night."
"Night!" Wash called after. He spun back towards his hotel, wearing a stupidly giddy smile. It took all of his energy not to skip back to his hotel like a loon (or Rome).
~o~
The next morning, it became obvious why London wanted his name.
"Wash! You got something!" USA bellowed outside his door. The capital could only manage a grouchy snarl, still recovering from the late night. "It's from some dude named Arthur!"
A second later, the door flung open nearly smacking USA in the face. "Where!" Wash demanded, looking around the suite for a parcel.
"What-the-what?" USA demanded, catching the door in the nick of time. "Why're you so excited?"
"It's London. It's gotta be. I mean Arthur? Come on," Wash replied, before spying a slim rectangular box on the wet bar along with a note. Upon opening it, he confirmed it for sure.
Dear Alfred,
Thank you for a lovely evening. I wanted to give you a small token of gratitude for being such a gracious dinner companion.
Having heard of these, they immediately reminded me of you. A mix of French and American to make something infinitely better and unique. I hope you enjoy them.
Sincerely yours,
Arthur
P.S. I love the name.
As Wash reread the note over and over, USA peered into the box. Prying open the lid, he gave a unsatisfied sniff when he saw it was a dozen warm pastries. "The hell are these?"
The capital positively beamed as he took a glance himself. "Cronuts!" he declared triumphantly.
"...It's not exactly flowers and chocolate, is it?" USA muttered, to which Wash immediately spluttered:
"Wh-no-it's not like that!"
Yet.
"Hmph. I guess not, seeing as you came home last night," USA muttered, still studying the pastry hybrids. Whilst Wash was still sputtering with indignation, the nation took one and immediately bit into it, grimacing all the while.
"Wha-hey! That's mine!" Wash cried, trying to snatch it from him.
However, USA impressively managed to swallow the whole thing down in two bites. "What's yours is mine," he told Wash. "'sides, needed to make sure they weren't poisoned. Now, if you excuse me, I'm gonna go throw up," he said, quickly heading to the bathroom to upchuck his unholy snack.
Wash didn't bother pointing out how pointless it was to even eat one in the first place.
In the end, he only ended up eating one anyway. (One had to stay the fittest city in the nation somehow.) The rest he brought with him to the final day of meetings at the UN. Trying to seek out London as soon as possible, he ended up running into Toronto first and offered him one.
"You seem to be in a good mood, eh?" Otto said as he slowly nibbled his cronut.
"Pretty good," Wash allowed, unable to unhinge his smile since he received his present.
"What 'ave you done to Londres!" a voice wailed behind them. The pair of them turned to see Paris barrelling at them. Wash immediately held up the closed cronut box as a shield, albeit a flimsy one. The Frenchman stopped two feet short and pointed an accusing finger at him. "You! You 'ave- 'ave messed with his mind! 'e would not stop smiling for all of our petit déjeuner!"
Wash would've answered, really, but part of his mind was trying to wrap around the fact that Paris and London had breakfast together. Like whywould they have breakfast together?
Paris carried on regardless. "Do you not understand? I 'ave only seen 'im smile twice these past hundred years! Now 'e will not stop! Il est trop terrifiant!"
"What, is it seriously that big a deal?" Wash asked with a frown, looking over at Otto for confirmation.
"London is a bit of a gloomy gus," Otto admitted. "I mean, I didn't ever see him smile while we had our Commonwealth meetings, but I thought that was jetlag. Not that he's unfriendly or anything, but he's just... reserved?"
This was news to Wash, seeing as London had been smiling half the time they were together.
"It is just wrong!" Paris cried out dramatically. "Just take a look at 'im! It is not naturel!" He gestured widely over towards the other side of the room, where London was presumably located.
Wash and Otto glanced over.
London was definitely not smiling. Not even close. Instead, he seemed to be taking a great deal of interest in glowering between their direction and his pen.
"Uh... looks like he's constipated, eh?" Otto remarked, trying to puzzle out why Paris would be having such a freak out.
Wash was about ready to smack Paris repeatedly over the head with a chair. "You probably made him all self-conscious about his smiling!" he cried out indignantly. "Now he's not going to do it anymore!"
"Ah," Paris replied, completely unapologetic. "C'est pas probleme. It is as it should be. For your assistance, merci beaucoup." Then he frollicked back to London's side, presumably to continue to make his life a living hell.
Wash pursed his lips, debating whether or not he should actually go over there. Then again, he didn't want to get all involved in London and Paris' weird... thing. Plus London really did seem like he was in a bad mood. Mentally sighing, he resolved to put it off until lunch and hoped London would be feeling better by then.
~o~
And he did not.
"Lunch?" London asked coolly, a full 180 degree turn from his mood last night. Even his eyes were cold, like chips of jade. Even though he was seated, he was expertly making Wash feel several feet smaller than him.
"Yeah, I'm buying, remember?" Wash replied, keeping his voice as even and friendly as he could manage. He pulled on a smile. "I promised." You promised too, he wanted to add resentfully. He really wasn't sure what he deserved to get this sudden bout of unfriendliness, but it was actually kind of pissing him off.
It wasn't even really unfriendliness. Just cold, reserved, professional politeness, just like Otto said.
Which was much worse.
"I do not want you to feel obligated," London replied, turning his attention back to putting his things back into his suitcase. His voice held the same clipped tone that carried into his sharp movements. He shut his case with two forceful snaps. Then rose up to his feet.
"Look, are you pissed off at me for some reason?" Wash demanded, now beginning to frown.
That seemed to catch London off guard, as if the American bluntness had smacked him in the face. He blinked once, before his cool expression turned softer. Not into something gentle, but simply tired. "Not in the slightest," London answered quietly, evading the other city's gaze. "I think very highly of you. However, I would prefer it if we no longer associated with one another. Do enjoy your lunch. Good day."
And with that jaw-dropping statement, London departed, leaving Wash staring after him.
~o~
"I don't get him!"
Otto could only laugh nervously in response as he watched the American capital slam down the coke that he'd used to wash down his third McDonald's burger. Okay, yeah, Wash was on a diet. But he was pissed, damn it!
"Can you believe that asshole! Just leading me on like that and then Bam! He wants nothing to do with me!"
Otto was taking this remarkably well for someone who had only known him for two days. He nodded along, being just as sympathetic as Wash needed him to be. Particularly when Wash's mood took a nosedive from outraged to depressed.
"He bought me cronuts, Otto!" Wash wailed, slumping over onto the table. "He was so sweet! And he smiled at me! And joked about Romans! And talked for hours! And took me on this huge expensive dinner!"
Otto simply hummed. "No offense, Wash, but London's kind of loaded," he said as he slurped his soda. "It probably wasn't that bad for him."
"It's was $1,500!"
Otto spittaked all over him.
"Agh-!" Wash cried.
"You-!" Otto squeaked, turning very red, stricken between apology and exasperation. He settled for the latter. "You should have lead with that!" (Wash had honestly never heard anyone yell so quietly.) "Are you kidding? $1,500?!"
"But that's what I'm telling you!" Wash declared, wiping the soda spray off his glasses. "I don't get why you'd do that for someone you don't like."
"Oh. He likes you," Otto said flatly. "He really, really likes you."
To which, Wash took a page from his book and responded, "Eh?"
"And, no offense, since I just met you and I don't really know you well. But you're kind of an idiot."
"Hey, wait a minute-"
"The problem is, London's just as big an idiot as you are," Otto continued, unperturbed. "If you like him back, you're going to have to do something about it."
"But..." Wash said, growing flustered. "But I invited him to dinner first. And lunch," he added, none too resentfully.
His lunchmate shook his head. "It's not enough. You're going to have to do something more obvious."
Wash could only gape at him for a loss of words. "Like what?" he demanded, "Otto, you're confusing me for Holly. I don't do dramatic stuff like that."
Otto could only sigh. "I'm only giving you my thoughts. I like you a lot. Not like London does," he added quickly, "But for some reason... I'd like for you to be happy."
It was more than Wash's poor mood swung heart could take. (It had been put through the ringer lately.) He sniffled, feeling just a bit teary again. Very suddenly, he flung himself at Otto and wrapped him up in a bear hug. "T-thank you~! You're like the brother I always wanted. Why can't we actually be related, Toronto!"
"Ottawa," Otto sighed.
A sudden clamour cut off the rather one-sided familial hug. Both of them looked up just in time to see a flash of choppy, blond hair dash out into the street. "Was that-" Otto started, but Wash was already on his feet and running after him.
"London!" Wash cried out, trying to follow the mop of blond as it expertly swam through the lunch crowds. "London, stop running!"
The Brit did, very abruptly whirling on the other capital. Wash just about collided into him and sent them both tumbling. But in near Holly-esque style, he managed to hook an arm around the Brit's waist and grabbed a pole with his free hand, saving them from colliding with the dirty ground.
London was not impressed.
"Stop screaming my name up and down the street, you twit!" he hissed and smacked Wash upside the arm, not a trace of gentlemanly behavior left in him.
"What the- Oh, plenty of humans are named London. Stop bitching," Wash hissed back, quite put out.
London took a second to process that, before he smacked Wash upside the head this time. "Don't call them humans!"
Deciding it was better to take this off the street, Wash grabbed his arm and pulled London inside the nearest building. It just so happened to be a pub, so he grabbed an empty booth and shoved London on one side of it. He took the other. "Look, calm down," he said, reaching to take London's wrists as he tried to flee. "Stop it! Seriously, what is with you?"
"You kidnapped me," London snarled.
"Before that," Wash stressed. "Why did you run? And for that matter, why are you suddenly avoiding me?" However, a waitress approached and looked on the pair of them warily. Reluctantly Wash released his captive so people wouldn't start asking questions. "Coke please. Lo- Arthur, do you want anything?"
Thankfully, London didn't bolt when he was free and took advantage to make his mussed state a bit more presentable. "Whiskey. Double. Neat," he said coolly, his tone more than anything chasing the waitress away. He eyed her until she was out of earshot. Then he answered as primly as possible. "I left because I did not want to interrupt your moment," this came out as a near growl, "with Ottawa. I had no idea you were going to chase me down the street like a- a common criminal."
"Moment?" Wash echoed stupidly.
London only reddened, growing more uncomfortable by the second. "Your... in the..." He was visibly struggling, fidgeting under Wash's scrutiny. "McDonald's, just now. It was far too friendly." The waitress came by, depositing the coke and whiskey. London took the opportunity to drown his embarrassment in alcohol.
Once again Wash blinked. Then the pieces were slowly beginning to fall together just as London clapped his empty glass down on the table. "Wait..." he said, pointing at London, "you think- me and Otto- seriously?!"
"It was obvious," London sniffed, "USA all but announced it when we first arrived. Then when we confronted you, you didn't deny your closeness. A-and then you gave the cronuts I gave you to him. And next thing I know, I see the pair of you embracing!"
Oh. Oh! "Oh God!" Wash cried, physically recoiling. "Are you kidding me?! He's like my twin! That's disgusting!" The flush that bloomed on London's cheeks indicated he thought otherwise. "Oh, oh, ew! Don't tell me you've thought about it!" The Brit reddened further. "Fantasized about it?!" Wash squeaked.
"Th-that- don't be absurd!" London cried, protesting too much. "And that's besides the point. I'm not interested in real life threesomes."
That didn't include fantasy ones.
The blush that spread over Wash's face was even brighter than London's. "Damn, you're way kinkier than I thought you were," he said, making London sputter unintelligibly. "But Otto's right about one thing."
"And what's that?" London demanded grouchily.
"You're kind of an idiot," Wash grinned. And before the Brit could say anything, he leaned over and pulled London into a kiss. London froze, but then he melted like butter and returned the kiss in full.
When they pulled apart, panting softly, Wash wanted to just wallow in bliss. Of course, London brought up objections. "But... I don't understand," he murmured, admittedly distracted by the way Wash was tracing his fingers over his palms. "I thought I was too old for you."
"Nah, makes you experienced."
"I'm a stuffy, irritable codger."
"You're a dignified gentleman."
"I've been told my eyebrows are too big."
"Your eyebrows are adorable."
"...you didn't kiss me in front of my hotel."
"Oh..." Wash intoned, watching London fidget self-consciously. He really was so, so sweet. Even better, he didn't seem so perfect and untouchable now. "Well, that's just unpardonable. Unconscionable. I need to do something about it."
"Such as?" London asked, licking his lips.
Wash didn't tell him. He decided to show him instead.
~o~
EPILOGUE
"It seems as though London has been spending an awful lot of time on Skype lately," UK commented lightly as he studied his cards.
USA gave a noncommittal hum, exchanging a two and a seven for new cards.
"He's been going over my head to try to get some vacation time abroad," UK added, setting his hand down and taking a sip of sugary tea.
"Funny, Wash has been doing the same thing. Talking to POTUS while I'm off at NATO," USA replied absently, tossing in his first ante.
"Seems harmless. For now," UK said lightly, putting in his own chips. "We'll have to keep an eye on them."
Another noncommittal hum.
"But in the meantime... Biscuit?" UK asked cheerfully, holding up a little platter of cookies underneath USA's nose.
His poker partner regarded them warily. "The last time you gave me cookies, they had shards of glass in them."
"So?" the Brit asked, his blue eyes glinting in challenge. "They were delicious weren't they?"
USA studied him for a long moment before his lips pulled into a smirk. He picked up a cookie, staring UK in the eye as he took a bite.
Ames, as in, New Amsterdam. New York's original name. Could also be Amelia.
Al, as in, L.A. - Los Angeles
Holly, as in, Hollywood.
Nola, as in New Orleans, LA