"Scotland calls them Spunkies," England sneers, a joint tucked loosely into the curve of his thumb and forefinger. He stares out across the lake at something that really, Japan cannot see and laughs, takes another shallow hit and coughs. "Stupid wanker."
The lake is quiet, the moon reflecting against the surface, the waves serene, even swaying. Japan can't think of a single polite thing.
"I hear he also calls them Corpse Candles," he says tentatively. England laughs and regards him with dazed amusement. "Please. Half the world calls them Corpse Candles. He's just-" another hit, this time without a cough, "-stealing."
A hum. Japan lets the night fill the silence. He watches the patch of lake water that England's eyes keep gravitating towards. England sniggers, and offers up the joint.
A moment of consideration, but no- he shakes his head and England shrugs.
"Most cultures say that they're the ghosts of children," he says quietly, eying a patch of water that's reflecting the moonlight. Back to England and the other nation is eying him with a fond look, relaxed in a way that he never is around the other Nations. Somehow, Japan feels a bit... special.
England grins and takes one last hit before flinging the butt into the lake. Japan wants to reprimand him for littering, but the amused, carefree smirk sprawled loosely across England's lips distracts him, makes him remember that this is the man who had the world at their knees for years. That for years, the sun never set on this man.
"Not yours though," he grins, shuffling a bit closer. "Foxfire, you call it?"
Japan nods. "It is also said that they are souls of the departed who still have things to accomplish."
England's grin widens. "Yes, it varies."
Japan feels the start of a smile begin to part his lips. "At least we do not call it the hinkypink." Idly, he starts tracing nonsense words into the sand as England splutters beside him. "It's hinkypunk and really, as if the onibi is a better title." He snorts a bit, then grins ruefully.
"I like hinkypunk."
"Perhaps you could have one of those episodes about them? The one with the terribly loud doctor and his much too phallic screwdriver? Really, England-"
"It is called Doctor Who, and I will not allow you to blaspheme. It is the longest running show on television and you cannot tell me that you do not enjoy it."
He smiles as England glowers out across the lake. "Perhaps you could tell the world that hinkypunks are actually aliens from a distant planet like those bees-"
"All right, you have me there, that was a dreadful episode-"
"-Or perhaps like the dancing fat or the belching slugs?"
"Oi. Artistic lisence-"
"Or the galactic law enforcement rhinoceros, they could steal a hospital one day and-"
A snort and a mutter that sounds oddly like "I told them not to write those in" before, "Wanker. I could start in on your obsession with schoolgirls and sentient vines-" England threatens, and yes, that is enough to get him to shut up. England knows his weak spots too well. At least he hadn't brought up the dating sims.
Quiet again. Japan's chest feels a bit light, elated perhaps.
Something flashes across the lake, blue flame and a smiling face and "Oh!"
England is smiling at him when he leans back again, surely it had been a trick of the light, just the moon playing tricks on him. "You saw her then?" England asks, and yes, his tone is rather fond. He doesn't quite trust his voice just now, so he nods.
England's smile widens, and he finally closes the space between them, tucks himself close to Japan's side. He's warm. The lake flickers again and someone smiles.
Laughter echoes around them, delighted rather than creepy. Japan smiles and England opens his mouth, tilts his head, says- "She'll be pleased."