Another Hetalia Story – Ch.1
"Hey, Britain! Sup man! How you doing this cool morning, bro?" America cheerfully said.
"Well you seem mighty chipper this morning don't you America." Britain spoke in a monotone, continuing to walk through the UN building.
HETALIA OPENING
Britain pretended to listen to America while he ranted on yet again on how to stop global warming, or how to fix the economy, the yellow blonde British man didn't know, or even care. All he was thinking about was what America had said to him earlier.
It is what was making him a bit peeved this UN meeting.
-*-*- a few minutes earlier -*-*-
Britain was walking to the main room of the UN building. London had left early to step up the papers she had for this meeting. Britain didn't really mind, as long as she told him the night before.
"Hmm, I wonder if I should make dinner for me and London tonight, she has worked really hard lately. Yeah, I think I will make her something."
The British man's thoughts were abruptly knocked out of him when he was bear-hugged from behind by a bright blonde nineteen year old.
"Hey, Britain! Sup, man! How you doing this cool morning, bro?" America cheerfully said.
America was always chipper and joyful, yet today, it seemed as if he had an extra spark to him. Extra joy, if that was even possible.
"Well you seem mighty chipper this morning don't you America." Britain spoke in a monotone, freeing himself from Americas grasp, continuing to walk to the center main building. America joyously followed, as small skip in his step, "I sure am, Britain!" America loudly pipped. It was silent for a moment or two, America having a glint in his eye, Britain walking right next to him, waiting to know what was on that boy's mind.
"Well?" Britain asked.
"Well, what?" America looked to the English man, the glint in his eye still slightly there.
"You oblivious wanker," Britain was getting a little annoyed, "What were you going to tell me that is making you so happy today?!"
America turned his head toward the ceiling again, the glint intensifying back in his blue crystal eyes. "I finally did something that you didn't do first."
"What? Finally engorged yourself with food that weighs more than you do?" Britain scoffed.
"That too, but that's not what I'm talking about," America had his eyes closed with a big grin on his face.
Britain laid his head in his hand.
America stopped the both of them a few steps from the UN meeting room. He nears and whispers right in Britain's ear. "I fell in love before you did."
Britain eyes went as wide as plates. He turned to an American who was standing upright, clearly proud of himself, "Wait, what kind of love, America?" Britain asked in a hushed tone.
"I mean the real kind of love, British dude. Not like the one between a sister and brother or father and daughter, I'm talking about the real love between a guy and a girl, bro." America puts an arm around his British "brother".
Britain takes the arm off of his shoulder. "You don't know what love is in that department America, and take your arm off of me!'
"Oh no, Britain, I know this love when I feel it. This girl gives me a funny warm feeling when I get near her. She's so cute, yet she's so young. I felt crushed, until her sister told me that she will stop at my age, and then the butterflies came back. She's so pretty funny, sweet, bright..." America trailed off, the glint glazing over all of his crystal blue orbs.
Britain was about to smack America out of his world, then took a second glance. America couldn't stop talking "mumbling" about her, he had those glazed over eyes all morning; he didn't even care that if Britain was paying attention or not. There was no denying it; America was in fact in love. Another undeniable fact, America fell in love before he did.
"Mr. America, I have a possible way to stop this world hunger scenario, " London's words rose Britain out of his morning flash back.
"And that concludes our United Nations meeting, people! See all y'all next time.
London slipped down in her seat as everyone left.
Britain grabbed their things and walked out of the UN meeting room, an arm around London and an arm full of folders and papers. "Don't worry London; you will have your chance one day."
"Hm." is all London responded back.
"Come on, hey I'll make dinner for us, what do you think about that?" Britain tried to lighten her up.
London's eyes went wide, "T-That will be swell England, hey I'm gonna go start the car okay?"
"Okay." Britain said.
And with that, London sped off to start the car, and save their stomachs.
That left Britain with something he remembered from the other day.
He was battling with France to get an island he needs for the war with Germany. France was reluctant to give her up, and still is, but he is no match for Britain's pirate trained army. Britain smirked in satisfaction. Britain couldn't wait to see the look on that cheese eater's face when he had to give up his precious little... umm. Britain stopped in mid-walk and pondered for a moment.
"Hmm, what was that island's name?" Britain thought.
"Hmm... it started with an M. ... Mali… Morocco? No, that's not it." Britain leaned up against the wall, stuck in thought.
In the car with London
London had enough time to go to a restaurant to buy two meals to take them back home, and come back to the UN building all before Britain could walk out of there. "Well, there are some perks for Britain being a slow walker."
Britain was on the verge of giving up, when he looked up. He was near a lobby room. There was a little girl on one of the small wooden pedestals, swaying back and forth to the music flowing from her little radio. Britain amused; this was similar to how London acted when she thought nobody was looking. This girl apparently doesn't care where she's at. She just seemed off in her own little world. Her small head was down and her dark chocolate-brown hair was obscuring her face, yet he could barely see the American sized grin on her small peach face. She was wearing vibrant blue clothes similar to France's. She had the shoulder cape like him and the coat as well, but it seemed a little tighter, going around her slim figure, making it completely visible. It wasn't alluring to Britain, but more of a cute little petite one. Instead of pants, the girl had a deep blue smooth skirt that hugged her just right around the hips.
Britain almost called her cute. Then Britain got an idea, a silly – yet - in – the - moment idea. He walked over to the little girl, the ten-year old not noticing anything on the outside of her eyelids at that moment. Britain waved his hands and semi-jumped up and down in front of her. No reaction. Britain got right up in front of her and looked down at her. No reaction. Britain took a chance and tapped her lightly on the shoulder. A big reaction and big mistake. The little girl jumped and swung her arm up; knocking the papers out of the British man's hands. The girl's eyes flung open, yet Britain could not see them. The girl spoke "Oh, sorry mister, you startled me."
Her voice was soft, peppy, and yet fragile in a way. It was almost cute. It reminded him of London when she was younger. He smiled to the sound of this girl's voice.
"Excuse me mister, let me get those for you." the little black-haired girl bent down to pick up the papers.
"Oh please dear, it's quite alright." Britain bent down to help her.
When they were down pursuing the papers London had planned the night before, the two nations budded heads.
The blow was minor, yet Britain had to grab his head anyway, to stop aftershock. He used his other hand to lift up the papers.
Both were taking up the multi-colored papers, until one little thing stopped them for a heartbeat. Yet to Britain it wasn't anything little.
Two seconds, that's how long it lasted. Two seconds, and Britain's mind changed about her. For two seconds, their hands touched on the same paper. It was so soft, so fragile, and so little, like everything about her. Britain didn't know what this feeling was, but he didn't even know if he liked it or not. But there was only one that Britain knew at that moment, and scared that he felt that way. From that instant and from then on that day, he thought that little girl helping him pick up the papers, was cute.
To Britain's fear and surprise, a small blush splashed across his face for the slightest second.
Britain immediately got up and brushed himself of, straightening out the papers.
The little girl straightened up, still looking very small to the British man in front of her, and the fact that her head was down wasn't helping at all. Without bringing her little blackish brown-haired head, she brought her arm up and handed the British man his papers.
Britain wanted to see the face of this little girl, see if that was cute too. Yet she wouldn't look at him. Britain grew confused. Britain was just about to lift her head up by the chin, when the person he least wanted to think about now, budded in.
"Little lover! Come on! We're going to be late for our show on T.V. tonight! What are you doing with that man!?" France said, coming down the hallway, Paris walking at his side.
The little girl quickly grabbed the small radio, and hurried to France's side hugging his legs, her face away from Britain's view.
"I'm sorry, France" The little girl pleaded as she brushed her head against the Frenchmen's leg. "I got trailed off in my new radio that you gave me for my birthday. Please don't take it away from me!" her body tensed up.
"I'm not going to take it away from you." France rubbed the shoulder of the little girl as she relaxed. France had a stern look as his face turned to Britain, "I just want to know why you were with this man."
Without looking, the little girl said, "I bumped into him when I wasn't looking, that's all." Britain thought she had the sweetest voice, and smiled. France noted this, and scowled as bit more.
"Paris, take her to the car, I'll be there in a second." France said.
"Okay, France, let's go ..." Paris spoke so soft; Britain couldn't catch the name of the girl. Paris grabbed the small pale hand of the long dark brown-haired girl, and they both left.
Britain took only one small step, and then he had France in his way. "If you follow them Britain, so help me…" France started to say.
"So help you, what? You, cheese eater," Britain spat, cutting of France, "You're men are still losing against me, and I don't think that is going to change."
"Don't change the subject," France spoke seriously for once, so Britain listened up. "You better have had a good look at her because you're never going to speak to her again." France said, his blue eyes having an ice-cold look at the British man.
"Well, well, France," Britain spoke smoothly, "I haven't seen you be this serious about someone since Paris was little."
"Exactly Britain, besides Paris, that little girl is the most important thing to me. I will do anything to keep her safe from anybody." France said, for once his face cold as stone.
Britain was almost stunned; he had practically never seen France this fearless before. It was almost scary, yet Britain refused to show any bit of his emotions. Yet there was this one thing we did want to ask the cheesy monkey.
"Oh, yeah France, what was that girl's name anyway?"
"That's none of your concern Britain, she is mine and you shall never have her. You will never even know her name." and with that France took off running, his French laugh trailing behind him.
"And there's the France I know and hate." Britain thought with a sigh.
Britain left the UN building; his mind didn't trail once from the thought of that little girl. There was something about her, something special. "She is like London when she was little, yet different in a way." Britain thought. "Maybe it's because I had London is my little sister, and she is just... well," Britain blushed at the thought of her cute little figure again, swaying so playfully side to side, not having a care in the world.
Britain didn't know what was going on with him. He had never felt this way about anyone. He didn't even know this girl, or for that matter her name! Heck, he doesn't even know how her face looks!
"Why can't I get this girl out of my head?" Britain thought, and almost mumbled under his breath.
London noted from listening to her music, to the flustered face on her big English brother's face. London was just about to say something, but she didn't want to lower down the music to tell him anything.
Once they were at the British man's house, London had to break the news that she had forgotten that Northern Ireland had insisted on buying and bringing them dinner tonight. Once they had taken out Chinese food from a restaurant that Britain could not pronounce the name of the little girl. He laid down on the couch and just stared up at the white ceiling, lost in his tornado of thoughts. London was taking a shower; Britain was waiting for her to get out so he could get his turn. Once London got out and brushed out most of her hair, she noticed that Britain didn't have the T.V. on, or anything running for that matter. That was unusual for the British man. London put on her usual sleep wear and walked into the living room to find her big brother just staring up at the ceiling, not doing anything. London grew a bit worried. The only time he has ever done something like this before was when America had seceded from him, gaining independence for America, and depression for England.
London went over, crouched down in front of the couch, and put her head on Britain's chest, running her fingers though her stressed brothers yellow blonde hair.
"What wrong, England?" London asked sweetly," Did France get to you today?"
Britain just sighed and rubbed his little sister's/capital's hair, "Oh, London, how I wish it was something that France had said today. Unfortunately, that's not the case this time."
"Hm?" London raised an eyebrow.
"It was something America said." Britain ran his fingers through London's hair.
London rose a bit," What kind of senseless thing that America always says get to you?"
Britain laughed a bit, "No, little one, "London made a straight face at the old nickname, "It was something that he said that wasn't senseless, but true." Britain sat up straight.
London got up from his chest and sat next to Britain, a concerned look on her face, "What did he say?"
Britain heaved a breath, his eyes shut tight, and London's eyes grew wide with anticipation.
"America has fallen in love before I have." Britain said in a tone of utter and personal failure in his words.
London eyes went back to normal, turned away from Britain's face, not being able to hold back the smile that was creeping up on her lips, which was soon turning into laughs and giggles.
"Why are you laughing," Britain flailed his arms around uselessly, "This isn't funny!"
London faced her brother, her giggles subsiding, meeting him with a sympathetic smile, "Is that it?" she said," Is that what you're worried about?"
Britain hunched over in his back a little, having a pout look painted on his face. "Yes." He said though his puckered lips, "Do you have a problem?"
London just shook her head, shaking her brother's hair, making him get up and walk her to his room. "You worry so much about doing things before anybody else does, big brother," she opened his bedroom door, "I think that's what making you so old." she teased.
Britain took a bit of offense to that, "Hey, I barely look a day over twenty-five!" Britain took off his shirt and dressed into a plain white t-shirt.
London undid the bed that she made earlier in the day, "Regardless." She put the blankets over Britain as he lay down in his cool colored bed, "You shouldn't take personal things, especially this, into the equation, okay?"
"But falling in love is the first thing." Britain argued, "What if he turns out the first to get a girlfriend? Or what if he's the second to walk down the aisle, or worse," Britain's eyes grew big, "What if he's the first nation in history to have a child?"
London smacked her big brother on the head lightly, knocking him out of his world, "Will you just stop." she demanded in a hushed tone, "Yes, I know that all might be possible, and that thing like that are like a contest between you guys," London stroked her brother's hair, "but it all depends on fate, if America gets married before you, or somehow after France, then it's not your business. You will fall in love when you meet the person that is right, big brother." London kissed her brother on her forehead and left.
"Thanks, London." he said before she left though the door and out down the hallway.
She didn't answer back.
Britain lay down in his Egyptian cotton bed, his unbuttoned shirt already halfway off. Britain was always a shirtless sleeper, but he just puts a shirt on before he goes to sleep, winding up with it off somehow when he wakes up.
Although this time, the English man couldn't sleep even if he tried. No matter what he thought about, it always seemed to travel back to that little girl he saw this evening, or America beating him to marriage, with a baby or even twins in his hands.
Britain brushed back his hair, his other hand on his chest, heaving out a big heavy sigh. "This isn't working."
Britain sat up rubbing his eyes out, not that he had any droopy eyes to rub out anyway. He leaned over to the side of his bed and pulled out a tall glass and a bottle of sparkling cider. He set up the drink and went over to the window seal, a notebook in his hand.
"Dear Diary,
I found out that America is in love before I am. He really ticks me off sometimes when he rubs things in my face that are completely incompetent. Although this time, he rubbed something in my face that was worth something for once. France still is a douche, yet today I meet someone of his territory that he seems over protective of. Well, I didn't actually see her face or get her name, but I can't get the little one out of my head."
Britain looked at what he just wrote, "The hell?" Britain thought, "I hardly met this child and I'm already calling her what I use to call London when she was a little girl. What the bloody hell is going on with my head?" Britain thought about it for a while, but then found no point, and continued writing, taking a sip of the cider now and then.
"London has worked very hard lately, and I want to make it up to her. Maybe when I win against France in the battle and win that piece of land, whoever is there will be my underling and I can put him or her to work to help London. I can't wait till I get to shove it in France's cheese eating frog face that I took his precious island away. Plus, I need it to fight against Germany and the Axis, its right in the spot where I could transport weapons and machines."
Britain took a break for a moment, his mind trailing somewhere else.
"But still, even though London said that falling in love and things along that line aren't a contest, and I don't care if America ends up with the ring before me anymore, I still want to fall in love. I'm already over 2000 years old and I am still stuck looking twenty-five. I can already feel my younger countries planning to secede from me as I write this. I just wish I can meet someone, and if I ever had to let them go, they would come back to me, unlike everybody else so far."
Britain looked up at the full moon lit, starry dark blue sky, "Just one chance," Britain pleaded, "That's all I want."
Britain finished off the glass of cider, put away his journal, crawled back into bed, and had a night full of not so good sleep.
At France's House
At the same time Britain was looking up at the moon, a little girl with long dark chocolate-brown hair and big sparkly light brown eyes was looking up at the moon, hoping one day, these days of unfairness to her body and spirit would soon stop. "Please Father, help me get through another day of torture to my body yet again, and help me find someone like my first big brother, that won't hurt me anymore."
The girl almost had tears in her eyes as a tall shirtless man with shoulder length wavy blonde hair came up behind her, putting his hands on her small feeble waist working his way up.
"Are you ready, little lover?" France whispered in the little ear as the girl trembled beneath her master's touch.
"As you wish, my France," her weak voice said, not like she had a choice.
France stripped the girl and he picked her up and pulled her away from the window.
When France finally had her laid out on the bed, her exposed, scared body below his, he stopped, hovering just above her.
The girl's eyes grew confused below him." What's wrong, master? Am I doing something wrong?"
France just shook his head, looking down at the girl with admirable eyes, "No, my sweet darling, I just don't want you to ever see that man you met today ever again." France stared to put small light kissed on the girl's soft pale flesh, making her struggle hopelessly beneath him.
"Ah, France, you can trust me on, that," the girl was whimpering out. "I will never even hear that man again, ah, not there!" The girl cried out.
France purred over the girl, leaving bite marks here and there over the girl's body, feeling pleasure from the thought of her only thinking about being with him.
To the girl though, that was not the case. It was a complete lie.
It was a good thing for the girl that she did not know the name of the man she found the voice of quite alluring, for she would have cried it out during this. She tilted her head back in pleasure as she thought of the man she had met doing this action, instead of the father like figure France, filled her mind.
"If only I had seen his face," the girl thought, "this would be a lot better."
Meanwhile, hundreds of miles away at a German house base.
An ash blond-haired girl and her younger sister slouched on the velvet red couch, waiting for their much hated boss to relate to them and their brothers, Prussia and Germany, his new assignment for them. Honestly, the ash blonde haired girl, East Berlin, and her sister, West Berlin, would rather be anywhere else, mostly asleep, likewise for their brothers.
The four Germans sat up straight as they heard the footwork of heavy boots, and then walked in their boss, having a small line of hair for a mustache, Adolf Hitler.
The homicidal madman had his hands behind his back, a small smirk on his face, that filled East Berlin with disgust, but she could not show it.
Their overpowered boss bent down over the low table and laid out a map of the European countries, pointing to a small island of land that the German family had to squint at to see.
"This" said Hitler. "is the place we weaken and conquer next."
Prussia had a concentrated look on him as he looked at the small island.
"We won't go into action to hastily yet," Hitler continued.
East Berlin huffed in annoyance.
"I've heard from Italy that England and France have fought over this country for a while now. I want to wait until Britain or France blow over their strength, and whichever one wins; we will sneak up on the little country, learning what it has, besides being a base for our weaponry. Then, if the country refuses to leave Britain or France, then we will simply starve the piece of land until they have no choice but to join us."
The German family reluctantly agreed, not like they had a damn of a choice.
Hitler took out a picture and laid a picture of a small little girl with big light brown eyes and long chocolate-brown hair, walking next to France.
"This is the most recent picture that we have of this country, Malta."
Even though the German family could not say anything, yet all of them had an astonished look on their faces.