"You're manipulating my people." America's voice was uncharacteristically stern, his blue eyes cold, nothing like the cheerful United States Britain knew. He took a deep breath, trying to remain calm against the younger country's harsh words. "You've said before you won't help me until your people want me to. I'm just trying to speed things up a little."
"By rigging polls and spreading propaganda?" Britain slumped in his chair a bit, unable to meet America's gaze. He paused before speaking again.
"America, I /need/ your help. France is out-" The older nation's voice cracked a bit, and he coughed in an attempt to cover it, "-and I can't keep buying supplies anymore, it'll bleed me dry. And the blitz..." He closed his eyes and shook his head. When he opened them again, something had changed in America's eyes- there was sadness and, if he was reading right, conflict.
America leaned back and glanced out of the window. "Look, I feel for you, my people feel for you, and we hate the Axis as much as you."
"That's not what Joe Kennedy said." He grumbled. America hesitated.
"I understand his side too." He finally looked back at the European, "Britain, you need to understand, FDR is doing everything he can, but without the support of the people-"
"He isn't /trying/ to get the support of the people!" Britain hissed, and America visibly tensed. "He's content sitting on his arse while Germany takes over all of Europe and my people are getting killed!"
"It isn't like that!" The younger nation took a deep breath, painstakingly relaxing himself and looking out the window again. There was a minute of silence.
"We're scared, Britain." He finally said. "My people don't want another war. We're not even out of our depression, our army isn't ready... How are we supposed to fight a war?"
In that moment, Britain saw a side of America he knew- the teenage boy holding a rifle, his eyes wide and hands shaking as he prepared to go to war with France, before he was even his own country. America wasn't even two-hundred years old, and he had been through so much. One of the most powerful nations in the world was still just a child.
"America." He used the same voice he used frequently to his colonies- soft but firm. "I can't do this without you. The Axis threaten not only my freedom, but the world's."
"I know." He still stared out the window, a plain expression and sad eyes printed on him. "I'll do what I can, Britain."
"That's all I ask." Britain stood and, without looking back, left the young man to his thoughts.
"By rigging polls and spreading propaganda?" Britain slumped in his chair a bit, unable to meet America's gaze. He paused before speaking again.
"America, I /need/ your help. France is out-" The older nation's voice cracked a bit, and he coughed in an attempt to cover it, "-and I can't keep buying supplies anymore, it'll bleed me dry. And the blitz..." He closed his eyes and shook his head. When he opened them again, something had changed in America's eyes- there was sadness and, if he was reading right, conflict.
America leaned back and glanced out of the window. "Look, I feel for you, my people feel for you, and we hate the Axis as much as you."
"That's not what Joe Kennedy said." He grumbled. America hesitated.
"I understand his side too." He finally looked back at the European, "Britain, you need to understand, FDR is doing everything he can, but without the support of the people-"
"He isn't /trying/ to get the support of the people!" Britain hissed, and America visibly tensed. "He's content sitting on his arse while Germany takes over all of Europe and my people are getting killed!"
"It isn't like that!" The younger nation took a deep breath, painstakingly relaxing himself and looking out the window again. There was a minute of silence.
"We're scared, Britain." He finally said. "My people don't want another war. We're not even out of our depression, our army isn't ready... How are we supposed to fight a war?"
In that moment, Britain saw a side of America he knew- the teenage boy holding a rifle, his eyes wide and hands shaking as he prepared to go to war with France, before he was even his own country. America wasn't even two-hundred years old, and he had been through so much. One of the most powerful nations in the world was still just a child.
"America." He used the same voice he used frequently to his colonies- soft but firm. "I can't do this without you. The Axis threaten not only my freedom, but the world's."
"I know." He still stared out the window, a plain expression and sad eyes printed on him. "I'll do what I can, Britain."
"That's all I ask." Britain stood and, without looking back, left the young man to his thoughts.