Had another request. This time for AmericaxQueen's Guard. This features a Jealous England.
Dedicated to Flawsinthisworld.
One shot. I own nothing.
OoOoOo
Her mouth goes dry and her heart shutters at the sight of him. America's lips part and all she can do is stare at him entranced. People are milling all about, some of them being assholes and trying to get him to break his post.
America nearly forgets to breathe as she stares at the handsome face of a Grenadier Guard. The senior most regiment of the Guards division. Most senior regiment of the Infantry, but not of the Army... she can almost hear England lecture in her head.
"A sentry will be on duty "at their post" for a two hour period. Every 10 minutes, he comes to attention, slopes arms and does a march of 15 paces across the area of the post. Each sentry will do this four to five times before halting. He will then shoulder arms and stand at ease. Standing "easy" is not permitted whilst a sentry is at post. Orders for sentry duty read out before each 2 hour 'tour of duty', make it clear to each individual that: "you may not eat, sleep, smoke, stand easy, sit or lie down during your tour of duty"
Sentries receive instruction on how to eliminate nuisance or any suggestion of threat from members of the public. There is a protocol they follow which begins with "stamping" (coming to attention sharply). He will also shout: "Stand back from the guard" or words to that effect. If this does not eliminate the nuisance or threat he will repeat the stamp and shout again. If the nuisance or threat still doesn't cease the sentry will assume the position of "port arms" whereby he points his rifle at the source of the interference with his duties. If these warnings are not heeded the sentry then has the choice of detaining the person(s) himself or pressing the button in his sentry box to summon assistance."
England had told her all about them. When America was a little nation and he'd bring her toy soldiers that looked just like the man in front of her. And, oh... she never realized just what it would do to her to see one in real life after all this time.
She shivers as he stares resolutely forward. His duty never shirked, and he refuses to break. Something about him sparks a warm feeling in the pit of her stomach. She's forgotten all about the fact she was hungry just moments ago. She's forgotten everything except breathing and looking at him.
A person stepped in front of him as he marched and she could hear his deep timber echo across the distance between them.
"Make way for the Queen's guard!"
And America simply falls in love.
OoOoOo
She triple checks the dates and times, her heart threatening to beat out of her chest as watches him again and again. Every time she comes to see England, she checks to see if he is 'at his post'. Like today, she is fortunate and he is there.
She suppresses a shiver that rushes down her spine. Delighted to see him again. Her face flushes and she can't help but stare at him with wide-eyed adoration.
Some part of her thinks that he must recognize her by now. That he has to know she comes around to see him every chance she gets. In fact, she has been making up reasons to come see England, just so she can steal a glance at the Sentry from afar.
He never says a word to her, she refuses to be someone who tries to get a rise out of them. It's not funny that people try, it is disrespectful and obnoxious. Yet, he bares it all with such aplomb that America can only giggle to herself and sigh.
She wants to shout out to him. She wants to be the loud America for a minute so he'll notice her, without her disturbing his other duties. Yet her tongue always seems to be tied in knots and she can never find the words to actually say anything to him.
However, today, she can't help but feel that he knows she's there. At the changing of the guard, she feels his eyes on her and America has to clutch at her chest to keep her heart from beating out of control.
OoOoOo
He's always standing at the ready, and She sneaks a peak at him once more. It has become a flirting game between them now. He never responds, not while he's at his post, but when he's heading back toward the barracks, she waits with baited breath as his gorgeously warm eyes seek hers out.
They are the most glorious shade of green she has ever seen, and it leaves her with a small, goofy smile, when he finally spots her.
He doesn't acknowledge that he's seen her, but the way her heart leaps into her throat tells her that he's just as excited to see her.
It drags on for weeks, a slow building and lingering heat that leaves America unable to do much more than pine for him from afar. He's so fragile, this human, when compared to her as a nation. Yet, it makes her adore him even more. She doesn't care about the potential heart break, as long as he keeps paying attention to her.
Though, he never really pays attention to her.
Something in America knows he is aware of her and wants her there. It takes her several more visits, and more hours of her pining over him with longing before she decides she should take action.
OoOoOo
France knew something England didn't know.
"That damned short-attentioned little chit isn't here yet. If she's gone off to find another McDonald's I'll wring her neck!" England muttered angrily to himself.
He was secretly worried. America was nearly two hours late. Which translated to extremely late, even for America. Now he was worried she'd gotten into some trouble, or that bastard alien had finally gone off the deep end and abducted her back to his home planet.
England pondered how fast he could whip together a proper space vessel to rescue her. He'd been a pirate, surely a spaceship would not be that much harder. If he put a little elbow grease in, he'd have marvelous results.
"I think America is too busy with your little soldier," France chuckled softly watching the blonde nation through the window as she blushes and shuffles next to the Royal guard.
The green-eyed nation pauses and glares at France, who is smiling in delight.
"What are you talking about you frog-faced twat?" England said, fuming.
France gave a suggestive smirk and pointed out the window. England's green gaze followed the line of sight to see America, clearly fawning over a Guard. The Queen's guard and what in the name of fuckery is she looking at the man like that for?
He watches as she shyly tucks a lock of blonde hair behind her ear and smiles bashfully. Utterly adorable perfection in every sense of the word. Except, England silently seethes, she's not looking at him like that. No, she staring at some bastard Sentry that he doesn't even know the name of.
The man's clearly a human! Yet America looks at him as if he hangs the moon and bloody sun all in the same breath. Did she not realize that he, England, was the founder of that Sentry and so she should-by rights- look at him that way?
France chuckles to himself at the scene of her looking so innocent, that unblemished sight of tender pink-faced infatuation. He also is reveling in his mirth because he knows it is driving England beyond insane that she's blushing like a young bride on her wedding night. America keeps her distance, but stares at the Sentry.
Ah, the days he adored coming to England's country.
England watches, stone-faced as the changing of the guard happens. The guard with bands arrive at 11:15 am, and it starts officially at 11:30. She' still focused on the Sentry, and England is practically frothing at the mouth for her to look somewhere else. He'll take anywhere!
At approximately 12:05 the Guards are called to 'Attention'. And, he can see America practically swoon through the window.
What the absolute, bloody, fuck was this?
"What are they doing?" France muses, finally taking a moment to actually watch the ceremony, and not the star-glazed look in America's face.
England growls at the frog. The bastard has seen it a hundred times and still doesn't bother to remember? He forcefully reminds himself that he is still a gentleman, and he has an obligation to explain his most regal aspects... to this... commoner.
"The Old Guard advances to its Regimental Slow March towards the New Guard." He pointed to where the exchange w as taking place.
France nodded absently, noting that America is subtlety trying to catch the guard's eye. How amusing.
"The Colours of the Old and New Guard exchange compliments as the Old Guard exits through the Centre Gate preceded by the band," England explained easily. "Having left the Palace, the Old Guard 'breaks into quick time' and continues its march back to Wellington Barracks. No, you may not go there." He gives France a hard look when he tries to object.
The other nation shrugs at the rebuff.
"The New Guard, remaining in the Palace, is given the order to 'Slope Arms' and is referred to from this point as 'The Queen's Guard.' The detachment then divides into two. The Buckingham Palace detachment of The Queen's Guard will now retire to the Palace guardroom to assume their duties," England finishes looking pleased.
England can tell that the Queen is not in residence by the presence of the short guard as opposed to the long guard.
The Sentry would have to return to his other duties and it would be four hours before he returned. Excellent.
Surely now America will leave or the Sentry will tell her off now that he is not longer 'at his post'. However, after few minutes and a new Sentry is placed-eyes staring every forward and back ramrod straight- England feels his fury boil over.
America looks around, searching for the soldier with a look of expectant hope in her bright blue eyes. It twists at England's stomach something fierce. The Sentry from before comes out, against regulation and it is the that England notices a piece of paper held lightly between America's fingers.
Likely her phone number.
The blonde nation proffers it to the smiling guard, who takes it easily. England watches, his jealousy nearly consuming him as the Sentry pockets the slip of paper. He turns to leave, but America must of said something, for the Sentry turned back toward her quickly.
She crooks a finger at him, face flushed pink. When he is near enough she stands on her toes and kisses the soldier.
England's. Bloody. Soldier.
Not England. Not the nation. Just a random Sentry.
He feels as if he is ready to breathe fire and summon magic circles of the blackest spells. It was not right. Not possible.
Laughter grinds against his nerves. That obnoxious laugh.
"Americans, oui?" France titters behind him.
"I'll hang him, I will," England shouts, fully enraged as France tries to hold the other nation back.
"You can't kill him just because America kissed him," France reasoned sagely.
Green eyes, hard like emeralds narrowed in on him.
"I'm the United bloody Kingdom," England growled lowly, "telling me I cannot do something is utter bollocks."