December, 1941
"Oh, God," breathed England as he watched the other nation's approach. "Here he comes."
"Oui," answered France.
"And, of course, he's wearing that bloody bomber jacket again. Can't he take it off for something this important?"
"Come now," said France, his tone suggesting he was trying to mollify the shorter man. "He did fly all the way over here."
"But he should have taken it off!" cried England in despair. "He could have left it in the plane. My boss is here, for goodness' sake!"
France shot a glance at Churchill. The man didn't seem to honestly care that the new ally was wearing informal clothes. He was probably just relieved that America had finally got to Europe again. With everything England had suffered through in the past year, France suspected that the appearance of America lightened the load on the prime minister's shoulders.
"What the hell is he carrying?" demanded England, drawing France's attention back to America.
The younger nation was, indeed, carrying something. It appeared to be a rolled-up newspaper. America was clutching it tightly and looked far too excited for entering another of these dreadful wars. Whatever it was, it was sure to put England in a foul mood. Sensing that he would no doubt be hit if he joined the conversation, France decided it would be high time to get back to his country and his resistance.
"Say bonjour to America for me, Angleterre. I must get back."
"Eh?" asked England, turning to him. However, he was immediately distracted by a shout and, as he turned back to America, France hurried off, inclining his head to Winston on the way.
"England!" cried America as he finally reached the Brit. "You're alive!"
"Of course I am, you idiot!" snapped England. "I'm standing here, aren't I? Or do you need actual spectacles instead of Texas?"
America only laughed loudly. "Aren't ya glad I'm here?"
"No," was the swift answer. England glared at the excited nation. He didn't want to deal with his stupidity – after all, he was still recovering from the bloody Blitz. (And he was mightily peeved that his curse hadn't worked on Germany. Yet.)
"You're not?" America pouted. "But I'm totally gonna win the war for ya!"
Raising an eyebrow, England shook his head. "Is this like the last time? When you made a complete arse of yourself by 'saving the day' with old battle tactics?"
"Dude!" wailed America. "That was-! No, look – I'm totally gonna win the war and everything this time! I'll punch a few Nazis and everything will be cool."
England stared blankly at him. "Yes. Because you'll have so many holes in you, the wind will blow through and cause a draught."
"No, dude, listen! Look!" cried America. And, with that, he shoved what he was holding in England's face.
After repositioning it so he could actually see the thing in question, England tried to hold back a groan. It was one of the infernal boy's 'comic' books. It showed someone in a garish red, white and blue costume holding a shield. Both the costume and the shield had a few stars and stripes. The character was, indeed, punching what appeared to be Hitler in the face. At the top, in huge yellow letters over a background of more stars and stripes, were the words 'CAPTAIN AMERICA Comics'.
"Oh, no," groaned England, failing in his resolve to keep his disdain to himself.
"Oh, yes!" yelled America, throwing his fist into the air in triumph. "There's a superhero named after me! How awesome is that!"
"Absolutely brilliant," England replied, flatly.
"I knew you'd like it!" America grinned at him. "Just wait till we're in Germany – I'll totally make sure I get you one of them weird sausages. It'll be better than your provisions, right? What are ya living off, anyways? Black rocks disguised as scones?" His face morphed into an expression of horror, obviously wondering if he'd have to eat any of it.
"No, you idiot! No-one can survive on just scones."
"Dontcha mean, no-one can survive your scones," remarked America with a grin.
England had to remind himself that he couldn't strangle his newest ally. With a deep breath, he decided to steer the conversation to the absurd notion America had. "I expect we'll be waiting a year or two for the sausages, then."
"Hey, no – I'll defeat them tonight!"
"Yes... That's not going to happen America. You are not a superhero."
"I am too!" cried America, pouting again. "See?" He shook the comic for emphasis.
Sighing, England turned his attention to his uniform, straightening it out a little more. Not that he needed to, but it was a habit of his when he was about to bring an end to a (stupid) discussion. "That is clearly not you: he was punching Nazis since April, if the date on that is anything to go by, and you only just got here." He turned to leave, indicating with a small flick of his wrist that America should follow.
The younger nation did so, though he was now sulking. As they reached the car which would take them to the War Rooms, however, he spoke up again. "You're just jealous 'cause they're right."
"What was that?" asked England with a frown.
"They know I'll save everyone. So they made that. And you're jealous because they never named a hero after you." America smirked at him and slipped into the car before England could retort.
October, 1976
America had heard about the British branch of Marvel a while ago and had been so ecstatic. Now England could see all of the awesome superheroes he said were stupid. Maybe he would even grow to like them. Best of all, he would get all the reprints of Captain America and then he, America, would be hailed a hero.
However, in all the time it had existed, England had not mentioned it. He still rubbished America's claims at being a hero and scoffed at his heroic films and comics. In fact, the one time America had brought up the British branch, England said it was a waste of time and money, especially since there was no new material.
It was Halloween and, in the years after the wars, America had decided to have a party so all the nations could get together without fighting – like at Christmas but with dressing up. Obviously, he had dressed up as Captain America a few times but England still mocked him. And, of course, he still tried to scare England, as was their tradition. He usually lost and 1976 was no exception.
"It's not fair!" he wailed, folding his arms over his open dressing-gown which did nothing to conceal the fact he was wearing nothing but boxers. "You didn't even wait till I'd had my morning coffee!"
"All's fair in love and war," said England, cheerily.
America cursed the time differences in the world. It wasn't right that England was wide awake and grinning evilly so early in the morning. "You coulda waited..."
"Not at all. I wouldn't want to keep you on tenterhooks."
Turning back to the kitchen, America waved behind him. "You know where the guest room is. Make yourself at home."
After England had gotten settled and America had woken up more, they settled down on the couch in his living room. England eyed his new groovy lamp and his numerous lava lamps with distaste. America diverted his attention with a new topic of conversation. "So, got a costume ready?"
"Of course." England smirked at him. "I think you'll like it."
"Really? I doubt that, dude. You always pick obscure characters."
"Mr. Darcy is not obscure!" snapped England, glowering now. America marked that down as a win. "You'll be forced to eat your words later, boy," England continued in a growl.
"Sure thing. Now, let's see what's on TV – unless you want to go to a movie theatre or something?"
Straightening his Stetson, Alfred grinned up the stairs. "Come on, England! What's taking you so long?"
"I'll be there in a moment. Stop being so impatient!" came the reply.
So America returned his attention to the full-length mirror in the hall. He admired his costume: typical cowboy, of course. It was much more authentic than what anyone else would wear since he was using things he had actually worn back in the day. However, as was the current style, he made sure his shirt was open almost to the middle of his chest. He wondered what England would say to that, what with his stuffy ways.
Finally, he heard footsteps on the stairs and turned to see what fantastical story character England had decided on. He blinked and rubbed his eyes at the sight before him, though, wondering if he was seeing things.
England was wearing a skin-tight, red suit. It clung to his skin and America could see his muscles – even though he was smaller than him, England still had plenty of muscles to show off. On his chest was a gigantic, golden lion. A red and blue mask covered his face (and his eyebrows) but his mop of blonde hair was still visible. As England drew closer, America realised that there were lines at the top of the mask, running diagonally to the centre. It kind of looked somewhat like the Union Jack. In one hand, England was holding what appeared to be a metal quarterstaff. The other held a plastic bag, one of the ones used for shopping nowadays.
"Well?" asked England, his tone suggesting he had a smirk hidden behind that mask. "What do you think?"
"I... What?" was all America could think to say.
Sighing, England shook his head. "Every time I pass a comment on your pathetic excuse for a Halloween costume – what was it, three times in a row? - you claimed I was 'jealous' because I didn't have a hero named after me. Now you can't say that." And England spread his arms wide.
"They... What are you talking about?"
With another sigh (though now it sounded like fake exasperation), England pulled something carefully from the bag and handed it to America. Looking down, he found himself holding a comic book. This one had someone in the same costume as England swinging a quarterstaff and taking down several people at once. A small circular advertisement claimed that there was a free mask inside. At the top, in a flag-designed title banner were words which declared 'The Newest – and Greatest – Superhero of All! CAPTAIN BRITAIN!'
"No way," breathed America with wide eyes. "But that's copying!"
"I think you'll find that this is perfectly acceptable," replied England, smoothly. "It's been written in the British branch of Marvel. It's all above board. And I hear they're even going to feature him in some of the comics here, too."
"Th- But-"
"Ah, ah. Do I need to teach you a lesson with this?" England waved the quarterstaff for emphasis before pointing it at America. "But, remember: 'when you're facing Captain Britain, one chance is all you get'."
Okay, so... explanations!
I had a thought at some point that it would be rather amusing if America turned up brandishing the comic and declaring that the comic said he'd win so it must be so, etc. etc. And, for some reason, as I was picturing the scene, he got into an argument with England and ended up saying something which made me think it'd be amusing if England got his own back with another comic. Like, a comment about how superheroes got comics but magic users didn't. And then England would discover Dr. Strange (cause I knew about him) and would throw everything back into his face.
And then I remembered hearing about Captain Britain.
I looked it up (on the Marvel Wiki) and April 1941 was the first time Captain America was introduced - which was weird, in my mind, cause America didn't even enter WWII till December. They were jumping the gun a bit there, I think.
The Blitz started in December 1940 and lasted until March 1941 - 11 weeks of bombing. So, in my mind, England is a little stronger than when I usually read "just after the Blitz" fan stuff. *shrugs* Whatever.
France was there simply for someone other than Churchill for England to complain to.
Churchill probably should have been on his way to America or something - apparently he gave a speech in Congress on the 20-somethingth of December. (America entered the war on the 6th.)
I didn't use Britain as England's name cause... I'm Scottish. And I feel better calling England his original(ish) name.
Captain Britain was first made by the British branch (which started up in the 60s) in October 1976 - so I thought it would be a fun Halloween costume. (He first appeared in the US in "78 in a comic called... Marvel Mix-Up/Mash-Up/Something alongside Spider-Man.) He has/had a quarterstaff and a mace, apparently. Also, apparently, he used to be unable to use his powers outside of Britain if he wasn't wearing his suit then he had to wear his suit all the time and, now, the strength of his powers depends on his confidence. Which actually sounds awesome. More awesome than Captain America, actually. Ha!
Lava lamps were invented in the 60s. Movies couldn't be watched at home till the 80s, really. But you could video tape stuff at home in the 70s. Plastic shopping bags were either invented in the 60s or 70s, depending on where you look but they were big and sturdy and it took a while before the smaller, thin ones were made.
I decided not to attempt talking about what they were wearing or what his house looked at. I'm not entirely sure I want to delve into the fashion senses of the 70s. The 80s are bad enough... (Also, it wasn't really all that important.)
Oh, the mention of "old battle tactics" is a reference to what I heard in a recent documentary about World War 1. According to a soldier/officer/I don't remember but they were in the army, anyways, the Americans were briefed by the British when they came. They all listened and then the American officer turned to his troops and said something along the lines of: "Say thank you to the nice guy but we're totally not gonna do what they say cause it's obviously not working." And then they all went over into No Man's Land much like the British and French had stopped doing cause it wasn't working back in 1914 till 1917. It didn't work that time, either. I've been wanting to throw a reference to that in something for a while because I can just see America doing that... Poor guys.
Moving onto happier thoughts, that quote of England's at the end was on the Wiki page for the first volume/issue/whatever so I don't know if England would have read that quote yet or not. It's not as if I've read that comic. But I really rather like the quote.
Also, I've written so many AUs, it's so hard to write "America" and "England" instead of "Alfred" and "Arthur".
Captain America = America = 4th July = Happy Independence Day to those who haven't read my Independence Day story! :)