Summary: Regardless of whatever America thought, colouring was not a form of art.
Pairing(s): Friendship/pre-slash Us/Uk
Rating(s): T
Disclaimer: I own nada…as always…
By Numbers
Whatever England expected upon entering his house after a day of work, did not include America sitting at the kitchen counter, hunching over something with an intent look upon his face.
Frowning at the intrusion of his sacred abode, not to mention said intrusion happened when the actual owner wasn't even there, England let out a put-upon sigh before closing the door hard enough to make America hear it.
"What are you doing here, Git?" England asked in a brusque way.
Said 'Git' nearly jumped in his seat, having been startled by both the slam and the question.
"Oh, hey England!" America exclaimed upon seeing his former mentor standing in the kitchen doorway. "I came to show you something my people created, but you weren't home so I had to knock the door down to let myself in."
Seeing England getting red in the face, America rushed on, "But don't worry, I fixed it after I let myself in, as you probably noticed."
This was stated proudly, as if the main problem with the explanation was the idea of the door being broken…which it was not, though America did not seem to grasp this concept.
England, not wanting to break out his blood pressure medicine so soon upon coming home, closed his eyes and slowly counted up to ten in his head. Mental therapy done, England calmly opened his eyes and proceeded to make himself a cup of tea.
Once the hot beverage was in his hand, and he had taken several sips, England managed to relax himself enough to deal with the nuisance known as America.
"Well, what was it you wanted to show me?" England asked. The sooner America showed him the item, the sooner he could be left in peace- conveniently ignoring the small niggling part of his brain that was actually curious about America's newest creation.
America beamed before proudly holding what was now recognized as a thin book above his head, the words "Color by Numbers" splayed boldly across the cover.
When England merely raised an eyebrow at the display, America frowned at the lack of reaction and slowly placed the book back on the counter, sliding it across to England.
England picked it up and flipped through the pages, looking at the different pictures- some of them half-finished and others with only a few spots coloured in- and slowly read out the subtext under the title, "Creating works of art, step-by-step."
England looked up once more at America's face, only to see a grin appearing on his face. "See, isn't it great, Iggy? Now people who have no artistic talent can create their own masterpiece."
Pinching the bridge of his nose, England dimly wondered if America ever paid attention to the words coming out of his mouth.
"America," England sighed, "though I hate to burst your bubble, colouring is not a form of art. Sketching is, painting is, and pottery is, but not this colouring nonsense."
America frowned, looking now looking like a kicked puppy. "But the cover says it's creating art. Creating art equals artwork, and artwork equals a form of art."
"Yes, creating art does equal artwork, but not when the picture itself is already drawn for you, and not when the different areas are numbered according to colour."
America frowned even more, but the frown seemed to have a hint of confusion as well. "Well, of course the picture would already be drawn for the purchaser. It wouldn't be coloring if the person had to draw it first, and it's numbered so that the person coloring knows which color to put where. That's why the book is called 'Color by Numbers'."
This last statement was stated as if England couldn't quite grasp the idea of number colouring. It wasn't the idea that England couldn't grasp, but, rather, the purpose.
England, meanwhile, sensed that this conversation could- and probably would if he didn't stop it now- go around in circles, and handed the booklet back to America.
"Regardless, was this the only reason as to why you had to break into my house to begin with, breaking my door in the process, instead of simply waiting till I could get back and unlock the door for you?"
America bristled, "Hey, I said I fixed the door for you! But never mind that, it wasn't the only reason for my coming here."
England relaxed at the thought of childish activities not being the only reason, and smiled, "Well, if it was about the paperwork from our last meeting, I-" "I got a book for you as well, thinking we could color together!"
"!"
England choked on his own spit as his mind processed what America said. "No, absolutely not! I refuse!"
America pouted, "Why not?"
"Why not, why not he says," England rambled. "Because, America, I have work I should be doing, and so do you. Not only that, but you're hosting the next meeting. You should be busy getting the necessary work ready, not playing around with some childish pastime."
Scoffing, America waved a dismissive hand, "Calm down, Iggy. I still have a little over a month to get everything ready, and it's not like it's a world meeting. It's only a G8 meeting, which means less to prepare for."
It was England's turn to bristle at the implication of a meeting being unimportant. "Only a G8 meeting, America? It is because it's a G8 meeting that you should prepare even more! And another thing, where do you get off calling me 'Iggy'? That is not my name! It's England, that or the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland- if you must know my full title- so use it!"
While England was busy having a hernia over the total disregard of both responsibility and his name, America dug around in his messenger bag before triumphantly pulling out the book and the accompanying pencils.
"See," America stated, interrupting his friend's fuming, "I got you the one with the weird Celtic designs on it."
England paused for a moment to gaze curiously at the various swirling, spiral designs, and, most importantly, there was even one with a unicorn in it.
England inhaled sharply before slowly reaching for the book with shaking hands. With an almost reverent look upon his face, he gazed down at the unicorn picture before reaching for the colouring pencils.
"Not one word, America. We sit quietly and colour for an hour and then we get real work done."
America only nodded his head, afraid that England would change his mind if a snicker came out should he open his mouth.
Waiting for England to sit in the stool next to him, America grabbed the pencil he was working with before England came home, and began coloring once more.
All was quiet for a few minutes before America cleared his throat. "So, is coloring a form of art now?"
"No."
~Fin
Author's Note: Bought new coloring pens and a coloring book today, which started this little oneshot, and read that Paint-by-Numbers was made in America during the 1950s, hence- America having to share this with England. :D