Warning: Crack! Complete and utter crack.
After a long and tiring day surrounded by the nations of the world, England liked nothing more to come home and relax with a nice hot cup of tea and a good book. It was a cold Wednesday evening when he finally arrived home from the world conference and the British nation grumbled in annoyance as he removed his shoes and hung up his jacket.
The meeting had taken a turn for the worst nearing the end... England had tried not to get involved but there was really nothing he could have done. South Korea certainly had it coming to him when he tried to grope Ukraine's breasts. Russia had not been merciful.
England trudged into the kitchen and grabbed his favourite teacup and his favourite brand of tea and set to work. The tea-making process was short and sweet and it wasn't long before the blond was seated on his favourite chair sipping the piping hot liquid and his cat, Winston, sitting at his side. He petted the cat's soft fur for a moment then said, "Why does life have to be overly complicated?"
The cat looked up at his master and regarded him with bored, emerald eyes and simply meowed in an uninterested fashion. England nodded as he continued to pet his fur, "You're right, it's over now and I should just relax for once. But what to do..."
The cat meowed again and nudged the Brit's hand with his head. England paused for a moment then nodded again. He set the teacup down and stood from his chair and walked to his bookshelf, "You're right; reading does help me relax."
As the cat curled up, England scanned his bookshelf for something to read. Many times had he read these books but the stories never got old. He could read them over and over again forever... which is what he was doing, really, if you thought about it that way.
He was spoilt for choice; so many great literary works sat upon his vast bookshelf and he really didn't know what to choose.
And then he saw it; the book that he had loved for many years and he would love for years still to come.
Pride and Prejudice.
Now don't get me wrong, England loved the story, really he did. When he first bought the book he just could not put it down. He loved the story line, the way it was written; the style and tone, and he loved the characters.
But there was one character he loved in particular.
He smiled to himself as he sat down on the chair again. He picked up his teacup and opened the book to the first page and began to read. The story drew him in instantly and he read with eagerness. He wanted to get to the part where his favourite character makes an appearance.
England adjusted his position and read on with glee when he arrived.
His brother-in-law, Mr. Hurst, merely looked like a gentleman; but his friend, Mr. Darcy...
England smiled to himself. Oh yes, Mr. Darcy. The time had finally arrived. Oh how he loved that man.
...soon drew the attention of the room by his fine, tall person, handsome features...
England could picture Mr. Darcy clearly in his mind; he had many, many years to practice, of course, and now he had the perfect image of what his man should look like.
"Handsome features indeed, Mr. Darcy. Be still, my beating heart, be still!" England said to himself and laid a hand over his heart, eyes closed and a soft blush on his cheeks. Even now, this character still had an affect on him. When he felt calm enough to continue, he sipped his tea and read on.
The gentleman pronounced him to be a fine figure of a man...
England snickered to himself a devious little smirk spread across his lips, "Oh I bet they did... naughty..."
...and the ladies declared that he was much handsomer than Mr. Bingley and he was looked at with great admiration for about half the evening.
"Of course they did!" England huffed in annoyance, "Why wouldn't they?"
From beside him, Winston looked over at his master and somewhat rolled his eyes. He was such a fanboy sometimes!
England cuddled further into the chair's plush cushions and drew the book closer.
"Come, Darcy," said he, "I must have you dance. I hate to see you standing about by yourself in this stupid manner. You had better much dance."
"I certainly shall not. You know how I detest it, unless I am particularly acquainted with my partner."
England snickered to himself, "No, I see what you're doing here, Mr. Darcy... you're playing hard to get, aren't you?" he tsked, "Silly..."
Oh yes, it was quite obvious that the British male was a rather big fan of this Mr. Darcy. He knew how many girls would love to have a Mr. Darcy in their lives and England wouldn't deny that he would like one also. It would be a dream come true, really. The Brit would be happy forever.
Shamelessly, he continued to read.
England had never liked the ending of Pride and Prejudice. Why, might you ask? Well, it may be obvious but he hated the fact that Mr. Darcy marries Elizabeth and because of this, he had developed a firm dislike for the female character.
He closed the book with a frown, like he does every single time he reads the novel and he looked over at Winston, "It's just not fair. What did Elizabeth do to deserve a man like Mr. Darcy? It's cruel and absolute torture..."
He set the book aside and glared at it for a few moments. He looked at his empty teacup and sighed lightly. His lips started to form a soft pout; first Darcy marries Elizabeth and now the tea was gone. This evening was not turning out the way he had planned.
"It's unfair, don't you think, Winston?" England inquired. The cat just looked up at him with tired eyes. The Brit's frown disappeared and a small smile took its place, "Be that as it may, Winston... Mr. Darcy is a fine man. He's tall and handsome and..."
As England drifted away into his own little world, Winston rolled his eyes again and jumped off the chair to find a place where he could sleep in peace. He didn't need his master constantly fanboying around him when he was trying to take a nap.
He looked back at England, who stared into space with a dreamy look on his face. Winston meowed lowly and left the room.
Oh Mr. Darcy indeed!
I don't even know what this is, but let's face it; everyone loves Mr. Darcy 8D
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