Move
Miles Davis
1949
The lights were romantically dim. That is, they lit just enough that the faces of each country could be seen with a beautiful sparkle to the eyes.
It was not too big, the gathering. Just all those that had signed the North Atlantic Treaty, which meant Europeans. And that meant England and France were in attendance. And of course, being bitchy and strangely elegant all at the same time towards one another. But America let it go, he was obviously better than either one of them (really, even combined, he was still better) and in too great a mood to have anything ruin the night.
Today they were celebrating their great alliance, as Denmark kept yelling over and over to Iceland by the bar America had set up at one end of his moderately large living room. The room was mostly used in those meetings between countries, those media opportunities, where they would sit in chairs facing one another and drink coffee or something the like, and pretend as if they loved being in each others company. There were light blue lightly cushioned chairs accompanied by small reading tables turned miniature dinner tables imported from France lining up the right and left wall from the entrance to the room. The wallpaper was a skin pale color with plant like designs all around in the blue of turquoise. The wood made thimp thump and clink clank sounds as the countries walked or danced around in the middle of the floor. Their movement had added to the rising heat of the room, and so the fireplace was off for the moment. The almost simple chandelier hung from the ceiling a little too high, as to afford the room a darker elegance than when the curtains to the two large windows on the right wall were drawn during the day.
All in all it was simple and nice, which is something America was getting tired of. As he looked but did not see over at Italy dragging some translucent like country with hair similar to France's over to dance. Yes, soon, he would change this room. Maybe tear down the fireplace, add to the living room, and make one wall entirely of glass. It was time to take this place from 1919 to 1949, a little more modern. Maybe change the wallpaper to some white or something. See, that sounded rich.
"You know, it can not be believed, but you did teach that bloody wanker a lesson." said England to America as he made to stand next to him and left a troubled Francis behind after referring to some nasty thing or another about World War II and what a failure he was at it.
"Of course, Iggy, I'm a hero, what else did you expect? Can't let those damn commies win. And they wont."
"Listen, America, I know you. You are a crazy git-face, but listen. Do not worry over this USSR so much. I hate the bastard as much as you do, but we have to see what he will do next. This type of thing, well, I am sure he is just waiting to get back at us now, over anything."
"I know I know I know. Right now we gotta get Germany back on his feet, you know? I mean, take control. This is why we are here right? This treaty stuff. Take care of each other, keep the russkies out, that's it. So lets make as if we like one another brit, and get partying!"
"That is something Angleterre can not do, but I am more than willing to handle." France slinked his side too close to America and England got red in the face.
"I can too, you git!"
"Stuffy old man, is England I say. His partying involves tea and facing one another to dance!" Denmark screamed off from the side, as he stood with the help of Norway and Sweden made to look away from him.
"What the bloody hell! Who asked you!? I can party!"
"Well then, if you can Iggy, would you like to dance?" America, whose little get up of the day involved a quite fashionable dark suit, with the coat flowing a bit too much, and so every movement was like watching a miniature dance, very Fred Astaire. His mischievous smile and blue eyes, that bed head blond hair, goddamn he was charming as all hell.
"We-well what are we going to dance to!?" Dammit France, dammit it all to hell.
All the countries were getting in on this, even Luxembourg, who was usually on the shy and quiet side, took the hands of Portugal to dance.
As America walked over to the real nice and big black phonograph he had off to the side somewhere, he said, "Well, I've been practicing some steps lately, getting into this new thing that Illinois and Louisiana seem to be real into, so lets dance to this!"
As he set the vinyl into the player, some crazy trumpeting started with an almost out of control drumming. "Ve~ what is this, America?"
"They call this Jazz, Italy. Guy is called Miles Davis. Some really strange good stuff here."
"How the hell do you dance this?" England was all terror.
"Don't know, really, just a little, I guess we can make it up as we go along yes? I mean, the name of the song is 'Move' so lets move!" said America as he grabbed England too close and started swinging him around. Everyone followed suit.
As the drums towards the middle of the song gave off what was like another random spurt of energy, America broke off from England and did some wild tap dancing, and then rejoined him for the chorus.
"You know, this guy says I'm cool." America spoke into England's ear.
"What does that mean, its pretty warm here" he flushed a bit.
"No no no, cool. Cool means awesome now. I'm cool now." America said as he spun England around again for the end of the song.
"Today is the birth of the cool!"