VI
The Faeries
In all the excitement of that morning, Tony had forgotten that cats really knew how to hold grudges.
Britannia kept growling every time America got too close for comfort.
The cat – dry and free of glue – was sulking on top of the bookshelf, well out of America's reach. The nation, after freeing England and cleaning up the mess in the kitchen spent the next forty, to fifty, minutes hunting down and cornering the Scottish Fold in the mudroom. Then, after a lovely struggle that lasted for twenty minutes, America finally managed to get Britannia into the kitchen for a warm water bath; ever since the first time Britannia got into Tony's workshop, Tony had been careful to use water-soluble materials in case the cat got into it again. He'd had to tinker with the formula of several glue products in order to achieve this, but it had been a fun experiment anyway.
England meanwhile had retreated back upstairs, presumably to clean off from this morning's debacle. Considering it was several hours later, Tony was fully prepared that the self-proclaimed gentleman was actually sulking upstairs in an effort to garner America's attention, sympathy, or both. But unfortunately for him, America hadn't seemed to notice his mood, and had gone upstairs after cleaning up from Britannia's bath.
This left Tony on the living room couch, reading The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, while enjoying an otherwise peaceful Saturday afternoon without the fucking limey bothering him.
"Hello, Britannia. Feeling better now?"
Damn you, Murphy.
Tony peered cautiously over the top of his book to find England standing near the bookshelf, stroking the Scottish Fold. He rolled his eyes when England gently cooed to the cat and picked up the (now purring) little furry traitor – Tony had hoped that the cat would remain loyal to The Cause after this morning – before settling down on the couch, Britannia curling up in his lap. For a moment, nothing happened; England was reading The Sign of Four while Tony was staring determinedly at his own book, doing his best to think about anything but how to strike at the bloody Englishman. Tony couldn't do it without provocation, so he couldn't just throw his book at England and get the hell out of there before England could recover enough to retaliate.
A soft giggling sound caught his attention. Confused, Tony looked down only to find to his surprise three tiny human girls with wings standing on top of his open book.
Well, at first glance they looked like humans. Examining them closer, Tony started noting the subtle (and the obvious) differences between humans and these creatures, such as wings, ear structures, and sharply defined facial features. All three were wearing simple dresses of soft colors, and if they'd been human, they could have probably been sisters.
There was a moment of silence as both parties stared at each other for a few minutes.
The winged creatures – fairies? – moved first, lightly zapping Tony on the nose before grabbing the book he'd reflexively dropped to shield himself from further attacks. Swearing, Tony lunged for the floating book, but missed and landed face-first on the floor instead.
Laughing, the fairies flew higher, keeping the book just out of reach as Tony jumped (unsuccessfully) for it again, nearly colliding with England this time. Swearing at the startled Englishman in his native language, Tony took off after his floating book, shrieking at the laughing fairies while the book disappeared around the corner and down the hall.
Tony was so engrossed in the chase that as soon as he rounded the corner after the escaping book, he barreled straight into America.
"Whoa, easy there, buddy. Did England threaten you or something?" he asked, steadying Tony before stepping back to scrutinize Tony. "He didn't hurt you or anything, did he?"
… yes and no. "No, there were fairies that took my book!" Tony snapped, frustrated that for once, he couldn't pin this crime down on England.
America sighed, straightening up. "Do not tell me you're into fairies too," he groaned, running a hand through his hair. "Of all the things to rub off England and onto you, it had to be the stuff about the fairies."
If this had been a movie or a story instead of reality, Tony knew that the audience could guess the only word that Tony actually registered: England.
That was when he noticed the book floating above America's head. "They took my book!" he blurted, pointing straight at the book.
Confused, America turned to his right, and then looked to the left. But not up. Tony swore he heard faint laughter from the fairies as they carefully kept an eye on America, ready to move the book out of view in the off chance he actually looked up. Hands balling into fists, Tony could only watch in growing anger as America sighed and looked down at Tony, worry filling his eyes.
"Tony, fairies aren't real. Either England is just messing with you like he does with me, or the two of you have been fooling me all along and since you're actually friends, you both decided to pull a prank on me. Which one is it?" America asked, placing his hands on his hips.
"You think I'm friends with that - limey?"
"No! Sorry, sorry, my bad, I was just hypothesizing!" America yelped, jumping back despite his advantage in size and height. Grinning, he suddenly asked, "Can you translate that word you just used into English? I don't know what you said in your language, but it sounded like a good swear…"
Tony face-palmed. Of course America would be sidetracked so quickly. Tony could still see his floating book drifting lazily down the hall, and even though he couldn't quite see the fairies from this distance, he was absolutely sure they were mocking him now. They would probably put his book in a hard-to-reach place just to spite him, especially since they were working for or with the limey.
"No," he said crossly, and then stepped around America in order to continue pursuing his stolen book.
America just shrugged and kept walking.
Down the hall, around the corner and up the stairs Tony went. The fairies, now that they were out of America's nonexistent radar, seemed to suddenly swarm, multiplying several times in size before they started trying to zap him. Swearing viciously, Tony briefly debated throwing things after them in the hopes of whacking one out of the air, but decided not too; he didn't want America to think that he was completely off his rocker, and throwing objects and swearing at empty air was a surefire way to do that.
It took him five minutes to corner the fairies in the guest bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him. Cackling to himself, Tony clambered onto the bed, carefully watching the fairies as he found the flyswatter that America had accidentally left behind on the windowsill. This was going to be the end of this complete nonsense…
He struck at the same time the fairies did.
To his credit, Tony managed to keep his yelps to himself and not give the fairies any kind of satisfaction. Their spells and other magical attacks felt as though someone was trying to drive small needles into his arms and chest, but nothing absolutely disastrous (thankfully) happened. He didn't know whether he got any of the fairies, but figured he didn't when he saw the hole burned into swatter. Tossing it aside, he continued to fight as best as he could.
Unfortunately, he didn't notice the fairies hovering above him with the book.
Thunk.
Tony, momentarily dazed, stared at the white ceiling as tiny faces swam in and out of the edges of his vision. He had no idea what the limey was playing at; the Englishman's attacks so far had been more annoying than effective at driving Tony out of the house. On the other hand, England seemed more concerned with staying under America's radar than bothering Tony…
Unless he was waiting for a particularly nasty prank from Tony, one that would catch America's attention, and was just provoking Tony now. Then he would play the role of the innocent, victimized bystander and then Tony would really get it.
Yeah, the English bastard would do that. It was a low blow from a sneaky man, but if America's stories about England's pirating days were true, then it wasn't that far off of a guess.
He had less than of a second to realize that something cordlike had wrapped around his ankle and yanked him up into the air, leaving him dangling upside down as though a noose had caught his ankle.
"Oh, hello Tony. Just hanging around, I see."
That was it. He was going to murder the Englishman, and enjoy doing it.
England came into view as the invisible rope twisted, turning Tony to face the island nation as the latter came to a stop beside the bed, surrounded by his precious giggly fairies. "Don't worry, my dears, there will be plenty of opportunities for more fun later," he said before focusing on Tony, who was forcing down a wave of nausea. "But first," England finally said, "I believe we have some unfinished business to take care of first."
Tony gulped when England looked directly at him before kneeling slightly so that they were eye to eye. He squirmed when England reached out for him.
Keeping his hand right below Tony's head and just out of reach of flailing limbs, England said, "Accio, keycard."
Tony was about to scoff and mock the Englishman for reading too much Harry Potter when he heard a faint clicking sound coming up the hall. Confused, England turned to the hall as well, but smiled when a small object shot through the open door. "Ah, you didn't have it on you," he said, catching the keycard in his fingers and studying it closely. Tony felt slightly sick when he realized it was his workshop keycard.
"This morning taught me something Tony," England said, examining the keycard. "Your power here is your workshop, something that America said you always locked whenever you have guests over. However, as touched, as I am to be the exception, I would like to enjoy the rest of my visit without constantly worrying for my safety. So I am going to strip you of this power," he said calmly, pocketing the keycard. He nodded briefly to Tony and said, "The spell should wear off in thirty or so minutes, which gives me plenty of time to work and for you to think about how you want the rest of the weekend to go."
Then, as though he'd finished scolding a child, England promptly turned on his heel and walked out of the room, his fairy entourage following him out and leaving Tony hanging there.
That bastard!
In a fit of sudden rage, Tony let out an ear-piercing wail of anger, swinging as he futilely tried to undo his bonds… bonds that he couldn't even see or feel since the damn limey used magic to tie him there in the first place.
His workshop! The damn, damn, limey was locking Tony out of his workshop! That… that was just inexcusable.
How dare he?
Tony silently vowed to make England's life a living hell until he left.
Sunday afternoon couldn't get here fast enough.
A/N: * leans forward and tapes the crack in the fourth wall * Sorry about that. Two more chapters before the poll is taken down.
Murphy's Law: What can go wrong will go wrong.