This was for the USUK Community on Livejournal's Sweetheart's Week. The second prompt was 'Fish and Chips,' or anything having to do with English culture.
The song is 'London Calling' by The Clash, btw. I don't own it or the characters.
America strode up to England's quaint little country house, full expecting to be hammering on the door for hours and hours waiting for the other to reluctantly open his door, let him in, make him some bad scones and tea, and just hang out with him for the rest of the day.
What he didn't expect was for the door to be slightly ajar when he got there and for all of the lights in the house to be out. The mess on the other side of the door was also unexpected.
Gun drawn with the safety turned off, America kicked the door the rest of the way open, ready to face whatever or whoever had caused this. Instead he found the mess to not only be in the hallway, but all over the house. The mess mostly looked like a raid of England's attic, as it mostly consisted of all of his old mementos scattered throughout the place. Putting his gun away, America also noticed a song playing from somewhere upstairs.
London calling to the faraway towns
Now war is declared, and battle come down
London calling to the underworld
Come out of the cupboard, you boys and girls.
"He's just been drinking again," the blonde sighed, "and he had me worried there for a moment." He looked around at the mess that littered the floors. "He's not going to be pleasant when he realizes the mess he's made…" And so America set off to clean up England's house for a change.
Starting from the hallway, he picked up various armor parts, shields, swords, and a few stray arrows (all from the Middle Ages) lying around. The longbow that he knew England still had around was missing.
"I don't want to know…"
London calling, now don't look to us
Phony Beatlemania has bitten the dust
London calling, see we ain't got no swing
'Cept for the ring of the truncheon thing
"Speaking of Beatlemania…" the young nation had now made his way to the kitchen after dumping the hallway stuff in a nearby closet to find the table covered with old records. America could easily recognize The Beatles in the piles as well as a few others such as The Who, but there were others that he had never even heard before. He quickly grabbed the stacks and brought them to the living room to put back in their proper place.
The Ice Age is coming, the sun's zooming in
Meltdown expected, the wheat is growing thin
Engines stop running, but I have no fear
'Cause London is drowning and I, live by the river
Scattered across the living room covering just about every surface were books. Shakespeare had claimed the couch, love seat, and armchair while Jane Austen monopolized the center table. All seven Harry Potter books including the Tales of Beedle the Bard were spread out over the floor while the seven Chronicles of Narnia hung about on the lighting. Tolkien seemed to have claimed a corner all to himself, not to mention all of the other various books that were, well, everywhere.
America sighed, "He better be grateful for all this…" and set about picking up all the books.
London calling, to the imitation zone
Forget brother, you can go it alone!
London calling, to the zombies of death
Quit holding out, and draw another breath
Making his way up the stairs, the young nation stopped to pick up the various uniforms that were tossed here and there, as if their owner couldn't decide which one to wear. America picked up the infamous red coat that he himself had worn as well once upon a time as well as the old World War I and World War II uniforms, the outfit he had seen the police around London wear, the Buckingham Palace Guard uniform, and for some reason, a pirate outfit and a toga. He unceremoniously dumped them all on top of each other inside the closet at the top of the stairs.
London calling, and I don't wanna shout
But while we were talking, I saw you nodding out
London calling, see we ain't got no high
Except for the one with the yellowy eye
The music was much louder on this floor, and (unsurprisingly) came from the master bedroom. America decided to duck into the spare bedroom before confronting a drunken England.
It was a good thing too, because this room was in soccer balls (but if England were with him right now, he'd yell at him and call them footballs, which was ridiculous, as these were definitely not made out of pigskin), cricket bats, rugby balls, and jerseys. So many jerseys from so many different teams, one from every English sports team that ever existed ever (as America could even make out some very old flag-like things that he assumed were from old jousting tournaments), all of them covered with mud.
"Does he ever do laundry?" The blue-eyed nation asked as he gathered all the jerseys and dumped them in the closet, hesitating over an autographed David Beckham jersey before deciding to just toss that in their too (he had the real thing anyway). The sports equipment he just piled in the corner and hoped it wouldn't collapse.
The Ice Age is coming, the sun's zooming in
Engines stop running, the wheat is growing thin
A nuclear era, but I have no fear
'Cause London is drowning and I, I live by the river
America slowly made his way into England's room, opening the door a crack to see if he could prepare himself for what lay beyond.
England was standing on his bed, drunk as a skunk as had been predicted, wearing tight leather pants, a studded belt, a shirt that looked like it was made out of the nation's Union Jack, studded earrings, and…was that mascara? Currently he was in the middle of an epic air guitar solo.
"The Ice Age is coming, the sun's zooming in
Engines stop running, the wheat is growing thin
A nuclear era, but I have no fear
'Cause London is drowning and I, I live by the river!"
He sang out, slurring it slightly, before tripping and collapsing on the bed. America took this opportunity to enter the room.
"C'mon England, up we go," he said, helping the other nation to his feet.
"Oh, America, didn' see ya there…" the green-eyed nation hiccupped before grabbing his wrist and dragging him to the center of the room.
"England…what are you doing?"
"C'mon ya tosser, we both know ya know the words…" He proceeded to dance around while singing the next part, "Now get this,
"London calling, yes, I was there too,
And you know what they said, well some of it was true!"
"London calling," America joined in, making his way towards England "at the top of the dial,
And after all this, won't you give me a smile?"
England did indeed smile for him before singing the last, "London calling,"
He tripped again though, and this time America was able to catch him before he hit the ground.
"I never felt so much alike, like-a, like-a…"
With that out of the way, England went on to pass out in the other nation's arms.
America sighed (why couldn't he ever have any normal visits to England's house?), before carrying him over to the bed and laying him down. In an afterthought, he also removed the belt and earrings so they wouldn't irritate him in the morning.
He left the room, stopping at the doorway with his hand on the light switch to look back at the sleeping nation. England had turned over on his side, muttering something he couldn't hear, and settled into a peaceful slumber.
"Sleep well old man," America said before turning off the light and exiting the room. He would need it too; that was going to be one hell of a hangover in the morning.
