Well, hello there. This update should have come much sooner. It's funny how life and all of its interruptions tend to get in the way of my creative outlets. I do hope that everyone enjoys this installment after such a long wait. I am just happy that I finally had time to sit and work through all the re-writes.
Warnings for this chapter: A FrUK encounter that's not too juicy, and some mild American angst. I think the American Idiot might be catching on when it comes to getting what he wants before it's gone.
Please enjoy!
1903
"Britannia! Britannia – hey!"
England's shoulders hitched up noticeably at the pitch of his voice, though America could not for the life of him figure out why. The island nation turned away from the Dutch attendants that were getting them settled in for this year's Conference to fix America with a mild frown. "America? I'm in the middle of—"
With exuberant force, America's arm took hold of the other man's as he grinned widely. England fired an apologetic glance to the attendants as he was hauled away from them by America's tug. This was probably going to get him a lecture on rudely interrupting other people's conversations again but right now the young man was too caught up in his excitement. He had big news from home, and had tried to seek out his brother, but Canada had once again managed to pull a vanishing act on him again. England's dour face was the first he'd encountered.
America wasn't about to admit that he might have sought the island nation out specifically. That would have made him uncomfortable to consider the implications. "Guess what? No, no – don't say anything, I was just being 'rhetorical' or whatnot. We finally did it!"
Stumbling along with that strong grip on his arm, England was bristling from the public manhandling that he was receiving. It was a testament to his growing tolerance for the other nation that he hadn't already lashed out violently to free himself. After all, that was England's default reaction whenever France tried it. "Did what? America, this is most unseemly. You might have just told me whatever 'grand new thing' you had to share during the meeting."
"I couldn't wait that long." America protested, an unmistakeable whine cut through in his voice. He did finally release the other man, twisting to face England with another flashbulb-ready grin. "So, you remember when I mentioned that a few of my boys were working on a new way to fly?"
"No." England shook his head. The island empire was bluntly honest. "You talk so much, about so many nonsensical things, that I tend to give up listening after the initial greeting phase."
Ignoring those words since they didn't fit into the pre-determined script in America's mind, the younger nation continued on. "Well, they did it! The Wright brothers finally managed to get their invention up into the skies. They flew! Can you believe it?" America's eyes were lit up brightly, radiant with the excitement that was coursing through his body. He peered closely at England while waiting for it to infect the other man.
"Actually, no, I don't." England huffed instead, hands settling on his hips once he had put his clothes back in order from America dragging him along. He fixed a green-eyed glare upwards. "There's only so much of your exaggerated braggery that one can stomach before your outlandish claims become unimpressive, America. If your people managed to hop some piece of constructed junk from one spot to another, that doesn't constitute 'flight'. And I wouldn't recommend that you go blathering about it to the rest of Europe unless you're keen on getting laughed at. We're too old for tales."
Straightening his hat out, England pivoted away from America to head down the corridor from where he'd been dragged, voice carrying over his shoulder. "We'll believe it when we see it. Until then, kindly spare this meeting yet another of your tall tales."
"Don't hold it against him for doubting you, America." Canada told him patiently where they were seated together for dinner that evening once the Conference had ended session. "He has so much going on for him right now that he's probably just worn out."
America wasn't entirely appeased by this explanation. He stabbed his fork repeatedly into the piece of meat on his plate. No one had told him what it was, and America had learnt a few Conferences ago that there was a danger in consuming foreign cuisine without first knowing what he was about to eat. "You know that I make it a point not to pay attention to what they're up to over here. Is Britannia in another war or something?"
Canada smiled wryly. His brother had often complained of England's 'warmongering'. "Not quite. I mean, Britannia is always involved in some kind of conflict. Rather hard to avoid it when he's spread so far and has so much power that he can't prevent someone feeling cross. But Britannia has been busy with other things too. He just made an alliance with Japan recently."
Dropping his fork so that it clattered on his plate, America gaped at his sibling in shock. "You mean that bastard actually made an ally? He didn't just invade and force Japan to back his endeavors like usual?"
"No, America." Canada gave him a pointed look of warning. While he knew that England had numerous faults, he didn't approve of when America made it a point to start listing them in conversation. "It's a mutual benefit for both of them. They're friends."
This left America sitting mutely in even deeper confusion. His brain couldn't quite wrap around the concept of 'England' and 'friend' in the same sentence. Recovering from it, he picked up his glass and let out an explosive, obnoxious laugh that carried. "That's ridiculous! Why would those two have any reason to become friends?"
Canada had winced from that laughter as it drew attention to their table. He shrank down into his shoulders, ducking his head in embarrassment. "They have plenty of things in common, actually. They both enjoy gardens. And tea, quiet, books. It's true that their cultures are different - Eastern and Western generally is - but they're both intellectuals enough to appreciate the unique nature of those differences. Plus, the two of them are also islands. Islands are pretty isolated, you know? It's good for them when they stick together."
"I guess." America glowered down at his plate. He felt inexplicably unhappy with the idea of England's friendship with Japan. It was probably just discomfort with the idea of his neighbors on the other side of the Pacific and the Atlantic were building a budding friendship.
"Though there might be another major war brewing." Canada stated, drawing America's attention back to him. "Russia and Japan have been leaning towards a fight. And since Britannia has become an ally to Japan, and France is an ally to Russia, everyone figures that those two won't miss an opportunity to beat each other up. Considering how much those two hate each other it wouldn't surprise me."
America looked out across the dining area. He sought out the nation that they were discussing to find that England and Japan had secured a small booth for themselves remote from the others. Deeply absorbed in their conversation, the two nations might very well have been alone in this big space. Japan was making languid gestures, reserved in whatever tale he was telling or point he was trying to impress. England nodded along with his gaze entirely fixed upon his dining companion.
Then England's face abruptly lit up as he laughed. It was something America had not witnessed in some time. And when the other man's expression settled into a rare warm smile, America's heart felt a strange twist in response. Because once upon a time that smile had only belonged to him. He scooped his napkin from his lap and tossed it upon an unfinished plate.
"This is pretty boring. I'm going to go see if I can get some people together for a few rounds of poker. If I'm lucky I might even be able to get Australia to give me one of his animals again. You coming along?"
"I'll catch up." Canada said lightly, waving his brother off. He gestured to the plate of food that he couldn't let go to waste out of consideration to their host. As America swaggered off to loudly taunt a few of the other nations into his card games, Canada watched him go. Ever perceptive, his eyes shifted from his sibling to where England was telling some animated story to Japan across the room. His lips pursed into a thin line. Then Canada sighed deeply, shaking his head as he returned to finishing his plate. "Two stubborn fools."
1904
America was certain that he'd misheard. He stared at Canada like his brother had sprouted an extra limb. "They did what?"
"I really wish you would pay a little attention to world affairs, America." Canada sat back in his chair with an exasperated sigh. "It's even been in your papers. L'Entente Cordiale. The 'Cordial Agreement'. Britannia and France both decided that it was in their best interests to stop declaring war on each other. And with the conflict still growing between Russia and Japan, this prevents either of them from having to get involved. It's really an overdue arrangement."
"So that means they're friends now?" It felt as if he were asking an impossible question.
"Of course not." Canada laughed, long and loud. "Do you honestly think that those two could ever be nice to each other? They're as hateful towards one another as ever. Just not so much that they will jump into war like they used to. It's actually a relief to me."
"A relief? Why?"
"I still remember what it was like to belong to France. My loyalty to Britannia is strong and always will be - but I can't strike against my prior keeper either." Canada's head shook as firmly as his voice held conviction. "He is still dear to me. Now I am no longer stuck in the middle of their conflicts."
"Be that as it may," America countered with a wry smile, "it's still Britannia and France. I can't believe that those two would ever stop tearing into one another long enough to build a friendship." He tossed in one of his more obnoxious laughs to chase away an emerging feeling of unease.
"Believe what you want to." Canada spoke again. He got up, stretching his arms over his head with a yawn. The hour was getting late and they still had more meetings to face in the morning. America tuned in to the fact that he was keeping his sibling from bed.
"I'll let you get to sleep. Be sure to lock your door tonight. You might be fond of him, but France was clearly prowling around tonight for something."
They parted with a few more words. America began the walk back to his own quarters, taking his time with a leisurely stroll. It gave him time to think about what Canada had told him. The more he thought about it the more America realized that he didn't like the idea.
In fact, the idea was bothering him considerably. England making friends with Japan was a concept that America was still adjusting to. He wasn't pleased to know that that particular empire really was succeeding in branching out into new alliances. Not when America was still only on polite yet distant footing with England. It nagged at him to think that despite the efforts made to repair their damaged relations, America still had not managed to slip back into that old, close interaction with the elder nation.
Now England had made an alliance with France. The British Empire was finally managing to expand its social circle. America had preferred the days when England, like himself, had opted to live in isolation. For reasons that he didn't dare try to identify, it made America feel all the more special to think that his occasional invasions into the solitude of the island nation were exceptions to the norm.
America was just rounding the corner to turn down the next hall when there was a thunderous explosion of noise from further down the way. He recognized the figures of England and France, as if his thoughts had managed to summon them there somehow. Knowing it was unwise to stand in the open when they were rampaging against each other, America lurched back just out of sight around the corner. When he peeked around again it was just in time for him to duck away when one of the decorative vases that lined Italy's hallway went crashing into the wall behind him.
He decided it was probably better to wait it out behind the safety of cover. And with England's temper, even hiding behind shields could never be entirely counted upon for survival. America cocked his ear to listen to the series of crashes and interchange of words between the warring pair.
"How many times must I tell you to piss off?" England raged. Some other unfortunate piece of furniture was sacrificed. "I'm under no obligation to honor your 'special terms' on foreign soil. Go find someone else to bother."
France's accent was thicker with irritation. "That's too much work. I see no reason for you to get stingy now. We've been enjoying our arrangement together for weeks now. Why are you being defiant about it here? Neither Italy is going to object."
"I'm not worried about those gits! I simply don't feel like entertaining you while we're here. Go stick it in a fire for all that I care. Would serve you right to cool down your libido." England's volume had dropped. He sounded strained. America wondered if they had gotten one another into headlock's yet.
The dialogue wasn't too different from what America usually heard. Something about their voices just didn't sound quite right. England's tension and France's anticipation were clear in their tones. Their fight had become less violent if the lack of crashing furniture was any indication. Though America thought he detected the sound of rustling fabric when their argument went temporarily silent.
Then-
"Argh! You bit me!"
"Of course I bloody well bit you. And I'll do it again if you don't get your sodding hands off me! So just-hnn!"
That had not sounded pained. America leaned again towards the corridor to look out again and see if the pair of them were distracted enough for him to make an escape. His eyes widened. They were certainly absorbed on other things. Just not something America had expected.
France had managed to catch England in his clutches. He currently had the island nation sandwiched against the wall, and from America's distance it looked like France had declared war upon the territory of England's throat. There was an expression of pleasure/pain that had driven England's face taut, flushed red with familiar anger and probably other similarly heated reaction. The small submission of a groan from his former caretaker sounded too loud to America's ears. Something was twisting up inside of him from witnessing this indiscretion; he could try to pretend that it came from a concern that England might be suffering from some unwanted attention, yet America knew that the empire of Britannia was not weak enough to be forced into anything.
Suddenly, France cursed loudly. England's fist had driven in against the Frenchman's ribs hard enough to wind him. France shuffled back a few steps to clutch at his middle, wincing at the mistreatment at the hands of his rival. "M-merde! What was that for?"
"I'm not going to be manhandled by you in the middle of some dodgy Italian corridor." England informed him with a growl in his voice. He scrubbed at his throat with a palm, hurriedly tugging his garments back into pristine order.
America felt an immediate slice of satisfaction course through him. He knew that he was smirking at the rejection that France was undergoing right this moment. Below that selfish wave of smug feeling, America prodded internally at the relief that he felt with this result. The discussion with Canada returned to the forefront of his mind. While there might have been some state of peace between England and France emerging in this new century, it was impossible to think that the pair would ever truly cross the line of rivalry.
The sound of a locked being turned drew America's attention back. England had turned his back on France while the other elder nation recovered his air supply. The Englishman shoved the door open, lights from inside casting a pale glow over the pair. America's grin drained away as he listened to the man's next words to the pathetically folded Frenchman. "Just hurry the hell inside if we're doing this. And kindly tell your goddamned boss that if he sends me one more letter inquiring about our 'sexual happiness', I'm shipping him your left eye in reply."
"Ohhh, such dirty talk. You certainly know how to woo, Britannia. Is that from one of your sappy love sonnets?" France had recovered enough to coo these taunting words back at England. He didn't hesitate to take the invitation into the Englishman's quarters. America watched him disappear into England's door. Then a hand reached out to catch the island nation by the arm to drag him within when England stood hesitating just in the threshold. The door slammed shut behind them, closing off the light and presence of both men.
America spent the next hour walking around the area of his Italian host's complex. He knew that we wasn't being very responsible by doing so. The responsible action would have been to retreat to his bed with an early meeting ahead of him; to sleep like his brother nation had done so that his mind would be sharp when dealing with the games of Europe. Though America knew how to deal with them now. A few loud laughs and some boasting statements tended to confuse the Old World custodians. So long as he left them confused or bothered, America knew that he could keep them on their toes.
His mind wasn't upon the broad base of Europe right now. It was annoyingly fixated upon one particular one (two, if he counted France into the equation - but America was cheerfully forgetting that man's existence). He doubted that he could have fallen asleep when his thoughts were in such a flutter. Once again America's mind was being haunted by the spectre of one face, one man, one nation not his own.
Eventually America found himself coming upon a familiar spot. An old well of aged stones, nestled amongst greenery. The plants around it were all new; life changing around timeless rock, and that profound thought left America feeling a sudden kinship with the thing. He remembered it from a time long ago when he had come seeking refuge behind the shield of these stones. This time he wasn't stumbling in panic, feeling ill over the knowledge of a Devil's Deal and the bitter aftertaste of wine that America still couldn't stomach.
"Goodness me." That voice caused America to tense. "Judging by the brooding expression I spy upon your face, it seems you're still capable of deep thought after all."
America's head reluctantly turned to better face England. The island nation had manifested from the shadows of his thoughts, wrapped tight beneath layers of bedclothes and a thick red dressing gown. England did not seem to catch on to the fact that America was willing the other man to leave; even though the younger nation felt like the air was heavy with tension. Instead, the Englishman fit his smaller form against the side of the well in an echo of time long past, striking a match to light the fragrant rolled cigarette pinched in slim fingers.
"What are you doing out here?" America demanded when his silence stretched on too long. He waved the fresh cloud of smoke out of his face. Despite his resolve to keep up his latest, most comfortable mask of an idiot's nonchalance, he could hear the harsh edge of his tone. "I hate it when you do this. Why do you always turn up when I don't want to see you?"
"Oh?" England puffed again as an eyebrow lofted quizzically. "I hadn't known you were cross with me. As to the matter of my turning up when you're upset, well..." Trailing off, England's eyes lifted to ponder the moon overhead. "We could chalk it up to some lingering 'paternal instinct', but I'm not sure if that might get me punched in the face knowing you and your tantrums." The Englishman smirked before moving to turn away.
America blinked sharply as the island nation moved to depart. "Where are you going?"
"You made it perfectly clear that I am unwelcome here, America." England pointed out with an accompanying roll of his eyes. "Though that would normally motivate me to remain rooted in place just to irk someone further, I'm too tired for a row this evening."
Going into motion, America closed in upon the other man. He caught hold of England's arm to prevent him from leaving. England twisted back to him with a scowl, mouth opening to give the younger nation a scolding for handling him thus, yet America's question stopped them short. "Do you love him?"
England's instinctive anger transformed to confusion. "What?"
"I asked if you loved him." America repeated. He captured hold of England's other shoulder to force the shorter man to face him directly. "France, I mean. I saw the two of you tonight in the corridor."
"You did?" England's eyes widened with this knowledge. Then he averted his gaze, a flood of red hues filling across the Englishman's cheeks, unable to look at America in his embarrassment. "I hadn't known anyone was there to see it. America, it-"
America tightened his grip. He had hoped, even knowing the truth, that England might try to deny it. "Just answer my question. Do you love him?"
Dropping that cigarette down, England's hands flashed upward. He knocked America's grip use with his own strength, flushed now with anger. "Of course I don't! Why would you ask me such a stupid question? I don't even consider myself friends with France. The ink on our alliance hasn't even been dry for a year yet. Love him? I'd still stab him in the throat if he riled me enough."
"Then why?" America rubbed at the inside of his wrist. It was stinging from where England's blows had struck. He peered hard at England through the lenses of his glasses. "Why do that with him? Why take France into your bed if you hate him still?"
England ground out his cigarette with the heel of his slipper. He must have grounded some of his anger out too by doing so, because when he looked back at America the Englishman's temper was tamer. "That's a rather personal question, don't you think? It's none of your business why or whom I decide to take into my bed, America. I will let your insulting behavior thus far slide - but don't think my patience is infinite."
"I just don't understand it." America responded, shaking his head as he tried a more tactile approach. "Why France? There must be other people that could fill that place for you other than him."
The island nation stared at him in silence. Then a heavy sigh erupted out of England, arms crossing over his chest as the man turned away from America. "It's not so simple for me. An empire has many conquests and few friends. And even those I can claim as friends I will not pretend we do not have mutual interests in mind with that selective companionship. France isn't anywhere close to my ideal match; but he is close, willing to explore our new allegiance and - though it pains me to say this - skilled as a lover. He is a satisfactory substitute."
"A substitute? A substitute for what?"
England's shrug was subtle. "Something more genuine. My better match. He fills the void in a bed that has been empty for too long and makes the dreary, silent nights pass a little more easily. Though this isn't a commitment between us. France is not bound to me in any way except as an ally. He is free to and does often fill the space in other nation's beds. The only thing that I could desire from him is an occasional evening of intimacy that doesn't involve either of us losing blood."
"You deserve better." America stated quietly. "I know that most of the time we're at each other's throats, and certainly don't have the right to say so... but I feel that you deserve to be happy. Or whatever you stodgy English have as an equivalent."
The island nation gave him a dark look. "We're not incapable of human emotions, you know. It's just undignified to be overcome with such things in public." England huffed in exasperation. He softened up enough from being offended to speak again more softly. "Cheers, America. That's touching to hear you say. And while it might not mean anything coming from me, I also wish you happiness. I'm sure that even an idiot such as yourself will be one day capable of finding it."
America was strongly tempted to plant a kiss between those furrowed eyebrows. Instead, he grinned. It was easier to snap into that mode than to dwell any longer on these more volatile, unsettling feelings. "Ha! Are you kidding me? We manufacture happiness in the United States. Maybe I'll even sell you some one of these days - for a discount."
That shift in manner caused a shadow to cloud England's face. He shook his head, deciding that the conversation was better left to drop right there. "Right. Goodnight, America. You might hurry off to sleep if you want to be up in time to claim a good seat." England lifted a hand in a parting motion and headed back for the door to return inside.
America brought his hand up as well, fingers clutching at the air just short of contact with the Englishman. The island nation had not noticed the aborted gesture. Letting him go, America stood staring at the empty space where England had just been standing. He then spent another minute looking thoughtfully at his hand as he tried to figure out what had motivated him to reach for England and why it left him feeling so disappointed in himself for not following through.
1908
England stepped free of a cluster of nations, curling his fingers around Canada's arm to pull his former colony to his side so that they could speak quietly together. "Do you have any idea what's going on here today?"
Canada shook his head as he looked out over the crowd. The Conference had been surprised to find that their late lunch break would be hosted outside. While France was fortunate enough to have beautiful weather at this time of year, it was unlike him to gather them all somewhere that couldn't be kept guarded and immaculate. Canada knew that England was just as confused by the informality of it all. "France hasn't told me anything, if that's what you're wanting to know. I'm just as in the dark as you about all of this."
Grumbling, uncomfortable with the idea of his neighboring rival springing surprises on him, England stopped one of the footmen that were milling through the nations with their uplifted trays of champagne flutes. Canada watched the elder nation down the glass in his hand, then a second from the tray, before curling a third close to his chest. "I hate being in the dark about things. France has been sporting that smug, secret smile of his at me all day. The one that indicates he knows something that I don't and is thrilled not to tell me."
"I'm sure that it's nothing bad." Canada reassured him. He lifted a hand to pat gingerly at England's back to soothe more of that discomfort away. "The worst that he could do is make some sort of proposal to you for international matrimony or something." When England made an alarming choking noise, he added hurriedly, "I doubt that's it. And America has been just as avoidant today. It makes me wonder if they're in league together."
"That's a frightening thought." England drawled.
He had begun to settle into a full blown sulk when France came upon them, wedging his way between the two men to sling an arm around each. "What are we discussing over here? You two aren't conspiring in the middle of my party, oui?"
"Like you're one to talk." England chided him while he elbowed the Frenchman in the ribs to get free of the man's arm. "I know you well enough to suspect when you are up to something. Have you dragged America into some grand scheme as well?"
"You wound me, Britannia." France said, pouting as he rubbed ruefully at his side. "To suspect me of wickedness when I have gone to such trouble to make this outdoor soiree such a success. Are you not enjoying yourselves?"
Sensing that this could dissolve quickly into an argument, Canada spoke up from beside them. He had made no effort yet to shake off the Frenchman's arm, used to that easy affection enough that it didn't bother him. "It's a lovely party, France. I am just concerned that America might have got his head wrapped around some 'ingenius' plan and Britannia thinks that you have something up your sleeve."
"Britannia might be right." France grinned sharply. There was a twinkle in his blue eyes. "America did approach me before this Conference to address something that he wanted to bring to the attention of the delegates here- Ah! And it seems that the time has come. Pardonnez-moi, mes amis."
France stepped away from the two of them. He went to the center of the gathering space, stepping up onto a small platform there. The Frenchman raised his hands up to clap loudly to summon everyone's notice. "Attention. Attention, s'il vous plaît. Ladies and gentlemen, my esteemed colleagues. I hope that you are all enjoying the festivities provided here for you this late afternoon. Please make sure to help yourselves to the refreshments."
"Some of you have been wondering why it was decided that I should hold this gathering outside in the open air of my lovely garden. For the explanation, I must give the spotlight over to America. He has a demonstration for us today that I believe everyone will find to be most exhilirating." Ever the showman, France made a broad sweeping gesture of his arm before directing their attention upward. Canada felt England jolt beside him, hearing an intake of the other man's breath. He glanced at England's face, then followed the man's gaze up to the nearby roof of France's home. It caused Canada to gasp as well.
America stood up on the edge of the roof. He waved both arms at the assembly gathered below, voice carrying down to them at a shout. "Hello, World Conference! Thank you all for making it out on this monumental day! For those of you who have been wondering about the change of scenery, I won't hold you in suspense any longer." America twisted around briefly to survey the area around him, then turned back to the crowd of nations with a grin. "And now, just so that you all can be the first to see it, I bring to you - direct from the United States of America - our most astounding invention to date! Gentlemen and ladies, I give you... the Wright Brothers' Magnificent Flying Machine!"
His arm swept up broadly, extended out in a flourish of presentation. The nations on the ground exchanged a few glances when nothing happened. England arched an eyebrow as the murmurs of the others increased in volume around him. His voice was low as he drawled to Canada, "Did the idiot forget to bring it with him today? That really wouldn't come as any surprise to me."
"No," Canada answered him quickly, "I think it just takes some time for it to-ah, I hear it now."
Sure enough, there was a low buzz that reached their ears. It swelled in volume over the sound of their mingling voices, and everyone finally looked back up to where America stood on the roof. America pivoted around, fingers splaying out as he made some greeting signal to whatever was approaching. Seconds after that, just as promised, that flying contraption went soaring into view as it puttered across the open area where the nations stood.
There were many gasps from the assembly. More than a few hands pointed into the air to track its progress as it went flying over them. America watched on, face radiant with glee, and nearly went pitching forward off the roof in his excitement. He had managed to get his stance back in a secure position by the time the contraption came swooping back over them for yet another pass. His face tilted up to the sky to watch it, feeling as if it were close enough to touch, and stretched his fingers out towards the symbol of his flag that was painted upon the underbelly with a great measure of pride.
When the plane finished its last pass, he placed his hands upon his hips. America smiled smugly down at the excited faces of the nations below. "Back in 1903, you guys didn't want to believe me. And now there's no denying it: America has started the journey to conquering the skies."
1912
America had been unable to find England during the Conference. He'd been informed that the empire was present, yet the recent events had caused the island nation to bow out of attending the usual volatile atmosphere of the formal meetings. It had caught America off guard when he had seen Scotland occupying that same seat as a substitute; and that particular nation never made America feel welcomed to speak to him. It was only through asking others that America was able to locate England at all.
He managed to finally come across the other man when he stepped into the dining area. He had known that this was the usual time where other nations engaged in their daily ritual of tea taking. But America found that the Englishman was without company. There was a tea service out, and an empty teacup across from England hinted that he'd not been alone for very long.
Without waiting for an invitation or even for the island nation to look up from his brooding, America swung down into that recently vacated chair. He forced a small smile when England finally looked up to take notice of him. "Hello there. You've been a hard person to track down these last few days. I figured that you might want to hear from me directly about news from New York."
"Ah. Yes." England's solemn scowl smoothed away as he drew himself back upright. He tugged his suit jacket further around him as a small shiver traveled through the Englishman's figure. "I had intended to contact you sooner. There's just been so much going on since we received the news that she'd sunk that it must have slipped my mind. Do excuse my absentmindedness, America."
America stared at the untouched teacup beside him. "It seems to me that with all the reported mistakes that were made, the entire tragedy could have been avoided."
"That appears to be the general consensus on the matter." England answered, eyes distant and his manner subdued. He did not seem to be taking the news of the event all that well. "Southampton is in an uproar. We lost so many from there. And that's not even touching upon the Irish, Scots and Welsh that were aboard. My brothers keep hounding me for any news but I have nothing else to give them that isn't bad."
"Everyone is in shock. Considering how often it was said that the ship was unsinkable, people started to believe it couldn't happen. What a harsh way to learn otherwise." America murmured as he looked away from the teacup and up at England. The melancholy on the older man's face was making him uncomfortable. He could recall having seen it in his childhood on rare occasions when England's demeanor was not cheerful. "Is there something else on your mind?"
England did not seem to hear him. Then he shrugged, emerging abruptly out of his reticence. "It's a harsh way to learn, as you said. Something built out of iron, considered unsinkable, and yet it can still fail to protect those within its embrace. The loss of the Titanic is, if anything, a reminder to me that nothing is above disaster. Not ships. Not empires." The Englishman's eyes lifted, darkly green as they finally focused enough to really see America there beside him. "I must be feeling my age. Such dark, fatalistic thoughts in my head as of late. Perhaps it is the melancholy of my people affecting me?"
Hearing this, America's gaze wandered down from that too intense stare. He didn't know what to say in response. It wasn't often that someone managed to render him speechless. His focus strengthened on the silver tea set between them while taking time to absorb England's words. Then he wordlessly went into motion, grumbling as he put the used teacup aside and took a clean one from the tray. His eyes darted up to find England watching him curiously, the Englishman's expression one of confusion as America continued his motions.
Out of practice with the ritual, the American caused the entire tray to rattle when he replaced the pot in its central position and dragged the saucer closer to him. His lip fought to curl up in distaste; this particular beverage still made his stomach knot up for reasons that he assumed were entirely in his mind. America swallowed thickly to push the sensation down and caught England's eye across the table. "I don't know what to tell you. All I know is that I hate seeing that look on your face. Enough that I am prepared to let you get a chuckle out of watching me try to choke this stuff down. You just have to promise that you won't tell anyone - especially Canada."
"America..." England breathed out, stunned. "You don't have to do-"
"Shut it." America interrupted him firmly. "It'll make you happy to drink tea with me, won't it? Just this one last time, I'll share a cup with you if you give me a smile. That seems like a fair trade, old man."
By the time America finally finished choking through his cup, England hadn't smiled once.
He'd smiled five times.
America enjoyed each one. Had he known that they would be the last for a few years, he'd have memorized them better.
A/N:
Wow. This update took forever, didn't it? I hope that, after re-writing this a number of times, it didn't disappoint after such a long hiatus.
1903 - The Wright Brothers achieved the first sustained flight. But Europe, at the time, believed it to be a brag without merit and more or less dismissed the claims of this new American invention since they already felt that zepplins were satisfactory enough as air flight transportation.
1904 - The Entente Cordiale is signed between the French Republic and British Empire for the sake of establishing peace in their better interests. This also allowed them to keep out of having to take sides in the Japanese-Russian conflicts during this time.
1908 - The Wright Brothers, after having a few years to perfect the airplane, began having demonstrations throughout Europe to prove to their European detractors that what they had achieved was truly remarkable. And with the Hindenburg Disaster, airplanes became an accelerated popular technology.
1912 - Sinking of the Titanic. Sadly, many factors contributed to the disaster beyond just the collision with an iceberg at sea. It was later found out that the SS Californian was actually close enough to the damaged ship that they could have intercepted it and saved many lives - but due to miscommunications, it did not move to assist the failing Titanic. The greatest percentage of the 1514 casualties reported were men, crew and the third class passengers. Though it has been stated that the officers had ordered that women and children would take priority for being saved, 52 of the 79 Third Class children died. Most of them remaining unnamed.
Next installment: The world turns, and War begins.
