Acknowledgements: thank you to the following for reviews/favourites/alerts/ PMs: Coco Da Cat, PeaceChan09, homestuck12, Yui-kun12, Andurian, MareenaMoon, Elementrix1942, FriendlyAmigo, AstersandAlyssum, Historyman14, Syntax-N, Elizabeth-Christine of Nowhere, Shipwreckedsouls, HopefulHeart108, Friendly Amigo, ElyArt01, Ace-Phantom69, Crazy004, icycle, Chrysanthemum19, FiannaRain, Taleof2hippies, everythingisdragons, Arrowfeet, Sailormoon1999, Horonigai, Sweetiepie13, RebelKinslayer, gingakita, luzhu, Phoenixlegend, Star2301, Eaglesfeather17, ihateslash604, , nenepasta, Spaceland, kamilix, Fryingpangirl, Tonhalszendvics, Dalek-caan19, Bluesky1201, Stormshadow3, XxCrispixX, CheesecakeKitty15, SassyPantsJaxon, EllaAwkward, RosesforEveryone, SansSoucis, Kattie (Guest), Ivyflight, Taranodongirl1, Liquers, Pheonixlegend, ES1776, tsundere-cat-type, Kenzeira, Hinabi, Probablysomebody, Junior Chief, TelosKoritsi13, RebelsAdvocate,, Monskuuti, Zeawesomepasta, Woody569Gamecraft, datteroflucifer, rowerlovesastronomy, browsofglory, imiregretsnothing, icococandy, GalaxyGirlEm, gnomiegnome, itsalwaysbeme, Sarite, weirdonamedbrie, the Oracle of Akemi, CriticalThinking, RebelsAdvocate, eleanoralovesananias, TheMoonRaven, RoseRune, aphDadmark, Still a Lover of Franchises, Deciduous Forest 208, Yu-Gi-Oh Trekkie 99, RaptureChamber, StealthSage, yukia9tendo, Mondmaedchen, Bayboo20, England 2410, mossflower1234, ChildoftheMoon86, Gwen-Van-Well, The Silent Lilac, Supergrassaysyaaasss, Azmine Junet, febrezedtrash, magondala, BrownieTheFangirl, ppurpple, mssunnymuffins, espeon64, oh-cripe-my-fish, Renchikara, LucediDio,mirrorkirby64, quity190, Kathryn Daughter of Hestia, Elizaveta Hedervary - Hungary, spooky ghost flower, nightowlof2, Mondmaedchen, Siemsen, gintama200, phyllite, ravengal, not-philosophical, magicflyingmintbunnies, AllHellBrokeLoose666, GoneInASecond, Shikyoblossom20, theworldofhetalia, Acvodadkawall, skywolf2001
Driving Lessons Chapter 72 - Splish Splash (I was taking a bath)
England sipped (cold) tea from a Cardiff United mug. He felt almost normal. His head hurt though. He was almost sober. He was in the bath. Someone - probably Denmark and Prussia - had carried him up the stairs none too gently and had bumped him up every step and taken off half the flocked wallpaper as they did so. Thankfully the bath was empty of water.
"At least my car is better," he said as if his car was an entity that had been ill.
"Indeed it is!" King Henry said as he suddenly appeared at the other end of the bath. Despite England being fully clothed, it did feel an intrusion to have someone in the bath with him. Even if they were dead. "And it was all thanks to King Charles. I hate to say it but he's a good driver." King Henry continued.
England felt a little faint again at the thought of a headless dead king driving his car. "No more. Tell me no more," he said his hand to his head.
King Henry didn't understand this but nodded anyway.
There was a knock on the door.
"Well I think it's probably time for me to go," Wales said, entering the bathroom. "I'd love to stay. Especially as Italy has just turned up but I've got a part in the new Dr Who!"
England closed his eyes. This was awful news. He'd always assumed if there was an extra part going in a British drama series he'd get it and not his bloody brother! He reckoned Wales couldn't even tell him who the current Doctor was. He slumped back in the bath. "Wait! What? Italy is here? Oh bloody hell."
But Wales had gone. It seemed he had decided he had achieved his revenge.
"How long have I been unconscious?" England asked.
"About two hours," Prussia said, poking his head around the door.
"Ja!" Denmark said.
"I was so worried about you, mon cher!" France said.
"Can a man not have privacy in his own bathroom?" England asked.
"You're not naked," Prussia pointed out.
"Yet," France said.
"By the way, your brothers have left, even though I asked them if they wanted to stay to watch Charlemagne have his dinner." Denmark told him.
England couldn't work out why Denmark seemed to treat the child as if he were some kind of reality star. England didn't actually feel that he was living in reality.
"Also my bruder's here!" Prussia said and was obviously trying to keep the excitement out of his voice.
"Oh bugger," England said. He was still sat in the bath. "Can somebody make me another cup of tea? Preferably in a more appropriate cup? I do have some rather lovely china cups."
"I can't believe that you have been reduced to being a lackey for this degenerate," Germany told Prussia, appearing in the doorway.
There were now four Nations in the bathroom with England. This was four Nations too many.
"Do you only give audiences to people from your bath now, England?" Germany asked. "Like Cleopatra?"
"Cleopatra? Why? Did she have to wait ages for a bloody hot cup of tea?" England asked. He got out of the bath and France squealed with delight and passed him a towel.
Germany covered his eyes.
"I've bloody got clothes on, you bloody dummkopf!" England shouted at Germany. He loved that insult. He'd learned it from Prussia over the past few weeks and was delighted with the result.
Germany looked as if he were going to explode with rage - to be called a German insult by an Englishman.
England, inexplicably, accepted the towel from France without question and wrapped it around his waist. Somebody handed him a china cup. He felt like a king. Kind of. Until he took a sip. The cup was empty. "What in God's name is this?" He shouted.
"God, you're getting demanding," Denmark said.
England shoved his way out of his bathroom and headed downstairs. He was followed by everyone. He found, much to his dismay that his kitchen had even more Nations in it.
"Oh bloody hell," he said.
"Well that's nice I must say," Hungary said.
"Arthur you look terrible," Ukraine said.
"Arthur, tell these people that that child is not yours," Belarus said.
"That child is definitely not…" England began to say.
"French!" America yelled from the lounge. He was still blasting 'bad guys', on his PSBox or whatever the hell it was.
"Of course it is French, tell them, Arthur!" France whined.
"Why do you have a towel around your waist? Have you been bathing with these people?" Belarus asked.
"Do you honestly think that I would have a bath with four other people?" England asked.
"Why are you here anyway?" He asked them all and then added when several people began talking at once. "One at a time please."
"I wanted to see you cope with a baby. I was told by Alfred that it was hilarious and he wasn't wrong," Hungary said.
"Me too," Ukraine said.
"I wanted to know if…" Belarus began but was rudely interrupted by Germany, who she cast horrid murderous glances at.
"I want to know if you are going to recompense Italy for stealing his van?" Germany said.
"It's all about money with you, isn't it?" England said, filling up the kettle. He found, much to his disgust some rubber teats in there and wondered if he might be going mad.
"For Dude Carl's bottles," Denmark told him.
"Why?"
"Sterilisation," Denmark answered.
"He needs sterilising," Germany said. But didn't specify who.
"France does," England said. That would solve most of his problems he decided.
France squeaked and covered his crotch protectively.
"Why don't you just go and take the bloody van?" England said, sensibly, he thought.
"It's gone," Italy wailed in a fashion more suited to a tragic opera where someone is dying of consumption.
"Gone?" England looked confused.
Germany shook his head.
"This is brilliant," Hungary said, making herself comfortable. "I wish I'd brought popcorn."
"Dead guys took it back to Windsor Castle to look for one of the dead guy's heads," Prussia explained.
"How is Romano supposed to deliver pizza without it?" Germany asked.
"Without a head? Does he need the dead guy's head?" Prussia asked, confused.
"Nein! With the van? What's wrong with you? I blame this degeneracy on you living with England."
"He doesn't live with me," England replied.
"No, we just live with him," Prussia said.
"Only I live with him," France said.
"None of them live with me." England said firmly.
"Except they do," Hungary said with raised eyebrows.
"You said I was the only one!" Belarus said to England, her eyes glinting.
"No he didn't," Denmark said, thereby sealing England's fate.
"Shut up," England hissed. "Are you trying to get me killed?"
"Don't mess with my little sister," Ukraine warned England.
"Listen, I never asked to be married to her…" England said.
Belarus narrowed her eyes and was about to whisk out a knife when Denmark saved his life by handing her 'Dude Carl', "Here, hold little dude while I make up his bottle."
Belarus' cold dark heart melted a little, "He is very cute," she admitted.
"Thanks," Den said and took the teats out of the kettle - to England's relief and began to make up a bottle.
"He looks like you, Arthur," she said.
Germany peered at the child, who promptly burst into tears (the child, not Germany), "It looks nothing like him. I forbid you though, Gilbert, from adopting this child and bringing it to my house just in case it is Russian."
"You think it is Russian?" Belarus asked. She looked dangerous. She held the baby and looked at him closely. "Hmm… I will keep him for my own…"
"No, Sestra," Ukraine said, carefully taking the baby from her, "He's not Ivan's. He doesn't have a scarf," she said.
England and France looked at each with raised eyebrows, both thinking for once, the same thing - that the Slavic sisters were mad.
Den took the baby from them in a proprietary manner, "Give him to Auntie Den. Come on dude…" he said and wandered off, singing a Viking sea shanty about invading small English coastal towns.
"I think it's his," Hungary said, nodding her head at Denmark's retreating form and absent-mindedly eating one of England's last bourbon creams.
"Could it be either of yours?" England asked Ukraine and Hungary.
Ukraine answered this by slapping him around the face and slamming out of the door in a huff. She then returned and grabbed her sister, slamming out of the house again and heading down the garden path. They could hear her telling Belarus to forget England as he was a 'ladies' man' and a 'cheater' and had no samovar.
"Oh well done, England." Hungary smiled. "And in answer to your question, no I'm not the father."
"I want my van back," Italy said. His big brown eyes were filled with tears.
"Windsor Castle you say?" Germany said to Prussia.
"Ja."
"And who was this again?" Germany asked.
"King Henry, King Thingy and King Loser," Prussia replied. He couldn't be bothered to learn the names. It didn't matter. They weren't Prussian or German so how was he supposed to remember? They weren't awesome. One didn't even have a head. You wouldn't find a Prussian dead king wandering around without a head. Losers.
"Yes, go and bother them," England said.
"Oh I will, believe me," Germany replied and then stepped right up close to England so he stood toe to toe and said menacingly, "This isn't over."
England really couldn't care less. He was immune to it. He was tired, sleep-deprived and felt as if he'd been run over by a steam-roller. He was also scared that Ukraine was going to come back and beat him up again. He still couldn't work out why he'd got slapped. Although to be fair it wasn't the first time he'd been slapped by Ukraine.
Germany headed out of the door, slammed it behind him and then, realising he'd forgotten Italy, came back in and pulled the dozy Italian with him. "Come on Italy!" He hissed.
"But the little bambino!" Italy said. "He's so cute."
"It's probably a Russian…" Germany told him as they went down the path.
Italy had gone pale. "You think so?"
"So Arthur? Get me a drink and tell your Auntie Liz all about it," Hungary said.
"He can't handle nappies!" America yelled from the lounge.
Hungary put her head to one side. "Awww…"
"Could it be Austria's?" England asked her.
"Austria's what?" Hungary asked.
"Baby?"
She burst into laughter. "Really?" She said when she saw his face, she added. "Really? Oh I see you're serious. Does it like Mozart?"
England was desperate now. He realised that if it was indeed France's (which was looking more and more certain with each dreadful passing moment) that he would finish up doing the school run and then paying for the child to go to some university where it would study some useless degree - think a BA in Basket-Weaving - all the while sleeping with an array of girls whose fathers England would end up paying off. He would then end up trying to get the boy into the Army as this was the only way he could get it to leave home, where the boy would spend six years in Aldershot peeling potatoes and whitewashing anything that didn't move. There was no way he could offload a second child onto Sweden and Finland. If France had to be such a useless father then he could at least get his contraception sorted.
He said all this to France, whilst at the same time rummaging through his vinyl records collection.
"You never loved me!" France wailed.
"No I haven't. You must have mistaken me for someone else," England said, tossing aside his records, looking for Mozart (not the composer himself - he hadn't or had ever - lived in England's house, but his records). He doubted he possessed any, but one never knew. He had a Pink Floyd album, a military marching bands album that he felt like putting on just to get everyone out of the house, a compilation of the best of the Welsh Male Voice Choir, a Cliff Richard album (which he was most embarrassed about), a Bruce Springsteen album (which he assumed must be America's) and lastly one broken half of a Beatles album that he couldn't bear to throw away. Scotland, who had been drinking heavily from a bottle of Scotch and watching America kill zombies (not literally) handed England a CD of Scottish pipe bands, which England tossed recklessly away.
"I don't have any Mozart," England called to her from the lounge.
"It's not Austria's," Hungary said, observing Denmark dancing around with the child in his arms gurgling happily (actually they both were, not just the child). "It's too cheerful."
"Somebody is making a mockery of me," England said, re-entering the kitchen.
"I always have contraception!" France said and began pulling a huge pack of condoms out of his pocket.
"I should bloody hope you do!" England said.
Hungary raised an eyebrow, "You know those things are only 98% effective?" She said.
"98? What does this mean?" France asked, looking horrified.
"That two times out of a hundred, there will be a failure, my randy little friend," England told him.
"But…but…" France then went into a paroxysm of French that England did not understand (even if he could translate French).
Finally he gasped, "There could be lots of moi all over London!"
England almost fainted and then took a hold of himself. He reminded himself he was the great British Empire. He would not be cowed by lots of little French perverts running around, come what may.
He however snatched the laptop back from Prussia (who he was dismayed to see, appeared to be looking at blueprints of a bank or something) and Skyped Austria.
He was further dismayed to see he'd got Australia instead. Who seemed to be unnecessarily shirtless. "Oh it's you," England said. "Why aren't you wearing a shirt?" He asked. Most undignified, he thought, as a Commonwealth Nation. Hungary goggled and began preening herself.
"Because it's 82 bloody degrees out here!" Australia informed him.
"Oh well I might as well ask you," England sighed and pointed the webcam at Denmark and the child. "Are you the father?"
"Of Denmark? I'm a bit bloody young for that, mate."
"Of the bloody baby, you imbecile!"
"Hey! You can't talk to me like that. I ain't no kid you can push around no more, England."
"I never pushed you around," England said sadly. He was dismayed by Australia's grammar.
"Well hello and who's this?" Australia asked, leaning forward and looking over England's shoulder.
"Oh that's just Francis," England said.
France batted his eyelashes.
"Nah, I mean the sheila." Australia said.
"The what?"
"He means me," Hungary said and shoved England out of the way. "Let a girl see."
England raised an eyebrow at the word 'girl'.
"Well hello there!" Australia shouted as if his voice could reach 10,000 miles.
England feared it could.
Hungary grinned and waved, "Oooh you're all hairy!" She said wondrously.
"Yes, isn't he?" England said and was about to disconnect but Hungary stopped his hand.
"Touch that button and you're dead," she hissed.
"How about coming over for a barbie?" Australia asked.
"What does he mean?" She asked England.
"He likes barbie dolls," France said.
"He means a barbecue," England sighed. "He has problems with his English. He doesn't know any."
"He's a moron," France said. He sounded jealous.
"He's a hot moron," Hungary said.
France nodded to this.
"Yo, is that Austria?" America asked, coming into the room.
"Australia," England explained.
"You always say that, but I can tell," America said.
"Moron," France said.
"Whereabouts are you?" Hungary asked.
"Bondi beach!"
"Where's that?" She asked England.
"Near Skegness," England told her.
She hit him. Quite hard actually. Almost as hard as Ukraine.
"Sydney, New South Wales," he told her.
"Wait? What? Wales?" She asked.
"No…" England tried to explain.
"It's Austria!" America said wisely.
She hit America.
"Ow! Tell her, Artie!" America wailed.
"I like a woman with passion," Australia said. "Come over on the next flight."
"Well I don't know if I can afford it…" Hungary said doubtfully, …"and I have a fairy to look after," she added wistfully.
"I bet you have a rich boyfriend who can pay for your flight," Australia said. "And you don't have to worry about France, England can take care of him."
"Does he mean I'm the fairy?" France whispered to England.
England wasn't sure.
Hungary nodded and tapped a Bank of Austria gold credit card against her teeth. "Sounds fair cobber to me, mate," she said making Australia wince. "I'm on my way and put another shrimp on that barbecue!"
She left, slamming the door and re-opened it, held out her hands letting a very angry fairy fly out. "Sorry Tinks… Look Arthur will you take care of Tinkerbell for me? She has rights now. So four weeks' holiday a year as well as bank holidays and free dental." With that she left.
"Who does dental on a fairy?" France asked.
Tinkerbell hit him with her wand.
"A fairy?" Denmark looked so happy he looked as if he were going to cry. "I knew it! I always believed! Belarus is a nasty lady for telling me fairies don't exist."
"Tinkerbell! I missed you!" England said to the fairy. He had a sudden idea. Having the fairy back may just be the answer to all his problems. "You can help me. You could wish all this away. I need to get the crown to the Tower before it's missed… Hang on where's the crown gone?" He dashed around - upended America and Scotland on the couch, shoved France out of the way (he was making some Godawful French cuisine mess on the stove), dashed past Denmark who was trying to get the baby to sleep, but could find the crown nowhere. He slumped next to America, who handed him a 'controller' and told him to help him fight 'bad dudes', England promptly got them 'killed'.
"Where's the crown?" He asked America.
"Deadie had it last time I saw him," America said.
"Which deadie?"
"Henry."
"Tinks, can you summon King Henry?" He asked her. (Looking back England knew he should have specified which Henry.)
She was perched on his shoulder filing her nails and looking very grumpy. She obviously had wanted to go to Australia.
She said something rude in England's ear. Something that he thought was physically impossible.
"Why do you need the crown back, dude?" America asked, his eyes still on the screen.
"I need to get it back to the Tower before it's missed. It may already be too late."
"Yeah it probably is. But they won't know it's you who stole it will they?" America said.
Prussia shoved both of them aside. "This is what I've been trying to show you, you moron," He sat between them and opened the laptop. "I have a plan."
"Prussia we don't care about your argument on Mumsnet," England said.
"No. I've found blueprints for the Tower. Your son had them on here. Peter had some kind of plan…"
"Peter did? That doesn't surprise me. I wonder where he is at the moment, probably on the run."
"Doing his homework at Finland's place. He's been grounded," America said.
England couldn't work how America knew all this.
"Anyway, we can get in there and put the crown back and me and Den will help you." Prussia said.
"Why would you do that?" England said, overcome with emotion.
"It would be a laugh," Prussia said.
"I'll help! I'm the hero!" America said, finally putting down his joystick or whatever the hell it was.
"You will?"
"The Awesome Trio will break into the Tower, give back the crown, get some souvenirs from the gift shop and break back out. Easy."
"Coq au vin!" France shouted from the kitchen.
"Yes, I bet it will be…" England said gloomily looking at the plan Prussia had drawn up.
There was a crash in the kitchen and a girlish scream.
"Okay okay, we're coming!" England called. "Come on, chaps. I think France has cooked something covered in garlic sauce for dinner." He told the others, standing up.
France appeared dishevelled at the door. "It is too much!" He cried.
"We're coming! Okay? I'm sure your coq is lovely…" he then tried to amend what he'd said when France interrupted him with the awful news.
"Another Henry! The terrible one! Azincourt!" He then fell down in a swoon.
"Please don't let it be…" England said.
It was. Henry V in full armour appeared.
"Oh bloody hell."