The Sequester

As England got ready for the day, he felt somewhat refreshed. He had a plan and intended to fully implement it, his wand neatly tucked into the inside of his jacket. He finished changing the dressing on his thigh, cleaning it off, careful not to break the thin raw layer of skin slowly making its way over his cut. He was thankful for his status as a nation, without it his healing factor would be deathly slow. He pulled on his tan slacks and adjusted his lapels, adjusting his hair in the mirror one final time before walking out of the bathroom, energetic in step despite the few hours of sleep he had gotten that night. He put some packaged oatmeal in the microwave and got two bowls ready. He threw a spoon in one and once he had it ready, approached the barricade with the steaming bowl of oats. He had gotten good at making microwave oatmeal. He was proud of that. His foot quietly pushed the various pieces of furniture out of the way and he opened the door as silently as he could. Oliver must have retreated into his basement at some point in the night, the pitch depths of his cellar seeming to have now been claimed by the man. He placed that bowl of the oatmeal on the landing and slowly closed the door, silently latching it and moving the barricade back. It was like having a pet. A vicious and dangerous pet, but a pet nonetheless. Only after double checking the the handle wouldn't budge, he went and ate his oatmeal, reading the paper and sipping tea. A peaceful morning. When it came time to leave, he turned on the television, keeping the volume high but reasonable so the neighbors wouldn't complain.

His car pulled out of the driveway and he made the monotonous commute to the conference building. Mind whirring over the possibilities of his plan from the night before, he drummed his fingers on the wheel. A part of him couldn't wait to get home and continue with it, but this was his job. It would have to wait, and it would take time to convince the man to trust him. What a fun little project, dealing with the murderer in the basement. Well, he assumed he had killed people considering his previous eagerness to do so. He parked the car and got out, walking up to the glass and cement building. A secretary greeting him as he signed in and continued up to the conference room. His thoughts were so preoccupied that he had hardly noticed the Frenchman pursuing him, jumping a little as he tapped his shoulder.

"Oi, don't do that Francis. What is wrong with you?" France appeared to be a little taken aback.

"I see you're feeling fine then." The man looked him over before sighing. "Ce n'est rien. You weren't answering your phone last night."

"I don't need to answer it if I don't want to. I saw enough of you yesterday, and I'm just about hitting today's quota." He had noticed several missed calls from France, when he got up this morning. Of course it had probably just been to chew him out, or knowing very well that England wouldn't pick them up after the events of last night so he could feign concern. He was onto him. Though a part of him wanted to thank the frog, for hadn't he been incredibly insensitive in proving that England was not in fact a very likeable person, he never would have had the opportunity to put his plan into action.

"You're being more abrasive than usual. It's not very attractive, Angleterre. After last night I thought you would have had some form of how you say, 'introspection'? Maybe that you cared a little more than you let on? Guess I was wrong."

"Well I guess you were, now if you'll excuse me." He turned heel and walked down the hall to the room. He didn't need to justify a thing to anyone, especially not France. The conference was relatively empty, he was early. Germany sat in a chair at the table, he was reading the paper as he did the word search from within it. He muttered a rough good morning and took a long sip of coffee before taking a glance at the time. In his glance, he noticed that it was indeed England who had walked in. He looked like he was about to ask something, but England quickly shut it down. "Good morning, Ludwig. Are you always this early?"

"Oh, yes. It's nice to see this place in order before everyone comes in. The view isn't bad either." He was right. The Shard stood tall, glistening in the cool dawn light across the river. It reflected across the water, brilliance and height dwarfing all the neighboring buildings, including the conference building itself. England stood at the massive window and just observed, the building's singularity catching his attention. If one looked closely, they could probably see the inner machinations of the building. Workers going to and fro, the bustle of businessmen and tourists. Of course, it wasn't visible from here. Not with the distance, or the sun reflecting against it so brilliantly. It was made of glass, but not meant to be looked into. More that it was meant to be looked out of. It was almost alienating in a way.

"I don't like your city, Arthur. It's cold and wet, but I don't mind coming here if it means I get to look at that every morning. An excellent piece of engineering and architecture, really." At some point the taller nation had gotten up and stood a polite distance away from England, taking in the view. "It stands tall and alone, unrivaled by the other buildings. Too bad the best tickets are so pricey." He chuckled. England nodded and turned to see the other nations filing in and went to take his seat. It appeared that there was a pointed effort being made not to sit next to him , even Canada kept a seat between them.

"You're allowed to move over, Matthew."

"Francis said you might want some space so-."

"Did he now? That's fine then." He internally groaned. The bastard had probably already gone on to tell half the nations about their little blow out last night, and then that half told the rest. Just dandy, wonderful. He was going to have some choice words with him after the meeting, and those words amounted to exactly zero. He had enough on his plate without dealing with petty gossip. The Frenchman refused to make eye contact with him as the meeting progressed. He didn't shy away from it, he just refused to acknowledge it. He refused to let it happen in the first place.

"Arthur, you have recently passed the base legislation, is that true?" At least Germany wasn't petty enough to let it get in the way of work. He nodded and pulled the copies of the papers out of his briefcase, handing them down to the nations. It seemed that Oliver had actually managed to sign and send off every document for him, the signatures matched and nothing was out of order in the papers when he got the final copy back. Was it considered forgery if he was still technically the person who signed them? He wasn't sure how that law applied across dimensions, but he wasn't going to question it. He explained the contents as the nations boredly flipped through the papers, Germany nodded in approval and resumed, linking the papers in with a global carbon plan. Finally something sensical would come out of this summit. France murmured something to Spain, no doubt it was about him as the Spaniard's eyes not so inconspicuously flicked in his direction every moment or two. He was surrounded by people and yet he was alone amongst them. Since he had the space and a lack of prying eyes, he began jotting out his plans to deal with basement dweller as if he was taking notes. The only thing he could really do at this point was do his best to figure out what spell he had used to come here and get the book out of the cellar. He'd need to continue accordingly there after.

Once everyone was dismissed, England got up and immediately took his leave, avoiding a certain American who attempting to tail him out of there, eventually stopped by Canada. He arrived home and opened the door, closing it behind him. Because of the productivity of the meeting, they managed to wrap up an hour earlier. He called out into the house to let Oliver know he was back. Better to make him feel overly comfortable in the home. He would be easier to convince that way. A few socked footsteps up the stairs and a chime of welcome came from behind the door. Exactly like a pet. England hung his jacket up, putting his just-in-case umbrella back into the stand. He took his shoes off and walked into the livingroom to turn the still going television off.

"Welcome home. Thank you for changing your mind about the telly, meant a lot. Porridge was good too." England hummed as he continued on to take care of the documents in his briefcase. He acknowledged Oliver's thanks as he passed the door and continued down to his office. He opened the filing cabinet and slipped them into their respective slots. Nice and tidy. His wand was placed on his desk, he gave the handle a nice pat as if to say 'soon'. As he walked back into the hall, Oliver's somewhat pleasant voice came from behind the door. "Did you do anything fun today? Because I sure didn't."

"Well I guess we're in the same boat then. Thank you for signing the papers in my… Absence." Oliver cooed a humble welcome and sighed. "And no, things weren't any better today, if you were wondering."

"You can tell me all about it." Oliver seemed eager and happy to listen. England delved into the day's events, or lack thereof. At least here he had someone to genuinely talk to. He told him everything, enjoying being able to just get it all off of his chest. Oliver was quite enjoyable to talk to, which meant he himself must be enjoyable to talk to. "People can be so rude, can't they? You'd think they'd at least some you an ounce of respect, considering you're hosting them." Yeah. They should. "And at least a little more considering you're the only one who's done anything productive. Needless to say, they undervalue you. It's not fair." He sounded like he spoke from experience. Their chat continued on for another hour or so. Time truly did fly when you were enjoying yourself. A ring from the doorbell cut in and England got up from the couch. His tea set had arrived! He thanked the courier and signed off on the delivery before closing the door."Hm? Who was that, Arthur?"

"Oh, my new teacups arrived. Say, it is coming upon tea time. Would you like some?" Oliver made his request from beyond the door for mint, with one sugar. England carefully opened the box and sighed with relief when everything was still intact. He put some water on to boil and grabbed some store bought muffins from the pantry, putting them on a plate. It didn't take him too long before he had a tray put together and he walked to the door of the basement. He set the tray down and took some of the barricade away to open the door. The lights in the cellar were on, Oliver walked up the stairs to retrieve his tea. He looked a mess, his hair needed a comb, very apparent bags hung under his eyes, and the comforter was wrapped around him like a cloak. He was almost pathetic. England watched as Oliver picked up the steeping tea and sipped it.

"Oh, a muffin too? Thank you." His blue eyes were kind, a soft satisfaction on his face as he took a blueberry muffin and bit into it. "Is something wrong? You can have the blueberry if you'd like. I'm sorry." He attempted to put it back on the plate. England shook his head. He couldn't believe he was about to say this.

"You look terrible. Come finish your tea and come out to take a shower, but that's it." Oliver looked surprised and rightfully so.

"Are… You sure? I mean, I did stab you and tried to do it a second time."

"Are you trying to get me to change my mind?" Oliver shook his head fervently, a mouth full of muffin trying to reassure England that he wasn't. "Good, but if you want to I'm going to need to ask a favour first. What spell book did you use to come here?"

"What? Oh… I suppose I could go get it after I finish eating." That was easy. Really easy. Almost suspiciously so. Oliver munched on the muffin, asking England to hold his tea as he disappeared into the basement, coming back a few minutes later with an old tome. "It's bookmarked in there, I'm sure you'll be able to find it." He took back his tea as he handed England the book, sipping on it as he watched him look through the papers. This book was familiar. Too familiar to England in fact, so familiar that he distinctly remembered letting the flames consume it centuries ago. It's contents were horrific, calling for heinous acts to complete anything, even the most simple of spells. His mind really didn't want to know how interdimensional travel worked within it. He found the book mark and snapped the book shut in his hands. He 'thanked' Oliver and took a now empty teacup from him. "So, may I take a shower now?"

"Yes just one moment." He shut the basement door and quickly walked into the bathroom. He cleared it of all razors, clippers, and anything else that might be considered stab friendly. Had to play it safe. He took them and put them in a drawer in his bedroom before returning and opening the door, stepping aside. "It's all yours."

"Oh good, for a moment there I thought you might have tried to cheat me." Oliver laughed and walked out into the hall and leaving the comforter on the landing, England's heart going a mile a minute as he watched the man. He just walked on past and straight into the bathroom, closing the door behind him only to open it a moment later. "Oh, Arthur? Could I possibly borrow a set of clothes, I don't really have any." England nodded. "Thank you, love." As soon as that door was closed once more and the water started running, England rammed the handle with a chair. He needed to keep him in confined spaces, or wherever he could see him. Once he was positive that door couldn't be opened from the inside, he returned to his room and selected a plain white button up and some charcoal slacks. He opened the bathroom door and placed them on the vanity before quickly removing himself and blocking the door once more. His phone buzzed on the kitchen counter. He picked it up and pressed talk.

"Hey dude, you good to talk?" England groaned, why hadn't he checked the caller ID?

"No, why are you calling me?"

"Oh uh, well you sort of ran off before I could catch up today. Everyone's going out for dinner and I thought you might wanna be invited? Ya know, have a few drinks and loosen up a little, it'll be chill!" Oh great, this was a pity invite, wasn't it? And what did he mean by 'loosen up'? He wasn't being uptight about anything, he got slapped in a knife wound and upset when he realized no one liked him. That was pretty reasonable to him. "You there, Arthur?"

"I'm busy." This book wasn't going to decipher itself, and the sooner he had Oliver out of his hair, the better. "Is this all you're calling about because I do need to go, Alfred."

"Oh no, wait before you hang up, everyone wants to take a break tomorrow so no conference. Maybe we could hang out or something?"

"I'm busy then too."

"But you have like eight hours suddenly like super open…"

"And I filled them. I have things to do, Alfred. I can't just take every free second off to do nothing. I will see you in two days." He hung up on the protests and sighed, pinching his brow. The water stopped running in the bathroom. He had more important things to do.