The plumes of brightly colored smoke seeping from the windows meant that England was doing something that America had to stick his nose into.
He had originally been in London for a meeting with Churchill (Roosevelt had been present as well), but with the meeting over he thought that he might as well visit England for a bit. Who knows, maybe that stick up his ass came out in the last two hours since he last saw the Brit. America was, honestly, about to break into the house when the shout from the room got his attention, and he hopped the fence to the backyard, where in the basement window he saw Arthur waving his arms around, trying to clear the smoke that Alfred was now choking on.
Had his cooking really gotten that bad over the centuries?
Curiosity was what killed the cat, America knew as he trotted back to the front where he would enter, but he just had to see what was up. It was going to be good, whatever it was.
"Damn! What did I do wrong this time!"
Vials were picked up and set down, some thrown in frustration as Arthur tried to sort his mistake. He was certain this time-reversing spell would work, and he was positive that he had gotten all of the ingredients correct, and yet it hasn't even been brought to a boil, nor had it turned the crimson it was supposed to. The Axis powers - at least Italy and Germany - liked to drink alcohol, and he figured that the crimson liquid could be taken as wine (although, Italy would be the easiest to fool) and perhaps some sort of beer. If Germany didn't believe it, then Arthur figured he could always dye it. As for Japan, China was coming up with something for him, since he knew Kiku's ways better than England.
It was something like a last-ditch effort, although he knew this wouldn't end the war. If he could just send them back in time - two, maybe three hundred years - then the Allies could do something. America was supposed to be coming up with a plan, but the last time he had checked, the moron was enamored with some new video game or other. He could truly be a fool at times.
Arthur grunted and sat on the concrete ground, a vial in his hand. "This is ridiculous. The faeries must have mixed up my potions." His thick brow furrowed in frustration and he chucked the vial of green liquid towards the wall. Instead of the satisfying shatter he had expected, he saw a pink light and looked up to a rather insulted-looking fairy holding the vial in her arms, while having some trouble staying afloat. "A - ah, where did you come from?" he asked in a slightly apologetic tone, but she would hear nothing of it.
"Artie! How could you think something like that?" The other faeries - green, blue, yellow, and purple - came from thin air and floated to him, coaxing the frustrated Nation to his feet. "We only wanna help you, but we'd never touch your potions! We know better than that." She nodded a few times to verify her claim.
"... Except that one time we tried to make an eyebrow-wax solution for your birthday," the purple one pointed out, much to Arthur's shock and mild agitation. "You were complaining a lot about them, and we wanted to help you!"
"Oh, that time doesn't count," the pink one waved a hand.
"'That time' certainly does! I felt nauseated for an entire week after that!" He frowned and rubbed his stomach, the memories of running to the bathroom during one meeting haunting him. "But that's beside the point. You swear you haven't touched them as of late?" He walked forward and held out his hand, the pink fairy floating into his palm as if on command. "You'd better not be lying to me," England murmured in a dangerous tone as he drew her close to his face.
But the fairy only giggled and tapped his nose, pink sparkles shooting into the air as she did. "Teehee!~ You look so cute when you're angry~ No wonder America always tries to upset you! But nope, we haven't touch them in-"
"What?" England defensively rose his voice, cutting her off as he glared at her. "That git annoys me to get some sick satisfaction, not because I look 'cute'! Wh - which I certainly don't." The pink fairy floated off his hand and he used it to scratch his cheek, a small tint of color coming to his cheeks. "Don't be ridiculous," he mumbled under his breath.
All was quiet for a few seconds as the faeries all rang out in a simultaneous 'shh' to one another. Arthur couldn't tell what they were up to, but when a chorus of giggles came from the gossiping faeries, his brow rose. "What exactly was that laugh for?" he asked.
The floating green light pointed up with a happy smile. "We thought we heard something earlier and we did~ We were just saying it's kind of funny, because he's right outside!~ "
England's face suddenly became a disapproving scowl. "What?" he growled, looking up at the ceiling they gestured so eagerly to. And, as if on cue, a loud thump of what was the door hitting the floor could be heard. Dust from the ceiling gently floated down from the felled wooden board, and England could hear the nervous laughter of the Yank upstairs as well as his clobbering footsteps towards the basement door. England gasped in a panic and shoved the faeries into a corner, ignoring their yelps of surprise, and began to try and put the cauldron, potions, and book of spells away - all at once. "I - I can't let him see all this!" England protested, trying to push the heavy cauldron away.
Naturally, none of this worked in time, because America had already kicked the door open with a wild grin. His eyes beheld the cloaked Nation scrambling away, and America was really beginning to wonder what was up now. "England!" America shouted with a grin, waving as he came down. "The door wasn't open so I kicked it down, but I'll fix it later!" Ignoring the grunt of dissatisfaction from England, Alfred whistled as he looked around the area. "Wow, Iggy, you sure got a lot of booze down here. I saw you doin' somethin' with smoke down here, but I never knew you could smoke alcohol! That's pretty awesome."
Arthur snorted in his pace around the stone-walled basement, shoving by America with vials in his arms. "It isn't booze, you git - and don't call me Iggy!" Putting each potion away on the shelf, he sighed and tried to remember their order. "And you can't smoke alcohol, so don't get any ideas." As expected, Alfred gave a whine in reply. England continued. "They're potions. I've been trying to create a spell that may help us in the war, remember? Although, thusfar it isn't coming out perfectly. Not a problem, however; a few tweaks and it should be fine." He straightened up and put his hands on his hips. "Now," he spoke as he began to turn, "I would appreciate if you not only fixed my door but left-" But once he had turned around, he very much wished he had kept an eye on the boy.
Standing in front of the cauldron was Alfred with three different potions hovering above the failed concoction in the cauldron. Arthur had thought that he was missing a few vials, and that damned Yank was playing with them as if they had his name on it - as if he were a practiced magician! England's green orbs widened and he quickly stumbled over to the American, grabbing his wrists and bumping into him as he did so. "Stopstopstop!"
"Whoa!" America hollered, regaining his balance and trying to ward England off of him by bumping his hip. "I just wanna see what'll happen! You said it hasn't been working, so maybe it needs a Hero's touch!" He gave a grin and a laugh. "Or maybe you just suck!"
"I do NOT 'suck'!" England growled defensively, not thinking the joke funny at all. "Now let ... go ... of those vials!" He spoke through gritted teeth, both of them growling and grunting and trying to fight one another off while talking and suddenly -
Poof.
Crimson smoke and a cloud of sparks suddenly came from the cauldron. Arthur's horrified visage was the polar opposite of Alfred's excited grin. The shorter Nation grabbed the taller's hands, and in them were vials of air and nothing more. America shrugged, and England realized that the two of them had both dumped the potions in - although that wouldn't stop him from pinning all the blame on the American. He sent a sharp glare to America's baby blues and tore the tubes out of his hand, throwing them on the ground and enjoying their smashing sound. "You fool! Do you realize what you've done?"
"Magic?" America replied somewhat stupidly.
"You've made a mess out of everything I was trying to do - as you always do!" He heard a gulp from America and glared up at him, a bit surprised to see no smile or smirk, but instead, the American's expression was something close to hurt. "What?" he murmured, his anger subsiding at the face - as it always did around America.
Alfred shifted uncomfortably. "I ... mess up on everything?" he asked quietly. England looked surprised at how sincerely hurt the boy was. "Well, I don't mean to, I just wanted to be a-"
"I know," England said lowly with an irritated eyeroll. "The whole world knows. It's all you ever say."
"Well I just wanted to help!" America replied in an exasperated tone. He wasn't yelling nor was he backing down, but before England could even dream to reply, their attention turned to the thickening smoke. In their bickering, the cloud had surrounded the two of them and the cauldron was now bubbling dangerously close to the rim, as if it were about to explode. America and England both looked at the cauldron and then to each other, their expressions of worry matched. "Um, what's going on?" Alfred murmured.
"Th - the spell ... " Arthur replied while taking a step back and dragging America with him. "I ... I think it's working."
"Hooray!" His spirits returned, America grinned and started to head back towards the cauldron. "Let's scoop some of that up and sent it right to 'em!" But he was once again dragged back, further this time. He looked to Arthur in confusion, a brow quirked and his eyes watching the shorter man behind spectacles. "So ... why do you not look too happy?" He didn't get an immediate response, so he waved a hand in front of England's paling face. "Yoohoo?"
In his realization, England had nearly fallen into a stupor, but his conscious mind returned when America's large hand covered his hawk-like vision. Pushing the hand away, he managed to choke out a nervous reply. "It's far too strong, and something's wrong with it."
"'Wrong'...?" the America reiterated, turning his head back to the cauldron, which had started to spill over at the top as the bubbles rose and fell quicker than either could count. What either nation failed to look at during this display, however, was the crack that was swooping down the cauldron's side.
And before either could do a thing about it, the large cauldron split open and a sea of crimson came gushing at them.
A/N: It's amazing to see how differently you write when compared to one year ago. Yes, this rusty old fic was the very first I ever finished, and was begun back in January. Its chapters vary in length and quality. If you wish to review this you may; but please keep in mind that I don't write like this anymore. At least, not to my eyes. Anywho, these will be weekly uploads and there are seventeen chapters altogether. I hope you enjoy!