Married.
Married.
Married.
The instant the words sank into his mind, America leapt back and away from England. He clung tightly to the railing, his heart speeding like a racetrack within his chest and his eyes as wide as dinner plates. There was just no way! "You've been talking to Belarus, haven't you?" he instantly accused, pointing a trembling finger at the equally panicked England. "I don't care what you say; I don't care what our bosses say!" (Alright, so he did care what they said but, in this situation, who could blame him for saying it?) "I'm not gonna marry you!" he rejected, shaking his head furiously. "The United States of America is free, single, not tied down by anyone!" He didn't fight the revolution not nothing. And besides, 'The United United States of America' and United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland' was too much of a mouthful for Alfred to swallow.
England should have slapped him while had the chance. "America, get a hold of yourself!" Arthur protested, stomping over and grabbing the taller nation's shirt and tugging him close to his face so he could properly glare at him. "You and I aren't the ones getting married; they are: Romeo and Juliet! Our countries will be fine." He released America and sighed, running his fingers through his straw-like locks. "Besides, we're not even in the right era of time for a marriage to affect our Nations." He turned to look at America, who seemed to have calmed down a bit. But, now he looked confused at the proposed idea of their countries remaining untied to one another. "... Do you even know where we are?" he asked sourly, turning his body to face his former colony.
The American's brows furrowed in thought and he looked around as if trying to find a clue. "Well duh," he said with a smile as he pointed to the wall, "we're at Juliet's house!"
Arthur grit his teeth and smacked America on the arm. "Not THAT sort of 'where'! The play was written in the 1500s-"
"Whoa, seriously?" America interrupted with a smile, "Haha! Man, that was when you musta been young, huh?"
"Listen to me for once, you git!" he growled, patience obviously waning in the set circumstances. Would he not let him talk for two seconds? "It was written then, yes, but it's set in 1303 Verona, Italy. Since you and I are from 1942, this fiasco won't have any affect on us." He leaned against the wall. "Besides," he commented, "you weren't even around back in 1303."
Talk about a lot going on; going back 600 years and getting married in half an hour. All of this - falling in love and being wed - should have taken place over a few years, not this short amount of time. Were Romeo and Juliet just stupid or something? Alfred scratched his head with a pout, trying to absorb everything that had been happening. "So, lemme get all of this straight," he began. "You and I are supposedly stuck as Romeo and Juliet in 1303?"
England nodded.
"And we pretty much just met each other but we're, like, madly in love?"
"Well ... they are, but, yes," England nodded again.
America rolled his eyes."Are you gonna keep correcting me?"
"Get to the point!" the shorter impatiently grunted.
"Alright, alright! And, to top it all off, they agree to get ... married."
Obviously annoyed at all of this tomfoolery, England grumbled, "Isn't that what I've been telling you?"
America groaned and tugged on his hair, pacing on the balcony slowly. He was far too young and independent to get married! And none of this would be happening had England's stupid potion not been so stupid in the first place! "Well, this is just fantastic, England, fantastic!" he hollered in frustration. "While our countries are fighting a war, we're stuck six centuries into the past and getting hitched!" He headed back towards the wall and swung a leg over the railing, still glaring and grumbling to himself. "Thanks, but no thanks." Where he was heading, he wasn't sure. He just wanted to get away from there.
He had to ignore the feeling of Romeo's heartbreak at the idea of leaving Juliet, however secretly painful it was for him as well.
"What? You can't possibly blame it all on me!" Arthur shouted in response, walking over and roughly tugging on Alfred's arm. "Get back up here!" The taller tried to continue in his descent, making England huff and tug harder. "You git, we can't separate or else all of this is sure to happen!" America's attention was caught now, and England let go with a heavy sigh. He took a step back and watched America swing his leg back up and sit on the railing carefully.
"Listen," he spoke as he leaned in and continued in a hushed tone, "these two part ways after their little confab, and everything falls into place; specifically, Romeo runs to find someone to marry them. So," England spoke as he waved his hand, "theoretically, if we don't part ways, then-"
"-he won't run away, and we won't have to get married!" America finished with a hopeful grin. He nodded eagerly in understanding, smiling. "This is good; and I can hide under your bed or something!"
England's hopeful expression dimmed and he shook his head. "I .. don't think so, America. The Nurse might see you, and I can't have that happen." The last thing he or Juliet wanted was for anyone to find Romeo under the bed, or anywhere nearby for that matter.
America instantly looked disappointed and gazed down at the bush in grimace. That would probably end up being his bed for the night, since he couldn't leave. "Aw man, you gotta be kidding me...!" he grumbled, sighing and running his hand through his hair.
"What satisfaction canst thou have to-night?" England asked shortly after, completely changing the subject and making America's head snap to attention again.
"'Canst'?" he repeated quietly before putting all the pieces together. 'Oh no,' he groaned mentally after a moment of realization, 'he's gone all Juliet on me! What do I do?' He knew how to talk to England; Juliet, however, apparently didn't know 'regular' English. It would like talking to a wall, America figured. He stood awkwardly watching England as he tilted his head and looked quixotically at America. Before he could decide on talking or running away, he blurted aloud, "The exchange of thy love's faithful vow for mine." Smoothly he took a hold of England's now rosy cheeks, looking down at the shorter man with passion in his eyes and a serious expression on his face.
Had America known what Romeo had just proposed (pun intended), he would have slapped himself - and England - back to 1942.
Pleased with the words, England blinked up at America with promise in his green hues. He smiled brightly, the color pink spreading more on his face. His smaller hand gently encompassed its larger counterpart. "I gave thee mine before thou didst request it," he spoke gently. America's brows rose at this, a small, pleased smile coming to his face. England nodded. "And yet I would it were to give again."
"Ah," America spoke, "wouldst thou withdraw it? for what purpose, love?"
But before the lovedrawn Juliet could reply to her Romeo, a voice from inside made England turn his head quickly to look. He bit on his lip and turned back to look at America, who looked confused and lost at what was happening. "I hear some noise within; dear love, adieu!" England spoke in a hushed voice, gently nudging America towards the shadows for him to escape out of sight. "Anon, good nurse!" England called in before turning to see the exiting America off. "Sweet Montague, be true." His hand reached out and touched America's face, with the other pressing his cheek against the hand that held it. As quickly as he had done so, Arthur retracted the action as he slid inside. "Stay but a little, I will come again," he whispered, fading from the American's view on the side of the balcony.
America, who hung from the balcony side, smiled as England disappeared, a gentle blush on his face. He carefully made his way towards the climbable part of the wall, the smile fading as it was replaced with a sullen look. "O blessed, blessed night! I am afeard." He began his descent. "Being in night, all this is but a dream, too flattering-sweet to be substantial." His feet landed on the ground and the crafty Romeo looked around to make sure no one saw before standing still and waiting to see Juliet once more. America's blue eyes reflected the balcony, where, after a few minutes of quiet, England reappeared.
He may have been Juliet in the eyes of the characters, but Arthur had gotten his wits and had control once more. "Now, how the bloody Hell did you get down there so quickly?" England whispered harshly with a frown and a blush. He leaned over the side to see the American standing with a stupid smile on his face. The smile could have fooled the Brit, though it lacked that distinguished, boyish trait America seemed to have. But England knew that Jones would never look that enamored, especially while looking at him of all people. Arthur sighed heavily. 'Great, he isn't snapping out of it.' "Uhm," England murmured before making a shooing motion with his hand, "go away now, thank you."
America blinked, obviously a little taken back by the action. "Love," he spoke with a gentle smile, "did thou not request that I stay? And stay shall I, until cast from Juliet's sight - but nay, from her heart."
He must have been ten shades of red by now. Here America was, standing in his yard, calling up to England like he was some sort of lovesick teenager. Technically speaking, he was. England blushed in (secret) frustration, knowing that none of his words were real. Even in such a ridiculous situation, the stubborn English man couldn't help but find an attraction to the oblivious American. "I am casting you away, you thick-headed twat!" Kirkland hissed again, scowling. "I'm telling you to get the fu-"
"Madam!" an impatient but maternal voice interrupted again from within the house, the same as before.
And again England reacted with surprise. Original thoughts and mind set fading, he leaning to look into the room briefly before gazing back down to America. "By and by, I come:- to cease thy suit, and leave me to my grief: to-morrow will I send."
America seemed content in hearing the correct words. He smiled and nodded in understanding. "So thrive my soul-"
"A thousand times, good night!" England called quietly, waving his hand once more as he slipped out of sight yet again.
America waved his fingers in response, a silly smile on his face. His daydreaming expression died abruptly, however, when he looked around to find himself, quite suddenly, on the ground. "Wh - what the Hell?" he cried, jumping a bit at the realization. "But I was up ... " He pointed at the balcony, then weakly drew his finger down. "And ... and now I'm down? When did this happen?" He looked around in the grass for some sort of imprint that looked like him. "Did I fall?" Psh! Heroes never fell, what was he talking about? He knew that he was a Hero, anyway; what if Romeo wasn't? Wouldn't that be a bummer?
And, where exactly was England? Lifting his blue eyes to gaze at the balcony, America waited in a few minutes of awkward silence. He was ready to see a nightgowned British man come out, jabbering on about how much he loved the American, or Romeo, or whoever. The sudden and somewhat unwanted thought made him uncomfortable, and Alfred rubbed his neck with a blush on his cheeks. It was so unlike England - and so unreal to boot.
Not like it mattered to him or anything.
That wasn't really the problem now, however embarrassing it may have been. The two of them had managed to find one another, and that was good and dandy, but they hadn't gotten much done other than getting the what's what established. America didn't feel like being in Verona, or whatever town this was, without England there with him. Alfred looked at the grass with a sigh, his hand dropping from his neck in exhaustion. "Maybe we'll just ... wake up and snap out of this," he murmured as he started to head back towards the orchard wall. He figured that he could find an inn or somewhere to stay in - and some McDonald's, if only fortune favored him.
"Wait wait wait; get back here!"
A voice halted him in his tracks before he got too far. America's face brightened up and he turned to see England leaning over the balcony once again. In joy, he trotted back over and waved up at England with a smile. "Heya! Glad you're not in bed yet!"
Nodding in greeting to the grinning America, England took a glance within his room. "Yet," he scoffed, leaning his elbow on the railing and resting his hand on his cheek. "The Nurse is practically harping me to go." He looked down at America and frowned, almost forgetting why he had come back out in the first place. "We have a bit of a problem, though." The younger's smile faded, which almost made England feel like he had killed whatever hope America had left. "Although you and I didn't intent it, Romeo and Juliet decided to go along with their plans to elope." His frown increased and he grumbled, "So much for our plan."
"Are you kidding me?" America groaned in dismay and threw his hands up. "I feel like this is a Vegas wedding or something 'cause I can't remember anything at all!" Whining, he looked up at England with uncertainty written on his face. "But we can stop all of this, right?" England, however, didn't reply, instead casting his gaze elsewhere. "I - I mean, I ... er, we can't really get married!" He gave a nervous laugh, although he wasn't finding this particulaly funny at all. "That's just ... it's..." No excuse found its way out, however. Alfred felt a frown tug on his face and he looked at the ground in dismay. There was nothing that they could do now but just get it over with. "... We should just meet up somewhere," he suggested with a shrug, "and see if there's nothing we can't do." It was worth a try.
England nodded and brushed hair from his eyes. "At what o'clock to-morrow shall I send to thee?"
America quirked a brow, his head canting to the side. "We're gonna meet up at a clock?" he asked. Something in England's expression - the confusion - prompted America to groan and smack his face. Juliet - right. "Lemme try that again," he spoke with a sheepish smile. It didn't take more than a second for Romeo to take control. "At the hour of nine," he came up with, a nod confirming the date.
England smiled gently down at America, then sighed and backed up one final time. "Good night, good night! parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say good night till it be morrow." He waved to America before slowly exiting into his room, where America could no longer see him. But, even as he backed away, he was smiling warmly.
"Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy breast! Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest!" He blew a kiss up to England's room and smiled, then looked to the wall with a squint. "Hence will I to my ghostly father's cell," he murmured in the darkness, "his help to crave, and my dear hap to tell." America turned and ran back towards the wall that had been his entrance into this entire odyssey and took a leap over it, but not before looking back England's dimly-lit room with a fond smile. Then, with a hop over the concrete, he was gone.
Although, not without nearly re-injuring his ankle scaling the wall again.