yousei-san (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
flair) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
metamorphosis2010-03-12 04:34 pm
flair) wrote in metamorphosis2010-03-12 04:34 pm
Entry tags:
45;
Title: Splashes
Characters: Spain, England
Rating: PG
It was a day to celebrate absolutely nothing. England had just showed up with a bottle of wine, nudged his way in, and proclaimed that they would be celebrating a day of abso-fucking-lutely nothing happening. When he talked, Spain could smell the alcohol on his breath. A sad, pitiful drunkard.
So he had joined him. And now talk was turning to the old days – England had just recounted, while standing on the table and swinging his arms wildly, about how he had found the treasure of Blackbeard but was forced to rebury it lest the man come from his grave and rob him of his immortal soul.
“Edward Teach, that was a pirate! True blue, sinkin’ all sorts of ships…”
“Pirates always were your specialty.”
“Y’mean somethin’ by it?”
“All you ever do and have ever done is steal, steal, steal. From gold to jewels to hearts, you’ve done nothing but steal.”
“Go cry me a river, dog. An’ what’s this about hearts?”
“I—“
“Don’t say a word, I don’t want to hear it.”
England climbed down and sat on the table instead, looking mournfully into his empty glass. After a moment he fiddled through his coat and brought out a flask, pouring what smelt of whiskey into the cup and downing it. Spain scrunched his nose up at the smell and sipped from his wine glass. Why had that annoying drunk come here anyways? Why didn’t he go to France?
As if reading his thoughts, England swung an arm out and almost hit him, snorting.
“I wanted t’visit you! Because we’ve not had the… best of… relationships and...”
He was turning redder and his voice was softening until, finally, he was muttering to himself and staring at the glass like it was going to transform into a bird and fly away. Spain swirled the red liquid in his glass, then downed it and set it on the table next to England, who flinched away and glanced at him. He smiled slightly and wrapped his arms around the drunkard nation, sighing bitterly.
“And whose fault was that?”
England didn’t answer; he had dozed off in Spain’s arms, fingers still tightly clutching the glass as if to break it. Spain pursed his lips and made a note to not open the door next time.
Characters: Spain, England
Rating: PG
It was a day to celebrate absolutely nothing. England had just showed up with a bottle of wine, nudged his way in, and proclaimed that they would be celebrating a day of abso-fucking-lutely nothing happening. When he talked, Spain could smell the alcohol on his breath. A sad, pitiful drunkard.
So he had joined him. And now talk was turning to the old days – England had just recounted, while standing on the table and swinging his arms wildly, about how he had found the treasure of Blackbeard but was forced to rebury it lest the man come from his grave and rob him of his immortal soul.
“Edward Teach, that was a pirate! True blue, sinkin’ all sorts of ships…”
“Pirates always were your specialty.”
“Y’mean somethin’ by it?”
“All you ever do and have ever done is steal, steal, steal. From gold to jewels to hearts, you’ve done nothing but steal.”
“Go cry me a river, dog. An’ what’s this about hearts?”
“I—“
“Don’t say a word, I don’t want to hear it.”
England climbed down and sat on the table instead, looking mournfully into his empty glass. After a moment he fiddled through his coat and brought out a flask, pouring what smelt of whiskey into the cup and downing it. Spain scrunched his nose up at the smell and sipped from his wine glass. Why had that annoying drunk come here anyways? Why didn’t he go to France?
As if reading his thoughts, England swung an arm out and almost hit him, snorting.
“I wanted t’visit you! Because we’ve not had the… best of… relationships and...”
He was turning redder and his voice was softening until, finally, he was muttering to himself and staring at the glass like it was going to transform into a bird and fly away. Spain swirled the red liquid in his glass, then downed it and set it on the table next to England, who flinched away and glanced at him. He smiled slightly and wrapped his arms around the drunkard nation, sighing bitterly.
“And whose fault was that?”
England didn’t answer; he had dozed off in Spain’s arms, fingers still tightly clutching the glass as if to break it. Spain pursed his lips and made a note to not open the door next time.