Inbox

[fifty]

To be made pretty later.

Comments

[keepscalm]

[For a moment, England is quiet. There's a subtle shift in his jaw as he sets it, trying to find his words without letting his emotions get the better of him. He's relieved to still be alive, but every inch of his being is screaming for being trapped for so long.

He sighs.] It's been a year.

[fifty]

[America pauses for a moment.] Yeah, you're right. We should have a party.

[keepscalm]

A party. [England repeats it back, as he often does when he's mocking America's ideas, but there's no humour in his voice this time. He lifts the bottle of whiskey to take a sip in consideration. Finally, as he lowers the bottle, he looks over at America.] And what would you suggest for the festivities?

[fifty]

You've got that. [He gestures to the whiskey.] I could cook up something special. Ginger can make decorations.

[keepscalm]

[He runs his thumb over the smooth surface of the bottle, looking at the reflection of his tablet's light in the contours of the glass.] You think Ginger would want to?

[fifty]

Of course. Decorations are fun. [Ginger likes fun!]

[keepscalm]

It hasn't been a year for her yet. [Though for a human of soft heart like Ginger, it probably feels a lot longer than even a year.]

[fifty]

So should we just have a party together?

[keepscalm]

[A thoughtful pause. England takes another sip of the whiskey.] No, I think she'd be sad if we had a party without her.

[Though the way England leans in to America's embrace says that maybe there's something they could do with just the two of them at some point soon.]

[fifty]

[America's arm curls around England in a more possessive way.] Then she can still make the decorations.

[keepscalm]

[England seems content to lean on America like this for a while. The idle motions of his thumb across the bottle continue.] What would you cook?

[fifty]

If we head to the grocery store, there'd be more options. [They're not that far away, in the grand scheme of places in Norfinbury.] How about steak?

[keepscalm]

[A wistful sigh.] God, that sounds incredible.

We would need potatoes, as well, in that case. [Obviously!]

[fifty]

Oh my god, yes. [Meat and potatoes, the true way to America's heart.] And dessert after. Apple pie.

[keepscalm]

With ice cream? [England could take or leave the ice cream in such cold weather, and his sarcastic tone says as much, but he knows the way to America's heart.]

[fifty]

Yeah, melted all over the pie. [America is definitely already imagining eating all of this.] It'd be so good.

[keepscalm]

This sounds like your dream meal. [Not that England would dislike it, himself, but it's so American that he has to poke fun.]

[fifty]

You pick what you want and I'll make that, too. [Might as well make this party even bigger.]

[keepscalm]

[England mumbles it a bit as he raises the bottle to his lips again, sure that America will have something smart to say in response.] I'd kill for a basket of fish and chips, but we can't fry worth a damn here. [He's genuinely disappointed about this.]

[fifty]

Maybe we could figure something out. [They're strong, independent nations who don't need a deep fryer.] There's gotta be stuff for it at the store.

[keepscalm]

[Suddenly England understands America's obsession with deep frying a little more. He sighs again.] I suppose we can give it a go.

We should ask Ginger what she'd like, as well.

[fifty]

Yeah, it's gotta have food for everybody! [America has apparently gotten himself a bit worked up about this party. No one is surprised.]

[keepscalm]

Shame I can't bake anything. [Is it? Is it a shame, though?




It kind of is, he's not that bad at baking.]

[fifty]

If we had a real kitchen we could have a real party. [Parties are defined by food, after all. And sometimes England can bake, so that'd be okay. It'd make England happy, anyway.]

[keepscalm]

[And another rueful sip.] Yeah. If only. [If only a lot of things.]