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[fifty]

To be made pretty later.

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[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.]

[fifty]

[America shifts abruptly so he can stretch out on the couch, head in England's lap.] It's fine, we can still have a cool party just with what we've got.