[America hesitates a little. At some point he had gotten the idea he was more a babysitter for Sealand than anything else (and, of course, he messed that up). But he doesn't want to let England know he was thinking that, for a lot of reasons.] I know. ...Someone needs to carry all the stuff, right? [It's half an attempt at a joke and half America sort of wondering exactly why England has been sticking around with him when England seems mostly to have just been upset with him lately.]
[A scoff.] Well, that's true. I'm certainly not going to carry all that rubbish. [England returns that with more of his characteristic dryness, grateful for the opportunity to say something normal before he makes this all soppy.
Still, his eyes are trained elsewhere. He always has a tough time looking at America when he's about to say something stupid. As the silence grows from seconds to minutes, England grits his teeth and fusses with the cuff of his windbreaker.] ...you're the one who said that friends work together. I'm not going to just...
[More furious picking, and his shoulders raise slightly, or maybe he's just lowering his chin closer to his chest in his best effort to withdraw into himself as much as possible.] ...I prefer not to abandon my allies. It's— ungentlemanly.
[Of course he would say all of this in the most roundabout way possible.]
[America is pretty sure that's a confirmation that they're still friends, even if it's in England-ish. It's enough to make him smile a bit and watch how England pulls into himself like he's trying to be a turtle with something closer to fondness. It's also enough to put some wind back in the sails of his confidence.] Yeah, you wouldn't. I won't abandon you, either, promise.
[There's a twinge in England's chest that causes the corners of his mouth to twist, perhaps in a bit of pain. His fidgeting with his hands doubles with his sudden spike of emotion. There's definitely a part of him that wants to believe America's statement — has wanted to hear something like it for a long time, in fact. But they wouldn't be in this situation right now if England didn't feel like America might abandon him at any moment if they fight again.
He tries to sound stern, an echo of his lecture voice creeping into his tone, but the overwhelming vibe is undeniably one of insecurity.] ...you shouldn't make promises you don't intend to keep, you know.
I plan on keeping-- [America realizes, belatedly, that he's being a bit too loud. Waking Sealand up would be a bad idea. He forces his voice down to a more reasonable nighttime tone.] I wouldn't say it if I didn't want to keep it.
[It's not a lie, but it's not the entire picture, either. America fully intends on it right now, or he wouldn't have said it, but he's never been good at predicting what he'll do when he's struck with some dramatic mood swing.]
[There's a small pop as England snaps a loose thread from the sleeve of his windbreaker. He realises distantly that he should probably replace those few lost stitches when he can, so that he doesn't risk it turning into a hole later.
God, it's cold. It would be warmer in the bed with America and Sealand.]
...so you want to stay? With m— with us? [Wariness touches his quiet question. He's spent a lot of this time convinced that America was staying with him out of obligation towards Sealand, not because he really wants to be around England.]
Yeah. [America nods insistently, like just the force of his movement will convince England.] I've been with you from basically the beginning 'cause I want to be.
[In some ways, the days have seemed a lot longer here, but England's sense of time hasn't totally changed. Two months doesn't seem like a very long time, but that's how long they've been travelling together now. That's more time than they've spent together at once, outside of a war, for a long time — though perhaps it's premature to say this isn't a war.
Finally, England looks up from all his self-made distractions so he can glimpse America's face, hoping to find sincerity when he looks. Of course, it's dark, and England can doubt anything if he tries hard enough, even if it's right in front of his face.
He peers down at America's shoes.] I'm sure you know I'd never be around someone this long if I didn't want to be.
Yeah. [Or if he had to be, or felt like it was necessary, but he's sure it wouldn't really be necessary here. They can both take care of themselves. Well, maybe it's a bit more necessary now, with Sealand, but they traveled together before Sealand even got here, too. Of course, in some ways it feels like one thing happening after the other, but he can push that view of time away if he needs to--probably more easily than a lot of the older nations can.] So. We both want to be here. Or, not here, but we're here already so we both want to be in the same part of here while we're--uh. Here.
No, not here. [England knows what America means, of course, but he thinks he can put it much more concisely. Even if it makes him blush.]
You mean together. We want to be... [He starts off somewhat strong, when he puts it like he's correcting America, but having to say it himself causes him to peter out into a mumble.] ...together.
[England saying it like that, while more concise, immediately makes more heat rise into America's face. England doesn't mean it romantically, obviously, but it's the first meaning America thinks of, so he stumbles across his words even as his brain corrects itself.] Well, er, I mean, I guess, yeah, that's a faster way to put it. Y-yeah, that's what we want. I think? That's what I want.
[Not romantically. Well, maybe romantically? But that's not what he means right now.]
[England wasn't thinking about the potential alternate meanings of saying it that way, but he realises his mistake when America starts flustering. Of course, that can't be what America is agreeing to, that would be impossible. He got what England actually meant at some point! There's no way he'd agree, otherwise.]
It's simply, er— staying together! It's— that's, ah, that's what I— I want that, as well.
[Non-romantically, that is. At least in this case.
Of course, even just thinking about it, England is stumbling over his words too. At least he's still careful to be quiet, so he doesn't risk his little brother overhearing this shameful exchange.]
Yeah, yeah, yeah, so it's fine. Right? Things are okay? [America rushes through his words this time, letting them fall out without much regard to what came before, just to try and establish that everything is as it should be. And also that they're not talking about romance.]
Okay, good, 'cause I didn't want you to--hate me, or whatever. [That might be a bit of a melodramatic concern, but melodramatic concerns are an important part of America's concerns.]
Hate you? [England repeats it back with some confusion, regarding America with a furrowed brow. He looks America over once, as if hoping to find where such an assumption might have come from.
He seems to find an answer, because he looks away abruptly, staring at the seam where the front door meets the floor.] I wouldn't hate you. Don't be ridiculous.
I thought so. I wasn't worried or anything. [And yet America looks pretty obviously relieved, not to mention he basically just said he was worried only a few seconds ago.]
[Should he? It seems a bit much to reveal, but England never thought that America would really be worried about anyone hating him, much less England. He always tries to act like that sort of thing doesn't bother him.
The bottom of that door is still very fascinating.] I've never hated you, so you don't have to worry about something so silly.
[But it's not that silly, considering their history. England would have every right to have hated him a few times, and it's the same for America in return.]
[America can feel how surprised he must look. He goes back and forth about the actual meaning for a few moments. England usually picks his words carefully, so if England says never he means it. On the other hand, England is actually not a grammar robot, so it's not as if it couldn't be a single careless word. On the other hand, he would have realized and clarified, right? But maybe he's trying to be nice right now. And on and on. He knows England well enough to create plenty of circular logic for this.]
I never hated you either. [That's probably important to say, though, no matter what.]
[England lifts his head in surprise, shoulders falling a little as he turns to look at America with wide eyes. He faintly registers the similar expression on America's face, but his mind is suddenly far too occupied to analyse its meaning. Even his hands still with this sudden revelation, falling dormant at the edges of his tablet.
When he finally remembers to rein in his surprise, it's definitely too late, but he at least makes an effort not to sound completely shocked.] ...really?
Yeah, really. [America smiles a little, in a lopsided way. Smiling is practically a default expression for him, but it's a shyer sort this time.] Not here or at home.
But we're... [You know. An ex-colony and an ex-empire (but not exes, that's different). England can't finish the sentence, feeling a tickle in his throat even at the idea of elaborating out loud, but he's sure America will understand anyway.
He tries again, but he ultimately trails off, searching for reason in this bizarre declaration.] I thought...
It's, y'know... [But he's pretty sure England doesn't know, even as he waves his hands around pointlessly.] With just you and me, I can't hate you. [As people, which is the whole point here.]
[England attempts to emulate a turtle again, this time hoping to hide his painfully red face.] Ah.
[That's a bit of a surprise for someone who generally thinks themselves to be pretty detestable as a person, and who specifically has doubted this friendship many times over.
He's got his knees drawn up close to his chest, so it's easy to pretend to pick a bit of dust off of his slacks.] ...it's the same for me.
[America can't hide his surprise; England has grudges older than America, after all. But he doesn't think England is lying. Not that England never lies, but lying about this, in this way, that doesn't seem like England.]
That's--that's really good. I mean, not that it--not that I-- [There's an obvious grasp at normalcy there, but nothing about this conversation is very normal, so he has nothing to hold onto.] ...Thanks.
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Still, his eyes are trained elsewhere. He always has a tough time looking at America when he's about to say something stupid. As the silence grows from seconds to minutes, England grits his teeth and fusses with the cuff of his windbreaker.] ...you're the one who said that friends work together. I'm not going to just...
[More furious picking, and his shoulders raise slightly, or maybe he's just lowering his chin closer to his chest in his best effort to withdraw into himself as much as possible.] ...I prefer not to abandon my allies. It's— ungentlemanly.
[Of course he would say all of this in the most roundabout way possible.]
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He tries to sound stern, an echo of his lecture voice creeping into his tone, but the overwhelming vibe is undeniably one of insecurity.] ...you shouldn't make promises you don't intend to keep, you know.
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[It's not a lie, but it's not the entire picture, either. America fully intends on it right now, or he wouldn't have said it, but he's never been good at predicting what he'll do when he's struck with some dramatic mood swing.]
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God, it's cold. It would be warmer in the bed with America and Sealand.]
...so you want to stay? With m— with us? [Wariness touches his quiet question. He's spent a lot of this time convinced that America was staying with him out of obligation towards Sealand, not because he really wants to be around England.]
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Finally, England looks up from all his self-made distractions so he can glimpse America's face, hoping to find sincerity when he looks. Of course, it's dark, and England can doubt anything if he tries hard enough, even if it's right in front of his face.
He peers down at America's shoes.] I'm sure you know I'd never be around someone this long if I didn't want to be.
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You mean together. We want to be... [He starts off somewhat strong, when he puts it like he's correcting America, but having to say it himself causes him to peter out into a mumble.] ...together.
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[Not romantically. Well, maybe romantically? But that's not what he means right now.]
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It's simply, er— staying together! It's— that's, ah, that's what I— I want that, as well.
[Non-romantically, that is. At least in this case.
Of course, even just thinking about it, England is stumbling over his words too. At least he's still careful to be quiet, so he doesn't risk his little brother overhearing this shameful exchange.]
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But he hasn't forgiven America, or anyone else, for a lot of things. He's not going to jeopardise his survival or risk their alliance for any of them.
Their alliance that has absolutely not involved intimacy, contrary to the beliefs of some people!]
—yeah. It's, er, it's fine.
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He seems to find an answer, because he looks away abruptly, staring at the seam where the front door meets the floor.] I wouldn't hate you. Don't be ridiculous.
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The bottom of that door is still very fascinating.] I've never hated you, so you don't have to worry about something so silly.
[But it's not that silly, considering their history. England would have every right to have hated him a few times, and it's the same for America in return.]
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I never hated you either. [That's probably important to say, though, no matter what.]
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When he finally remembers to rein in his surprise, it's definitely too late, but he at least makes an effort not to sound completely shocked.] ...really?
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He tries again, but he ultimately trails off, searching for reason in this bizarre declaration.] I thought...
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[That's a bit of a surprise for someone who generally thinks themselves to be pretty detestable as a person, and who specifically has doubted this friendship many times over.
He's got his knees drawn up close to his chest, so it's easy to pretend to pick a bit of dust off of his slacks.] ...it's the same for me.
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That's--that's really good. I mean, not that it--not that I-- [There's an obvious grasp at normalcy there, but nothing about this conversation is very normal, so he has nothing to hold onto.] ...Thanks.
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