[There's a tinge of confusion in England's eye. Though his mind is obviously still elsewhere for the most part, he finds a mote of wry disbelief to offer.] You think I'm going to be a hero?
I don't think I'm particularly heroic. [Not the way America so often seems to conceptualise "heroes," anyway. When England can see how many ways he could have handled his past conflicts better, he doesn't feel like he deserves such a title.
But he says it with some sarcasm, of course, so that it's hopefully harder to tell whether he's doubting himself or just America's silly ideals.]
Huh? [America glances down at his hands and for a moment sees gloves and doesn't see them at the same time. But, no, he definitely doesn't have them.] Yeah, I haven't found any so far.
Ginger gave me a pair of mittens and a fair amount of yarn. Keep an eye out, but I'll start working on a pair for you in the event that you can't find any before we meet.
[If America doesn't need them, England can always give them to someone else. He says this like it's no big deal, of course.]
[England wishes America hadn't said that. The image of America with frostbitten and necrotic hands is almost immediate.
But we could always hold hands is a suggestion somewhere underneath, and that's almost worse, especially because England doesn't want to see how America might react to a suggestion like that.
England grimaces for more than one reason.] Can't have that, can we? It's lucky for your fingers that you've got me around.
[Now America's imagining it, too--hands frozen or cut off or some awful combination of the two. He wiggles each finger in turn to remind himself they're all still accounted for.] Yeah, this way I don't need to learn sewing!
It's relaxing! [He can't help but say this a little defensively, considering how often his hobbies are belittled.] But I'll give them to someone else if you don't appreciate my work.
[A memory of a similar pout on a much, much younger face hits England like a sledgehammer. Maybe they'd be happier if England had heeded America's requests to see him more often. Maybe they'd be closer. At least, that's what the visions seem to imply, before England squeezes his eyes shut again and gives a shake of his head.]
Fine, fine. But you'd better say "thank you" when I give them to you.
I-- [America hesitates as a million little instances of times where he did and didn't say it at the same time flash through his brain. Too many of them involve England.] Dunno. But I have!
Real heroes aren't ungrateful when someone does them a favour.
[Or many, many favours by now, in England's case. Naturally, he says it in the way he thinks will be most memorable for America. Or the way that will get under his skin the best. Same thing.]
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But he says it with some sarcasm, of course, so that it's hopefully harder to tell whether he's doubting himself or just America's silly ideals.]
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He clears his throat and transparently pretends not to be bothered.] Well. Thank you, I suppose.
Which reminds me — while we're on the topic of "good stuff" — are you still missing proper gloves?
[Yes England is trying to change the subject don't look at him.]
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[If America doesn't need them, England can always give them to someone else. He says this like it's no big deal, of course.]
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But we could always hold hands is a suggestion somewhere underneath, and that's almost worse, especially because England doesn't want to see how America might react to a suggestion like that.
England grimaces for more than one reason.] Can't have that, can we? It's lucky for your fingers that you've got me around.
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[Of course, that's a bluff. They both know that England will, regardless. But he's serious about not taking him for granted!]
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Fine, fine. But you'd better say "thank you" when I give them to you.
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[Or many, many favours by now, in England's case. Naturally, he says it in the way he thinks will be most memorable for America. Or the way that will get under his skin the best. Same thing.]
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