jedishampoo (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
jedishampoo) wrote2012-01-19 09:39 am
jedishampoo) wrote2012-01-19 09:39 am
Entry tags:
Ficlet: The Worse Thing (USUKhistory, PG)
Ficlet Title: The Worse Thing
Author:jedishampoo
Pairing/Rating: US/UK, PG
Summary: Short and angstyish. America tells England that he’s just declared war on him. (War of 1812)
Author Note: Reposting ficlet-request fic from tumblr. Anon asked for Angst, US/UK. Anon knew that angst is my weak spot, I think (meaning I stink at it). Only 708 words!
I would like a few more requests, actually, ‘cause this was a fun challenge. My tumblr is http://jedishampoo.tumblr.com SoHIT ME indulge me, please!
The Worse Thing
It was all made worse by the fact that England had almost smiled at him. At America. When he’d arrived with his ambassador, before the session of Congress. It was the first time England had almost smiled at America in forty years.
America really wished that England wouldn’t have chosen that moment to try and be almost nice to him again. He waited till the door had shut behind England, and then told him.
“That’s bloody stupid. Positively ridiculous. Can’t possibly be true.”
England apparently thought he could make it ridiculous by saying it. He tried to put on his merry, eye-rolling look that said America was an ignorant bumpkin who didn’t know how the world worked. He was really good at those looks and inflections — usually.
But he was sputtering a little, his eyes weren’t rolling but widening, and his face was getting redder and redder as it sunk in.
“No. It’s — it’s true. Really true,” America said. To hide his trembling fingers, he clasped his hands behind his back like he’d seen President Madison do. When the word had come down, President Madison had been white as a — he’d been whiter than Canada’s bear. They had — he had — made a terrible decision. And the frightening thing about it was, he wasn’t sure he could beat England. Again.
Even worse, he was damned if he did and damned if he didn’t. There was nothing like digging your own hole and throwing yourself in it, was there?
“We will repeal the Orders of Council, if you would just wait for it—”
“Um. Too late,” America said.
England opened his mouth, closed it, then opened and closed it again before speaking. “You’ll be destroyed,” he said.
Maybe, America thought but didn’t say aloud. But it was the principle of the thing, see?
“You’ll be destroyed for the sake of a few sailors. Ha! You don’t even have ships to put them in.” England had gotten some of his wind back. He was pacing, his black shoes stomping a trail in the wine-colored carpet of Mr. Madison’s office.
America straightened and forced his fingers down to his sides. “We have three new frigates—”
England jerked to a halt and glared. “Well, I have forty,” he said.
Oh, hell, America also didn’t say aloud.
“And I need them elsewhere. I can’t believe you’ve chosen to fight me instead of—” England paused and closed his eyes for a few seconds — for a breath, and a tightening in his eyebrows that said he was hurt.
Maybe that was really the worst thing about it. Throwing yourself in a hole and dragging everyone else down into it with you.
But either America was a nation, or he wasn’t. “I have citizens, and they’re mine, and you can’t just take them off my ships whenever you want just because you have more ships. I— I have sovereignty, and you have to recognize that—”
“I took my own citizens,” England said. “I took them back when they ran away.”
America had almost never grown so infuriated so fast; it was like England had thrown fire in his face. They’d been over this and over this and England wouldn’t listen to him, just couldn’t get it through his stubborn head, or wouldn’t, like America just wasn’t worth listening to.
“They’re not yours anymore. Just like I’m not. They wanted to get away. You can’t take things back when you lose them!”
England’s eyes grew wide for a few heart-stopping seconds, and then they narrowed. With quick, angry gestures he snatched his hat and cane from the table. Without a word he stomped over and threw open the door.
England thought he was going to run out and pretend he still hadn’t heard, that America hadn’t said something that deserved a reply, that he was going to get the last word without saying a thing.
“Canada will help me!” America called out at England’s stiffly retreating back.
“No, he won’t. Fool,” England said, and then he was gone.
“Good riddance!” America yelled, even though it was futile.
If England had been nice to him, would it have made a difference? Probably not. America went to get his shovel and his rifle.
.
End
Thank you for reading!
End Note: When America declared War on England in 1812, which was a pretty stupid move but which eventually sort of made the US a real nation. The British Empire was understandably surprised at the brass balls of the US of A, which had briefly considered declaring war on England AND France for privateering and impressment. And Napoleon was England’s real problem at this point.
.
Author:
jedishampooPairing/Rating: US/UK, PG
Summary: Short and angstyish. America tells England that he’s just declared war on him. (War of 1812)
Author Note: Reposting ficlet-request fic from tumblr. Anon asked for Angst, US/UK. Anon knew that angst is my weak spot, I think (meaning I stink at it). Only 708 words!
I would like a few more requests, actually, ‘cause this was a fun challenge. My tumblr is http://jedishampoo.tumblr.com So
The Worse Thing
It was all made worse by the fact that England had almost smiled at him. At America. When he’d arrived with his ambassador, before the session of Congress. It was the first time England had almost smiled at America in forty years.
America really wished that England wouldn’t have chosen that moment to try and be almost nice to him again. He waited till the door had shut behind England, and then told him.
“That’s bloody stupid. Positively ridiculous. Can’t possibly be true.”
England apparently thought he could make it ridiculous by saying it. He tried to put on his merry, eye-rolling look that said America was an ignorant bumpkin who didn’t know how the world worked. He was really good at those looks and inflections — usually.
But he was sputtering a little, his eyes weren’t rolling but widening, and his face was getting redder and redder as it sunk in.
“No. It’s — it’s true. Really true,” America said. To hide his trembling fingers, he clasped his hands behind his back like he’d seen President Madison do. When the word had come down, President Madison had been white as a — he’d been whiter than Canada’s bear. They had — he had — made a terrible decision. And the frightening thing about it was, he wasn’t sure he could beat England. Again.
Even worse, he was damned if he did and damned if he didn’t. There was nothing like digging your own hole and throwing yourself in it, was there?
“We will repeal the Orders of Council, if you would just wait for it—”
“Um. Too late,” America said.
England opened his mouth, closed it, then opened and closed it again before speaking. “You’ll be destroyed,” he said.
Maybe, America thought but didn’t say aloud. But it was the principle of the thing, see?
“You’ll be destroyed for the sake of a few sailors. Ha! You don’t even have ships to put them in.” England had gotten some of his wind back. He was pacing, his black shoes stomping a trail in the wine-colored carpet of Mr. Madison’s office.
America straightened and forced his fingers down to his sides. “We have three new frigates—”
England jerked to a halt and glared. “Well, I have forty,” he said.
Oh, hell, America also didn’t say aloud.
“And I need them elsewhere. I can’t believe you’ve chosen to fight me instead of—” England paused and closed his eyes for a few seconds — for a breath, and a tightening in his eyebrows that said he was hurt.
Maybe that was really the worst thing about it. Throwing yourself in a hole and dragging everyone else down into it with you.
But either America was a nation, or he wasn’t. “I have citizens, and they’re mine, and you can’t just take them off my ships whenever you want just because you have more ships. I— I have sovereignty, and you have to recognize that—”
“I took my own citizens,” England said. “I took them back when they ran away.”
America had almost never grown so infuriated so fast; it was like England had thrown fire in his face. They’d been over this and over this and England wouldn’t listen to him, just couldn’t get it through his stubborn head, or wouldn’t, like America just wasn’t worth listening to.
“They’re not yours anymore. Just like I’m not. They wanted to get away. You can’t take things back when you lose them!”
England’s eyes grew wide for a few heart-stopping seconds, and then they narrowed. With quick, angry gestures he snatched his hat and cane from the table. Without a word he stomped over and threw open the door.
England thought he was going to run out and pretend he still hadn’t heard, that America hadn’t said something that deserved a reply, that he was going to get the last word without saying a thing.
“Canada will help me!” America called out at England’s stiffly retreating back.
“No, he won’t. Fool,” England said, and then he was gone.
“Good riddance!” America yelled, even though it was futile.
If England had been nice to him, would it have made a difference? Probably not. America went to get his shovel and his rifle.
.
End
Thank you for reading!
End Note: When America declared War on England in 1812, which was a pretty stupid move but which eventually sort of made the US a real nation. The British Empire was understandably surprised at the brass balls of the US of A, which had briefly considered declaring war on England AND France for privateering and impressment. And Napoleon was England’s real problem at this point.
.