Sorry for taking so long! But thank you for all the lovely comments :) This is pt1 of ch2, next part will be up tomorrow!
-x-x-x-
The three hadn't trusted anyone else with knowledge of England's new...state, for the simple fear that it would get to Hungary and that the mad woman would stuff him into dresses, and since none of the Bad Touch were experts in magic they couldn't exactly predict how that might turn out. If France's theory was right, this was the England from before the wars - back when he was still on good terms with his siblings, or something like that. If what they did now affected how he was when normal!grumpy!England popped back into existence, then it was crucial that they not destroy his mind by making him cross-dress.
...although the idea of a fully-grown England waltzing around in less-stuffy clothes (or, if France was allowed his way, no clothes at all), like a frilly pink apron over jeans and a t-shirt, and smiling prettily at everyone was pretty damn funny.
Him cross-dressing would be even funnier.
But they were afraid - what might happen to the world and the space-time continuum if they fucked England up??
So they decided to leave babified England in France's care while Spain and Prussia went off searching for a cure. Norway was probably their best bet, but to be honest the guy scared the fuck out of all three and so they decided to save him for a last resort.
France was deeply regretting that option, as soon as Spain and Prussia got their clothes on and waltzed outside.
Why?
For one thing, barely a moment after the other two were gone, England had turned those saucer-wide eyes on him and asked timidly, "Mr Bunny?" and so France had had to carry England upstairs (believe it or not, kid was too tiny to scale them on his own) and set him on top of a storage trunk as he probed through the attic in search of the aforementioned stuffed bunny that England had had (and magicked to perfection dozens of times). Fifteen minutes' search and England was clutching the ratty old thing happily, smiling radiantly and even eating the omelette du fromage that France had cooked him for lunch without a single protest.
"Yummy!" he squealed instead, and France facepalmed from the epic cuteness.
Another problem with the kid?
Well, that shirt was so not meant for carrying toddlers. After lunch, England had, oh-so-quietly and oh-so-cutely, requested some ice cream; France hadn't the heart to refuse him, the way he would've done to a normal England.
Of course, as soon as getting the scoop of strawberry ice cream, the little one had tripped and dropped it and stuck out his lower lip to keep from crying at both the loss of ice cream and the scrapes on his knees.
Again, he was too goddamn cute for France to laugh at, which led to him kissing the boo-boos - kissing them! - and picking up the sniffling toddler and smearing sticky ice cream on his shirt and feeling so much like a mother that he thought maybe he should just go buy a floral-patterned maternity dress and high heels, like he'd done for Halloween that one year. Then he carried the now-smiling-shyly England back to the parlour, gotten another scoop which the pretty little cashier gave him for free because either he was too handsome or England was too adorable, and they continued on their "merry" way to buy England some new clothes.
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Coochie, coochie coo! [2aa/?]
(Anonymous) 2010-10-19 05:01 am (UTC)(link)This is pt1 of ch2, next part will be up tomorrow!
-x-x-x-
The three hadn't trusted anyone else with knowledge of England's new...state, for the simple fear that it would get to Hungary and that the mad woman would stuff him into dresses, and since none of the Bad Touch were experts in magic they couldn't exactly predict how that might turn out. If France's theory was right, this was the England from before the wars - back when he was still on good terms with his siblings, or something like that. If what they did now affected how he was when normal!grumpy!England popped back into existence, then it was crucial that they not destroy his mind by making him cross-dress.
...although the idea of a fully-grown England waltzing around in less-stuffy clothes (or, if France was allowed his way, no clothes at all), like a frilly pink apron over jeans and a t-shirt, and smiling prettily at everyone was pretty damn funny.
Him cross-dressing would be even funnier.
But they were afraid - what might happen to the world and the space-time continuum if they fucked England up??
So they decided to leave babified England in France's care while Spain and Prussia went off searching for a cure. Norway was probably their best bet, but to be honest the guy scared the fuck out of all three and so they decided to save him for a last resort.
France was deeply regretting that option, as soon as Spain and Prussia got their clothes on and waltzed outside.
Why?
For one thing, barely a moment after the other two were gone, England had turned those saucer-wide eyes on him and asked timidly, "Mr Bunny?" and so France had had to carry England upstairs (believe it or not, kid was too tiny to scale them on his own) and set him on top of a storage trunk as he probed through the attic in search of the aforementioned stuffed bunny that England had had (and magicked to perfection dozens of times). Fifteen minutes' search and England was clutching the ratty old thing happily, smiling radiantly and even eating the omelette du fromage that France had cooked him for lunch without a single protest.
"Yummy!" he squealed instead, and France facepalmed from the epic cuteness.
Another problem with the kid?
Well, that shirt was so not meant for carrying toddlers. After lunch, England had, oh-so-quietly and oh-so-cutely, requested some ice cream; France hadn't the heart to refuse him, the way he would've done to a normal England.
Of course, as soon as getting the scoop of strawberry ice cream, the little one had tripped and dropped it and stuck out his lower lip to keep from crying at both the loss of ice cream and the scrapes on his knees.
Again, he was too goddamn cute for France to laugh at, which led to him kissing the boo-boos - kissing them! - and picking up the sniffling toddler and smearing sticky ice cream on his shirt and feeling so much like a mother that he thought maybe he should just go buy a floral-patterned maternity dress and high heels, like he'd done for Halloween that one year. Then he carried the now-smiling-shyly England back to the parlour, gotten another scoop which the pretty little cashier gave him for free because either he was too handsome or England was too adorable, and they continued on their "merry" way to buy England some new clothes.
OKAY I LIEEED. PLACEHOLDER
(Anonymous) 2010-10-19 05:04 am (UTC)(link)PLACEHOLDER
(Anonymous) 2010-10-19 05:04 am (UTC)(link)