Third anon here (at least, I think that was me). OP, I wouldn't mind refiling this prompt if you wanted something a little more battle-scene-smut. In the mean time, here you go!
After the high wore off and the celebrating wound down, England and Prussia found themselves sitting across from each other in a booth in a smoky bar in the Netherlands.
“It seems surreal, doesn’t it?” asked England.
“What?”
“You know. That it’s over.”
Prussia reflected on that. “Yeah,” he said, finally. “It does.”
Neither spoke for a long moment. England’s eyes were a little unfocused with the alcohol; Prussia’s were sharp. But when England reached for his glass, he picked it up easily. Prussia missed his three times.
“Don’t drink much, do you,” said England. Prussia looked like he was about to protest. “No, no need to argue. As an accomplished drinker, I can spot a novice from a mile away. Boy, you are in for a hell of a headache.” Prussia glared, but couldn’t seem to come up with anything to say, which in itself proved that he had drunk more than he meant to.
“Was it strange,” asked England, suddenly, “to fight with him, rather than against him?”
Prussia considered. He didn’t have to ask who England was talking about. “It was—strange. Yeah, strange. He…” his expression went distant. England waited with the patience of the pleasantly inebriated. “He was so… clean.”
He couldn’t fault the statement for veracity, but he waited to see how on earth it could be connected in Prussia’s sodden mind to his question. Finally, he had to prompt him. “And…?”
“I always thought… I thought he’d be dirtier. You know. Up close.” England coughed, but didn’t comment. “I thought, like… everybody gets dirty during war, right? But he was… he was so… clean.” England waited to see if any more was forthcoming; after a moment, he had to conclude that Prussia was done.
Well. Clean. Yes, he rather supposed the man was; he’d never thought about it. Spain, Prussia, himself… even the generally elegant France, they all tended to get covered in mud and blood, clothing stained and hair matted, like the commonest of their soldiers. But Austria… even just after a battle, he always seemed immaculate. “…how on earth does he do it?”
“Dunno,” slurred Prussia, eyes still disturbingly clear. Perhaps it was the color.
Prussia startled him by speaking again. “Was it strange… to fight against him… and win?”
England bristled. He didn’t have to ask who Prussia was talking about. “Your question is both offensive and uninformed. This is hardly the first time he has suffered defeat at the hands of my—well-trained and –funded—army.”
“You mean… your well-trained and –funded navy.”
“I’ve beaten him on land.” England’s jaw was clenched.
“Yeah,” either Prussia didn’t notice England’s tone, or he didn’t care, “in 1423. You weren’t at Leipzig.”
England glared. “Salamanca.”
“You fought with the Portuguese.”
"Under British leadership.”
“Against an army lead by the General’s aide-de-camp.”
“...Badajoz.”
“Yeah, after you lost nearly five-thousand men, to his fifteen hundred.”
England gritted his teeth. “Vitoria.”
A pause. “I’ll give you Vitoria. Even though you were fighting Joseph, with the help of Spain and Portugal.”
“We were hardly alone this time, you know.”
“Yes,” said Prussia, eyes shining in admiration, “but we were fighting the General.”
England snorted in irritation. “Take your boner for the General to Saint Helena, and see how he’s faring now.”
Prussia shook his head. “It took the combined forces of all of Europe to defeat him.”
“Don’t dwell on it.” Prussia looked inclined to dwell on it—and with rather a different attitude that England would have liked—so he poured him another drink. Prussia downed it in one. England was almost impressed.
“Have you ever fucked him?” asked Prussia, without any warning.
England raised his eyebrows. “Well, yes.” The alcohol erased any embarrassment he might have felt.
England’s eyes went distant. “Once or twice, it was good.” France had gently teased, and England had laughed—they’d made love slowly, until England was ready to shoot the bastard just to make him speed up, but when he’d finally come, it was like nothing that had ever happened to him. England didn’t let himself think about it much. “The rest of the time…”
“…the rest of the time?” asked Prussia. “So you like… fucked a lot.”
England shrugged. “We’ve shared the channel for a very, very long time.” When Prussia didn’t interrupt again, England continued. “The rest of the time…”
“So France isn’t as good in bed as they say.”
England frowned. “Wait, you’ve never…? Anyway, I wouldn’t know, we’ve rarely go to bed.”
“That’s not a euphemism, right? You mean you don’t go… to a bed.”
England shrugged, eyes going distant again. “Going to bed would make it premeditated. I don’t think either of us really wants to play that game.”
Prussia thought about that for a second. “You guys are fucked up.” England bowed from the waist, and took another swig. “So… if it’s awful the rest of the time, why do you keep doing it?”
“Well, it’s awful, yes, but it’s also…” he trailed off.
“Oh,” said Prussia.
“Oh?” asked England. He hadn’t been quite sure himself how that sentence was going to end.
“It’s probably… it’s really intense. Right?”
England’s thoughts were far away. “Yes,” he said, distantly. “Intense is the right word.”
“More intense than when we fuck?”
England looked at him. “Prussia, I’ve known you for barely four centuries. We don’t share a border, we’ve never fought a war, we never…” he trailed off. “It’s not comparable.” England wasn’t sure, but he thought Prussia looked a little hurt. If he was, then he was a fool.
“We’ve fought against each other,” protested Prussia
“We’ve fought on opposing sides in a war neither of us instigated. It’s not the same.”
A pause. “It’s because you let him fuck you, isn’t it.” England stared. He wasn’t even sure where to start with that statement. “I could fuck you just as good.”
“Tonight, you couldn’t fuck your way out of a paper bag. Let it go.”
England barely had time to register Prussia moving, before he was pinned by the neck to the wall behind him. How on earth did he summon the coordination for that? “You spilled my drink, you cretin,” he wheezed out.
Prussia didn’t pay him any mind. “I could fuck you just as good,” he said again, and England shivered at the near-insanity he saw in his face.
“Prussia,” he got out, “Prussia, sit down. This is hardly the time.”
“I say it’s the time,” snapped Prussia, and swayed a little where he was leaning over the table.
England looked at him critically. “I’d say you have about another twenty minutes, at most, until you pass out or vomit. If you could get it up to start with.”
Prussia glared, tightening his grip. “Are you saying I can’t—“
England sighed. “Look, I don’t think I could get it up right now, alright? If we’re going to do this, let’s do it right.”
Prussia gave him a suspicious look. “You’re gonna let me?”
He shrugged. “Why not?” He was hardly about to get into a dick-measuring contest with Prussia, of all people.
Prussia looked stumped. “Oh,” was all he said.
“Oh, indeed. Now for God’s sake, finish your gin, and let’s get out of here.” Strangely cowed, Prussia did as he was told.
England left some money on the table for the establishment—far too much, he suspected, but then, they had caused rather a scene—and helped the man outside. “My house?” he asked. Prussia made a vague noise. England wasn’t about to make two stops, even if he was starting to lose his buzz a little, so with the ability that they all gained once they had an established capital, in moments he had them home.
He looked around his house, and sighed. It had been a long time. The curtains were faded, the floor was dusty, the pantry likely empty… he’d have to have some servants in in the morning. In the mean time, he marched them to the bedroom—on the first floor, for exactly this reason—and deposited Prussia on the bed. The man was already snoring. With a strange surge of affection, England touched his cheek, and then left to make his way up to the spare bedroom.
[OP: Possibly relevant to your interests, and also smuttier? http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/17337.html?thread=49899705#t49899705 -- England/Prussia/Russia sixth coalition, um, negotiations]
NOTES
*Austria and Prussia have been at each other's throats pretty much since the beginning. It took Napoleon to get them even temporarily on the same side.
*Prussia has a point: A lot of England's victories over France post-1450 WERE naval, especially during this war. The Peninsular War (the part of the Napoleonic Wars fought in Spain and Portugal) had a lot of exceptions, but, you know, they had Wellington, and France had Marmont-- who was cool, but not THAT cool.
*The Battle of Leipzig was like Waterloo before Waterloo. That was where Napoleon was really broken. The fact that he came back from that for long enough to fight another major battle (which he nearly won, despite fighting the English and Prussian armies simultaneously) is a testament to his military Mary Sue ness.
*The Battles of Salamanca, Badajoz, and Vitoria were all part of the Peninsular War-- exceptions to the "England wins at sea, France wins on land" rule.
*Saint Helena was where Napoleon was banished to after Waterloo.
*Then it's all interpersonal/sex stuff, which, you know, I think you guys can figure out.
*If anybody spots any mistakes in my research, let me know!
Yes, I adore this pairing, and this was really amusing to read. I love how drunk frank England is about letting Prussia fuck him, as well as how he's used to staggering home drunk with a near stranger in tow.
Is it greedy to ask if you've written more of either of these guys? XD Or this pairing, even? *A*
I've written two other fics with this pairing-- one is the Eng/Pru/Ru linked at the top of the note section, and the other is straight Eng/Pru-- it's not up on the meme, but if you don't tell I'll link you anyway xD. http://ellamequiere.livejournal.com/11593.html
Anyway, I'm glad you enjoyed it. Thanks for the comment!
Author anon, my dear author anon of every sinlge of my requests, you know who I am, and I spotted your style almost at once. Probably because this follows my own headcanon in an eerie way ^^
First, the whole set up was great. I love these two getting drunk together, but usually, in fics when they do they end up destroying public property or going crazy and rowdy, but this quiet conversation and teasing banter was...better, in a way.
Second, the teasing itself; I've always thought nations probably tease each other a lot, both about their war performances and in a balance check of victories and defeats against a particular other (which in England's case would most certainly be France, yup). Nations would also ask questions about how other nations feel when battling someone special to them, and at first, I thought the "clean one" was France. I do think France and England have a very special bond through the ages, hardcore shipper that I am, and this fic makes me very very happy, for everything they say: Prussia asking about France in particular, England's offended reaction to being asked how it is to win against the other, his prickliness about the rumors of "only at sea", his pondering of the reasons why he keeps coming back to France (ah, intense, yes, that's the word), and that (possibly first?) time he remembers when everything was good and beautiful and sweet between them that I'm waiting you to write. Oh, and the fact they favour spontaneity and no bed over them because they could possibly imply they want to have relations, or anything, God forbidXD
And I simply love how worked-up Prussia gets over this...it feels like he felt personally insulted, his very masculinity in doubt. He's such a teenXD (England's sentence of "knowing him for barely four centuries" was pretty awesome, I love statements like that that bring out the weirdness of nationhood).
Is this... the fifth time this has happened? Does this mean we're married?
Thank you for existing.
(Yes, Prussia is totally still pretty adolescent here. I'm not sure when he grows up, or if he does xD [although I suspect that by the time WWII rolls around...])
I am sorry...but I am pretty sure you are not the OP, I think I left this request, eh...
And thanks for the writer!anon for this beautiful piece. England/Prussia is a ridiculously crack pairing, so yeah... Probably can't really expect to have a pairing feel to them.
But I love all your reference to wars and battles fought, and their arguing is supreme fun! Thanks so much again writer!anon for this, I have almost forgotten about it, but you delivered! Thanks a million.
That's a relief, actually! It was getting too weird. I must have misunderstood her.
Hmm, England/Prussia with a pairing feel. I firmly believe that anything is possible in fanfiction' Talk to me about what that means to you-- you'd like to read them as an established couple? Or read them in a situation where they're romantically interested in each other? Or did you just want them to have sex? Because the last one I can definitely deliver on xD.
The first two... well, I as an author don't generally write "couples" in this fandom-- not in a romantic, exclusive sense-- (I could talk about why, but I'm not sure to what extent that would be me creating headcanon to justify what is essentially a personal preference). Especially in this case, it's hard for me to see them in this historical context being interested in each other in a traditionally romantic sense. But that doesn't mean they couldn't have a more "you kind of MAYBE matter to me. A little. But I'm not even thinking this in my own head because I'm as emotionally aware as a block of wood" type relationship.
So yeah, if you check back here, talk to me! I'd love to refill this (I'm having a lot of fun with this pairing right now xD) closer to what you were thinking of. If the comments have maxed out (because they look close as I type this), there's a link to my journal in my reply to the first comment, so you can find me there. Either way, I'm glad you liked the fill anyway <3.
Haha, you caught me there, because I haven't really thought through what kind of relationship I want with them, I am just sort of thinking that, 'hey, those two used to be allies more often than not, why not pull them together and have some crack?'
So yeah, I guess it becomes much more like a challenge - as no one ever writes them, because I really don't have the details in my head. *facepalm*
I understand what you mean by you don't generally write "couples" in this fandom, they are countries, yeah, logically speaking it is impossible for them to be "couply", ;)
And I agree especially that these two don't go well with traditional romantic settings, lol. But I think, eh, you kind of MAYBE matter to me. A little. But I'm not even thinking this in my own head because I'm as emotionally aware as a block of wood, this sounds awesome, I'd love to see that if you will be so kind!
But really, they being bros would also be great for me! I can't really picture them as a couple, yeah, but I can totally picture them being bros, somehow.
So I get why the Battle of Bailen wasn't mentioned since this fic centered mostly on England and Prussia, but it was actually THAT battle fought by Spain's far poorer and less trained army that signaled the beginning of the end for Napoleon's army since rabble actually managed to defeat Napoleon's men although Napoleon himself was absent. But yeah...Spain's guerrillas also dealt devastating blows to Napoleon so much so that Napoleon tried to seek a treay with Spain (but since Napoleon broke a previous treaty, Spain didn't trust him) and after Napoleon's final defeat, he called it the "Spanish Ulcer" in his side. So yeah...Spain greatly helped bring about Napoleon's downfall.
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Was it strange...? [1/2]
(Anonymous) 2010-11-20 05:30 am (UTC)(link)After the high wore off and the celebrating wound down, England and Prussia found themselves sitting across from each other in a booth in a smoky bar in the Netherlands.
“It seems surreal, doesn’t it?” asked England.
“What?”
“You know. That it’s over.”
Prussia reflected on that. “Yeah,” he said, finally. “It does.”
Neither spoke for a long moment. England’s eyes were a little unfocused with the alcohol; Prussia’s were sharp. But when England reached for his glass, he picked it up easily. Prussia missed his three times.
“Don’t drink much, do you,” said England. Prussia looked like he was about to protest. “No, no need to argue. As an accomplished drinker, I can spot a novice from a mile away. Boy, you are in for a hell of a headache.” Prussia glared, but couldn’t seem to come up with anything to say, which in itself proved that he had drunk more than he meant to.
“Was it strange,” asked England, suddenly, “to fight with him, rather than against him?”
Prussia considered. He didn’t have to ask who England was talking about. “It was—strange. Yeah, strange. He…” his expression went distant. England waited with the patience of the pleasantly inebriated. “He was so… clean.”
He couldn’t fault the statement for veracity, but he waited to see how on earth it could be connected in Prussia’s sodden mind to his question. Finally, he had to prompt him. “And…?”
“I always thought… I thought he’d be dirtier. You know. Up close.” England coughed, but didn’t comment. “I thought, like… everybody gets dirty during war, right? But he was… he was so… clean.” England waited to see if any more was forthcoming; after a moment, he had to conclude that Prussia was done.
Well. Clean. Yes, he rather supposed the man was; he’d never thought about it. Spain, Prussia, himself… even the generally elegant France, they all tended to get covered in mud and blood, clothing stained and hair matted, like the commonest of their soldiers. But Austria… even just after a battle, he always seemed immaculate. “…how on earth does he do it?”
“Dunno,” slurred Prussia, eyes still disturbingly clear. Perhaps it was the color.
Prussia startled him by speaking again. “Was it strange… to fight against him… and win?”
England bristled. He didn’t have to ask who Prussia was talking about. “Your question is both offensive and uninformed. This is hardly the first time he has suffered defeat at the hands of my—well-trained and –funded—army.”
“You mean… your well-trained and –funded navy.”
“I’ve beaten him on land.” England’s jaw was clenched.
“Yeah,” either Prussia didn’t notice England’s tone, or he didn’t care, “in 1423. You weren’t at Leipzig.”
England glared. “Salamanca.”
“You fought with the Portuguese.”
"Under British leadership.”
“Against an army lead by the General’s aide-de-camp.”
“...Badajoz.”
“Yeah, after you lost nearly five-thousand men, to his fifteen hundred.”
England gritted his teeth. “Vitoria.”
A pause. “I’ll give you Vitoria. Even though you were fighting Joseph, with the help of Spain and Portugal.”
“We were hardly alone this time, you know.”
“Yes,” said Prussia, eyes shining in admiration, “but we were fighting the General.”
England snorted in irritation. “Take your boner for the General to Saint Helena, and see how he’s faring now.”
Prussia shook his head. “It took the combined forces of all of Europe to defeat him.”
“Don’t dwell on it.” Prussia looked inclined to dwell on it—and with rather a different attitude that England would have liked—so he poured him another drink. Prussia downed it in one. England was almost impressed.
“Have you ever fucked him?” asked Prussia, without any warning.
England raised his eyebrows. “Well, yes.” The alcohol erased any embarrassment he might have felt.
“…was it any good?”
Was it strange...? [2/2]
(Anonymous) 2010-11-20 05:33 am (UTC)(link)“…the rest of the time?” asked Prussia. “So you like… fucked a lot.”
England shrugged. “We’ve shared the channel for a very, very long time.” When Prussia didn’t interrupt again, England continued. “The rest of the time…”
“So France isn’t as good in bed as they say.”
England frowned. “Wait, you’ve never…? Anyway, I wouldn’t know, we’ve rarely go to bed.”
“That’s not a euphemism, right? You mean you don’t go… to a bed.”
England shrugged, eyes going distant again. “Going to bed would make it premeditated. I don’t think either of us really wants to play that game.”
Prussia thought about that for a second. “You guys are fucked up.” England bowed from the waist, and took another swig. “So… if it’s awful the rest of the time, why do you keep doing it?”
“Well, it’s awful, yes, but it’s also…” he trailed off.
“Oh,” said Prussia.
“Oh?” asked England. He hadn’t been quite sure himself how that sentence was going to end.
“It’s probably… it’s really intense. Right?”
England’s thoughts were far away. “Yes,” he said, distantly. “Intense is the right word.”
“More intense than when we fuck?”
England looked at him. “Prussia, I’ve known you for barely four centuries. We don’t share a border, we’ve never fought a war, we never…” he trailed off. “It’s not comparable.” England wasn’t sure, but he thought Prussia looked a little hurt. If he was, then he was a fool.
“We’ve fought against each other,” protested Prussia
“We’ve fought on opposing sides in a war neither of us instigated. It’s not the same.”
A pause. “It’s because you let him fuck you, isn’t it.” England stared. He wasn’t even sure where to start with that statement. “I could fuck you just as good.”
“Tonight, you couldn’t fuck your way out of a paper bag. Let it go.”
England barely had time to register Prussia moving, before he was pinned by the neck to the wall behind him. How on earth did he summon the coordination for that? “You spilled my drink, you cretin,” he wheezed out.
Prussia didn’t pay him any mind. “I could fuck you just as good,” he said again, and England shivered at the near-insanity he saw in his face.
“Prussia,” he got out, “Prussia, sit down. This is hardly the time.”
“I say it’s the time,” snapped Prussia, and swayed a little where he was leaning over the table.
England looked at him critically. “I’d say you have about another twenty minutes, at most, until you pass out or vomit. If you could get it up to start with.”
Prussia glared, tightening his grip. “Are you saying I can’t—“
England sighed. “Look, I don’t think I could get it up right now, alright? If we’re going to do this, let’s do it right.”
Prussia gave him a suspicious look. “You’re gonna let me?”
He shrugged. “Why not?” He was hardly about to get into a dick-measuring contest with Prussia, of all people.
Prussia looked stumped. “Oh,” was all he said.
“Oh, indeed. Now for God’s sake, finish your gin, and let’s get out of here.” Strangely cowed, Prussia did as he was told.
England left some money on the table for the establishment—far too much, he suspected, but then, they had caused rather a scene—and helped the man outside. “My house?” he asked. Prussia made a vague noise. England wasn’t about to make two stops, even if he was starting to lose his buzz a little, so with the ability that they all gained once they had an established capital, in moments he had them home.
He looked around his house, and sighed. It had been a long time. The curtains were faded, the floor was dusty, the pantry likely empty… he’d have to have some servants in in the morning. In the mean time, he marched them to the bedroom—on the first floor, for exactly this reason—and deposited Prussia on the bed. The man was already snoring. With a strange surge of affection, England touched his cheek, and then left to make his way up to the spare bedroom.
Was it strange...? [Notes]
(Anonymous) 2010-11-20 05:36 am (UTC)(link)NOTES
*Austria and Prussia have been at each other's throats pretty much since the beginning. It took Napoleon to get them even temporarily on the same side.
*Prussia has a point: A lot of England's victories over France post-1450 WERE naval, especially during this war. The Peninsular War (the part of the Napoleonic Wars fought in Spain and Portugal) had a lot of exceptions, but, you know, they had Wellington, and France had Marmont-- who was cool, but not THAT cool.
*The Battle of Leipzig was like Waterloo before Waterloo. That was where Napoleon was really broken. The fact that he came back from that for long enough to fight another major battle (which he nearly won, despite fighting the English and Prussian armies simultaneously) is a testament to his military Mary Sue ness.
*The Battles of Salamanca, Badajoz, and Vitoria were all part of the Peninsular War-- exceptions to the "England wins at sea, France wins on land" rule.
*Saint Helena was where Napoleon was banished to after Waterloo.
*Then it's all interpersonal/sex stuff, which, you know, I think you guys can figure out.
*If anybody spots any mistakes in my research, let me know!
*Thanks for reading <3
Re: Was it strange...? [Notes]
(Anonymous) 2010-11-20 08:22 am (UTC)(link)drunkfrank England is about letting Prussia fuck him, as well as how he's used to staggering home drunkwith a near stranger in tow.Is it greedy to ask if you've written more of either of these guys? XD Or this pairing, even? *A*
authornon
(Anonymous) 2010-11-20 02:34 pm (UTC)(link)I've written two other fics with this pairing-- one is the Eng/Pru/Ru linked at the top of the note section, and the other is straight Eng/Pru-- it's not up on the meme, but if you don't tell I'll link you anyway xD. http://ellamequiere.livejournal.com/11593.html
Anyway, I'm glad you enjoyed it. Thanks for the comment!
Re: Was it strange...? [Notes]
(Anonymous) 2010-11-20 03:58 pm (UTC)(link)First, the whole set up was great. I love these two getting drunk together, but usually, in fics when they do they end up destroying public property or going crazy and rowdy, but this quiet conversation and teasing banter was...better, in a way.
Second, the teasing itself; I've always thought nations probably tease each other a lot, both about their war performances and in a balance check of victories and defeats against a particular other (which in England's case would most certainly be France, yup).
Nations would also ask questions about how other nations feel when battling someone special to them, and at first, I thought the "clean one" was France.
I do think France and England have a very special bond through the ages, hardcore shipper that I am, and this fic makes me very very happy, for everything they say: Prussia asking about France in particular, England's offended reaction to being asked how it is to win against the other, his prickliness about the rumors of "only at sea", his pondering of the reasons why he keeps coming back to France (ah, intense, yes, that's the word), and that (possibly first?) time he remembers when everything was good and beautiful and sweet between them
that I'm waiting you to write. Oh, and the fact they favour spontaneity and no bed over them because they could possibly imply they want to have relations, or anything, God forbidXDAnd I simply love how worked-up Prussia gets over this...it feels like he felt personally insulted, his very masculinity in doubt. He's such a teenXD (England's sentence of "knowing him for barely four centuries" was pretty awesome, I love statements like that that bring out the weirdness of nationhood).
Oh, OP...
(Anonymous) 2010-11-20 04:48 pm (UTC)(link)Thank you for existing.
(Yes, Prussia is totally still pretty adolescent here. I'm not sure when he grows up, or if he does xD [although I suspect that by the time WWII rolls around...])
Random!anon
(Anonymous) 2010-11-20 04:59 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Was it strange...? [Notes]
(Anonymous) 2010-11-21 08:34 am (UTC)(link)And thanks for the writer!anon for this beautiful piece. England/Prussia is a ridiculously crack pairing, so yeah... Probably can't really expect to have a pairing feel to them.
But I love all your reference to wars and battles fought, and their arguing is supreme fun! Thanks so much again writer!anon for this, I have almost forgotten about it, but you delivered! Thanks a million.
Hilarious!
(Anonymous) 2010-11-21 03:08 pm (UTC)(link)Hmm, England/Prussia with a pairing feel. I firmly believe that anything is possible in fanfiction' Talk to me about what that means to you-- you'd like to read them as an established couple? Or read them in a situation where they're romantically interested in each other? Or did you just want them to have sex? Because the last one I can definitely deliver on xD.
The first two... well, I as an author don't generally write "couples" in this fandom-- not in a romantic, exclusive sense-- (I could talk about why, but I'm not sure to what extent that would be me creating headcanon to justify what is essentially a personal preference). Especially in this case, it's hard for me to see them in this historical context being interested in each other in a traditionally romantic sense. But that doesn't mean they couldn't have a more "you kind of MAYBE matter to me. A little. But I'm not even thinking this in my own head because I'm as emotionally aware as a block of wood" type relationship.
So yeah, if you check back here, talk to me! I'd love to refill this (I'm having a lot of fun with this pairing right now xD) closer to what you were thinking of. If the comments have maxed out (because they look close as I type this),
there's a link to my journal in my reply to the first comment, so you can find me there. Either way, I'm glad you liked the fill anyway <3.OP
(Anonymous) 2010-11-21 04:42 pm (UTC)(link)So yeah, I guess it becomes much more like a challenge - as no one ever writes them, because I really don't have the details in my head. *facepalm*
I understand what you mean by you don't generally write "couples" in this fandom, they are countries, yeah, logically speaking it is impossible for them to be "couply", ;)
And I agree especially that these two don't go well with traditional romantic settings, lol. But I think, eh, you kind of MAYBE matter to me. A little. But I'm not even thinking this in my own head because I'm as emotionally aware as a block of wood, this sounds awesome, I'd love to see that if you will be so kind!
But really, they being bros would also be great for me! I can't really picture them as a couple, yeah, but I can totally picture them being bros, somehow.
Ok, so--
(Anonymous) 2010-11-22 10:06 pm (UTC)(link)I'll see what I can come up with. Meet you in the PPF if I get inspired <3
Re: Was it strange...? [Notes]
(Anonymous) 2013-01-26 08:08 am (UTC)(link)