To America's relief, Germany said nothing about his late return to their hotel even though by then rumor had to have been buzzing about Wilson being rushed to hospital and his assistant spending hours in an emergency meeting with America. Rather, Germany simply asked if he'd eaten yet – he hadn't – and directed him to his room, where a meal was being kept warm for him.
While he ate, Germany said, “I have sent a telegram to the Emperor informing him of the situation and notifying him that you would not wish the negotiations to be discontinued. He responded immediately that our people would continue to work with yours.”
America looked up from his food, which he wasn't really tasting what with the echoes from opening himself to his people still buzzing through his body, and managed a tired smile. “Thank you. I appreciate that.” It wasn't fair to Netherlands or his people to just shovel what was certainly a fine meal into his mouth, but America needed the nutrition more than he needed to appreciate the taste. “My President's entourage know what is necessary: we will be continuing negotiations.” Something that wasn't a smile twisted his mouth. “They may even go more smoothly.”
Germany was silent for just a moment too long: long enough that he had to have guessed Wilson was trying to subvert the negotiations. “I hope so,” was all the young Empire said on that topic. “Things are contentious enough.”
That was the kind of understatement that counted as a lie. “I've informed Lansing of his new duties and made sure he understands what needs to happen,” America added once he'd finished the meal. “He's not exactly happy about it, but he'll negotiate in good faith.”
Both Germany's eyebrows rose, but he didn't ask what America had done to intimidate the man. “That is good. There have been… disturbing rumors.”
America nodded. “Beer?”
“Thank you.”
They sat side by side, America nursing his beer and trying to taste it properly while Germany clearly enjoyed his. It was one of Netherlands local brews, a light lager with a slightly bitter aftertaste which suited America's mood perfectly. “Oh, and I sent a telegram to the Vice President to let him know he needed to take over as Acting President.” He made a face. “I don't think the President will recover enough to resume his duties.”
Although Germany was clearly curious as hell, he said only, “Ah. I am sorry to hear that, America. It is never pleasant when one's leader is ill.”
“Yeah. It takes it out of you.” God, he wished he could confide in someone about what he'd done. But if he did, he'd horrify the oh-so-proper Germany and probably restart the damned war. “I knew he had heart issues.” He made a face. “I didn't expect him to have a major stroke on me.”
Germany nodded in sympathy, and – awkwardly, as if he wasn't sure how America would react – leaned over to rest a gloved hand on America's leg. “I really am sorry to hear that. How are you holding up?”
It was a nice gesture, America thought. Sweet of him to try to be thoughtful and kind even though his nature was much more businesslike and practical. He wasn't going to call the younger nation out on the awkwardness of it, not when he'd been just as bad until Prussia, France, and Spain cured him of most of his inhibitions. Well… Prussia hadn't done anything, but France and Spain were the main reasons America wasn't an awkward virgin anymore. The two of them were depraved as fuck, but they knew how a nation's body worked, and they taught him everything they thought he needed to know – while explaining that Prussia couldn't teach him this because the pale nation never initiated sex, ever, and would be a virgin if he hadn't been conquered as often as he had.
“America?” Germany's concerned question broke him out of his thoughts.
“Sorry.” America managed to dredge a smile from somewhere. “Just tired. It's been one of those days, you know?”
“Ah, yes.” Germany bowed in his seat. “If you have no objections, I shall leave you to rest. I daresay tomorrow will be another such day, although I hope no other leaders take ill.”
“Me too!” There was no danger agreeing to that. He hated having to terrorize his leaders. Bad enough that he'd needed to scare the spit out of Wilson, but it really made him feel dirty inside to have to threaten Lansing as well. The man might be an ass but he was still one of America's people, and he was supposed to protect them and look after them, not scare them into fits.
Even though they deserved it. Maybe especially not because they deserved it. It wasn't like you could have a population of saints, after all, and the sinners were his people as much as the saints were and the ones who were somewhere in between.
America had never really got the hang of how religion was meant to work: there were just too many different beliefs competing in his lands. The old tribal beliefs, some really weird stuff where Algonquin and pagan Norse had come together, every non-conformist Christian sect the world had ever spawned, even a few Freethinker groups who didn't actually believe in any kind of god, and that was without considering the Buddhists and Hindu and other Asian faiths – he didn't have many believers of those, but they were still there. Still part of him.
It wasn't something where he could pick out a common thread and go with that, either, so mostly he stuck to what Tom and Ben and the others had said: there was definitely some kind of Creator, and He wanted His children to do the right thing – and do things right – but it was up to each person to do the best they could, and that applied to personified nations as well as to mortal humans. The rest of his people's beliefs kind of swirled around America's mind and he did his best not to look too closely because it would make his head ache from all the contradictions.
Nations with bosses who actually bossed and more or less state-decided beliefs had it easy. The king says the nation is Catholic, the nation is Catholic. The king changes his mind, the nation changes religion. Mostly. Prussia hadn't, but as far as America could tell, Prussia was kind of a special case to the European nations.
Not only had he been an order of crusaders before he'd become a nation, he'd turned around and gone from a Polish fief to a world power in a hundred years, then built an empire and given it to his brother. Nations didn't do that. They held power by any means they could and didn't let go until forced. To willingly give up power when you had the strength to take on the whole world?
No wonder Prussia worried the other European nations.
America didn't care. Prussia was kind of a big brother to him, and a friend. If he wanted to make himself his little brother's subordinate, that was nobody's business but his.
With such thoughts running through his head, it was a wonder America slept at all.
Re: Germany and America - WWI AU - The War To End All Wars - 15 of ?
While he ate, Germany said, “I have sent a telegram to the Emperor informing him of the situation and notifying him that you would not wish the negotiations to be discontinued. He responded immediately that our people would continue to work with yours.”
America looked up from his food, which he wasn't really tasting what with the echoes from opening himself to his people still buzzing through his body, and managed a tired smile. “Thank you. I appreciate that.” It wasn't fair to Netherlands or his people to just shovel what was certainly a fine meal into his mouth, but America needed the nutrition more than he needed to appreciate the taste. “My President's entourage know what is necessary: we will be continuing negotiations.” Something that wasn't a smile twisted his mouth. “They may even go more smoothly.”
Germany was silent for just a moment too long: long enough that he had to have guessed Wilson was trying to subvert the negotiations. “I hope so,” was all the young Empire said on that topic. “Things are contentious enough.”
That was the kind of understatement that counted as a lie. “I've informed Lansing of his new duties and made sure he understands what needs to happen,” America added once he'd finished the meal. “He's not exactly happy about it, but he'll negotiate in good faith.”
Both Germany's eyebrows rose, but he didn't ask what America had done to intimidate the man. “That is good. There have been… disturbing rumors.”
America nodded. “Beer?”
“Thank you.”
They sat side by side, America nursing his beer and trying to taste it properly while Germany clearly enjoyed his. It was one of Netherlands local brews, a light lager with a slightly bitter aftertaste which suited America's mood perfectly. “Oh, and I sent a telegram to the Vice President to let him know he needed to take over as Acting President.” He made a face. “I don't think the President will recover enough to resume his duties.”
Although Germany was clearly curious as hell, he said only, “Ah. I am sorry to hear that, America. It is never pleasant when one's leader is ill.”
“Yeah. It takes it out of you.” God, he wished he could confide in someone about what he'd done. But if he did, he'd horrify the oh-so-proper Germany and probably restart the damned war. “I knew he had heart issues.” He made a face. “I didn't expect him to have a major stroke on me.”
Germany nodded in sympathy, and – awkwardly, as if he wasn't sure how America would react – leaned over to rest a gloved hand on America's leg. “I really am sorry to hear that. How are you holding up?”
It was a nice gesture, America thought. Sweet of him to try to be thoughtful and kind even though his nature was much more businesslike and practical. He wasn't going to call the younger nation out on the awkwardness of it, not when he'd been just as bad until Prussia, France, and Spain cured him of most of his inhibitions. Well… Prussia hadn't done anything, but France and Spain were the main reasons America wasn't an awkward virgin anymore. The two of them were depraved as fuck, but they knew how a nation's body worked, and they taught him everything they thought he needed to know – while explaining that Prussia couldn't teach him this because the pale nation never initiated sex, ever, and would be a virgin if he hadn't been conquered as often as he had.
“America?” Germany's concerned question broke him out of his thoughts.
“Sorry.” America managed to dredge a smile from somewhere. “Just tired. It's been one of those days, you know?”
“Ah, yes.” Germany bowed in his seat. “If you have no objections, I shall leave you to rest. I daresay tomorrow will be another such day, although I hope no other leaders take ill.”
“Me too!” There was no danger agreeing to that. He hated having to terrorize his leaders. Bad enough that he'd needed to scare the spit out of Wilson, but it really made him feel dirty inside to have to threaten Lansing as well. The man might be an ass but he was still one of America's people, and he was supposed to protect them and look after them, not scare them into fits.
Even though they deserved it. Maybe especially not because they deserved it. It wasn't like you could have a population of saints, after all, and the sinners were his people as much as the saints were and the ones who were somewhere in between.
America had never really got the hang of how religion was meant to work: there were just too many different beliefs competing in his lands. The old tribal beliefs, some really weird stuff where Algonquin and pagan Norse had come together, every non-conformist Christian sect the world had ever spawned, even a few Freethinker groups who didn't actually believe in any kind of god, and that was without considering the Buddhists and Hindu and other Asian faiths – he didn't have many believers of those, but they were still there. Still part of him.
It wasn't something where he could pick out a common thread and go with that, either, so mostly he stuck to what Tom and Ben and the others had said: there was definitely some kind of Creator, and He wanted His children to do the right thing – and do things right – but it was up to each person to do the best they could, and that applied to personified nations as well as to mortal humans. The rest of his people's beliefs kind of swirled around America's mind and he did his best not to look too closely because it would make his head ache from all the contradictions.
Nations with bosses who actually bossed and more or less state-decided beliefs had it easy. The king says the nation is Catholic, the nation is Catholic. The king changes his mind, the nation changes religion. Mostly. Prussia hadn't, but as far as America could tell, Prussia was kind of a special case to the European nations.
Not only had he been an order of crusaders before he'd become a nation, he'd turned around and gone from a Polish fief to a world power in a hundred years, then built an empire and given it to his brother. Nations didn't do that. They held power by any means they could and didn't let go until forced. To willingly give up power when you had the strength to take on the whole world?
No wonder Prussia worried the other European nations.
America didn't care. Prussia was kind of a big brother to him, and a friend. If he wanted to make himself his little brother's subordinate, that was nobody's business but his.
With such thoughts running through his head, it was a wonder America slept at all.