http://lady-phenyx.livejournal.com/ (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
lady-phenyx.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
hetalia2011-08-09 04:44 pm
lady-phenyx.livejournal.com) wrote in hetalia2011-08-09 04:44 pm
Entry tags:
Fic: Pirates and Ninjas and Bar Runs, Oh My!
Title: Pirates and Ninjas and Bar Runs, Oh My!
Author: Lady Phenyx
Rating: So very G
Characters/Pairings: America, England, France, Germany, Italy, Japan, Prussia, Spain
Warnings: None
Summary: A search for the Island nations leads to a bit of a surprise.
Notes: Kink-meme de-anon, Prompt: Bro-ship moments and Getting Caught
“Hey guys? Where’s England and Japan?” America asked, halfway through his third beer, finally noticing the lack of island nations at the bar. “It’s not like England to miss out on a bar run.”
“Dunno, man. Yo, France, you see where eyebrows is?” Prussia called over to France, who along with Spain was flirting with several girls. France frowned as he and Spain rejoined the small group, leaving the disappointed girls behind.
“That is quite odd, mes sourcils préférés should be here.”
“He said he and Japan had something they wanted to take care of back at the conference center,” Germany said, cutting them off, still nursing his second beer and eying the pile of empty glasses by his brother with disapproval.
“Vee~, Germany, we should go get him and Japan! They shouldn’t work so hard, they need a fun break too!” Italy protested, clinging to Germany’s arm and pouting.
It didn’t take Germany long to give in. The other countries could see how well Italy had Germany wrapped around his finger, they were just waiting for Germany to realize it as well. Still, the group packed up and headed back to the conference center – much longer and the bartender probably would have wanted them out, anyway.
The conference center seemed empty when they got back to it. It was a huge building, with its own hotel and other amenities attached. England and Japan weren’t in any of the conference rooms, so the group started to head towards the hotel, with the vague idea of finding more nations to go drinking. That is, the Bad Touch Trio and America led the group towards the hotel to drag…ahem, talk, other nations into coming along. Suddenly Prussia stopped, and the whole group slammed into a six nation pileup.
“Prussia! Why the hell are you stopping like that?” Germany demanded, helping up a slightly squished Italy.
Prussia, with the practice of many long years, ignored his brother’s irritation and pointed with demonic glee at the door he’s stopped in front of. “Security Center”, it declared in broad letters, “Authorized Personnel Only.”
“Ohonhonhon, I see what you are thinking, cher,” France chortled, opening the door.
“France, don’t you…”
“C’mon, West, who’s more authorized then us?” Prussia laughed as he strode into the room. “Hey France, see anybody doing the nasty yet?” Spain skipped in after Prussia, as did America and Italy. Face firmly planed in hands, Germany followed.
“Man, this blows,” America announced a few minutes later. “The building’s empty, c’mon, let’s go back to the bar.”
“Hey, what was that?” Spain cried, pointing to a screen. Everyone crowded around, but whatever Spain had seen was gone.
“Y-you don’t think it was a…a g-ghost, do you?” America stuttered, grabbing onto a suddenly frightened Italy.
“There it goes again!” Prussia exclaimed, pointing to another monitor, the room next to the first.
“Is - is that England?” Italy asked, incredulous, as on-screen the small island nation crouched near the wall, reloading what looked to be a pistol.
“What is he wearing?” France exclaimed, ignoring the pistol for staring openly at the long coat – probably red, England did like that color even if he didn’t wear it that often anymore – and pirate hat England was sporting. Suddenly a black blur dropped from the ceiling, sword stopped inches from his head by England’s crossed pistols. Italy squeaked and hid behind Germany as England lashed out, kicking the other away.
“Hang on England, the hero’s coming!” America yelled, dashing toward the door as the England onscreen fired. Germany, who had also started to panic, stopped short and looked closer at the screen.
“Hold up, America,” he called at the self proclaimed hero, “that’s not…”
“Dude, is that a paint gun?” Prussia interrupted, “That is awesome!” at a particularly quick motion of one figure, the ninja, who had to be Japan.
They watched the pair battle it out for awhile longer, Germany wincing each time one of them missed and left a paint splatter or dent in the wall, looking closer and closer to apoplexy at the undignified behavior in front of him, the other five cheering on one combatant or the other (or, in Italy’s case, cheering on both), the pair onscreen slipping through rooms and behind walls, just barely missing in quick moves, slipping and sprinting and dodging. Suddenly, in a lithe move most of them didn’t expect, England twisted and arched like a cat, knocking away Japan’s sword from where he seemed to have him pinned, making Japan lose his footing and fall, England landing on top of him, paint-gun at the ready. The two were still for a long minute, before soundlessly laughing and getting up, walking offscreen, play (and, unwittingly, show) over.
There was silence in the security room as Germany began to form the lecture he’d be giving the island nations once he caught up to them.
“Okay, so dudes?” Prussia said suddenly. “France, Spain – dude, Spain, get up, he’s not going to attack your armada, you don’t even have an armada anymore - you’re in charge of finding out when they’re doing that again. America? You’re with me. We’re setting up better cameras and a betting pool.”
Author: Lady Phenyx
Rating: So very G
Characters/Pairings: America, England, France, Germany, Italy, Japan, Prussia, Spain
Warnings: None
Summary: A search for the Island nations leads to a bit of a surprise.
Notes: Kink-meme de-anon, Prompt: Bro-ship moments and Getting Caught
“Hey guys? Where’s England and Japan?” America asked, halfway through his third beer, finally noticing the lack of island nations at the bar. “It’s not like England to miss out on a bar run.”
“Dunno, man. Yo, France, you see where eyebrows is?” Prussia called over to France, who along with Spain was flirting with several girls. France frowned as he and Spain rejoined the small group, leaving the disappointed girls behind.
“That is quite odd, mes sourcils préférés should be here.”
“He said he and Japan had something they wanted to take care of back at the conference center,” Germany said, cutting them off, still nursing his second beer and eying the pile of empty glasses by his brother with disapproval.
“Vee~, Germany, we should go get him and Japan! They shouldn’t work so hard, they need a fun break too!” Italy protested, clinging to Germany’s arm and pouting.
It didn’t take Germany long to give in. The other countries could see how well Italy had Germany wrapped around his finger, they were just waiting for Germany to realize it as well. Still, the group packed up and headed back to the conference center – much longer and the bartender probably would have wanted them out, anyway.
The conference center seemed empty when they got back to it. It was a huge building, with its own hotel and other amenities attached. England and Japan weren’t in any of the conference rooms, so the group started to head towards the hotel, with the vague idea of finding more nations to go drinking. That is, the Bad Touch Trio and America led the group towards the hotel to drag…ahem, talk, other nations into coming along. Suddenly Prussia stopped, and the whole group slammed into a six nation pileup.
“Prussia! Why the hell are you stopping like that?” Germany demanded, helping up a slightly squished Italy.
Prussia, with the practice of many long years, ignored his brother’s irritation and pointed with demonic glee at the door he’s stopped in front of. “Security Center”, it declared in broad letters, “Authorized Personnel Only.”
“Ohonhonhon, I see what you are thinking, cher,” France chortled, opening the door.
“France, don’t you…”
“C’mon, West, who’s more authorized then us?” Prussia laughed as he strode into the room. “Hey France, see anybody doing the nasty yet?” Spain skipped in after Prussia, as did America and Italy. Face firmly planed in hands, Germany followed.
“Man, this blows,” America announced a few minutes later. “The building’s empty, c’mon, let’s go back to the bar.”
“Hey, what was that?” Spain cried, pointing to a screen. Everyone crowded around, but whatever Spain had seen was gone.
“Y-you don’t think it was a…a g-ghost, do you?” America stuttered, grabbing onto a suddenly frightened Italy.
“There it goes again!” Prussia exclaimed, pointing to another monitor, the room next to the first.
“Is - is that England?” Italy asked, incredulous, as on-screen the small island nation crouched near the wall, reloading what looked to be a pistol.
“What is he wearing?” France exclaimed, ignoring the pistol for staring openly at the long coat – probably red, England did like that color even if he didn’t wear it that often anymore – and pirate hat England was sporting. Suddenly a black blur dropped from the ceiling, sword stopped inches from his head by England’s crossed pistols. Italy squeaked and hid behind Germany as England lashed out, kicking the other away.
“Hang on England, the hero’s coming!” America yelled, dashing toward the door as the England onscreen fired. Germany, who had also started to panic, stopped short and looked closer at the screen.
“Hold up, America,” he called at the self proclaimed hero, “that’s not…”
“Dude, is that a paint gun?” Prussia interrupted, “That is awesome!” at a particularly quick motion of one figure, the ninja, who had to be Japan.
They watched the pair battle it out for awhile longer, Germany wincing each time one of them missed and left a paint splatter or dent in the wall, looking closer and closer to apoplexy at the undignified behavior in front of him, the other five cheering on one combatant or the other (or, in Italy’s case, cheering on both), the pair onscreen slipping through rooms and behind walls, just barely missing in quick moves, slipping and sprinting and dodging. Suddenly, in a lithe move most of them didn’t expect, England twisted and arched like a cat, knocking away Japan’s sword from where he seemed to have him pinned, making Japan lose his footing and fall, England landing on top of him, paint-gun at the ready. The two were still for a long minute, before soundlessly laughing and getting up, walking offscreen, play (and, unwittingly, show) over.
There was silence in the security room as Germany began to form the lecture he’d be giving the island nations once he caught up to them.
“Okay, so dudes?” Prussia said suddenly. “France, Spain – dude, Spain, get up, he’s not going to attack your armada, you don’t even have an armada anymore - you’re in charge of finding out when they’re doing that again. America? You’re with me. We’re setting up better cameras and a betting pool.”