Chapter Text
England, I wish to speak with you about something," said the not-so-young woman, yet still as beautiful and majestic as when she first ascended the throne. Queen Elizabeth slowly brought a cup of freshly brewed black tea to her lips and took a small sip, just enough to moisten her throat before the conversation. At the other end of the table sat a man who appeared young, dressed in a black suit. Though generally neat, strands of light hair stuck out prominently, making his appearance less than perfect, despite his inherent handsomeness. This was especially true considering his thick, noticeable eyebrows. One would never guess he was not a few decades old, nor even centuries. The country watched their monarch, awaiting her continuation. The Queen glanced at him with bright eyes and smiled slightly. "Do not worry, it is nothing serious. I simply remembered unexpectedly that you have an international meeting with other countries soon, and some thoughts have come to me. I believe you should foster relationships with them and perhaps derive some benefit from it."
This time, it was decided to hold the meeting in Great Britain, and it was a good opportunity to strike all sorts of deals, even if one didn't wish to see anyone. But it was for the good of the country and its people.
The man frowned slightly but did not argue. He indeed had strained relationships with many of them, and one could count his friends on one hand. It wasn't so much about history as it was about his character. Beneath the appearance of a pleasant gentleman lay a cynical, rude, stubborn person with a poor palate and a belief in the existence of magic in our world. In a word, an "oddball."
England exhaled heavily and finally spoke: "Yes, Your Highness. Then please allocate me time to organize everything."
The beginning of June had been quite warm, and even with the changeable weather in Great Britain, there had been little rain. Now, the sun shone brightly at its zenith, occasionally disappearing behind clouds. A cool breeze gently brushed his cheeks and hands, and the flowerbeds nearby smelled pleasant next to the gazebo where they were. After discussing other important events, England soon excused himself. Having finished all his affairs for the day, he headed home. This time, he did not go to his cozy apartment near Buckingham Palace, but to an old cottage in Oxford where his brothers were already waiting. The mere thought of them made his head ache more intensely, so he decided to turn on the radio to distract himself.
The song of some band, "Arctic Monkeys," was playing. Although he likes songs with good guitar playing, a beautiful voice, and meaningful lyrics, his work doesn't always allow him to keep up with what people are listening to nowadays.
"I think I should look up this band on my laptop later," he said quietly, lost in his thoughts.
On the way, he stopped by a store to buy groceries, not forgetting to get his favorite chips for Northern Ireland, otherwise, he would have to listen to his disgruntled grumbling for a long time. Living with the three of them, though not always, required considering everything, and at first, it was difficult, but Arthur soon got used to the noise from these persistent guys. And on days like these, he was always awaited at home. At least by Wales. He always enjoyed being with him the most.
Putting the large bags in the trunk, he got behind the wheel and drove on. Their house is in a village, and although it's far from the city, the brothers are actually fine with it. They all highly value peace and quiet, and if they lived right in the city center, it would only be irritating. Moreover, there is a lot of greenery nearby, a forest where one can walk, and a small river within it. Perhaps it was all these factors, but for the youngest Kirkland, it was ideal.
Upon arriving at the house, England saw Wales on the porch, wrapped in a patterned cloak and watching him. His light hair was slightly disheveled by the wind. It was already getting dark: the sun was setting on the horizon, the sky was streaked with clouds, and he could only hear the occasional chirping of crickets. It had become slightly cool outside, and as England got out of the car, he involuntarily shivered.
"You're quick today," Wales said as he approached, hugging his brother tightly. "We thought you wouldn't be back for at least a few more hours." So tightly was he hugged, to the point of bones cracking, that the decision was made to immediately push Wales away and save himself before he was suffocated.
"I've finished my business for today. There wasn't much, especially since you guys did most of the work."
By agreement, England represents all of Great Britain, but Scotland, Northern Ireland, and Wales refused to completely shift all responsibilities onto him; it was their country too, after all, and at the moment, these three were working from home.
"In any case, help me carry the bags inside."
Entering the house, the two countries took off their shoes and said in unison:
"We're home!"
The long corridor, with no light on, seemed completely empty, and at its far end, only the stairs leading to the second floor were visible. The walls were covered in white striped wallpaper, with some dirty stains noticeable in places. On the left side of the entrance stood a shoe cabinet, a coat rack, and a door to the kitchen. On the opposite wall hung a large square mirror, and a little further on, the entrance to the living room, from which the sounds of a turned-on television could be heard. Honestly, it's fine without the light, everything is done from memory, but in any case, the bulb will need to be replaced.
Entering the kitchen, one could see wallpaper with a floral pattern on the walls. The kitchen area was separated from the dining area by a brick arch over the stove. To the left of the stove was a cabinet with a microwave and decorative plates, and to the right were kitchen cabinets with glass doors. Above the countertop were various kitchen utensils and dishes.
They placed the groceries on the table, and Wales immediately began unpacking them.
"It's my turn to cook today. Tell the others that for dinner, we'll have chicken masala, Welsh rarebit, and store-bought cookies for dessert," Wales said, putting on a pink apron.
First, England went upstairs and entered his room to change into a simple white shirt and dark trousers. Coming back down, he peeked into the living room. Northern Ireland was sprawled on the sofa, eating a chip sandwich and watching a nature program. Scotland was sitting in an armchair nearby, reading a book.
England cleared his throat, drawing their attention.
"Wales is cooking dinner. Chicken masala, Welsh rarebit, and cookies for dessert," he announced, trying to keep his voice neutral, but a hint of annoyance still crept in.
Northern Ireland looked up from the screen, stretched, and yawned.
"Sounds good. It's just that the chip sandwich has almost killed my appetite," he mumbled, putting his half-eaten sandwich on the side table. Scotland, without looking up from his book, grunted something unintelligible in agreement.
England rolled his eyes and returned to the kitchen. Wales was already busy at the stove, humming a folk tune to himself. The smell of spices and fried meat quickly spread through the house, causing a pleasant rumble in the stomach.
"Are you sure you don't need help?" England asked, leaning against the doorframe.
Wales glanced over his shoulder and smiled. "I'm fine. Just bring me the spices from the pantry, if you don't mind," he replied, turning back to the stove.
England sighed and went to find the spices, feeling his irritation gradually dissipate. He returned to the kitchen with a small basket full of colorful packets and jars. Wales nodded gratefully, skillfully adding them to the simmering sauces and oil with a spatula. The kitchen filled with such a rich aroma that England's eyes watered. He went to the window and watched the fading sunset, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple.
Soon, Wales announced that everything was ready, and they began to set the table. Northern Ireland, awakened by the appetizing smell, was the first to rush into the kitchen and began deftly arranging the plates. Scotland, tearing himself away from his book, followed him, carrying the cutlery. England placed a pitcher of water and a vase of flowers picked from the garden on the table.
When everyone sat down at the table, there was a moment of silence, broken only by the quiet rustling of forks and knives. The chicken masala pieces were tender and juicy, the Welsh rabbit melted in the mouth, and the cookies were crispy and sweet. At least one of them knew how to cook well. And everyone enjoyed the food, forgetting about everyday worries and problems. Except for England. That conversation with the Queen was swirling in his head. He glanced at his brothers, who were enjoying Wales' cooking. He needed advice more than ever, but he wasn't sure these three were good advisors. While England was lost in thought, Scotland was watching his struggles.
"Something wrong?" Scotland asked, causing Wales and Northern Ireland to look at England with questioning eyes as well. He flinched in surprise, which only led to more curiosity.
"Nothing," England mumbled, putting on a serious face as if that would save him from questions.
"Oh, come on," Northern Ireland exclaimed. "Now that I'm looking at you closer, you really do seem worried about something."
"Is it work-related?" Wales asked, hitting the nail on the head.
England mumbled and muttered, frowned, and looked at his brothers with doubt. They clearly wouldn't be the best advisors, but he didn't really have a choice right now.The meeting of the countries was already tomorrow, and he couldn't think of any ideas about where to go for a walk or with whom.
"Since the meeting of the countries is coming up, Her Majesty the Queen asked me about something." He slowly began to explain the reason, slightly coughing to clear his throat. "In general, I was told to establish relations with other countries, but I have no idea where to start. So I ask... for your help."
Suddenly, the kitchen became quiet, just like at the beginning of their meal. Only the ticking of the clock on the wall and the chirping of birds outside continued to make sounds. They looked at their brother in surprise, as if a third eye had appeared on his forehead. England, due to his character, would never ask for help with something so trivial; he was too proud. So it was surprising for the three of them to hear a request for help from their younger brother.
"Are you asking us to help you?"Wales asked uncertainly.
"Wow, that's really funny."Northern Ireland smirked, for which he immediately received an elbow in the side. "Ouch, what the hell for?"
"If you can't respond properly, then just be quiet," Scotland replied discontentedly. England sat in his chair, all red with anger and embarrassment. It was his mistake to assume that he could expect any support from them. "Arggh, fine! If you don't want to help, then don't," he snapped at his brothers and continued to poke his fork into his food, frowning even more and muttering under his breath. "In any case, I can manage without you."
"Calm down,"Scotland said. "You know how much of an idiot Northern is, and you got so worked up over that."
"Hey, who’s the idiot here!"Northern Ireland shot a disgruntled look at his brother, but everyone simply ignored it.
"So you said the Queen asked you to establish connections with other countries, but you don't know where to start, "Wales repeated the information while chewing meat. "Well, I think watching movies sounds good. Especially fantasy ones with dragons!"
"Or a walk. For example, in the park' Northern Ireland suggested another idea.
"Or going to a restaurant" Scotland added.
"Going to a restaurant?" Wales asked. "Don't you think that's a bit too much to go with someone you barely know?"
"And you’re the one who suggested watching a movie with dragons?"
"Actually, dragons are cool! You're just too stupid to understand that."
On one hand, Northern Ireland was going on about how interesting dragons are and complaining that he's the only one who realizes it, and on the other, Wales was grumbling about what a crazy fanatic he is. The shouts were so loud that he eventually shut them both up and asked England:
"This is all great, but who are you going with first? That way we can figure out where to go." England already regretted this a thousand times, but it was too late to do anything. He actually had no idea who to go with first, and he didn't think anyone would voluntarily want to spend time with him. Not that he's boring or uninteresting, he's just... complicated.
"I don't know. I just don't want to start with someone I might easily scare, like that crybaby Italy, or someone who annoys me, like that idiot France."
While everyone was thinking, gears suddenly started turning in Scotland's head. He'd actually wanted to live separately and join the EU for a long time, and so, to get closer to that, he was trying to attract Germany's attention in every possible way. If England and Germany got closer, he could take advantage of it, get closer to the German, and then join the EU.
"Germany!" Scotland suddenly exclaimed, almost jumping out of his chair. "Let Germany be first. I think he's a good choice."
"Germany? Why him?" Wales asked, puzzled.
"Well..." he drawled, thinking of more or less normal reasons. "I think he's the most normal of all the idiot countries. Besides, I'm sure he won't annoy England over some little thing."
"On the other hand, he's the hardest to win over. Especially for our hot-tempered little brother," Northern Ireland replied from nearby.
"You think I can't handle it?!"
"Can you?"
"What a stupid question? Of course I can," England scoffed, crossing his arms and wishing he could punch all three of them right now. "I just don't even know what to talk to him about. I don't know what topic to start with. We only talk about work-related things."
Scotland thought for a moment and looked out the window as if he would find the answer there. And he wasn't wrong. In the distance, a large dog was running across the field. It was already dark and only its silhouette was visible, but even so, the dog's barking was very audible. Suddenly, it dawned on him.
"I was talking to him once and he mentioned in passing his love for dogs."You'll say you want a dog, but you don't know which one, and use that as an excuse to start a conversation.
Silence fell in the room. Everyone was contemplating the decision: how good or bad it was.
"Well," Northern Ireland was the first to respond. "Sounds not bad. In principle, we don't have many other ideas. And besides, England will be the one to embarrass themselves, not us."
Wales merely shrugged, England glared maliciously at his brother for the last words, which could have been left unsaid.
"So, do you agree?" Scotland asked.
Three pairs of green eyes stared at him, awaiting an answer.
"...I don't have a choice anyway, so why ask these unnecessary questions?" England replied dryly, then stood up from the table and headed for the exit. "Carry on without me. I've lost my appetite. Thank you, Wales, for dinner. I think I'll go to sleep."
He ascended the vintage staircase, cursing all three of them under his breath. Alright, maybe only two, because Wales was mostly friendly with him. But still! He represents the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, and in all the time he's been doing it, he's never been embarrassed. So why, when it comes to something he's not very good at, do they immediately start doubting him? Of course, communication is difficult for him, especially with these idiots, but if they were in his place, they'd understand how good it is to be alone, not with them. And if they don't annoy him, he's quite a pleasant conversationalist. He'll prove it: his brothers will stop bothering him, and maybe he can make a good deal. Her Majesty will be very pleased with that. The last thoughts did lift his mood a little and inspired him for the next day. He washed up, brushed his teeth, changed into his favorite pajamas, and lay down on the bed with a book. He usually only reads his own books, but recently, when he went into a small bookstore on the next street, he overheard two girls talking about how a novel by Franz Kafka had captivated them with its deep meaning. Don't think anything bad, England doesn't usually eavesdrop on other people's conversations because it's impolite. It's just that they were standing nearby, and it didn't make sense to move to another shelf just because of that. Later, they left, and England approached the shelves with German literature. He read it, though rarely, but he has to admit the books by Nietzsche, Remarque, and Goethe are something else.
England had only read a couple of pages of the book when his eyes slowly began to feel heavy.The pillows felt softer and warmer, making it even harder for England to stay awake. He had promised himself he'd finish the first chapter, but fatigue had clearly overcome him quickly. Nearby, his brothers were talking about something, and at the end, they wished each other goodnight. Honestly, his head was already foggy, and before closing his eyes completely, England thought, "I hope everything goes well tomorrow."
The meeting was dragging on unbearably. Almost everyone in the room was talking, creating a terrible noise that started to give England a headache. And it seemed he wasn't the only one. Germany was no longer trying to calm everyone down, only massaging his temples with circular motions. He looked, to put it mildly, worn out, with dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep. The meeting had started exactly at six, which meant England had woken up at four in the morning to make it on time, and then he'd spent an hour traveling from Oxford to London, so he likely didn't look any better. Some others were also tired and remained silent, or spoke only occasionally, or like America, offered ideas or talked about things unrelated to the meeting. He had already presented his part, somehow enduring the sharp words through gritted teeth. Others were also saying things, but honestly, they were either ineffective or completely idiotic. And so, two hours passed.
By eight, the meeting was declared over. Everyone dispersed to their hotels or went to explore different parts of his beautiful country. He would have gladly offered to show others the sights, but his eyes were searching for the tall, fair-haired German. He didn't have to look for long; Germany was standing near the entrance, talking with Japan and Italy about something. Even after all this time, they were still good friends, which surprised the Englishman. Especially Germany's friendship with Italy. How did these two opposites become so close? Japan was a good friend and ally, and his choice was understandable in principle, but this Italian? In principle, it wasn't his business. He was just waiting for them to finish quickly so he could wrap up his own affairs and go to his cozy apartment.
Finally, after saying goodbye to Japan and Italy, Germany was about to head to his hotel when he was called. England approached him. Usually, when they spoke, it was only about work matters, and he had already prepared himself for a conversation along those lines.
"Did you want something?" Germany asked.
"Yes, well..." England began hesitantly. "Would you like to go grab a coffee and help me pick out a dog?"