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Do you want a cup of tea? - July 26

Title: Do you want a cup of tea? - July 26
Fandom: Axis Power Hetalia
Characters: France: America: england.
Rating: green
Genres: Introspective, melancholy, Historic
Summary: fanfiction participating in the initiative " 2010: to togheter year," issued in CoS
[Pre-revolution American]
Alfred F. Jones was not a easily influenced, at all.
Notes: are in England. Last night I bllea felt (it ', and' a state of mind!) and I wanted to vent a bit 'of frustration, so' I put down 'this little thing.
I apologize if I am not in the notes opresenti accents, or if there will be little in the history of typing errors are very tired and very often even having reread my brain plays tricks on me.
E 'set before the American Revolution, say this and that' the precise moment when Alfred realizes that Arthur could not hold more 'to him.
is in everything 'France takes a hand, why? We say that tells you the help you gave to the Americans, the French troops, to even get them a little bit of extra space 'in the world.
Small notes:
-France 'close to Alfred as the colonies to the south (eg New Orleans) were in principle in France.
-France has a walking stick decorated with ivory, in reference to the French possessions in Africa.
-Why is the? Everyone will know that the American Revolution and 'began with the sinking of a boat from the work and why the revolution has been particularly heavy taxes and the actual trasfomrazione colonies into simple producers of raw materials. " Source
I think it's all:)
The fanfiction is involved in the 2010: to togheter year issued Collection of starlight, with the prompt 154. "Answer me, if you can.
and I 'was pointed out that the' it 's never been produced in America. This I know, but I see the 'small and all its ceremonies as a projection of England to the States. So I decided to put it anyway (: eil final speech of Francis' most' general and not directed only to the '.
Credits: ashori_sama




Alfred F. Jones was not a easily influenced, at all.
As a child, had specific ideas and those ideas were in the head so long and so clinging to his mind, which always ended at the end to turn them into action.
Alfred F. Jones, at the same time, he was a very friendly, he considered his home a small tavern-ah! How many scolded England had made him " This house is not a port. They can not enter dogs and pigs "- so it would accept all
indiscriminately, organizing small tea party, where he could show off those good manners that Arthur had taught him (yes, there was still a bon ton, but it was well under way ).
That afternoon he was surprised to see Francis on the door, intent on settling the white handkerchief on the surface of small Brass polished. France turned and stooped with loving eyes to look a little 'better landlord.
America did the same, pointing to his eyes up and not removing them even for a moment from those of her strange and unusual near Monsieur Bonnefoy though he lived just a few feet away from him never came to visit him again when he remembered, in the past, often came to talk to Arthur and remembered much better the latter's black brows knit and insults out like a swollen river from those lips always polite.
Francis stood before him and stared, and with malicious eyes. He looked like one of those villains who often stage England's had shown, those smirking as if they were suffering.
" France, what do you want? asked, moving a little and felt-making him get impatient. Once inside it was designed around small and restrained grimace of disgrusto: as Angleterre tried to imitate him was always a flashy provincialotto.
" Mon cher, I'm really happy to see you," said, turning suddenly and pinning him with piercing blue eyes. Alfred held a shudder, had not seen him ever so determined, any trace of frivolity was gone, and also his gestures had become all at once cold and precise.
"You've grown a lot since I saw you," he continued, passing his hand playfully on the head of America. These retired, taking a step back and uncomfortable stammering: " France, You Should Go away, now. know that Arthur will be angry "
Already the voice of England's risounava ears: and thunder storms!
Francis laughed, with the grace that was suitable for her figure, he sat down heavily on a magnificent chair of calico and laughed: 'And good manners? Come on, Alfred, do not be arrogant like that of your brother! I've come to visit you, they told me you were all alone ... to get bored, including redwoods and this ... "he turned to the window, with an expression of annoyance and disgust" nice nature "she bit her lip
America, in trouble, then sighed heavily and murmured: "Excuse me , French . Only recently you know that Arthur is very tense, I would not thwart further "
He sat down beside him, smiling politely. A
Francis did not escape patched pants just below the knee, the small hole in the sock, at the right calf or the mud on their shoes, with a more careful analysis could also notice the little worm-eaten furniture, curtains torn on the bottom and a slight and strange that sloppiness was due not so much bad taste as a real lack of funds.
He had heard of those quarrels between the brothers, who always ended up with cuts by Arthur Alfred funds.
"I'm thirsty," he announced, as if what he had to shake up the world. Noting that America did not move sighed. "You have something to offer, petit Alfred? "These
, embarrassed, got up, did not want to look bad, who knows what would have then said to him in the continent! Arthur was already left and right to say that he was becoming uncontrollable and unmanageable!
"I'm going ... get some 'of tea, do you want? "
Francis nodded, satisfied with the proposal and waited patiently for his guest to come back, nursed an old dusty book.
Meanwhile, in the kitchen, looking disconsolate Alfred the little tin box in which one to keep the tea, which was now empty. Blame her brother, he said. Kept asking galore! Indeed, the claim!
And inside the body of America began to create a whirlwind of anger, frustration and wounded pride. Francis began to sing, how to hold the hassle.
had a guest and could not serve. A man in his house would not receive a fair accogilenza.
Again the anger was mounting in the chest, and began to breathe faster. He gripped the cold metal in his hands and tried to calm down, closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.
did not notice the ticking rhythm caused by the heels of France, nor of his sweetly smile, caught him from behind.
"Oh, Alféd, what happens?" He asked innocently, putting her hand on the shoulder of the youngest. This instinctively closed the jar, resting lightly and wiping a tear of anger.
"Nothing , Francis . I finished my tea, do you mind if I offer only water? "
France's smile widened, nodded as if to say that was good for him and followed him outside to the well. There
the observed pull up the wheelbarrow with enthusiasm, determined and precise. Every gesture filled energy and spirit. Francis, for a moment, he admired someone other than himself.
"I wonder why a guy so smart and independent as you should be treated in such a way," chirped, leaning his elbows on the edge and watching the golden hair of Alfred.
Alfed pulled up her head and stared at him for long. He did not know what was happening.
"Well, if you were my brother I'd give my tea, not for sure I'd use it for all of the stupid partying at home, right?" He continued, tapping his stick Walking from the handle of ivory.
"England is not partying with my tea," protested the other, yet knew that it was impossible to consume all that the Arthur alone.
Francis raised an eyebrow and smiled, angelic, "petit cher, you are very naive. Arthur is only a slave, Alfred. Come on, what took you to pick up the tea, eh? One year, two years? How much work, how much sweat?
And how have you been drinking? How have you tasted? As far as I could you share? How many times have you been able to provide it and say, look! This is my job? "
He ended his little harangue retiring and looking at him with a seraphic smile.
"not true," he tried to protest, knowing perfectly well what he was all true.
"Answer me, Alfred, if you can. I asked you a question. "
The boy hung his head, a tremor of anger and frustration along the back. She bit her lip and once again raised his head no longer found Francis. Hovered in the air only a faint scent of roses and the stench of rotting was a disappointment that, day after day.