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Entry tags:
Game
Title: Game
Author:![[profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
eskimo
Character/Pairings: Spain and England
Rating: G
Summary: Football was introduced to Spain by British soldiers and Spanish students returning from Britain.
Notes: Old fanfic that I wrote like, 2 years ago.
Time spent between the Arthur and Antonio had always been awkward at best. Though their relations were improving and their bosses were talking to one another on good terms, the two would still avoid talking to one another if possible. Even if the current generation was a calmer and friendlier time, the two still had generations of conflict fresh in their minds. It was the curse of being a national spirit—it was hard to forgive one another—and they often envied their people for being able to move on.
Today was one of those strange days where, at the urgings of their bosses, the two spent the day together with the intent to ‘get along.’ This time, the suggestion came from the English side and it was Arthur who approached Antonio after the meeting and asked the other to spend the day with him in the city.
Antonio had often declined for centuries. Always, he had feigned having more important work or wanting to rest over spending a day with Arthur in the streets of London. While Arthur’s bosses did not hold the rejection against their national representation, the Brit disliked failure so today he had planned everything carefully.
During the lunch break, Arthur approached the Spaniard and asked him out for a walk. He made sure to ask while the diplomats were still in the same room. Antonio looked out the windows, at the wet weather outside and complained.
“A little rain never hurt anyone,” Arthur replied, wearing the careful smile of a practiced politician and under the judging eyes of the Spanish and English, Antonio reluctantly accepted.
Taking their coats (and Arthur, his umbrella), the two left the building and made their way down the streets of the city called London. Arthur carried the umbrella above the two of them, or rather, he tried do but the Spaniard insisted on keeping his hands in his pockets and keeping more distance between them than the umbrella could hold. Not that he cared; if the other nation wanted to catch cold than by all means, let him!
Ahead of the two of them, children played out in the rain, kicking a ball back and forth between the two of them. One kicked the ball and missed, sending the ball in their direction and Arthur caught it with his foot, coming to a stop and bringing Antonio to one with him.
“Can we have our ball back?” The children called, waving to catch their attention and Arthur laughed to himself, which warranted a curious glance in his direction from Antonio and the Brit kicked the ball back to the children. Looking at Antonio to see if he was ready to keep moving, Arthur was interested to see that Antonio’s green eyes were set on the children.
“It’s called football,” He explained, “The object of the game is to—“
“I know.” Antonio interrupted. Many of his people had studied in England and returned with the curious new sport. They would often play with the English students who were studying in Spain.
“Really?” Arthur asked stiffly, aggravated that he had been cut off so rudely. “You don’t look like the type that would play.” Wasn’t Antonio the type that would rather laze about in bed or the gardens?
Antonio shrugged, “I don’t.” He replied but it wasn’t for the reasons Arthur assumed. Antonio had no interest in English games. Or at least, that’s what he claimed. “What are you doing?!” He gasped when the rain began to fall on him. He turned to see Arthur closing the umbrella.
“Well then,” Arthur announced, folding his coat and setting it a shop’s dry doorway where the other children and put down their school books. “Watch our things, Antonio.”
The Spaniard frowned, staring at Arthur. He didn’t want to play games with the Englishman and he watched as the man interrupted the children’s game with a casual, “Mind if I join in?” in which the children responded, “Course not, Mr. Kirkland!”
Hands in his pockets and standing under the cluttered doorway, trying to stay dry. He didn’t like the rain at all and he disliked being cold just as much. Antonio watched as the group played. The group splashed in the rain, kicking the ball into makeshift goals that consisted of old crates.
Once more, the ball went astray and rolled in his direction. Staring down at the ball at the foot of the steps, he debated stepping out into the rain to return it.
“Antonio!” Arthur called, “Be a good chap and give us back our ball!” And the children chimed in their agreements. “Unless of course, you can’t even kick a b-AAAUGH! ANTONIO!” He yelled when the ball hit him in the stomach.
Making his way towards the group, Antonio began to undo his tie. “I said I don’t play,” Antonio scoffed, walking pass Arthur and collecting the ball off the ground, “Not that I didn’t know how to.” And there was a set of oohs and aahs as the young boys skipped on their feet, declaring Antonio would be on their team.
Running a hand through his hair, Arthur growled, announcing that the game was now on.
Granted Antonio was rough around the edges when he played. He didn’t understand the rules as clearly as the more experienced players but he was a quick learner. Much to Arthur’s displeasure, Antonio seemed to learn better from the children but mostly in part to the fact that he chose to listen to them rather than Arthur’s yelling.
There were no winners in the game. The children hadn’t been keeping score (they were only playing for fun, after all) but Antonio and Arthur each declared that the other had lost. The two argued until the rain began to fall harder and the children ran indoors. Together, Arthur and Antonio ran back to the meeting, both fighting to stay as much under the umbrella as possible.
The two arrived at the meeting late, soaked to the bone, and muttering their apologies as they went to their seats. There was the sound of water dripping into puddles at their feet as they collected their papers and continued on with the meeting, each shooting one another competitive glares from across the room.
Not a word was spoken between the two but they both knew; a rematch was in order.
Author:
eskimo Character/Pairings: Spain and England
Rating: G
Summary: Football was introduced to Spain by British soldiers and Spanish students returning from Britain.
Notes: Old fanfic that I wrote like, 2 years ago.
Time spent between the Arthur and Antonio had always been awkward at best. Though their relations were improving and their bosses were talking to one another on good terms, the two would still avoid talking to one another if possible. Even if the current generation was a calmer and friendlier time, the two still had generations of conflict fresh in their minds. It was the curse of being a national spirit—it was hard to forgive one another—and they often envied their people for being able to move on.
Today was one of those strange days where, at the urgings of their bosses, the two spent the day together with the intent to ‘get along.’ This time, the suggestion came from the English side and it was Arthur who approached Antonio after the meeting and asked the other to spend the day with him in the city.
Antonio had often declined for centuries. Always, he had feigned having more important work or wanting to rest over spending a day with Arthur in the streets of London. While Arthur’s bosses did not hold the rejection against their national representation, the Brit disliked failure so today he had planned everything carefully.
During the lunch break, Arthur approached the Spaniard and asked him out for a walk. He made sure to ask while the diplomats were still in the same room. Antonio looked out the windows, at the wet weather outside and complained.
“A little rain never hurt anyone,” Arthur replied, wearing the careful smile of a practiced politician and under the judging eyes of the Spanish and English, Antonio reluctantly accepted.
Taking their coats (and Arthur, his umbrella), the two left the building and made their way down the streets of the city called London. Arthur carried the umbrella above the two of them, or rather, he tried do but the Spaniard insisted on keeping his hands in his pockets and keeping more distance between them than the umbrella could hold. Not that he cared; if the other nation wanted to catch cold than by all means, let him!
Ahead of the two of them, children played out in the rain, kicking a ball back and forth between the two of them. One kicked the ball and missed, sending the ball in their direction and Arthur caught it with his foot, coming to a stop and bringing Antonio to one with him.
“Can we have our ball back?” The children called, waving to catch their attention and Arthur laughed to himself, which warranted a curious glance in his direction from Antonio and the Brit kicked the ball back to the children. Looking at Antonio to see if he was ready to keep moving, Arthur was interested to see that Antonio’s green eyes were set on the children.
“It’s called football,” He explained, “The object of the game is to—“
“I know.” Antonio interrupted. Many of his people had studied in England and returned with the curious new sport. They would often play with the English students who were studying in Spain.
“Really?” Arthur asked stiffly, aggravated that he had been cut off so rudely. “You don’t look like the type that would play.” Wasn’t Antonio the type that would rather laze about in bed or the gardens?
Antonio shrugged, “I don’t.” He replied but it wasn’t for the reasons Arthur assumed. Antonio had no interest in English games. Or at least, that’s what he claimed. “What are you doing?!” He gasped when the rain began to fall on him. He turned to see Arthur closing the umbrella.
“Well then,” Arthur announced, folding his coat and setting it a shop’s dry doorway where the other children and put down their school books. “Watch our things, Antonio.”
The Spaniard frowned, staring at Arthur. He didn’t want to play games with the Englishman and he watched as the man interrupted the children’s game with a casual, “Mind if I join in?” in which the children responded, “Course not, Mr. Kirkland!”
Hands in his pockets and standing under the cluttered doorway, trying to stay dry. He didn’t like the rain at all and he disliked being cold just as much. Antonio watched as the group played. The group splashed in the rain, kicking the ball into makeshift goals that consisted of old crates.
Once more, the ball went astray and rolled in his direction. Staring down at the ball at the foot of the steps, he debated stepping out into the rain to return it.
“Antonio!” Arthur called, “Be a good chap and give us back our ball!” And the children chimed in their agreements. “Unless of course, you can’t even kick a b-AAAUGH! ANTONIO!” He yelled when the ball hit him in the stomach.
Making his way towards the group, Antonio began to undo his tie. “I said I don’t play,” Antonio scoffed, walking pass Arthur and collecting the ball off the ground, “Not that I didn’t know how to.” And there was a set of oohs and aahs as the young boys skipped on their feet, declaring Antonio would be on their team.
Running a hand through his hair, Arthur growled, announcing that the game was now on.
Granted Antonio was rough around the edges when he played. He didn’t understand the rules as clearly as the more experienced players but he was a quick learner. Much to Arthur’s displeasure, Antonio seemed to learn better from the children but mostly in part to the fact that he chose to listen to them rather than Arthur’s yelling.
There were no winners in the game. The children hadn’t been keeping score (they were only playing for fun, after all) but Antonio and Arthur each declared that the other had lost. The two argued until the rain began to fall harder and the children ran indoors. Together, Arthur and Antonio ran back to the meeting, both fighting to stay as much under the umbrella as possible.
The two arrived at the meeting late, soaked to the bone, and muttering their apologies as they went to their seats. There was the sound of water dripping into puddles at their feet as they collected their papers and continued on with the meeting, each shooting one another competitive glares from across the room.
Not a word was spoken between the two but they both knew; a rematch was in order.