#atlas-workbench

Trick AND treat: Ben carved a Vader pumpkin. And the Rebels decided he's not allowed to plan the Halloween parties.

AUTHOR: Pepper’s Ghost

28th of December, 2014 - Why We Celebrate

England wasn’t expecting much for the rest of the season. The holiday had come and gone but he made little fanfare of the whole thing. It was hard to when everyone he cared about was off someplace else – probably halfway dead with the way the war was going and all. It didn’t stop him from trying to make the best of it for all of the others around him even though his heart wasn’t in it. Yes, the war wasn’t over by Christmas like they all hoped and people were suffering the fall out but there was no reason to be a scrooge about it.

So it was particularly stunning to him when he exited one of his officer’s offices and nearly dropped his files. It couldn’t be, but he was sure it was – his America was here. Too stunned to even call out, England tried to race forward.

It was a bad move on his part though. His knee locked up painfully causing him to cry out. His papers flew everywhere but at the last second he managed to catch himself on the wall and ride out the vertigo the sudden pain caused.

“There’s nothing wrong with wheelchairs you know,” said a voice from in front of him. The voice brought things back into focus a bit. England was now acutely aware that he had not been mistaken before and the figure was indeed America. America who already had too much to worry about and had just seen his little episode.

“I know that!” said England. His bark was a bit too harsh and England regretted it immediately at America’s flinch. “I know that just as well as the next man,” said England again. He straightened his uniform jacket and snatched his papers back from America. “I just don’t ruddy need one.”

They stood in the hallway awkwardly. They’d had less then ideal meeting starts before but given the season and everything it was a disappointment for both of them.

Resolving to make the most of the situation England spoke again, “Gosh it’s been ages since I’ve last seen you.” He tucked the papers under his arm and sized America up. America just indulged the other with a small half smile and let England’s eyes roll over him – taking in the just-got-off-the-transport appearance, slightly warn out but shockingly clean clothes, the nick on his ear that was almost healed but England caught it with a frown anyway, the slightly shaggy hair from being out in the field for too long, the mud on his boots that he was tracking all over the place despite what England was sure was best intentions.

“Come,” said England propelling America forward so that they were set to walk in step with each other. “Let’s go get dinner.”

“Actually I was looking for Matthew.”

America would not budge. His eyes were downcast but even when England squeezed his shoulder America did not move. At a bit of a loss, England continued, “Well Matthew can come too then.”

“O-oh well – ” said America. The stutter had raised some flags for England. America stepping back made it even worse. America had not conceded ground to England in a very, very long time. Not with unresolved issues on the table. Not ever like this.

“What is it?” said England. He drew America back close to him and quickly looked him over for problems, then cased the hallway fro threats. “What’s wrong Alfred?”

“Nothing’s wrong – I’m fine – Everything is fine – Well actually we’re in a war and all and that’s not fine but – ”

“No buts,” said England. “I know better then that. Something is up and you will tell me.”

England reached out to grab America’s hand but stopped immediately at America’s painful cry when he was gently grabbed.

“Oh Alfred what is the matter with your hand?”

“It’s nothing,” said Amerca quickly. He drew his hand back from England’s exceedingly light grip but England was having none of that.

“Nonsense,” said England. He made to grab America’s injured hand again but skillfully shifted his target to the other hand at the last minute. England immediately noticed America’s wince.

“Both hands?”

America gave a faint nod.

“How on earth did you manage to hurt both hands?” said England. He did his best to soothingly rub the American’s forearms and the hurt he had inadvertently caused. “Answer me now Alfred.”

America was quiet for a long while before blowing the hair out of his eyes and answering, “I was with a unit that got pinned down between a rock and a smoking hot gun. I didn’t want to see everyone die so I just moved the gun out of the way.”

“And torched your hands,” said England.

“Yep.”

“Oh you daft fool,” said England. He drew America into a bone-crushing hug being mindful of the other’s hand placement. “That certainly explains why you’re back from the campaign. Nobody gives a damn about Christmas anymore. Better off just pretending it’s another day and not get your hopes up. Less likely to get hurt that way.”

“Come now,” England continued. “Lets go get some dinner. Matthew can have the night off. I’ll feed you myself.”

“But – ” Again America was giving him ground and backing into the wall.

“So it’s apparently ok for Matthew to feed you but I can’t hmm.”

“No.”

“It’s ok love. My hand might not be as steady as it used to be but I swear by each of the stars on your flag that I will not slop hot soup all over you.”

“That’s not it…it’s just…I’d hate to be a burden or anything. I’m supposed to be helping you in this war, not the other way around.”

“It would be my pleasure to help you love. Besides you’re looking a bit peaky. Even with the rationing I know you probably aren’t getting enough to eat. I must rectify the situation immediately.”

Despite his massive blush, America no longer protested as England started to pull him back down the hallway.

“Don’t worry Alfred,” said England. He braced the other against him both for the American’s comfort and to keep himself steady. “No one will notice the two of us. There’s that singer in town – doing one last Christmas show for all the boys who just got off the boats and missed out on Christmas.”

“That does sound nice,” said America.

“Indeed it does. We’ll have ourselves a little belated Christmas. You and me. Push away all the troubles, let our hearts be light.”

“And I’ll take you dancing afterwards,” America cut in. “Even without my hands we can still enjoy the night.”

“Simply ideal. You won’t stop eating until I say you are full.”

They walked down the hall arm and arm. It wasn’t much but it was something.

____________________________________

AUTHOR: Pepper's Ghost

20th of September, 2014 - On The Road Again

"No. Absolutely not. I am not getting into that death contraption, Alfred, and you cannot make me."

It was a car – an old Ford roadster - haystack yellow with a black convertible top and wood wheel spokes. It sat innocently enough in the driveway waiting to take the two men to places unknown.

"Come on Arthur! It'll be fun," said America. He'd saddled up to the car and was affectionately patting the hood while shooting England a pleading look. "A nice fall drive. You and me. The open road."

England was having none of it. He stood resolute, arms crossed, frowning at America.

"Aren't you always telling me to smell the roses?" continued America without a care given to England's posture. "So lets go for a nice cruise through the countryside and see all the pretty fall colors. Maybe stop at a fruit stand or something and get a treat."

"Well that's all fine and good but seriously Alfred, your Model A?" said England.

"I'll have you know I've taken great care of this car!" America said. His loose posture had vanished. The car stroking had stopped. Even if it was England no one was going to bad-talk his baby. "That's even the original paint and upholstery."

"Great. So you want us to sit on poorly covered springs for however long it is until you get bored of this venture and bring us home," said England. He shot the car another scathing glance but adamantly avoid the upset American's eyes.

"Look," said America with a sigh. He ran his hands through his hair and swallowed. "If you didn't want to leave the house you coulda just said no." After a pause. "I dressed up and everything."

The remainder caused England to again enjoy the form before him – a nice button down with a form fitted vest and even an old driving hat. England hadn't seen the likes of those clothes on America in a good long while. America did look quite dapper in them. It would be a shame to waste such an effort.

"Alright fine," said England. He chose to ignore the fist pump and not so subtle victorious 'yes' the other gave. "But you had better not expect me to crank."

"Nope!" said America climbing in the drivers seat. "I splurged when I got this baby! Electric starter and everything." His last word was punctuated by the car door slamming.

As America busied himself with starting the car England prattled on about the turn of events, "To be honest I would have thought you'd've gotten something more flashy than just this Model A. What ever happened to your Locomobile?"

"I love that car," said America as the Ford rattled to life. America patted the wheel and the pair started out down the driveway.

"Does this even have proper turn signals?" England said as they pulled onto the main road.

"Course – totally street legal and insured," said America.

"So when this explodes on us, I can sue you."

"You wouldn't."

"I just might."

They drove on through beautiful fall scenery.

England didn't even protest when America threw his arm around him as they vibrated down the road.

"So why the sudden interest in taking this old car out?" England said. He discreetly tried to snuggle with the warm American. "Simple joy rides are not something done in this day and age anymore."

It was quiet for a few moments. England could see the other searching for something, pensive look on his face, before it lit up with an answer.

"Pit stop!" America said. Apparently not the answer England was looking for.

The car swerved violently to the left and into a small dirt parking lot.

"What the hell Alfred!?" England said. He ignored how the momentum of the turn had smashed them even closer together.

Both sloshed forward as America slammed on the breaks in a parking spot.

"Best. Cookies. Ever!" said America. He clutched England's shoulders and gave a little squeeze before he scrambled out of the car and was lost among the baked goods. England just sighed and slowly made his way behind his companion.

The quaint little fruit stand was nice enough and had quite the variety of goods available. England dabbled among the bins of apples seeing if they had some of the unique varieties you couldn't get at the store.

America blustered toward him. "Sample. Try," said America. He shoved some fudge in England's mouth before rushing away again.

England chuckled at the other's enthusiasm. America was all over everything at the stand.

The pair came away with some apples, cookies for America and a caramel apple for England.

As soon as the cookies were demolished, America began eyeing England's caramel apple.

"You want a bite before all the caramel is gone?" said England.

"Yes please."

"Just keep your eyes on the road," England said. He scooted closer to America and dangled the treat by America's mouth allowing the other to take an enormous caramel-covered bite.

"You never answered my question before we stopped," said England.

"Wha'stha'?" America said licking caramel out of his teeth. England had his full attention though.

"Or how about why there was another Model A at the fruit stand?" England continued. "This type of car is not your daily driver anymore."

"Didn't I tell you? It's International Model A Ford Day. Gotta show the pride of ownership!" said America.

"Do Americans make holidays for everything?"

"No. Just the important stuff like Thanksgiving and Labor Day and Mother's Day and Pie Day and Earth Day and Aviation Day and Sneak Some Zucchini Onto Your Neighbor's Porch Day and – "

"And that last one is not a holiday!" said England.

"It's August 8th…I celebrate every year."

"Really."

"Really really … There're only so many different things you can do with zucchini … Gotta spread the love around you know."

"So the only reason for this mad venture was to celebrate this holiday?"

"And to spend time with you Arthur!"

"We are not having sex in this car."

"Drat. I'll just have to settle for holding you close the rest of the trip."

"How chivalrous. Now let me enjoy the rest of my apple and these views in peace."

The pair snuggled close for the remainder of their nice afternoon drive.

———————————————————————————————————-

AUTHOR: atlas-workbench

11th of September, 2014 - Verse by the Side of the Road

The endless ribbon of road stretched forever onward before them. The blue sky was infinite and the warm tar smell with a hint of honeysuckle wafted through the car. The idyllic landscape did nothing to improve the mood of the two occupants of the vehicle.

"This is stupid," said England pointedly glaring at the driver.

"It's not my fault," America shot back.

"Clearly it is – the world meeting is in America."

"And as much as I love all of me," said America. "Even I don't like it when the boss fingers a smaller town for the conference … especially not when one of us decides to put up a fuss about things."

England rolled his eyes and redirected his ire at the passing landscape.

"Especially when it is you without your tea," America said. He reached over and gave England a pat on the knee to try and make them both feel better.

"I am not that bad," England said.

"You almost elbowed Germany in the face today."

"He was looking a bit off and I didn't appreciate his attitude toward certain subjects," England said.

"You were tea deprived and now I have to drive us to the next town over to see if they have anything "cultured" enough for you," said America. "It's for the greater good. I am such a hero."

"If we even make it to the next town," England said as the car took on a railroad crossing without slowing down. "You drive like a mad man!"

"There's no one around … we're good."

"I feel like your car is going to fall apart."

"And here I thought you enjoyed my Packard with its fun bright red hexagons on the hubcaps! Sure it's a bit 1920s and it's not new like my Ford V-8 but it's still a good ride."

Not wanting to delve into that kettle of fish the duo drove on in silence until England noticed the scenery take on a more discernable blur.

"Why are you slowing down?" said England.

America's grin just kept getting bigger as the car continued to slow to a much more manageable pace.

"Alfred what is going on?" England said. He tried to follow where America was looking but couldn't tell what was so interesting about the upcoming stretch of road.

Then out of the corner of his eye he saw it - one lone red sign with white letters about 20 feet from the road.

"KEEP WELL," the sign read.

England cocked his eyebrow.

"That was odd," England said. "Do your people normally wish well to strangers on the road in the middle of nowhere?"

Before he could get his answer, he could just see another sign coming in to view.

"TO THE RIGHT," the sign read.

Before England could question again, America said, "I haven't read this one before!"

He did a series of funny taps on the steering wheel and wiggled around in his seat as if he wanted to be dancing instead of driving.

"OF THE ONCOMING CAR," the next sign read.

Not one to wait, America sped up after they read the sign and as soon as the next just barely came into view he slowed down again so that they could read the latest red and white sign.

"GET YOUR CLOSE SHAVES," the sign read.

Again America sped up and slowed down as yet another roadside sign came into view.

"FROM THE HALF POUND JAR," the sign read.

After this sign America returned to his previous break-neck speed. England figured the whole bizarre event was over.

"What the heck did we just – "

England cut himself off as another sign went whizzing past the car. He could barely read this one but the under-his-breath chant that America gave as they passed it gave England little doubt as to what it said.

"BURMA SHAVE."

"A crummy commercial," England said in disbelief.

"Hey!" America said. "They're awesome. You drive around in the middle of nowhere and all of a sudden – boom – there they are. I like looking at amber waves of grain as much as the next guy but they really help liven up the ride."

"Don't you think it odd to have roadside advertizing?" said England.

"Nope!" said America. "I think my favorite is "He played – a sax – had no B.O. – but his whiskers scratched – so she let him go – Burma Shave."

England sat in silence blinking owlishly at America for a few moments before commenting, "You do realize that my army just recently dropped the requirement for compulsory facial hair?"

England himself has sported a very nice mustache for almost 50 years because of those laws! He'd even kept it up during the Great War when most others decided it wasn't worth the trouble in such a mess and the laws changed. 1915 wasn't too terribly long ago. England absentmindedly stroked his upper lip in reminiscing. He barely caught the turn the conversation took.

"Yeah. That was awful," said America. "Kissing would have sucked."

The temperature of the car rose a little bit from the blushing both suddenly were doing.

"You wanted to kiss me even then?" England said.

"Especially then."

England hummed in appreciation. He shimmied closer to America and gave him a good long look.

He patted America's cheek and said, "You're just jealous that you can't grow one well," before sliding back over to his side of the car.

"I can too!" America said. His blush has spread all the way to his ears and the back of his neck.

"Sure thing love."

———————————————————————————————————-

AUTHOR: atlas-workbench

July 20th, 2014 - A Magical Surprise

“I’ve got a surprise for you Arthur,” was all the American had said before the duo were whisked away into a car bound for goodness-knows-where Florida.

England had groused and complained but even he enjoyed the simple pleasures of driving endlessly with America. They talked idly the whole time about this and that, listening to mostly good music. Yet every time England tried to steer the conversation toward the surprise, America would absolutely clam up and say nothing.

They passed the many exits for Disney World – for which England was silently relieved – he could only take so much of “It’s A Small World” in a day and although his pavilion at EPCOT was shaping up quite well he was unbearably close to France there.

It was only when they pulled up to the Universal Studios Orlando theme park that England let himself be disappointed. It was probably just some new technology that America was really excited about that he was being drug along to see.

Despite his thick-headedness at times, America caught the downturn in emotions almost immediately.

“Hey sour puss, don’t be like that,” he said. “This is going to be awesome!”  Quickly America rifled through his pockets before triumphantly presenting England with a blindfold.

“Do you trust me?” said America. They both knew it was a bad choice of words the minute they were said given the proffered blindfold.

Quickly backpedaling over England’s hesitation and situation in general America said, “It’ll be better for the surprise – no peaking and all that … or you could just look at the ground the whole time – but you’ve got to promise not to peek!”

“I promise Alfred. I truly do,” said England. He plucked the blindfold out of the other’s hand and stuffed it into his pocket.

“Righto!” said America with a sigh of relief. “Let’s go!”

So England dutifully followed behind America as they made their way from the far edges of the parking lot to the front entrance. He didn’t look up as America somehow got out of paying for their tickets nor did he peek at anything at all. He focused exclusively on the pavement as it changed from area to area as they walked slowly along in the nearly evening light. At least there were many different types of shoes to look at. England never understood how some women wore heels to waking intensive places like this.

In a remarkably short period of time the number of shoes England could see were clearing out exponentially.

Before long they were stopped just in front of a gate. America was positively thrumming with excitement now.

“Ok Arthur,” said America. “Look up.”

He did and he couldn’t believe it.

There, in picture perfect fashion, was his own little Harry Potter Land. The gates divided them but he could distinctly see the makings of Diagon Ally and Hogsmeade and the train station and the looming castle in the background.

When the shock finally wore off he realized America had been babbling to him the whole time.

“I’ve been trying really hard to keep the whole thing hush-hush from you so you’d be surprised,” said America. “It’s just going to keep getting better and better you know. I’m expecting you to help me out too…I might have read the books a thousand times over to try and get the details but there’s no denying that this is so much a part of you that you’ll probably always know it better then I do.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” said England.

“I’m serious Arthur – you say there’s one thing wrong with the place and I’ll fix it myself if I have to.”

As touching as the thought was England needed to get beyond the gates.

“Let’s go inside,” said England. He snatched America’s hand right after the gates were carefully unlocked and shut behind them.

By the time they had toured the place, England couldn’t be more gleeful – it was even better then being on set really … on a set you could see where the set ended, where the magic stopped. Here … even though things weren’t quite done, it was an all-encompassing experience.

“Can we ride any of the rides?” said England. “Surely there must be rides. It is not enough for people to just bask in the glory of storybook architecture come to life anymore.”

America deflated a lot at that.

“They aren’t done yet,” said America. “I just got too excited and had to show you early so no one ruined the surprise. There’s going to be so many people here when it opens I figured I’d show it to you now so you can get a good look at it – and change anything if you wanted to … just say the word and it will be done.”

“Alfred this is brilliant,” said England. “I only wish that it were in my home and not yours. I guess that means I will just have to visit you more often now.”

“I was waiting for you to build one,” said America. “I figured … with each new movie someone would come out and say they were building something. But I got sick of waiting. Originally I wanted to have a full-on theme park just for this – everyone kind of talked me out of it though. I have to save something for you after all. So this will be the mock up and you can do it right.”

“Don’t hold your breath on that Alfred,” said England. “Keep improving this one – relish in what we have in the here and now.”

As soon as the sun went behind the castle darkness started to fall quickly.

“The park is closing soon and we can’t stay long but I want to show you the inside of Three Broomsticks,” said America. “The cooks are working on the food still but the butterbeer is done. We have to try it before we leave.”

England dallied in the entryway as America bustled off to the kitchens. The place wasn’t done yet but he could see the makings of more fun inside to help complete the magic in the area.

“Here,” said America passing over an etched glass stein brimming with frothy amber liquid. “I figured you’d chew me out if I went with the plastic cups so I borrowed some mockups from the gift shop, er … Dervish and Bangles.”

“Cheers,” said England. “Thank you for the wonderful surprise.”

The sentiment only increased soon after when America smiled back at England, foam mustache and all.

X

AUTHOR: Pepper’s Ghost

June 30th, 2014 - After All, Tomorrow Is Another Day

“You’re still here?” said England.

America was sitting on the lower bunk in their cabin. He gave England a cursory head-to-toe glance and then went back to staring at the wall.

“Roosevelt doesn’t want me smoking anymore,” said America. “Says my lungs are bad enough already and don’t need any more favors done.”

“I’d ask to take you for a drink but I know you know you shouldn’t do that either,” said England. He gently shut the door to the small cabin behind him and hung his hat on the back of the door.

“Yeah. All things considered I’ve been doing well at something at least.”

England did not like the look of that wry smile on America’s face. He crossed the tiny room in two steps and seated himself on the bed next to his companion.

“So instead of enjoying the lounge or the observation promenades you’ve been sitting here in this cramped cabin,” said England. He gently reached out and grabbed one of America’s hands and began rubbing small circles into it.

“Yep.”

“That’s unlike you.”

“Well, I’m not feeling much like myself lately.” America still refused to make eye contact with England despite England’s repeated attempts trying to catch his eyes.

“Come off it – you’ve been getting better and better,” said England. And it was true too. The dust surrounding his person had been cut down drastically. His health was looking up from the dazzling whiteness of his teeth returning to the shine of his hair coming back into prominence.  

“Then why am I being forced to take a vacation instead of helping out back home?” America said. He had turned now to regard England and the other could see the bone deep weariness written in the scruffiness of his face, the purpling bruises under his eyes, and the unfocused eyes themselves.

“Well if you truly feel like my company is being forced on you I can leave,” said England. He pulled back away from America and moved to regain his hat. This was not an argument they could afford to bring up again in such confined quarters. That, and England hated mollycoddling.

“We’ve been together long enough that you know I cannot sleep when traveling,” said America. The brief fire in his eyes was out again. He had sunk back onto himself and cradled his head in his hands.

“I do believe zeppelin is the common term.” England was still poised to leave but would not if he didn’t have to.

“Can we not call them that.”

“Fine. Dirigible – airship. Take your pick.”

“I miss my airplane,” said America. He has shifted and was now looking at the ceiling as if his desire could make the airplane appear and rescue him.

“That little thing can’t make it to my house.”

“Don’t care. It makes me feel more alive then this moving void space.”

“If it makes you feel better I’d much rather be traveling by boat. Now that’s really feeling alive.” Again England returned to America and sat with him on the bunk.

“Yeah. Me too. Maybe then I could stop worrying about how much this ticket cost my people or whoever wound up paying for it.”

At the sound of America’s voice cracking a bit at the thought of money England pulled the other into a hug which America slowly retuned in full.

“Now,” said England as he pulled back slightly. “I know you haven’t been staring out at the endless clouds since we got on this voyage.  What have you been doing?”

“Reading. Mostly. Trying to sleep but that’s not working no matter how tired I am. But reading is like meditation right? It gives parts of your mind a break?”

“You’re right love. Now what book has so thoroughly captured your attentions that you missed dinner?”

That got a rise out of America. He had firmed up and was blushing faintly, refusing to look at England.

“No one in particular.”

“Really now…doesn’t seem quite right. It must be close by. Why have you hidden it?”

“I didn’t hide it I just got to a sticky part and needed to think about it for a bit.”

“I see. Well if that’s the case – ” Like lightening England reached around America and snatched the book that was barely poking out from under the pillow despite America’s squeak of protest.

“Hey!”

“Gone with the Wind by Margaret Mitchell – I've never heard of this before.”

“That’s 'cause it just came out today. It was long and I figured, ‘why not?’”

“What’s it about?”

“Just stuff.”

“What kind of stuff.”

“Stuff stuff.”

England contemplated America’s response as he skimmed several random pages.

“Good god Alfred! This is about your civil war,” said England. “Why on Earth are you reading something like that at a time like this?”

“I dunno. I –” America was cut off by a string of loud coughs.

England set the book aside and brushed his hand through America’s hair. America gave him a weak smile but soon his face contorted and started coughing heavily again. England rubbed America’s back until the coughing subsided.

“I – ” America paused to clear his throat again. “ I suppose it’s good not to forget things. I don’t know how accurate it is because I don’t remember much about then…well not the details like this…no, I remember some things but – I don’t know. The whole thing was like being hit in the head with a baseball bat continuously. I guess it’s nice enough to see how someone else remembers it.”

“So do you like the book?” England said.

“Yes. No. Maybe. I don’t really know. I think it might make a good moving picture or something. It’s not the normal sort of thing I’d read for sure.”

The pair sat in silence for a long while before England spoke up, “Alfred you have just read a lengthy tome about a hard point in your history all in one go. It is an accomplishment worthy of something good to eat.”

“You think so?” said America. A bit of cheer had bled back into his voice and England was glad for that. “And what sort of food would that entail?”

“I’m fairly certain the cook would not oppose us raiding the galley for something. Ice cream perhaps. Although seeing as you missed dinner how about a hamburger.”

“Hamburger’s are great.”

“Yes. Hamburgers can make everything better.”

The pair stood and after a half armed hug and a quick kiss to the lips, they made their way out the door fueled by the fire of a new mission.

X