Kylie Wylde Breast Pumping

Poker Challenge 6 / 10

Mercy, are forced to use the notebook for at least a week of my mother (For the love of God, and everything nice, but I can not even use Gimp to pay gold ). Jack will go on assistance, and I hope to see him again soon ç_ç (damn HP and processor fan clogged).

Title: We're going back to a time we Knew
Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
Characters / Pairing: England v Ireland
Genre: fluff, melancholy
Warnings: pre-slash (vague, very vague), WTO
Rating: green
Word Count: 458 ( counter )
Prompt: Under a Violet Moon - Blackmore's Night @ settenote
Disclaimer: the characters are not mine, but belong to Hidekazu Himaruya and anyone who holds any legal rights. Needless to say, do not gain anything in writing this filth.
Summary: Sixty years ago Ireland gained its independence, leaving England without another brother today, November 2010, the two meet in a pub between their imaginary creatures. After all, two of them are not so distant.
Table: here

England sighed, sipping slowly its ale, Ireland in front of him staring intently at the makeshift stage, where a girl was playing an old ballad about a harp that seemed to have seen better days. She did not remember that particular song, but in the end was never able to remember everything about her too many brothers.
The nation looked around the room and its noisy patrons had not changed since the last time you had been there, he and Ireland had not changed since the last time they had seen.
For decades had passed since the last time that he and this red devil had gathered in a pub for a beer, but after just a few minutes they were already managed to fight over everything: the type of beer to order, on music to listen to, even the language to be adopted.
Heck, even Scotland creargli seemed less problems.
The girl on stage continued to pluck the strings slightly, while some of the most vociferous patrons poured into the streets of Dublin.
"Ireland ..."
" It's ire." Dry "interrupted the other, taking a long sip of his ale. ' my house, my rules '. "My name is It's ire."
"To me you'll always Ireland, you know."
And how could he not know? Ireland had been for so long. Heaven, he was still a part of Ireland.
Ireland rotated eyes. "It is now almost sixty years." Muttered the boy, moving to a red lock behind his ear. Her hair was still too long for the tastes of England. "You should Essert used to."
How would now have been accustomed to America, Canada, India and dozens of other brothers who over the years were removed from the home, and yet nothing This had never happened.
The notes of a different song filled the room, outside the small window, just beyond the shoulders of Ireland, the lighted streets of Dublin seemed to smile at him from a distant time, a time when he ran hand in hand with her brother in the fields barley, surrounded by fairies and elves, as they were no longer united states.
England was still lost in their memories as the music slowly diminished in the room, his gaze still fixed over the shoulder of the guy in front of him. The silence would be dropped without embarrassment, if the voice of Ireland had not stepped in, clear and bright as it always was.
" Do not tell me, one of your friends is right behind me. "
" Hmm? "
" a fairy, I seem to hear her just behind my ear. "Said Ireland, as was the most obvious thing in the world. "By the way, an elf sat on your leg."
England smiled, looking down on the tiny man sitting astride his knee. Perhaps he and the papist red had not departed so much, he thought, as under the table's foot that beat forever young revolutionary the umpteenth time national dance.