[Fanfic] The Mad Cow War
Oct. 11th, 2009 06:56 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bersekerTitle: The Mad Cow War
Genre: Humor
Characters/Pairing(s): Canada, Brazil!OC, mentions of Cuba, Argentina!OC, England and America.
Summary: Concerning the epic war between Brazil and Canada. No, really. No, really.
Rating/Warnings: free for all.
This was written for the kink_meme. \o/ As usual, it turned out different from the original. That's the bright side of translating your own stuff- you won't get sued when you change everything.
The Mad Cow War
(or Why FTTA didn’t work out, but whatever)
Canada was tired.
Worse than that. He was sad. He wasn’t used to being sad, and he didn’t like it. He was quiet and polite and unassuming, and he was always nice and never got into fights with his fellow nations and he wasn’t used to… this. To being so intensely disapproved, to be the focus of disdainful glares and to hear others criticizing him behind his back- well, fine, he was, but only when people took him for America. He wasn’t used to be hated for himself.
That was why he was sad. He had left the summit by himself, half-heartedly refusing America and England and France’s invitation to eat, because their efforts to cheer him up had made everything even worse – you shouldn’t care about this, they told him when you deal with them, sometimes you need to be harsh , and Canada wanted to scream that this was precisely the problem, he wasn’t and didn’t want to be the kind of person who says with them.
But how was he going to convince Brazil now?
And Cuba, who had nothing to do with any of this, but had spent the whole meeting glaring at him in the most pathetic staredown in history, Cuba won in less than two seconds, because as soon as he looked Canada lowered his eyes and blushed to the roots of his hair, and every time he’d glance at him he’s see those dark eyes burning, as if Cuba was seeing him for the first time and wasn’t really liking the view.
As for Brazil...
Well, this particular meeting Brazil was forty minutes late, and even when he got there he spent the rest of it bothering Argentina and drinking coffee, but Canada knew that, as soon as he remembered he was angry, he’d get back at his terrorists attacks.
Very unpleasant, this.
He sighed. At least now he was back at the hotel and he could go straight to bed to mope little more. He wasn’t even going to dine. Maybe.
He entered the room.
Then he stopped.
He left, and closed the door.
When he opened it again, the cow was still there. It was standing very calm, facing him with big brown eyes. Canada blinked hard, a few times, but the cow didn’t vanish or anything, so it was probably real.
A cow.
In his room.
He could feel his face warming up. That did it. Things had gone too far.
He slammed the door. It was time to finish this- one way or the other!
A few days earlier
Truth be told, he wasn’t exactly happy about the whole thing. But he had to follow his boss’ orders and the man had been very clear, and Brazil wasn’t happy with him anyway thanks to some weird incidents – honestly, he couldn’t be held responsible for every single thing his people did outside, could he? Brazil had never apologized for all the crap his people threw on the streets and, anyway, what was an innocent kidnap and extradition between friends? – and that thing with the aircraft companies and, so, he wasn’t used to have his market threatened by another nation and fine, maybe he hadn’t been exactly nice about that but still, still, it wasn’t his fault and anyway, it was only business.
Still, it wasn’t cool, this. Why couldn’t his boss talk with Brazil’s boss and leave it at that? Why did he have to be involved?
It had been hard to find Brazil alone; the guy was always surrounded by people. He finally found a perfect opportunity when Brazil decided to buy some soda from the vending machine in the hall.
“Excuse me,” Canada said, smiling politely.
Brazil didn’t even look at him. He was trying to put some coins in the machine:
“Hi. What’s up?”
“Erm. So. About your meat...”
That made Brazil glance at him, one eyebrow raised, and Canada knew his face was probably red by now:
“Not yours. The one you sell. Beef, I mean. You know, from cows. Beef? So, my boss wants a detailed report on it.”
“I sent you one already” the machine spit back his coins and Brazil frowned. He tried again, “I thought you had said everything was ok.”
Well, that was probably because he had. Anyway:
“Even so. I’d like to have another one, and if you don’t send it, we- do you want me to lend you some money? Yours is not working.”
“Thanks, I think I got it. If I don’t send it...?”
Canada swallowed hard. Right. He could do this. America wouldn’t have any problem with it. Neither would England. He just had to say it, straight to the point:
“I you don’t send it... I mean, it’s not like I like this, I don’t, is just that- they told me, you know how it is, we need to- I thought, well, it won’t be any trouble, you did it once, so you can-“
“What the hell! This thing ate my money! SECURITY!”
“Erm- I – if you don’t- hum, should you kick it like that? I think you will break it and then-“
The machine let out a sound that could have come from a dying animal. Brazil stopped his attacks, a little surprised, and then all the cans rolled out over their feet with an earsplitting thunder in a very colorful whirlpool.
It was almost pretty.
Brazil’s face lit up:
“Yay, free coke! Want some?”
“No, thank you.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure, thank you.”
“Your call, man.”
He was picking up the cans, as many as he could carry. Canada realized he’d have to speak fast, so he could run away before they go to jail for stealing coke:
“Thing is, we decided to raise the security levels to prevent the mad-cow disease contaminations-“
“No problems. My herds don’t have it.”
“...and that’s why he needs more detailed reports, so we can control it better-“
“You got one already. You saw we don’t have it.”
“... because if you don’t we’ll stopimportingfromyouIhopeyoudon’tmindokthanksbye.”
He left as fast as he could. Brazil tried to answer something, but he didn’t wait to hear it.
The report was delivered a few days later, covered with something that was probably coffee stains “I had to read it first, ” Brazil said vaguely, as if that would explain everything “just ignore the first page, that blurred word on the top is supposed to be Agricultura and think on the bright side, you can eat the paper when you finish.”
It sounded like a joke, but Canada could guess the undertones of hostility under his bright smile. And then he thought it probably wasn’t a joke at all, because his fingers smelled like cheese when he finished with the thing. But the report was good and detailed, as far as he could see after deciphering the stains and spots.
His boss disagreed.
The next day the man told him to place a ban on Brazilian beef, something that Canada did sputtering and blushing and avoiding Brazil’s eyes all the time. Brazil listened with his arms crossed over his chest, and when Canada was finally, finally done, he said:
“And I’m sure this has nothing to do with our quarrel over aircraft, right?”
“I-“
“Or with the fact that I surpassed you on the beef market, obviously. ”
Canada’s head was starting to hurt. He tried to keep his voice steady:
“No. Of course not. I’m just-“
“Forget it. I should have seen it coming. Here I am, minding my own business, and every time I manage something, every time I’m actually good at something I can count on one of you guys to come and- argh, just forget it!”
One of you. Now Canada was 'one of you’. He shuddered:
“Is not that, is just- your report- I mean, that part under the melted cheese-“
“You could have asked for another copy,” Brazil said coldly. He left without even looking at him.
Canada felt terrible.
But not as much as when he entered the room just to see Brazil discussing the whole thing with Cuba, of all the people he could find to open his heart to it had to be Cuba-
Who was smoking inside the room, smiling to himself and saying:
“Well, then, what the hell were you expecting? Let me tell you, I’m surprised. Who’d know in the end he’d be just like his brother?”
“What do I do now? My people are going crazy over this! They want me to start a war!”
Canada couldn’t even breathe. He stood there, eyes wide open, while the other two carried on with their conversation, completely unaware of his presence:
“...a war?” Cuba raised one of his dark eyebrows “You? ”
“You don’t have to be so shocked,” Brazil said, a little resentful “And anyway, that’s not the point. The point is, people are totally going to believe him, and what do I do? I have to sell this stuff to someone.”
“Tough luck, I say. Next time, try to play by the rules. That’s how the game goes, my friend, they sell and win money, while we, and by we I mean you, buy and get more dependent on foreign money. Next time, just kiss their feet like you usually do and avoid the retaliation.”
“What a great help you’re being,” Brazil huffed, a little sulky “I think next time I’ll talk to Argentina.”
Canada didn’t wait to hear the rest. He left the room, feeling miserable.
Brazil got him on the hallway the next day:
“You ruined my life. I hope you're happy.”
“I-“
“Do you know we’re at war now?”
It was always disturbing to hear this, but Canada frowned:
“No, we’re not. You’d have to declare it first.”
“I’m declaring it now! Consider it declared! From now on, don’t even talk to me. Unless it’s really important.”
And then he left, leaving a very befuddled Canada alone.
If he was going to enter a war, he’d have to talk to America because his brother was his biggest ally, and maybe England too because of the Commonwealth, and- gosh, that was insane. Brazil probably didn’t mean it.
Still, it wouldn’t hurt to discuss the matter with America. Who, much to his surprise, wasn’t very interested:
“He’s sulking because I stopped buying his stuff too,” he said “He’ll get over soon. By the way, thanks for warning me about the beef. This mad-cow thing is starting to get really annoying, and- d’you know what would be awesome? Finding a cure for it.”
Canada nodded. Knowing America, the cure would involve robots. Or aliens. He really shouldn’t worry about it. Brazil wasn’t going to do anything crazy, of course. Is just- it was disturbing, to think someone actually hated him, and Cuba had been really harsh and-
Aw, damm.
He had trouble sleeping that night.
In the next day meeting, America asked about FTAA. Free Trade Agreement of Americas. Brazil (who was behaving really well, except for the leather jacket that looked like a cow leather if you squinted, all black and white and weird) shrugged:
“Forget it,” he said “I knew this would be bad for me even if you guys kept it clean, but now that you won’t even pretend to be fair, as far as I’m concerned, this thing is totally dead. You can thank your little brother for it.”
Canada flinched and tried to make himself really small, and everybody started to speak at the same time and America punched the table to bring some order:
“Hey, no need to talk like that. For all due effect, you’re the one trying to poison us all with your bad beef.” He pushed his glasses over his nose “And anyway, I don’t know why all the drama, England doesn’t sell beef since 96 and you don’t see him coming to the meetings in leather and… uh…”
He stopped talking, apparently contemplating something interesting inside his own head.
“Still,” Brazil said “You can forget it. And, Canada, I brought something for you.”
It was a small wooden cow. Canada took it with the tips of his fingers, as if it were an explosive
“You see,” Brazil said “I decided to make it easier for your. If you push the button, you’ll hear what a mad cow sounds like, and then you’ll be able to figure which ones are sick and which are not.”
Canada stared up at him, and he could almost swear his hands were shaking:
“If I push-“
“It’s under her belly. The button. You just have to push it.”
Now the others were waiting too. And Brazil was smiling; maybe he was over it, maybe-
He pushed the button.
The sound he heard was the craziest he had ever heard in his life. It started like a normal moo and ended in a satanic crackle and he couldn’t even begin to imagine what a cow that did this would look like.
It didn’t end at that. Next day he was drinking water when Brazil approached him again:
“I just wanted you to know I’m boycotting you,’ he said.
Canada choked on his water. He coughed so much that Brazil took him by his arm and led him to a chair:
“Well, sorry, I didn’t know you’d be so upset,” he said, “If I did, I’d have told you to sit down first. Are you ok? Are you breathing?”
“Yes, thank you.” His voice sounded screechy. “What do you mean, boycotting me? What are you talking about?”
“The war, of course. I won’t buy your stuff anymore.”
“Oh,” Canada said, in a small voice. Brazil carried on. “This is being really troublesome. I had a hard time finding Canadian stuff to boycott. So far the only thing we could do so far was stop playing Alanis on the radio.”
“There’s Celine Dion too,” Canada muttered. So, he and Brazil didn’t trade all that much. So what? He'd probably have a hard time boycotting Brazil too.
Well, except for the beef. Which wasn't a boycott, it was a very sensible move because his boss cared about his people health.
Oh, God.
Brazil was talking. About Celine.
“Yeah...” he scratched his head “I don’t know, everyone likes her. At least the movie is American.”
“And why aren’t you boycotting him too, then? He's not buying from you either.”
“Because then I'd have the opposite problem, of course. There's too much of his stuff, and if I boycott him my country will crumble and what’s the fun in that? I’d have to watch French movies, and they’re all about naked people.” He stopped, as if contemplating something, and then added “Not that this is a problem per se, mind you. I even talked about it with France. Is just that nothing ever happens. People show up, take off their clothes and then just talk. Or smoke. He likes smoking. It’s seems kinda pointless.”
“You said that to France? France? What did he say?”
“That I was very dumb and stupid and uncouth and he didn’t want to sit by my side. He was pretty red, too. Anyway, that's not the point, the point is our war. You can expect more attacks in the near future.”
“That’s not how you fight a war,” Canada said, but Brazil left without looking back. Again. He seemed to have a knack for dramatic exits.
Well, the next attack was a little plush cow in Canada's bed. The next one was paper wall with little cows on his room, and Brazil even managed to paint little black spots on Kumajiro’s fur (looked nothing like a cow, but it was the principle of the thing that mattered) and after that Canada started to see cows everywhere. He could have tried to ignore it if it weren’t for the paper cow in the middle of his sandwich (!) and the pieces of conversation he heard every once in a while between Brazil and his friends.
“I mean, it’s so weird,” he had told Argentina “I really didn’t see it coming. I mean, fine, there was the aircraft thing that turned out kind of nasty, but still, I... I guess I didn’t expect him, of all people, to play so dirty.”
“As if you had any right to complain,” Argentina said. “The only thing you ever do is play dirty. Why shouldn’t he? And anyway, do you really have to use the horns?”
When Argentina finally left, Canada asked:
“You- is your country really mad at me? For real?”
“You bet,” Brazil said “The guys from Araçatuba can’t even hear your name.”
“Guys from- where?”
“Araçatuba. One of my cities.”
“Ah- this city is important, is it?”
“Very! Essential to my economy! When they get angry, the whole country gets behind them!”
Canada was stunned. He still couldn't picture that, a whole nation hating his guts.
Still, there was this strange light in Brazil's eyes, and he got a little suspicious:
“Then why are you laughing?”
“I’m not laughing! I’m hysterical! I laugh when I'm heartbroken. Excuse me, I have work to do.”
“But I-“
“Look, I mean it. I’d love to stay and chat, but you don’t seem to know the full extensions of what you did to me. Or maybe you do, since it was your plan anyway. When you placed your ban on me, Europe got suspicious and now Holland won’t even talk to me and neither will Iran-”
“Iran?”
“Yes, I was surprised too. Excuse me.”
That night, Canada dreamed about cows. And airplanes.
He... hadn’t done this, right? His boss wouldn’t have. Because he wasn’t like that. Business was business, you did the best you could and people would buy from you or not, that was how it worked, he wasn’t- punishing other nation, slandering someone just because he was being challenged-
Right? He was an honest person, right? Country. Whatever.
The cows from his dream looked disapprovingly.
So did the ones in the garden. When he left the hotel, there were two of them grazing near the flowers while the manager tried to understand how the hell they had gotten there. Canada stared, shocked, and then he lost his patience.
Brazil was in the conference center, drinking coffee by the bucket when Canada busted though the room:
“Look,” he said, angry enough to be assertive, “I told you, your report was incomplete! This has nothing to do with aircraft and it’s not retaliation and I never meant to hurt you, or your people.”
“The hell you didn’t,” Brazil said “What you did was just give me a slap in the wrist for daring to challenge your market, because that’s how you guys play the game. It’s what America always does, what England would have done and I honestly expected better from you, but, in the end, you’re really your brother’s brother, right? And your father’s son.”
“At least stop putting these cows wherever I go,” Canada begged “It’s driving me crazy!”
“That’s war for you,” Brazil said, sipping his coffee “Buy the way, we found some Canadians drinks that we are totally not drinking anymore, so the boycott looks even cooler. We broke the bottles.”
Canada started to lose his will to live.
That day, he reached his breaking point. Cuba spent the whole time glaring disgustedly at him and Brazil left the room allegedly to get more coffee, but he came back two hours later missing his tie and with a backward shirt (not that this was in any way related to the problem, but it was still annoying) and Holland and the others thanked him for warning everyone about the beef problem and by the end of the day Canada was sadder than he had ever been.
And then, at night, when he entered his bedroom ready to crash, he saw the cow by his bed.
He slammed the door and called Brazil’s cell phone. He didn’t even say hello:
“Look, this is going too far. If you have a problem with me, let’s sit and discuss it like adults, because I can’t stand these cows anymore and – if you want war, I’ll- I’ll declare war right back, you hear me? You don’t want to mess with me; you’ll see how annoying I can be!”
He wasn’t sure he could. A Brazilian being annoying was way more annoying than a Canadian being annoying. And the person on the other side was silent for a few seconds.
Then he said:
“You were talking to Brazil, right? Wait a second, I’ll wake him up.”
Canada felt his energy draining out. He almost pouted:
“Who am I talking to?”
“Argentina.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry.”
He could hear the muffled voices ‘wake up, you lazy creep, it’s for you’ and then a sleepy voice:
“Yes?”
“Brazil?”
“Yep.”
Canada sighed.
“Listen, I’ll go to your country, I’ll check the cows and see for myself if everything’s ok, how about that? Will you leave me alone, then?”
“Oh. Sure. That’s how you should have started,” he yawned “Anything else?”
“Erm... I won’t be shot, will I?”
Brazil’s voice hardened:
“You’re really going out of your way to offend me, aren’t you?”
“I-“
“Just so you know, my country is no more violent than the others and, fine, so Rio de Janeiro was going crazy but I talked to her and she said things are calmer now, and as for Sao Paulo, if you'd just stop waving your credit cards around-”
“I meant the war.”
“The- oh, the war! Right, right, the war,” he gave a sheepish laugh “Of course you won’t be shot, who do you think I am?”
“And what about the cow in my bedroom?”
“I don’t know,” he said, distracted “Buy her some dinner, I guess. Good night.”
He hung up before Canada could answer.
And that was how, a few days later, Canada found himself in one of the Brazilian’s airports, feeling more nervous than ever. What if he didn’t find anything? What would he say then?
Brazil didn’t look happy:
“I’m terribly sorry about this,” he said “I was hoping the weather would warm a little, but this glacial cold won’t go away. Do you want a coat or something?”
Brazil was wearing a coat, gloves, scarf and a cow-themed bonnet. Hat. Something. Canada, in his sandals and flowery t-shirt, was very surprised. He tried to smile:
“Thank you, but it not that cold for me.”
“You don’t have to lie just to be nice, I know it’s freezing. My people want to sue me. I just wish the sun would shine!”
The sun was shining. Canada thought.
“It must be... 16º.C now,” he said, carefully “My winters are a little colder than this.”
A little, he thought. Geez. Brazil shrugged, hugging himself and rubbing his own shoulders:
“I wasn't supposed to have winters. Here, the seasons are Hot, Hotter, Warm and Drought. Or it should be.”
“I see,” Canada said, just because he couldn’t think of anything better to answer. Than he asked:
“Say, do you think I should... pay the others a visit? Argentina and, and Chile and- the others? Will they be angry if I don’t?”
England had said something about this. America too. They told him South America as a whole was easily offended, and that they took everything personally.
“They would, if you were America,” Brazil said then “But you? They probably won’t even notice.”
Silence.
Then Canada said in a small voice:
“You know, that was unnecessarily cruel.”
“I know, I know, and I'm really sorry, I am. It was petty and mean and I’m sorry, I think this cold is ruining my mood. Let’s go, the faster we start this, the faster we’ll be done with it.”
Well, that wasn’t really diplomatic either, but it was slightly better. Brazil started his car:
“And, to answer your question, yes, they’ll be furious, so you should at least give them a call. I supposed you’ll have to go to Buenos Aires, although I can’t imagine what you'd do that for. There's nothing worth seeing there.”
‘I thought you two got along fine...”
Enough to sleep together, anyway.
“Nah, Argentina's a total jerk. Now that I’m in the mood, I think I’ll declare war against him too.”
Canada shook his head:
“You know, I... I don’t mean to offend you or anything, but- you know this is not how you fight a war, right?”
“Of course it is.”
“No, it is not.”
“It is.”
“It’s not.”
“It is,” he raised his chin “I fought wars before, so I know.”
“Really? Which one?“
As soon as the words left his mouth, Canada regretted saying it. If there had been a war in South America, it would be really embarrassing if he didn’t even know about. But Brazil smiled:
“World War 2, of course. I fought bravely. It was very heroic and I’m still impressed with myself.”
“Oh.”
Canada wasn’t sure what to say. He honestly couldn’t remember seeing Brazil there, but there were so many countries, there was no way to know, and he knew how much it hurt when people didn't acknowledge your feats.
Plus, Brazil’s smile looked a little too sly to be trusted, so Canada didn't say anything.
When they finally reached the farms, Brazil was convinced he was going to die of frostbite. And Canada was nervous again. What if he didn’t find anything? It would be really, really embarrassing.
To make matters worse, Brazil noticed his anxiety and was acting very solicitous:
“Here’s the plan,” he said “We go, you do your stuff as quick as possible so I won’t freeze to death and then I’ll treat you some barbecue, how about that?”
Canada just bit his lip.
The next few days were full of cows, cows and more cows. The farmers Canada met didn’t know exactly what he was, but they knew he was supposed to be a Canadian inspector or something and always shook his hand a little harder than they had to. He got another cow in his hotel (take this one with you, Brazil said, when he started to tear at his hair maybe it will fit your airplane.).
After a week of this, he had made every test he could think of, and he finally had to face the facts.
He had lost.
Brazil smiled:
“Surprise, surprise. So, now what?”
“I’ll talk to my brother,” Canada said, avoiding his eyes “I’ll lift the ban and everything goes back to normal, I guess.”
“Or course. Except for the money I already lost.”
“I’m sorry.”
Brazil's smile got a little brighter, a little warmer:
“That’s ok.”
“I mean it.”
“I know.”
“No, really, I honestly thought it was- I never meant to-”
“I’ll take you to the airport, shall I?”
The journey back was silent. Canada stared at the window, thinking of apologies and justifications that never reached his lips. He had the feeling Brazil was watching him, but he couldn’t force himself to look and check.
When the silence was heavy enough to be unbearable, he said:
“Well, at least I’ll stop running into cows wherever I go.”
Brazil laughed.
It was so spontaneous and joyful that Canada smiled too, just a little, and then he started to giggle. And then both of then were laughing and Brazil even stopped the car, and when he had calmed down he said:
“I don’t know, I was really starting to get into it. I think I’ll boycott Argentina. Hey, do you want some ice-cream? I know we’re in this ice age now, but Cuba said you liked it.”
“He did?” Canada straightened “Why? What did he say?”
“I don’t remember. You'll have to ask him. I just remember the ice-cream part. Do you want it?”
Canada did. Brazil started the car again:
“Let’s sing,” he said “Do you like singing in the car? I do. What song we both know?”
“I think there’s only Alanis. If your boycott is over, I mean.”
“The boycott is only for the radio. But I don’t like her all that much. Let’s sing My Heart Will Go On.”
“Awwwww…”
“Hey, I won the war! You have to accept my terms.”
Well, he couldn't argue with that.
Brazil had a good singing voice, and was very enthusiastic. Canada went along, face burning, not quite sure what was worst, singing that or the fact he still knew the lyrics by heart. At some point Brazil changed to Portuguese, and so he changed to French. They sang the whole song, and then bought ice-cream. And when he got back home, the first thing Canada did was to call off the ban.
The war officially ended.
~*~*~
NOTES:
1. There you have it, the most epic battle in Brazilian history. We remember it to this day, and if you ask a Brazilian about it he'll get this faraway look on his face and say “yeah, it was all over the news and stuff and people talked of nothing but cows. What the hell was that all about anyway?”
And it was... pretty much what you just read. Aircraft Embraer-Bombardieur drama? The boycott? True. Sending cows to the Ambassy? True. Dressing as a cow to protest? True. Offering Canadians some barbecue? True. Calling the whole thing a war? SO VERY TRUE (our president even said “in peace you negotiate, in the armistice you wait and in war you fight.”So, Winston Churchill he isn't; whatever, I didn't vote for the guy). Since there was no trace of mad-cow disease in Brazil, the ban was called off. The whole thing lasted three weeks.
2. Brazil and Argentina hate each other very very much. A lot. Really.
3. Cuba had nothing whatsoever to do with this, but Cuba and Brazil are pretty good friends and Cuba and Canada are sweet together, so I decided to include him.
4. Brazil fought in WW2, pretty much because America made us. We even won a battle against Italy. It was pretty epic. I’ll write about it one of these days.
5. Miscellaneous notes: Sadly, you can't sue the country if it gets too cold. My Heart Will Go On was crazy popular around these parts (Portuguese version? SO TRUE) and yes, Araçatuba is, like, totally important. Totally. The mad cow sound Brazil gave him is here and, as far as I’m concerned, was the highest point in the whole incident. France’s movies are boring and please, please, if you ever come by, don’t wave your credit cards around. Don’t tell random people how much money you have. Just- don’t, ok? Don’t.
Genre: Humor
Characters/Pairing(s): Canada, Brazil!OC, mentions of Cuba, Argentina!OC, England and America.
Summary: Concerning the epic war between Brazil and Canada. No, really. No, really.
Rating/Warnings: free for all.
This was written for the kink_meme. \o/ As usual, it turned out different from the original. That's the bright side of translating your own stuff- you won't get sued when you change everything.
The Mad Cow War
(or Why FTTA didn’t work out, but whatever)
Canada was tired.
Worse than that. He was sad. He wasn’t used to being sad, and he didn’t like it. He was quiet and polite and unassuming, and he was always nice and never got into fights with his fellow nations and he wasn’t used to… this. To being so intensely disapproved, to be the focus of disdainful glares and to hear others criticizing him behind his back- well, fine, he was, but only when people took him for America. He wasn’t used to be hated for himself.
That was why he was sad. He had left the summit by himself, half-heartedly refusing America and England and France’s invitation to eat, because their efforts to cheer him up had made everything even worse – you shouldn’t care about this, they told him when you deal with them, sometimes you need to be harsh , and Canada wanted to scream that this was precisely the problem, he wasn’t and didn’t want to be the kind of person who says with them.
But how was he going to convince Brazil now?
And Cuba, who had nothing to do with any of this, but had spent the whole meeting glaring at him in the most pathetic staredown in history, Cuba won in less than two seconds, because as soon as he looked Canada lowered his eyes and blushed to the roots of his hair, and every time he’d glance at him he’s see those dark eyes burning, as if Cuba was seeing him for the first time and wasn’t really liking the view.
As for Brazil...
Well, this particular meeting Brazil was forty minutes late, and even when he got there he spent the rest of it bothering Argentina and drinking coffee, but Canada knew that, as soon as he remembered he was angry, he’d get back at his terrorists attacks.
Very unpleasant, this.
He sighed. At least now he was back at the hotel and he could go straight to bed to mope little more. He wasn’t even going to dine. Maybe.
He entered the room.
Then he stopped.
He left, and closed the door.
When he opened it again, the cow was still there. It was standing very calm, facing him with big brown eyes. Canada blinked hard, a few times, but the cow didn’t vanish or anything, so it was probably real.
A cow.
In his room.
He could feel his face warming up. That did it. Things had gone too far.
He slammed the door. It was time to finish this- one way or the other!
A few days earlier
Truth be told, he wasn’t exactly happy about the whole thing. But he had to follow his boss’ orders and the man had been very clear, and Brazil wasn’t happy with him anyway thanks to some weird incidents – honestly, he couldn’t be held responsible for every single thing his people did outside, could he? Brazil had never apologized for all the crap his people threw on the streets and, anyway, what was an innocent kidnap and extradition between friends? – and that thing with the aircraft companies and, so, he wasn’t used to have his market threatened by another nation and fine, maybe he hadn’t been exactly nice about that but still, still, it wasn’t his fault and anyway, it was only business.
Still, it wasn’t cool, this. Why couldn’t his boss talk with Brazil’s boss and leave it at that? Why did he have to be involved?
It had been hard to find Brazil alone; the guy was always surrounded by people. He finally found a perfect opportunity when Brazil decided to buy some soda from the vending machine in the hall.
“Excuse me,” Canada said, smiling politely.
Brazil didn’t even look at him. He was trying to put some coins in the machine:
“Hi. What’s up?”
“Erm. So. About your meat...”
That made Brazil glance at him, one eyebrow raised, and Canada knew his face was probably red by now:
“Not yours. The one you sell. Beef, I mean. You know, from cows. Beef? So, my boss wants a detailed report on it.”
“I sent you one already” the machine spit back his coins and Brazil frowned. He tried again, “I thought you had said everything was ok.”
Well, that was probably because he had. Anyway:
“Even so. I’d like to have another one, and if you don’t send it, we- do you want me to lend you some money? Yours is not working.”
“Thanks, I think I got it. If I don’t send it...?”
Canada swallowed hard. Right. He could do this. America wouldn’t have any problem with it. Neither would England. He just had to say it, straight to the point:
“I you don’t send it... I mean, it’s not like I like this, I don’t, is just that- they told me, you know how it is, we need to- I thought, well, it won’t be any trouble, you did it once, so you can-“
“What the hell! This thing ate my money! SECURITY!”
“Erm- I – if you don’t- hum, should you kick it like that? I think you will break it and then-“
The machine let out a sound that could have come from a dying animal. Brazil stopped his attacks, a little surprised, and then all the cans rolled out over their feet with an earsplitting thunder in a very colorful whirlpool.
It was almost pretty.
Brazil’s face lit up:
“Yay, free coke! Want some?”
“No, thank you.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure, thank you.”
“Your call, man.”
He was picking up the cans, as many as he could carry. Canada realized he’d have to speak fast, so he could run away before they go to jail for stealing coke:
“Thing is, we decided to raise the security levels to prevent the mad-cow disease contaminations-“
“No problems. My herds don’t have it.”
“...and that’s why he needs more detailed reports, so we can control it better-“
“You got one already. You saw we don’t have it.”
“... because if you don’t we’ll stopimportingfromyouIhopeyoudon’tmindokthanksbye.”
He left as fast as he could. Brazil tried to answer something, but he didn’t wait to hear it.
The report was delivered a few days later, covered with something that was probably coffee stains “I had to read it first, ” Brazil said vaguely, as if that would explain everything “just ignore the first page, that blurred word on the top is supposed to be Agricultura and think on the bright side, you can eat the paper when you finish.”
It sounded like a joke, but Canada could guess the undertones of hostility under his bright smile. And then he thought it probably wasn’t a joke at all, because his fingers smelled like cheese when he finished with the thing. But the report was good and detailed, as far as he could see after deciphering the stains and spots.
His boss disagreed.
The next day the man told him to place a ban on Brazilian beef, something that Canada did sputtering and blushing and avoiding Brazil’s eyes all the time. Brazil listened with his arms crossed over his chest, and when Canada was finally, finally done, he said:
“And I’m sure this has nothing to do with our quarrel over aircraft, right?”
“I-“
“Or with the fact that I surpassed you on the beef market, obviously. ”
Canada’s head was starting to hurt. He tried to keep his voice steady:
“No. Of course not. I’m just-“
“Forget it. I should have seen it coming. Here I am, minding my own business, and every time I manage something, every time I’m actually good at something I can count on one of you guys to come and- argh, just forget it!”
One of you. Now Canada was 'one of you’. He shuddered:
“Is not that, is just- your report- I mean, that part under the melted cheese-“
“You could have asked for another copy,” Brazil said coldly. He left without even looking at him.
Canada felt terrible.
But not as much as when he entered the room just to see Brazil discussing the whole thing with Cuba, of all the people he could find to open his heart to it had to be Cuba-
Who was smoking inside the room, smiling to himself and saying:
“Well, then, what the hell were you expecting? Let me tell you, I’m surprised. Who’d know in the end he’d be just like his brother?”
“What do I do now? My people are going crazy over this! They want me to start a war!”
Canada couldn’t even breathe. He stood there, eyes wide open, while the other two carried on with their conversation, completely unaware of his presence:
“...a war?” Cuba raised one of his dark eyebrows “You? ”
“You don’t have to be so shocked,” Brazil said, a little resentful “And anyway, that’s not the point. The point is, people are totally going to believe him, and what do I do? I have to sell this stuff to someone.”
“Tough luck, I say. Next time, try to play by the rules. That’s how the game goes, my friend, they sell and win money, while we, and by we I mean you, buy and get more dependent on foreign money. Next time, just kiss their feet like you usually do and avoid the retaliation.”
“What a great help you’re being,” Brazil huffed, a little sulky “I think next time I’ll talk to Argentina.”
Canada didn’t wait to hear the rest. He left the room, feeling miserable.
Brazil got him on the hallway the next day:
“You ruined my life. I hope you're happy.”
“I-“
“Do you know we’re at war now?”
It was always disturbing to hear this, but Canada frowned:
“No, we’re not. You’d have to declare it first.”
“I’m declaring it now! Consider it declared! From now on, don’t even talk to me. Unless it’s really important.”
And then he left, leaving a very befuddled Canada alone.
If he was going to enter a war, he’d have to talk to America because his brother was his biggest ally, and maybe England too because of the Commonwealth, and- gosh, that was insane. Brazil probably didn’t mean it.
Still, it wouldn’t hurt to discuss the matter with America. Who, much to his surprise, wasn’t very interested:
“He’s sulking because I stopped buying his stuff too,” he said “He’ll get over soon. By the way, thanks for warning me about the beef. This mad-cow thing is starting to get really annoying, and- d’you know what would be awesome? Finding a cure for it.”
Canada nodded. Knowing America, the cure would involve robots. Or aliens. He really shouldn’t worry about it. Brazil wasn’t going to do anything crazy, of course. Is just- it was disturbing, to think someone actually hated him, and Cuba had been really harsh and-
Aw, damm.
He had trouble sleeping that night.
In the next day meeting, America asked about FTAA. Free Trade Agreement of Americas. Brazil (who was behaving really well, except for the leather jacket that looked like a cow leather if you squinted, all black and white and weird) shrugged:
“Forget it,” he said “I knew this would be bad for me even if you guys kept it clean, but now that you won’t even pretend to be fair, as far as I’m concerned, this thing is totally dead. You can thank your little brother for it.”
Canada flinched and tried to make himself really small, and everybody started to speak at the same time and America punched the table to bring some order:
“Hey, no need to talk like that. For all due effect, you’re the one trying to poison us all with your bad beef.” He pushed his glasses over his nose “And anyway, I don’t know why all the drama, England doesn’t sell beef since 96 and you don’t see him coming to the meetings in leather and… uh…”
He stopped talking, apparently contemplating something interesting inside his own head.
“Still,” Brazil said “You can forget it. And, Canada, I brought something for you.”
It was a small wooden cow. Canada took it with the tips of his fingers, as if it were an explosive
“You see,” Brazil said “I decided to make it easier for your. If you push the button, you’ll hear what a mad cow sounds like, and then you’ll be able to figure which ones are sick and which are not.”
Canada stared up at him, and he could almost swear his hands were shaking:
“If I push-“
“It’s under her belly. The button. You just have to push it.”
Now the others were waiting too. And Brazil was smiling; maybe he was over it, maybe-
He pushed the button.
The sound he heard was the craziest he had ever heard in his life. It started like a normal moo and ended in a satanic crackle and he couldn’t even begin to imagine what a cow that did this would look like.
It didn’t end at that. Next day he was drinking water when Brazil approached him again:
“I just wanted you to know I’m boycotting you,’ he said.
Canada choked on his water. He coughed so much that Brazil took him by his arm and led him to a chair:
“Well, sorry, I didn’t know you’d be so upset,” he said, “If I did, I’d have told you to sit down first. Are you ok? Are you breathing?”
“Yes, thank you.” His voice sounded screechy. “What do you mean, boycotting me? What are you talking about?”
“The war, of course. I won’t buy your stuff anymore.”
“Oh,” Canada said, in a small voice. Brazil carried on. “This is being really troublesome. I had a hard time finding Canadian stuff to boycott. So far the only thing we could do so far was stop playing Alanis on the radio.”
“There’s Celine Dion too,” Canada muttered. So, he and Brazil didn’t trade all that much. So what? He'd probably have a hard time boycotting Brazil too.
Well, except for the beef. Which wasn't a boycott, it was a very sensible move because his boss cared about his people health.
Oh, God.
Brazil was talking. About Celine.
“Yeah...” he scratched his head “I don’t know, everyone likes her. At least the movie is American.”
“And why aren’t you boycotting him too, then? He's not buying from you either.”
“Because then I'd have the opposite problem, of course. There's too much of his stuff, and if I boycott him my country will crumble and what’s the fun in that? I’d have to watch French movies, and they’re all about naked people.” He stopped, as if contemplating something, and then added “Not that this is a problem per se, mind you. I even talked about it with France. Is just that nothing ever happens. People show up, take off their clothes and then just talk. Or smoke. He likes smoking. It’s seems kinda pointless.”
“You said that to France? France? What did he say?”
“That I was very dumb and stupid and uncouth and he didn’t want to sit by my side. He was pretty red, too. Anyway, that's not the point, the point is our war. You can expect more attacks in the near future.”
“That’s not how you fight a war,” Canada said, but Brazil left without looking back. Again. He seemed to have a knack for dramatic exits.
Well, the next attack was a little plush cow in Canada's bed. The next one was paper wall with little cows on his room, and Brazil even managed to paint little black spots on Kumajiro’s fur (looked nothing like a cow, but it was the principle of the thing that mattered) and after that Canada started to see cows everywhere. He could have tried to ignore it if it weren’t for the paper cow in the middle of his sandwich (!) and the pieces of conversation he heard every once in a while between Brazil and his friends.
“I mean, it’s so weird,” he had told Argentina “I really didn’t see it coming. I mean, fine, there was the aircraft thing that turned out kind of nasty, but still, I... I guess I didn’t expect him, of all people, to play so dirty.”
“As if you had any right to complain,” Argentina said. “The only thing you ever do is play dirty. Why shouldn’t he? And anyway, do you really have to use the horns?”
When Argentina finally left, Canada asked:
“You- is your country really mad at me? For real?”
“You bet,” Brazil said “The guys from Araçatuba can’t even hear your name.”
“Guys from- where?”
“Araçatuba. One of my cities.”
“Ah- this city is important, is it?”
“Very! Essential to my economy! When they get angry, the whole country gets behind them!”
Canada was stunned. He still couldn't picture that, a whole nation hating his guts.
Still, there was this strange light in Brazil's eyes, and he got a little suspicious:
“Then why are you laughing?”
“I’m not laughing! I’m hysterical! I laugh when I'm heartbroken. Excuse me, I have work to do.”
“But I-“
“Look, I mean it. I’d love to stay and chat, but you don’t seem to know the full extensions of what you did to me. Or maybe you do, since it was your plan anyway. When you placed your ban on me, Europe got suspicious and now Holland won’t even talk to me and neither will Iran-”
“Iran?”
“Yes, I was surprised too. Excuse me.”
That night, Canada dreamed about cows. And airplanes.
He... hadn’t done this, right? His boss wouldn’t have. Because he wasn’t like that. Business was business, you did the best you could and people would buy from you or not, that was how it worked, he wasn’t- punishing other nation, slandering someone just because he was being challenged-
Right? He was an honest person, right? Country. Whatever.
The cows from his dream looked disapprovingly.
So did the ones in the garden. When he left the hotel, there were two of them grazing near the flowers while the manager tried to understand how the hell they had gotten there. Canada stared, shocked, and then he lost his patience.
Brazil was in the conference center, drinking coffee by the bucket when Canada busted though the room:
“Look,” he said, angry enough to be assertive, “I told you, your report was incomplete! This has nothing to do with aircraft and it’s not retaliation and I never meant to hurt you, or your people.”
“The hell you didn’t,” Brazil said “What you did was just give me a slap in the wrist for daring to challenge your market, because that’s how you guys play the game. It’s what America always does, what England would have done and I honestly expected better from you, but, in the end, you’re really your brother’s brother, right? And your father’s son.”
“At least stop putting these cows wherever I go,” Canada begged “It’s driving me crazy!”
“That’s war for you,” Brazil said, sipping his coffee “Buy the way, we found some Canadians drinks that we are totally not drinking anymore, so the boycott looks even cooler. We broke the bottles.”
Canada started to lose his will to live.
That day, he reached his breaking point. Cuba spent the whole time glaring disgustedly at him and Brazil left the room allegedly to get more coffee, but he came back two hours later missing his tie and with a backward shirt (not that this was in any way related to the problem, but it was still annoying) and Holland and the others thanked him for warning everyone about the beef problem and by the end of the day Canada was sadder than he had ever been.
And then, at night, when he entered his bedroom ready to crash, he saw the cow by his bed.
He slammed the door and called Brazil’s cell phone. He didn’t even say hello:
“Look, this is going too far. If you have a problem with me, let’s sit and discuss it like adults, because I can’t stand these cows anymore and – if you want war, I’ll- I’ll declare war right back, you hear me? You don’t want to mess with me; you’ll see how annoying I can be!”
He wasn’t sure he could. A Brazilian being annoying was way more annoying than a Canadian being annoying. And the person on the other side was silent for a few seconds.
Then he said:
“You were talking to Brazil, right? Wait a second, I’ll wake him up.”
Canada felt his energy draining out. He almost pouted:
“Who am I talking to?”
“Argentina.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry.”
He could hear the muffled voices ‘wake up, you lazy creep, it’s for you’ and then a sleepy voice:
“Yes?”
“Brazil?”
“Yep.”
Canada sighed.
“Listen, I’ll go to your country, I’ll check the cows and see for myself if everything’s ok, how about that? Will you leave me alone, then?”
“Oh. Sure. That’s how you should have started,” he yawned “Anything else?”
“Erm... I won’t be shot, will I?”
Brazil’s voice hardened:
“You’re really going out of your way to offend me, aren’t you?”
“I-“
“Just so you know, my country is no more violent than the others and, fine, so Rio de Janeiro was going crazy but I talked to her and she said things are calmer now, and as for Sao Paulo, if you'd just stop waving your credit cards around-”
“I meant the war.”
“The- oh, the war! Right, right, the war,” he gave a sheepish laugh “Of course you won’t be shot, who do you think I am?”
“And what about the cow in my bedroom?”
“I don’t know,” he said, distracted “Buy her some dinner, I guess. Good night.”
He hung up before Canada could answer.
And that was how, a few days later, Canada found himself in one of the Brazilian’s airports, feeling more nervous than ever. What if he didn’t find anything? What would he say then?
Brazil didn’t look happy:
“I’m terribly sorry about this,” he said “I was hoping the weather would warm a little, but this glacial cold won’t go away. Do you want a coat or something?”
Brazil was wearing a coat, gloves, scarf and a cow-themed bonnet. Hat. Something. Canada, in his sandals and flowery t-shirt, was very surprised. He tried to smile:
“Thank you, but it not that cold for me.”
“You don’t have to lie just to be nice, I know it’s freezing. My people want to sue me. I just wish the sun would shine!”
The sun was shining. Canada thought.
“It must be... 16º.C now,” he said, carefully “My winters are a little colder than this.”
A little, he thought. Geez. Brazil shrugged, hugging himself and rubbing his own shoulders:
“I wasn't supposed to have winters. Here, the seasons are Hot, Hotter, Warm and Drought. Or it should be.”
“I see,” Canada said, just because he couldn’t think of anything better to answer. Than he asked:
“Say, do you think I should... pay the others a visit? Argentina and, and Chile and- the others? Will they be angry if I don’t?”
England had said something about this. America too. They told him South America as a whole was easily offended, and that they took everything personally.
“They would, if you were America,” Brazil said then “But you? They probably won’t even notice.”
Silence.
Then Canada said in a small voice:
“You know, that was unnecessarily cruel.”
“I know, I know, and I'm really sorry, I am. It was petty and mean and I’m sorry, I think this cold is ruining my mood. Let’s go, the faster we start this, the faster we’ll be done with it.”
Well, that wasn’t really diplomatic either, but it was slightly better. Brazil started his car:
“And, to answer your question, yes, they’ll be furious, so you should at least give them a call. I supposed you’ll have to go to Buenos Aires, although I can’t imagine what you'd do that for. There's nothing worth seeing there.”
‘I thought you two got along fine...”
Enough to sleep together, anyway.
“Nah, Argentina's a total jerk. Now that I’m in the mood, I think I’ll declare war against him too.”
Canada shook his head:
“You know, I... I don’t mean to offend you or anything, but- you know this is not how you fight a war, right?”
“Of course it is.”
“No, it is not.”
“It is.”
“It’s not.”
“It is,” he raised his chin “I fought wars before, so I know.”
“Really? Which one?“
As soon as the words left his mouth, Canada regretted saying it. If there had been a war in South America, it would be really embarrassing if he didn’t even know about. But Brazil smiled:
“World War 2, of course. I fought bravely. It was very heroic and I’m still impressed with myself.”
“Oh.”
Canada wasn’t sure what to say. He honestly couldn’t remember seeing Brazil there, but there were so many countries, there was no way to know, and he knew how much it hurt when people didn't acknowledge your feats.
Plus, Brazil’s smile looked a little too sly to be trusted, so Canada didn't say anything.
When they finally reached the farms, Brazil was convinced he was going to die of frostbite. And Canada was nervous again. What if he didn’t find anything? It would be really, really embarrassing.
To make matters worse, Brazil noticed his anxiety and was acting very solicitous:
“Here’s the plan,” he said “We go, you do your stuff as quick as possible so I won’t freeze to death and then I’ll treat you some barbecue, how about that?”
Canada just bit his lip.
The next few days were full of cows, cows and more cows. The farmers Canada met didn’t know exactly what he was, but they knew he was supposed to be a Canadian inspector or something and always shook his hand a little harder than they had to. He got another cow in his hotel (take this one with you, Brazil said, when he started to tear at his hair maybe it will fit your airplane.).
After a week of this, he had made every test he could think of, and he finally had to face the facts.
He had lost.
Brazil smiled:
“Surprise, surprise. So, now what?”
“I’ll talk to my brother,” Canada said, avoiding his eyes “I’ll lift the ban and everything goes back to normal, I guess.”
“Or course. Except for the money I already lost.”
“I’m sorry.”
Brazil's smile got a little brighter, a little warmer:
“That’s ok.”
“I mean it.”
“I know.”
“No, really, I honestly thought it was- I never meant to-”
“I’ll take you to the airport, shall I?”
The journey back was silent. Canada stared at the window, thinking of apologies and justifications that never reached his lips. He had the feeling Brazil was watching him, but he couldn’t force himself to look and check.
When the silence was heavy enough to be unbearable, he said:
“Well, at least I’ll stop running into cows wherever I go.”
Brazil laughed.
It was so spontaneous and joyful that Canada smiled too, just a little, and then he started to giggle. And then both of then were laughing and Brazil even stopped the car, and when he had calmed down he said:
“I don’t know, I was really starting to get into it. I think I’ll boycott Argentina. Hey, do you want some ice-cream? I know we’re in this ice age now, but Cuba said you liked it.”
“He did?” Canada straightened “Why? What did he say?”
“I don’t remember. You'll have to ask him. I just remember the ice-cream part. Do you want it?”
Canada did. Brazil started the car again:
“Let’s sing,” he said “Do you like singing in the car? I do. What song we both know?”
“I think there’s only Alanis. If your boycott is over, I mean.”
“The boycott is only for the radio. But I don’t like her all that much. Let’s sing My Heart Will Go On.”
“Awwwww…”
“Hey, I won the war! You have to accept my terms.”
Well, he couldn't argue with that.
Brazil had a good singing voice, and was very enthusiastic. Canada went along, face burning, not quite sure what was worst, singing that or the fact he still knew the lyrics by heart. At some point Brazil changed to Portuguese, and so he changed to French. They sang the whole song, and then bought ice-cream. And when he got back home, the first thing Canada did was to call off the ban.
The war officially ended.
~*~*~
NOTES:
1. There you have it, the most epic battle in Brazilian history. We remember it to this day, and if you ask a Brazilian about it he'll get this faraway look on his face and say “yeah, it was all over the news and stuff and people talked of nothing but cows. What the hell was that all about anyway?”
And it was... pretty much what you just read. Aircraft Embraer-Bombardieur drama? The boycott? True. Sending cows to the Ambassy? True. Dressing as a cow to protest? True. Offering Canadians some barbecue? True. Calling the whole thing a war? SO VERY TRUE (our president even said “in peace you negotiate, in the armistice you wait and in war you fight.”
2. Brazil and Argentina hate each other very very much. A lot. Really.
3. Cuba had nothing whatsoever to do with this, but Cuba and Brazil are pretty good friends and Cuba and Canada are sweet together, so I decided to include him.
4. Brazil fought in WW2, pretty much because America made us. We even won a battle against Italy. It was pretty epic. I’ll write about it one of these days.
5. Miscellaneous notes: Sadly, you can't sue the country if it gets too cold. My Heart Will Go On was crazy popular around these parts (Portuguese version? SO TRUE) and yes, Araçatuba is, like, totally important. Totally. The mad cow sound Brazil gave him is here and, as far as I’m concerned, was the highest point in the whole incident. France’s movies are boring and please, please, if you ever come by, don’t wave your credit cards around. Don’t tell random people how much money you have. Just- don’t, ok? Don’t.
