Hello Beautiful People! This is my first UsUk fic actually, thought it would be a good change from the usual Spamano fics I had written. I will still be continuing My Precious Child, don't worry. I had always wanted to write this fanfic after seeing a picture of America leaning over a dozing England out in some sort of garden and here it is! I honestly don't know anything about flowers and stuff...So I didn't really bother to coincide the timing in this fic with any particular season. I'm not really the gardening type of person.
Anyway! I hope you guys like it, feel free to review and correct me if I made any mistakes. Heck even tell me about flowers if you want to^^
America had always wondered how the garden at England's home always grew so beautifully, covering every square inch of his backyard. He remembered the times when he was younger, when everything seemed so much bigger and magical. He would run around the garden as though it was a maze and even played hide and go seek with the older nation. He could even remember the sweet earthy smell and the soft scent of the flowers, the brushing of the tall leaves against his cheeks and the soft wind that found its way across the fields of flowers. He could clearly remember this one time when they were playing hide and go seek. For some reason, he had gotten lost after running around searching for a hiding place. It was terrifying. He could distinctly remember his heart pounding, his eyes darting back and forth wildly searching for at least one hint of where he could possibly be. Finally, he dropped down onto his knees, the tears pouring out from his eyes in streams. England found him then, pulling him into a big hug as he cooed assuring words into his ears.
Alfred turned his head to face the white gardenias, as his lips curved up into a smile. This place where he stood was where he gave up and fell down crying that time. Now being as tall as he is, he couldn't believe how close England's house had been. He could almost feel a sense of embarrassment bubbling up inside him. Pushing away the memory, he made his way through the small wilderness. A beautiful white archway appeared ahead of him, leaves and vines climbed their way up the metallic beauty as their flowers hanged down like tiny little stars.
Every single time he steps into the elder nation's garden, it had always seemed like a dream, a beautiful dream. The whole garden is covered with flowers of different colours and species, littered deliberately around the large garden. They could render you speechless in a matter of seconds. Even the usually rowdy American fell silent, taking in the elegant beauties that lay around him.
"England?" The American called out as he gently pushed away a few stray strands of plants from his path, looking around eagerly for the Brit. "Hey England, where are you?"
The soft rustling of the plants and leaves answered him instead as the wind blew across the garden. It seems so serene. America had half a mind to just lay down where he stood and sleep away while enjoying the peace and quiet. Whenever he is with the other nations, silence just doesn't sit right with him, as though the silence seemingly drifts others away from him but now, now is different. Hearing the rustling of leaves and the slight tinkling of bells that England kept at his house just in case someone gets lost much like he did centuries ago, he felt oddly at peace.
As the leaves quietened and the wind disappeared, he could hear a different noise. Something so soft he had half a mind to ignore it, but his heart told him to follow that foreign yet familiar sound. It became louder as he made his way through the plants, making sure not to step on the flowers that grew below.
"Is that you England?" America voiced out again, looking around past the green and the many a colours of flowers.
There was no immediate response, but the sound persists. The American halted in his steps, decided then that he wanted to figure out what that sound is. He couldn't put a finger on it, as he gnawed his teeth together as an act to gather his thoughts and memories. Glaring up at the sky, America couldn't help but feel so disturbed. He was about to simply shrug it off when suddenly it clicked. He couldn't believe that he wasn't able to recognise the sound! That sound, that annoying but adorable sound. His lips formed a wide smile as he began jogging towards the source. Running across the path towards the old but lovely house, he turned right and there he was, sitting on his slightly discoloured garden chair with an open book lying upon his chest. His eyes were closed and lips slightly apart. His breathing deep but at every breath he breathes out, a soft noise escaped his lips. Not too loud, yet not too soft, forming some sort of soft rhythm along with the beautiful chimes of nature.
Making his way noiselessly towards the older nation, he took in the small cluster of petals around the area. Looking behind the Brit, he could see a huge tree and instead of seeing green leaves, he noticed how small and beautiful white-pinkish flowers seemed to cover it entirely. It was unbelievably breathtaking. Smiling at the scenery, America continued his noiseless act. Prancing softly towards the nation and finally stood right behind him.
"England…," America whispered into the other man's ears, a smile on his lips as he did so. It came as no surprise to the American when there was no response to his hushed tone, not even a slight twitch. Huffing about in slight annoyance, he called on his name a tad bit louder. "England!"
His lips parted in shock when suddenly he noticed the sudden increase of the man's snores. He couldn't help but to blurt out a few chuckles every now and then. How could someone as old as England still be so adorable? Shaking his head as though ridding himself from his small snorts of laughter, America inched forward above the man. Finally, he could face the man completely, eyes to his lips, nose to nose, and lips to eyes. His blonde hair fell forward freely, moving slightly along with the soft breeze as he gazed deeply at the Briton's features. Whenever he tried doing it before the man would more than likely turn away, a soft shade of pink dusting his pale cheeks. It was cute, but it was starting to annoy him. It won't hurt to get a good look of his lover, right?
Suddenly he realized how silent it was, not taking into consideration the sounds of nature behind him. The rhythm, the soft and gently rhythm was gone. Looking down once more, he could see the bright leafy irises of the Brit peering back at his sky blue ones. He could feel the heat rushing to his cheeks when suddenly he noticed the other man closing his eyes tightly.
With a wide smile, he leaned further, their lips hovering over one another. Slowly, he pressed his lips down onto his. He could taste the tea lingering on the man's lips, bitter yet sweet. After applying a small bit of pressure, he pulled away. "Are you awake now?" Alfred whispered, a small hint of amusement lying in his voice.
A dark tinge of red shaded England's cheeks as he looked away. "O-Of course you damn git! W-Who wouldn't after t-that… that…," The Brit ended with a small faint cough as he sat up, narrowly avoiding a head on clash against the American.
"Kiss!" America grinned, looking at the Brit brightly.
"Bloody idiot." England muttered to himself as he shied away.
America grinned as he took a seat next to the man, separated only by an antique garden table. "What are you doing here America?" England questioned, putting his book onto the table after slipping in a bookmark on the appropriate page.
"Hmm..? I heard from your boss that you've gotten the week off! So I thought that I might as well join you! My boss didn't seem to mind." America shrugged, throwing his arms up, stretching a fair bit before folding it behind his back forming some sort of pillow. "And I bet you were beginning to miss me!"
"Miss you? Oh aren't you proud of yourself?" England smiled softly as his eyes lingered upon America's blue ones.
"Look who's talking!" America laughed, as he sighed happily. Shortly, his gaze fell upon the other's face, taking in the dishevelled hair and the maroon sweater vest over the white formal shirt. Finally his eyes fell upon a white-pinkish petal that only slightly stood out amongst his messy hair.
…
Seeing the scrutinizing stare, England felt immensely uncomfortable. America had the habit of staring at him endlessly for minutes on end, and as flattered as he might be, there is a limit to everything. With a small huff, he settled his folded arms on the garden table. "What?"
"There's something there," America muttered, his eyes not leaving the top of his head.
Looking up onto his fringe to figure out what America was talking about, a small frown formed the moment he felt the painful strain behind his eyes. "What? What's there?"
Seeing the small smile on the American's lips, he frowned in curiosity. The man finally leaned forward, chest pressing onto the table as his hand reached up towards him. He could feel a soft tingling at the places where the American touched upon his head but finally he pulled away with something ridiculously small in his hand. "A petal."
America held up the small, flimsy object in front of him. Suddenly, the man starting laughing, clutching his stomach as he almost indecently slammed the table in his fit of laughter. "What now you git?"
"Your face looks so stupidly… stupid!" America blurted in between his laughs, wiping away some of the tears that formed in his eyes, etching into his mind the cute and curious face the nation in front of him had just made.
"What was that supposed to mean? And yes, I had taken into offence at that particular choice of vocabulary." England scowled, his face turning into a deeper shade of red as he stood up abruptly. "Go home America, don't you have work to do?"
With a small pout, America stood next to him, his arms wrapped around his waist. Gently, he placed his chin right on his shoulder, unconsciously swaying the both of them to an imagined tune knowing how much England likes it when he does that. "I was just joking." America hummed, taking in the warm smell of tea and roses from the man.
"Sure," England rolled his eyes in mock anger as he leaned back onto the warmth, swaying along to the soundless music. How could he possibly stay angry whenever America does this? His eyes travelled upwards towards the sky. "It's going to rain soon."
"Hmm?" Alfred tore his head away to look up as well, noticing the few grey clouds that lingered due north. "I guess it is."
"We should head on inside. Better not get sick on our week off together." England pulled out of the bigger man's embrace as he gestured towards the house. "Do you want some coffee? I could make some if you want."
"Heck yeah!" America threw his fist up into the air, a wide grin spreading along his cheeks as he imagined the warmth of the said beverage running down his throat. Everyone knows and agrees that England can't cook but he sure can make one hell of a cup of coffee.
"Maybe I'll throw in some scones while I'm at it." England smiled innocently, and honestly, America was too afraid to question whether that was a joke.
"A-Ahh, maybe next time." America muttered hastily, pushing the Brit into the house eager to push away the silly idea out of the man's head. "Coffee alone seems nice right about now."
"Incorrigible." England huffed as he followed the man's silly urgings.
…
As England headed towards the kitchen, America simply stared outside the window facing the garden. The glass was slightly greyed from old age as was the rest of the house but he didn't mind. The outside was still as colourful as it was moments ago. Taking in the plants and flowers, he couldn't help but breathe out a few chuckles. He had so many memories there, even so in this very house. Some were sweet, some were bitter, but all in all, memorable times. As his eyes took in one of the purple Asters, he noticed something at the corner of his eye. A raindrop. With a gentle smile on his lips, he gave off a very satisfied sigh.
"What are you smiling about?" England called out to him, approaching him with two mugs of what it seems to be coffee and the other one to be tea. Handing the American the cup of good ol' coffee, he sat down on the chair next to him.
"It's nothing." America answered softly, taking a small sip of his scalding beverage. Looking at the Brit in front of him, he nearly choked on the drink the moment he saw the disbelieving stare. With a laugh, the American stared outside once more, ignoring how the scenery was now an abstract grey view obstructed by the rain. "I just remembered how much memory I had of this place."
Seeing the knowing look on the Briton sitting next to him, he grinned. "I regretted nothing." He uttered softly, putting his drink aside. He slowly reached out to touch the slightly warm cheek ahead of him, their chests rising and falling almost simultaneously. "I love you too much England." He confessed, shuffling about his place to finally meet the man's lips with his own.
"I love you too, idiot."
Yay! Done! Wee! Booyeah~ Lol... ermm... Nothing much to say really. Feel free to review and stuff. BYE BYE
psst... I don't own Hetalia^^