Hanover, Germany; Early June, 1945
England said he wasn't like them.
"I don't hold frivolous grudges and let my...personal feelings interrupt what must be done," he had informed Germany calmly, the pale sliver of a teacup's handle cradled in the curve of his index finger, steadied by a thumb on the side and a saucer below. He had looked very official.
"Please, do not misunderstand me," he had continued, still looking unspeakably proper as he adjusted himself in the chair. "I won't pretend this war never happened. But I don't plan to dwell on it, nor give it any more thought than is necessary."
Some of his air of civility diminished as his eyes unfocused, looking not out the window of the newly repaired hotel room, but out onto the bombed husk of London. The finger uncurled from the teacup and moved towards his torso, towards some section of marred skin, before he put the cup and saucer down on the table abruptly and snapped, "Though I am, in essence, a country, at face value I am merely one individual, and I accepted long ago that the wants and even needs of Arthur Kirkland are to be sacrificed for the good of the United Kingdom and the world as a whole."
He gave Germany a polite smile. "I hope you understand?"
Germany...did something, some vague gesture or form of reply that conveyed he did, in fact, understand. And it satisfied England.
"I realize that you would much rather be on your way to Italy right now, and you have a long day ahead of you, with your visits..." England gave a harsh laugh. "I would be peeved as well if I had to deal with America and France in the same day." Germany gave a polite smile back. "But we all understand your...relationship with Italy is very important to you. I'm sure we'll all keep our respective visits as short as possible."
He had been a gentlemen as they strolled about the British section, appearing leisurely but being, in truth, relentlessly efficient. Had been so as they reminisced about Hanover - "One hundred and twenty-three years. I can hardly believe it myself." - and eventually found their way back to the apartment, on time, as England had promised.
England carried the conversation elegantly, recognizing and accepting Germany's displeasure with the whole situation. Oh yes, England had been quite convincingly official.
Even when he called Germany into the kitchen area of the hotel room with a sort of fog in his eyes and pressed a kiss to the nation's lips, and another to the strong curve of his neck. His hands barely trembled as they curled into Germany's well-kept hair and tightened, something dark and just barely restrained now crossing his face. With an overwhelming air of patience, he ushered Germany into the bedroom.
The curtains were drawn as Germany lowered himself to the mattress and shed his borrowed jacket and tie onto the floor. The look of displeasure on England's face was almost comical as he saw the crumple of clothing, but his mouth simply twitched and he turned back to Germany.
England eased the man back onto the bed, pulling off his jacket and sweater in between long, drawling kisses. Germany traced his fingers along England's exposed waistband. Usually, both men being addicts to order and reason, they were in similar states of respectability, or, more so as of late, unseemliness, but now Germany was flushed and disheveled, while England, still half in his dress shirt and trousers, seemed untouched.
The latter straightened and pursed his lips. "Come now, Germany," he gave a papery smile, "isn't this the least you can do for me?" The end of the sentence dragged on in the room: after everything you've done to me, and everything I've done for you?
England shrugged the crisp sleeves of his shirt off his shoulders and Germany leaned forward, kissing down England's abdomen until he reached that waistband again. Under England's chartreuse watch, he slid the trousers open and down, and continued until the nudge of a hand guided his eyes back up.
He stared at the white-rimmed pools of green before being pushed back once again. His hands jerked down instinctively, to grasp something, only to be pressed to the bed in the grip of the Englishman above him. There were more not quite so gentle kisses around his pulse and clavicle, a hot tongue tracing fleeting, meaningless designs at his jaw, but it wasn't enough to distract him from the smooth descent of his slacks. England pulled back, looking over his progress. Germany turned away and tried to find something in the room to train his eyes on. Just as he was beginning to follow the edges of the dresser in the corner, a shock of heat made him jerk forward.
"I assume that got your attention," England murmured. He drew a stray finger down Germany's length, drawing a moan from the man. "It did indeed."
He just needed to breathe, if England would just give him a moment, he could compose himself -
England had no such intentions. He lay his free hand on Germany's inner thigh and used his knee to nudge the other leg aside. "Terribly sorry, old chap," England bared his teeth in a smile. "Looks like you won't make it to the French sector on time after all."
If someone, whoever had the gall to, had asked Germany if he thought England was...capable of this, nevermind interested, Germany would have had to say, eventually, yes. Because all the nations had that dark shard in their eyes, the splotch of black that only faded and never quite disappeared. It was the closest approximation to a birthmark any of them had. As England pressed into him, only now showing signs of anything really, he saw the shadowy fervor grow and spread like a tumor. It burned into the backs of Germany's eyelids with the memory of England's unflinching stare, thoroughly scarred the lids until he couldn't avoid it. Germany saw its flickers as his spine locked and he groaned, too proud to properly cry out. England, of course, had no such temptations, but even so, he did everything properly.
Germany ached thoroughly, not simply from England, but the pervading mental exhaustion that turned his mouth arid. An unpleasant needle-like pain had arranged itself at the base of his skull, only inches from the still-stinging mark England had given him.
When England returned to the bedroom, he tasted sweet and fairly alcoholic, and it seemed a layer of gentry had been skimmed off in transit. It wasn't the last to go. By the time Germany had gathered his thoughts and clothes and laid his hand on the doorknob, England had hardly returned to former state of propriety.
England reminded Germany with a now noticeable slur that wasn't simply the lilt of his accent he wasn't like them.
Just as Germany stepped out, still only minutes late for his ride to the next sector, England tilted his head and leaned a little too heavily on the back of the couch. "We won't be doing this again."
Author's Note:
-After the German surrender in May 1945, each of the major Allies got a little bit of Germany. Russia got Prussia (the GDR) and America, France and England split up the other half amongst themselves. They built theaters, helped with restorations, made sure no new Nazi parties spawned, and did general maintenance for several years until Germany was able to support himself.
-During WWII, Germany bombed England multiple times, with devastating results.
-Hanover is not only a German city, but a German kingdom (The Kingdom of Hannover) as well that existed in the early 1800s. It was "united" with England for 123 years before the union fell apart due to silly, complicated political reasons.
I have nothing to say.
Nothing at all.
