Airport Musings
By America's Lover

Warnings: Excessive fluff. Like a fluffy thing in fluffy ville.

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. Really, I'm not lying I actually don't.

A/N: I was clearing out my writing documents on my laptop and I found this. It was from the christmas aph-secret-santa-fic-exchange over on tumblr in december. I shouldn't be posting it because it's really really very shitty but meh, here you go.

Hong Kong's POV.

o~O~o

Peering desperately out of the airport window at the fading night sky, I sighed softly. His plane was late.

I had been watching, waiting, wondering where he was for the past two hours now, and every minute or second – gods, I didn't even know which anymore- that I glanced at my digital watch and he wasn't here pulled me deeper and further into a depressive frenzy of panic, worry coursing through my heart and my veins in fear of what his late arrival could have meant.

We'd only been together for a couple of painstakingly fast months, and so I guess I shouldn't have been that worried, yet I couldn't bring myself to calm down . I loved him already, and that was that. Although I hadn't told him, and oh gods what if his plane had crashed and I never got the chance to tell him and I spent the rest of my life wallowing in misery because I didn't admit to him that he was my one and only-

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, my hand flying to my forehead and rubbing hard across my temple to stop these silly notions. Honestly, what would Yao think?

Actually, scratch that, I knew what he would think. I could picture him now, his cat-like eyes piercing, his tone judgemental and domineering, the way it usually is when speaking to anyone but Kiku. He would say to me: "love is for weak people, you should not fall in love!" as he fucks his new boyfriend into the mattress, the one whom Emil had delightfully and childishly nicknamed 'eyebrows'.

Emil. My mind subconsciously without thought wandered back to him, and the striking mess of silver hair that outcast him in the most beautiful and obvious way. He was gorgeously handsome, eyes wide and seemingly innocent, body slender and ultimately huggable, and dear god he was always so funny, using that kind of dry, smart-ass, sarcastic sense of humour of his that always irritated Yao immensely, and amused me far too much.

I could really use that off-colour humour right now, if I was honest. Worrying about someone was a new thing for me, always knowing my brothers and sisters could look after themselves perfectly, and Emil would most likely make me laugh by saying 'fuck off and stop being such a soft-ass' at me. He was just so delicately fragile though, with his already pained limbs and back injuries, and I couldn't help but worry if he would be alright.

Tired of my frantic, endless pacing I sat down on one of the cold, steely benches, attempting to relieve the tension. Where the hell was he?

The attempt didn't really work, and I sat there crossing and uncrossing my jean-clad legs; a nervous habit I had never done before and wasn't really sure why I was doing it now.

A man, no older than 30, came and perched himself next to me with a coffee in one hand and something that looked suspiciously like brandy in the other. Outstretching his hand, he offered to glass of brandy in front of me. I stared back at him, unsure of his meaning.

"Here, take this." He smiled at me warmly. "You look like you need it more than I do." I must've looked bad If a stranger was offering me his drink. He waved his hand slightly, and I shook my head in polite decline.

"Thanks for the offer, but I don't drink," I told him. It was more like I wasn't allowed to drink actually, courtesy of Yao.

Shocked, the tanned man eyed my red robes and peered at me.

"Suit yourself," he said, leaning over to talk over the loud babble of passengers boarding the next plane. "Are you one of those religious people?"

Smiling at his question, I thought back to the last time I had drunk alcohol and got absolutely wasted. "No, I'm just not allowed to drink, especially after last time." The memory was a fond one, and the memories from that night still made me laugh (and also cringe) now.

Yao had thrown a family party (I was never quite sure what he celebrated at these to be honest) and Emil had been there. Too wasted to care, both of us had played a series of pranks on Yao and his boyfriend Arthur/Eyebrows. Let's just say Arthur had been found in the room wearing no pants the morning after, and Emil had been banned from the house forevermore. I had to carry him home because he couldn't walk for the alcohol and the laughter. That was the night we kissed properly for the first time, instead of just chaste pecks on each others lips. The feeling of that first kiss was warm, intoxicating, and just plain wonderful. It was a feeling I could still remember clearly now, even 2 months later.

The man beside me said nothing after our brief communication over drinks. Only afterwords did I realise that I was crying silently- whether from happiness, worry or exhaustion I didn't know; and maybe that was the reason why he didn't speak to me again.

At the fourth hour of waiting, and most likely the 800th time of looking at my watch, I fell asleep on the bench, dreaming of memories of Emil and I childishly playing in the snow and ice at his place last Christmas.

Feeling a light shove on my shoulder, I woke from my deep sleep. I wasn't sure how long I'd been asleep for, the time on my watch read 7AM, and as I rubbed my eyes I noticed gorgeous, shining silver hair in front of me.

"Hey sleepy." The voice was soft and whispery, heavily accented, and it was one I recognised at once. Jumping up, I hugged my arms around Emil's neck tightly, and whispered the words I had been thinking of for the past few panicky hours of my life.

"I love you."

-Fin-

A/N 2: The lovely Nellosel (/u/4935145/) has done a Hungarian translation of this fanfiction here = susielupin . blogspot . hu /2013/07/repteri-tunodes . html (take out the spaces).