It was another Christmas meeting for the third year in a row. Due to the terrible planning skills of the myriad countries in attendance, the meeting had gotten pushed back for days until there was no choice but to have it on Christmas. The nations were huddled in the meeting room with snow falling tantalizingly outside the window. Many of them had already begun some Christmas traditions in the middle of the meeting. Nobody really thought to scold anybody for eating cake or drinking alcohol since they could more likely than not sympathize with fellow Christmas celebrators.
The talk of politics and economy had slowly ebbed away to leave the nations to their peace. Some of the attendants placed a few logs in the fire to add a cozy atmosphere to the room. In the warm, flickering light of the fire, couples leaned together in quiet confidence to make the best of a Christmas Eve away from home. Wine was poured into glass cups and sipped slowly between whispered professions of love and adoration.
That night, Spain and England had been able to catch a seat together along the edge of the polished, wooden meeting table. The two nations leaned against each other, exchanging gentle kisses. England's pale fingers traced along Spain's back to touch each scar there and remember the history of their past together told in the raised marks. His Spanish lover hummed deep in his throat, appreciating each touch that was gifted upon his scars.
"I remember when I gave you these scars here," England mumbled softly. His fingers found the series of cuts that spelled out his love for the Spaniard. They had been placed there so long ago, the words "te amo." Back in their days as cruel and ruthless sailors of the seven seas and England's desire for Spain's blood had driven him to great lengths to obtain it.
Spain nodded and sighed in contentment. "Si, I remember." He reached across and cupped England's cheek gently. "It reminds me of our love. How it will never fade no matter how many centuries go by."
The Brit closed his green eyes and leaned his head on the Spaniard's shoulder. He loved those moments where his love would show his brilliant and poetic side. It was moments like these when he knew that Spain would never be a stupid, dense man. That he still was and always would be the strong, clever empire that he once was.
"Inglaterra?"
England opened his eyes. "Yes, Espana?"
"I think, if I were to quote that story about the bear…" Spain kissed the side of England's head gently. "I hope that you live to be ninety-nine. Then I could live to be ninety-nine and a day that I wouldn't have to live without you."
There was a moment of silence where England stayed leaning on his Spaniard with his face red. The words Spain had given him just then meant more to him than Spain knew. Or did he know? He always seemed to say the perfect things to cheer up the rainy island nation.
"Spain…te amo…and Merry Christmas, my beautiful Imperio Espana," he said tenderly and kissed Spain. The kiss grew deeper and more passionate and seemed to last for a glorious eternity. When they parted, the world seemed so much more peaceful and beautiful than when the kiss had begun. England was in love with Spain all over again in that one moment, and Spain smiled because he knew.
Well, that was my writing for 1:00 AM! This might not be the best because of sleep deprivation but I tried. I know it's not Christmas but I had to get this out of my brain.
These are the kinds of things I get when I stay up late to comfort my bird after he has night-frights.
Please review and such if you enjoyed or tell me if you want me to write about your own personal headcannons. Come on, it's summer and I need to do some more SpUK writing ^^