Author's Note: Finally finished this. A little Portugal and Brazil romance going on. I don't even know if I ship this pairing but, regardless, I wrote it anyway.
Based around the Peninsular War, when Napoleon invaded Portugal and took over Spain. To protect the Portuguese monarchy, the capital of the Portuguese Empire was moved to Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. During this time, the joint kingdom was called the United Kingdom of Portugal, Brazil, and the Algarves. Brazil's status of as a colony was elevated, as it was now home to the capital and considered a kingdom in its own right.
Sorry for the long explanation, but understanding a bit about the time period will help this make more sense, I hope. I apologise in advance for any typos or mistakes.
OCs for Brazil (Jordão) and Portugal (Aldo) are mine. (Though the design of Portugal is based around potential sketches for a canon Portugal character.)
Axis Powers: Hetalia does not belong to me, thank goodness.
Just as a warning: this story features homosexuality. Don't read if you don't like, alright? :)
The sand was hot beneath his feet, the air thick with the familiar smell of salt, as the water rolled in to the coast and slowly drained away. Though there was a slight breeze, the rays of the setting sun warmed his skin and made the sky glow in a bright array of reds and pinks. All this was lost on the brown haired, pony-tailed man as he wandered down the beach, his mind thousands of miles away on a completely different beach, a different country, and, based on the seemingly peaceful atmosphere around him, it might as well have been a different world all together.
Bare feet felt their way through the grains of sand, not bothering to fully lift up off the ground. The continual crash of waves lulled his mind, allowing his thoughts to drift back home, back to Lisbon, to his people. He shouldn't be here, not now, not when they needed him. Yet, he found himself on this beach sending nothing more than his thoughts back to those still trapped in Portugal.
Trapped, was that how he was to think of them now?
Was Portugal nothing more than a prison, where a war had been raging and the siege by the French seemed never ending? No, it could never be something so hopeless, so broken. He was the very essence of Portugal, and he never felt himself to be a prison. Though, and now finally taking a moment to admire the scenery around him, it was easy to admit that life seemed simpler here. The stress he felt couldn't truly subside, he knew that, but perhaps for just a few moments he would be able to forget the threats facing his country, the very reason he was here, and imagine that life could always be a stroll down the beach.
He would rather not think about the war at all. It was a twisted, dark thing, as war always was, fret with deceit and betrayal. Just the notion of the treacherous Frenchman responsible made his grip on the shoes in his hand tighten and he quickly shook his head, dispelling any thoughts of the matter. Just for now, just for a few moments, he would like to forget.
"Old man! Slow down! Wait for me, old man!"
That voice, the thick Brazilian accent distorting such familiar words, he knew what to expect when he turned his head in the direction of the shouting. The boy—no, the man, he was a man now—was running toward him, a smile gracing his features as it so often did, his hand waving, lest the Portuguese man had somehow managed to miss him. He turned back around and continued to walk, expecting the other to catch up in a few moments.
"Old man! Aldo, come on, I know you can hear me!" Jordão fell into step with the shorter man, as he had expected, the smile now gone from his face and replaced with something more akin to concern than anything else. "Are you alright?"
Aldo turned to look at him, knowing that the dark bags under his eyes coupled with the sullen complexion of his skin had something to do with the alarmed tone in the other's voice, and would not support any claim he would make to being "fine." Instead, he shrugged, neither bothering to describe the exact mix of emotions he was currently feeling, nor pretending to be feeling any he wasn't. "I'll be better once I've completely recovered from my trip."
It was the truth, and Jordão could not deny that. It was obvious he wanted to know more, he could see the unasked questions in the dark brown eyes of the young man. Quickly, his disposition turned to something more cheerful, and the smile found its way back onto his face. "Perhaps if you weren't taking walks like this all the time, you'd recover more quickly."
There was an impish gleam in his eyes now and a chuckle escaped his lips. He'd always been one to tease, Aldo was well aware of that, but there seemed to be something more behind it lately. Whatever it was, he was unable to put his finger on it.
"Certainly you, of all people, would understand the allure of the ocean." He looked to the west, as the sun continued to disappear and the reds of earlier blended into cool purples and blues. How quickly night had caught up with him already. The Brazilian next to him nodded in agreement, and, had Aldo been paying closer attention, he would have noticed Jordão's eyes on him rather than the scenery.
"I never get tired of this view." His voice had become quieter now, as if the light was what had given it strength, and his expression softened to something almost tender, gaze never straying from the older man's face. As soon as Aldo started to shift his attention back, he looked toward the sea, laughing again. "Breathtaking, no?"
It was now Aldo's turn to study the man before him. The breeze caught his dark, messy hair, blowing it away from his deeply tanned skin. He'd always been so dark, a mix of genetics and days spent on this very beach. Aldo, quite literally, paled in comparison, despite his southern European heritage.
Slowly, he turned his attention back to the ocean, nodding. "Nothing can compare to the sea at sunset."
"I can think of a few things..."
He was surprised to hear Jordão speak, expecting a lull in the conversation where the two of them could quietly think, but it seemed the youth wasn't done voicing his thoughts. An eyebrow raised, Aldo glanced over at him, slightly amused. "Oh? Such as...?"
"What I see before me now." Jordão's eyes met his own at that moment as he muttered out his answer.
He looked over his shoulder to the soft lights of the city, a small smile finding its place on his face. "The work of man hardly compares, in my opinion, to the brushstrokes of God himself."
A small sound of frustration could be heard from the other and Aldo fixed his gaze on him once again, curious as to what he could have possibly said that would cause him such annoyance.
"I'm not talking about the city, Aldo." So often now he'd taken to tacking his first name onto the ends of sentences. It wasn't something he'd ever done as a child, unless trying to be serious, which often came across amusing to him. Now, though, as he so often reminded himself, Jordão was not a child, not anymore. His status had been elevated, he was a man, and Aldo had to treat him as such.
"I don't understand what you're talking about then. I've told you in the past that you need to be direct when expressing your thoughts on a subject." Would he ever learn, he wondered to himself. How many years would it take for him to understand that subtly was not always wanted in all situations? He'd been so vague lately, it was beginning to get annoying.
Being so wrapped up in his own thoughts, he hardly noticed the pair of determined, brown eyes getting closer to his own. A small, surprised sound escaped his mouth as two, tanned hands gripped his arms on either side, holding him still and a pair warm lips met his own, clumsy but passionate to express something he had failed to notice. Just as soon as they had brushed against his own, the lips departed, leaving the Portuguese man in a rigid position, blankly looking up at the Brazilian.
"I hope that was direct enough for you."
With the silence broken, thoughts came flooding back into his mind and he nodded, just a hint of something mischievous flashing in his green eyes.
"I believe you've expressed yourself thoroughly."
Again, the lips met his own, tanned hands loosening their grip only to be replaced by arms wrapping themselves around him, drawing him closer to the taller man. This second kiss was just as confident as the first, despite the younger man's lack of experience. Unlike its predecessor, it was met with a gentle response on the part of the more experienced participant. With some reluctance Aldo placed his right hand on the waist opposite his own, the other finding its way to Jordão's chest and resting there. With the brush of a tongue against his lips he pulled away, taking a moment to catch his breath and letting his hand fall from his chest.
"What's wrong?" The question came immediately after him breaking off the kiss, concern once again etched into the dark face.
"Nothing is wrong, per se," He paused, choosing his words carefully, "but I think that's enough for one evening, don't you?"
The badly hidden disappointment in the younger man's face told him that clearly it wasn't, however he was not about to take things farther than they had already gone. While Jordão may have been a man, that said nothing about his maturity or experience, especially with the delicate emotions now at play. There was something so pure and innocent about the whole interaction that he felt as if taking things much further would surely taint whatever emotions the other was feeling.
Sighing reluctantly, Jordão nodded. "I suppose. But don't think I won't try again."
With a wink, he let go of the Lusitanian, though he kept one arm around his shoulders, continuing a more simple form of their closeness from earlier. He didn't object to this, despite the persistent voice in the back of his mind telling him he should nip this in the bud. He ignored the voice. It was comforting to have someone so obviously enthralled with him, someone who had yet to betray him, who simply wanted to keep him close. There was no trickery or personal gain to be garnered from this; it was the childhood crush whose hopes had never been dashed; it was untainted.
Pulling the Brazilian with him, Aldo began in the opposite direction he had been walking, heading back toward the city lights that sharply contrasted against their now deep blue background, second in brightness only to the stars and moon. "I would expect nothing less."
Perhaps the United Kingdom of Portugal, Brazil, and the Algarves would turn out to be more of a success than he had originally hoped.
AN: And there you have it. Constructive criticism is welcomed. Thank you for reading. :)