Hello. It's SweetHeart's week at the USxUK livejournal community! I'll be writing like crazy for this week, I really want to be able to crank out some stories every day for this. If all goes well, another oneshot will be posted a bit later this evening. Today is day one, Close to You. Enjoy.

-chibitalex

Day break had just begun to shine through the honey-cream curtains. The sun poked through and glistened onto the silk sheets, giving the previously chilly room a comfortable warmth. In the center of the entanglement of blankets and pillows laid two figures in each other's embrace. And as they rested, one began to stir and look down at his lover.

What time was it now? America glanced out the window and examined the slowly rising sun. It had to be at least 7 or so. A slight shift came from his side as his lover moved in his slumber to grip his arm even tighter. America gave him a sleepy smile. Even asleep, he was still as endearing as ever. His expression was nothing less than relaxed and content, very much unlike this scowl he wore in meetings. Smiling, the now awake American ran his fingers through England's hair. A vague scent of shampoo and dried sweat was clearly present, and he hummed with pleasure. He must be worn out.

Last night's lovemaking session had been the first in a long while. How many months since they had seen each other? At least four. No… was it six? It had to be more than four, at the very least. Time was bothersome, the more he paid attention to it, the more upset it made him. Though, they had finally met up again, and it was only proper that they made up for lost time. Oh, and they did. America smiled again and kissed his sleeping lover's temple. Hopefully he wouldn't be too worn out to go out on a trip through his city today.

The pale skin on his shoulders was nearly luminescent in the morning light, he noted. If only England was this calm when he was awake as well. Several scars littered his collar bone, arms, and shoulders. As he ran his fingers along his lover's back, a few bumps and small dents were also evident. It was only natural. He had been alive for quite a long time, after all. A small nick on his left shoulder had faded to a light pink a long while ago, but it was still noticeable. What was that again? He had mentioned before that it was from a fight with France during his empire days. America ran a finger over the scar before leaning a placing a kiss upon it.

There were too many. Too many scars, that is. If it were up to him, England would never have to suffer. Not again. There were times when he wished they were both human, all human, free and very much mortal in the world. Free to be by each other's side whenever they wished. Not that it was possible, of course, but it was a nice thought. America pondered this information and launched into a daydream where they had all of the time in their lives to spend with each other, but broke it in favour of staring at his lover again.

…Damn, that was a cute nose. He ran his finger along it slowly, as England twitched in his sleep. It was perfect. Soft and smooth, rounded on the end. How was it possible for a nose to be this cute? Again, he pressed another kiss to his nose, forehead, and both cheeks.

His eyelashes were also nothing to laugh at, either. Thick, dark, and full, they looked absolutely flattering on him. Suddenly, America understood why women wore mascara. They wanted 'England-lashes' too, didn't they? He couldn't help but think of those emeralds lying beneath his eyelids. It was almost as if they glistened in the sunlight, though the Brit was never out in the sun often enough for him to see it. Lately, America had caught him watching more and more television, some sort of British detective show. Although he denied watching it in the first place, America knew it was a lie. He had always loved Sherlock Holmes.

He ruffled the sleeping beauty's hair and took a sniff. Now, if England were awake, he would normally reprimand him for being 'creepy', but the truth was, he never got to have enough of this scent as it was. His boyfriend had a unique quality that just made him smell… well, really good. He sort of smelled like a really nice couch. A very nice couch, with a side table filled with lilies. England would adamantly deny it if he ever mentioned how he smelled (even lightly) of flowers, insisting that he was lying.

Of course, America wasn't lying.

It was rather cold in here; he noted and slid an arm underneath his partner, bringing him closer. America softly hummed and kissed his ear, whispering terms of endearment and promises that he swore to himself a long time ago that he would be able to keep some day. It was funny, actually. Most of the time, England would arise before America and wake him up by scattering kisses along his face until he would finally wake and press back eagerly. Though, he preferred taking the time he had to cherish him as he slept. Sometimes he would even try to influence his dreams and whisper phrases into his ear. The next morning, he would always wake up and give America a long speech about how odd his dreams seemed the previous night.

Their torsos pressed against each other, and he swore that he could feel their hearts beating in sync at the moment. With every thump, America felt his heart swell and his cheeks flush. Some part of him was still in disbelief that after years of tension, they could finally have a chance at being happy together. This only made him even more blissfully happy as he claimed the other's responding lips in a kiss of his own.

Slowly, England began to stir and yawn, before registering how tightly he was wrapped in his lover's arms, how many kisses were being given to him at the moment. Instead of stopping, America continued the love fest by kissing each of the Brit's eyelids and shooting him the warmest smile he could muster.

"…Mornin'."

"Good morning, America… how was your rest?" He asked rather groggily.

He could only chuckle and respond, "Best I've had in six months."