A/N: Well, here's that other version of "Something Smells...Greasy" I had been talking about before. It's been a little while since I had posted the K+ version, I know, but I just wasn't sure about how to end this one. Because, you know, I'm not very good at writing romance scenes. But this one is a-okay, as I always say xD haha Don't forget to leave a review and tell me what you think of this version. Enjoy!
England definitely didn't like the smell that greeted him when he returned home from work. Instead of the usual, pleasant aroma of strong herbal tea, an acrid odor of burned fat and grease assaulted his nose. He crinkled his nose in disgust and took off his bowler hat and winter pea coat, hanging them both on the coat rack beside the door. The house was still and silent as he walked across the foyer and into the drawing room. His eyes scanned for anything unusual or out of place among the furniture and decorations as he went.
Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Everything was in its rightful place.
In the living room, England observed the space even more closely, his large green eyes wide, taking in every detail. All the expensive furniture and decorations were where they belonged. England looked over to the fireplace, the large chunks of oak still burning among the ashes of past fires. He was concentrating so hard on trying to hear any noises that might not have been natural to the old house that he convinced himself that he heard a door close in one of the rooms on the second floor. England hurried up the staircase, taking two steps at a time.
Every door on the second floor was closed tight.
You just have to make everything difficult, don't you, England thought in anger as he stalked over to the closest door on his left. He gripped the doorknob so tight his knuckles turned bone white and his hand began to ache. The knob turned easily in his hand, making no noise as he pushed the door open slowly. He didn't know exactly what he was trying to accomplish by opening the door slowly, but he hoped that whoever had broken into his home was not watching him right that moment, was not seeing how shaky and unstable his legs were as he pushed the door all the open, poking his head into the near-empty guest room.
Nothing. Once again. Absolutely nothing. The room was completely empty.
England growled in frustration, his eyes narrowing as he looked over the room once again before slamming the door closed. When he was back out in the hallway again, he glanced over his shoulder and down the staircase. An odd feeling sent shivers up and down his spine. England was torn between continuing to search the upstairs rooms and going downstairs and forgetting about it.
But what if France was the intruder... England thought, his eyes narrowing at the highly likely probability. Well, his mind was made up: he would continue to search the upstairs rooms, this time searching them thoroughly for cameras. Because that was just how the Frenchman rolled.
England checked the rest of the upstairs rooms slowly, making sure to take in every detail in every room. Some rooms he even checked multiple times. But there was nothing. Not even a single camera. Maybe it's just my nerves getting to me... England thought as he descended the stairs once again, this time in search of that horrible stench.
Speaking of that horrible smell. It had definitely gotten stronger while England was upstairs. I wonder why I didn't smell it at all while I was upstairs? England thought as he walked across the foyer and headed to the dining area. What he found there was definitely the last thing he had been expecting to see.
Or rather, who he found there.
"Iggy!" an achingly familiar and comforting voice called out excitedly once England stepped into the dining area. Before England could do anything to defend himself from the larger nation rushing towards him, he was enveloped in a strong-armed, bone-crushing, lung-collapsing hug.
England's breath was taken away once America's arms were wrapped around his tense body, and it wasn't because of the tight hug he was in. The American's strong scent filled the Brit's nostrils, and it made him woozy. Ever since England had first met America and taken him in as his little brother and raised him, he had always been blissfully overwhelmed by the younger nation's scent.
"What - what are you doing here...?" England asked breathlessly, ending his futile struggle against the American and leaning into his chest. He placed his head softly on America's broad, muscular chest and took a deep breath, relishing in the scent of the other nation. Whatever America had been cooking in the kitchen that had stunk up England's house was blocked out completely by the American's wonderous aroma.
England took another deep breath, filling his lungs with America's scent, as the larger nation answered him. Well, tried to answer him, that is. "Well, Iggy," America began. "I... I wanted to spend time with you. I was talking to Canada and China the other day, and they both said that we... weren't as close as we used to be. I didn't believe them at first, but then a whole bunch of other nations started saying the same thing, and I couldn't help but feel... sad." America lowered his head and placed his chin on the top of England's head, holding back a chuckle as England's body tensed slightly before relaxing again.
"I thought about the past," America went on when he got no response from England. "I thought about how you took me in, how you protected me from France for all those years. I thought about the Revolution, and about the War of 1812. And then during the world wars, when I would always jump to your aid." England stiffened at this, and America hummed quietly into his hair to try and calm him down. Once England relaxed a bit, America continued. "I never really thought about why I went and helped you even after all those fights we had in the past. But when I had talked to Canada and China, I finally realized something." At this, America pulled away from England, looking him in the eyes and smiling a goofy grin. America's eyes glinted behind his glasses, and England could have sworn he was starting to cry.
Just like he used to when he was just a colony, England thought as a small smile touched his lips. America's mouth on his soon smothered the smile. America's hands wrapped around England's waist, pulling him tighter agaisnt his body. England's eyes closed against his will, his mind shouting for him to stop. To puull away. To push him or punch him or... or anything! But England's head was too fogged up to think clearly. After all these years, England allowed his senses to indulge in the taste of the man pressed against him. This was no fantasy; this was no dream. No, this was actually happening right here, right now, in England's kitchen. And he was ecstatic.
That is, until America pulled away. But there lips weren't connected for too long. No, America pulled away only long enough to murmure these few words before plastering his lips to England's once more, "I realized that I had fallen in love with you."