It was the constant hum of the engine and the huffed breaths, shifts of the sleeping cabin that Arthur awoke to. Rubbing at his temple Arthur futility attempted to tame his hair. Pinching the bridge of his nose in what seemed forever dissatisfaction.
Shifting he grumbled silently as the expensive leather of first-class seats stuck to the back of his neck as if annoying him was the objects favorite pastime. It seemed as if the pillow had fallen out from behind his head and wedged itself between the seat and the internal wall of the plane. Turning to the small window, it is right he lifted the plastic sheet just a bit, blinking furiously at the light streaming in. It seemed as if the sun was beginning to rise. Shutting the shade he stifled a yawn, it was a long flight from Britain to Canada and Alfred had insisted they take a commercial flight rather than the private jets they typically traveled on. Something about it being an experience, doing something different once in a while and that Arthur was an annoying old man. Arthur had swatted the American with the paper he'd been reading for the comment but had relented nonetheless, unable to say no beneath the younger countries enthusiasm.
Alfred had decided he wanted to give us a price to his brother that it had been a long time since Arthur himself had seen the maple loving blonde and had agreed admittedly, though never out loud, he had a terrible time saying no to be American. Speaking of which, his eyes turned to the luxury seat beside him, surprised to see that it was empty. 'Well, we are on a plane, it's not like he could have gone far. To the bathroom, or knowing him charmed the flight attendants to allow him to the cockpit.' Arthur opted for the window once more, this time tugging the shade open completely. The sun a pleasant wash of warmth on his skin.
The British man seemingly of his mid-20s looked down. Sapphire blue water stretched languidly beneath the belly of the plane, reaching far behind his vision. From this height that a wave blemished the image, smooth as glass formed by a master blowers hand and breath. The water seemed to glitter and shine as the sun poured early morning rays to the surface, it was the color Arthur found, that was impossible to say no to. Even with his inability to swim, Arthur found himself drowning in color frequently, though not as often as he liked. Such a statement would sound odd if he voiced his sentiment out loud.
Endeavors and plans approved to be fruitful. Not all one sheet of blue, but rather shades joining into beautiful after. Potential, adventure, acceptance, and even warmth. Yes, Alfred's eyes were more like that of the ocean below. Try to say no to that. It had allowed the boy, as a growing colony, to get away with much more than he should have. Even now the boy often got what he desired. Those eyes and smile. Yes, practically got him everything.
"Oh hey! Good, you're awake" a loud whisper pulled Arthur's eyes from the extensive body of water. At least he was kind of being quiet now. Arthur had told Alfred to keep down more than once when they had boarded the plane. A loud whisper was the quietest the lab seem to get. Lecturing someone with a boyish smile was difficult. "I got you breakfast, something to hold you over till we land," Alfred smiled, and it was then that Arthur noticed the single bagel, the two toasted slices had damp faces, meaning Alfred buttered them for him. With a thank you, he took the napkin, not needing to look at Alfred's. The younger, yet taller nation would have two, both weighed down by far too much cream cheese (though Alfred swore that no such thing existed.)
Lifting a half to his mouth, he took a bite of the baked product and glanced back out the window. England felt Alfred drop himself gracelessly back into the seat next to him. "Wow, Artie… It's gorgeous." Alfred breathed, leaning against the other nation to peer out the window. Arthur merely nodded in agreement as the country pair fell silent, watching the ocean as they ate. The comfortable, calm silence matching the mood Arthur had been in the entirety of the morning. He did offer this done eating when a hand rested on his knee, propping a chin on his shoulder.
Turning his own head Englishman pressed a kiss to the other one's temple, receiving a small noise of approval in return. Looking down at the young man, he watched the ocean eyes stare back at their namesake. With the fingers of his free hand, he twined them with the Americans, relaxing against the warm body. The quiet, even more, comfortable than before with a familiar body and presence. Such comforts made a flight much better. Something simple like a flight, ocean and bagels.