Alright guys, this is something a little different from what I'm used to. 1) it's France/US... kind of a weird paring.
This story started out as a really really depressing US/UK fic, but some where along the line, the plot took on a life of it's own, and it ended up a France/US fic. It does have a second part coming, I hope you guys like it!
America sipped the cup of tea he had made. England was so fond of tea, and now that America was grown, England insisted that America drink a cup every day to wake up in the morning. America sighed as he read over the newspaper, letting the warm liquid slide down his throat. He set the teacup down on the table gently, looking around the kitchen.
England wasn't here. America wished England was here with him, sitting on the other side of the table, talking to him about some world issue. But he wasn't. England was almost always gone lately. Dealing with this country or the next, always out and about the world, leaving America to his own devices.
America was lonely. He missed England's stern words, his strong hand on his shoulder, those ridiculous eyebrows furrowing when America did something wrong. Even when England was at home, he was locked away in his office, still working furiously with the other nations. England was supposed to take care of him, but now that America had grown up, England almost ignored him.
A loud knock came from the door, pulling America from his depressing thoughts. He didn't need to go to the door to know who it was. France. Ever since England had left three weeks ago, France had been coming over every day. It was no secret that France wanted him, and the only thing that ever kept him away was England. And now England was gone, leaving America to fend for himself.
Yesterday France had actually crawled through the window to see him. America hated when the Frenchman flirted with him. France was always trying to have his way with America, no matter how many times America turned him down. Besides, he knew France only wanted him because he belonged to England. If only England would act the way France did with him. But no, England only treated him as his dearest little brother. Of course America was never allowed to actually call him that. England was suspicious that calling him Nii-san would make him a terrible protector, like so many others had. It didn't change the fact that England was unfortunately just that, his protector, and nothing more.
"Alfred! Alfred mon love! I know you are in there!" More knocking from the persistent Nation outside.
America sipped his tea again, resisting the urge to chug the hot liquid. The knocking stopped. Had France left already?
The phone rang, America springing up excitedly and rushing to the receiver.
"Arthur?" He spoke hopefully into the speaker, not able to stop himself from smiling.
"Alfred, how are you?" Oh, how America loved that voice. He felt his entire body relax before responding:
"I'm good, a little lonely. The roses are growing wonderfully, but they need your love. I'm afraid if I do anything I'll ruin them." He began pacing, never able to stay still when England was around, even if he was technically half the world away right now.
"Well, you don't have to do much. Just water them three times a week you git. If you do that, they should bloom beautifully in no time." He could practically hear England's thoughts, screaming 'Idiot' through his voice. "There is a reason I'm calling though."
America stopped his pacing abruptly. That didn't sound good.
"You see… I'm going to be away a little longer than I first thought." America could feel his heart sink. Longer? "I don't know exactly when I'll be coming home. So keep watering the roses for me. Alright?"
"Yea! No problem! I can definitely take care of that for you. What do you think I am? An idiot or something? Jeeze." He put on his best farce, forcing the sadness and disappointment out of his voice for the sake of his protector. He almost smiled when England chuckled into the receiver, then sighing before he continued.
"I'll be home as soon as possible. Make sure you lock those doors. Good-bye."
America continued to hold the phone, pressing it against his ear, even as England hung up.
-Then America yelped as hands made their way around his waist, the phone dropping to the floor with a smash. America's entire body tensed from the unwanted touch, his breath halting in his lungs. How had France found his way in?
"Arthur isn't coming home is he?" The words were spoken in a low tone right beside America's ear, the hot breath tickling his skin.
"That has nothing to do with you. You slimy pervert." America just wanted to be alone. He could only mask his disappointment for so long, and he didn't want France anywhere near him when he finally broke.
"But it does, mon cher. It has everything to do with me." The arms tightened, only making America more depressed. Why couldn't England hold him like that?
"Leave me alone Francis. I can't handle this right now." He was so close to breaking. Why was France still here?
"I'm not going to leave you alone now. That would be rude." His arms came away from America, only to grab his shoulders and turn him around. America's eyes were red, moments away from spilling tears. "Don't deny you are lonely; let me be here for you while England is not." France smiled. It was sweet and caring as his arms returned to America, pulling him into an embrace.
America couldn't hold it in much longer. He pushed away from France and bolted to his room, shutting the door and leaning against it, his eyes screwed shut, keeping back the tears that threatened to fall. England was always too busy to be at home with America. He never had time to just sit down and have a chat, just to bewith America.
America wanted to be held by England more than anything. Be held like France held him. To be loved, to be taken away into a world all of its own, made of nothing but England, himself, and pleasure. However, that would never happen. England was busy with his other colonies, Africa being the neediest right now.
England didn't need him. He was just another possession of the larger country, nothing more. It was all too much, America slumping to the floor like a child's doll, a useless heap of blood, bones and skin. He cried hard, tears flowing from his eyes, a river of sadness from the depths of his soul. America vaguely noticed the door creep open. He knew it was France, and though he hated letting the older nation see him like this, he was far beyond the point of caring. A hand was placed gently on his shoulder, and America shied away, his body jerking from the touch. He wanted to scream. To yell at France and tell him to get the fuck out; but all he could do was sob. Words wouldn't form in his mouth, each time he tried to think, pain would well in his heart.
"Alfred. Alfred it's all ok." He jerked and pulled away as France's arms made to guide his body closer to the older man's. But he was in no state to fight, and France easily moved his arms and pulled his smaller frame into his embrace.
"It's not ok," America mumbled, tears still leaking from his eyes despite his best efforts to hide them.
"Do not worry about Arthur. His actions are inexcusable." America looked up momentarily, his red eyes still dripping tears as he watched the Frenchman's reactions. "He left you Alfred. He leaves you here, alone in his home, with no freedoms or company. He goes away for months, sometimes even years and does not even think twice about it. It's shameful, that someone should mistreat such a beautiful land such as you." Those blue eyes, just a shade darker than his own, looked back at him.
Frances' face was calm, gentle; his normal perverted sneaky looks had been replaced. America found himself unable to pull away from France, even as the older Nation continued speaking.
"He abuses you, uses you, he never appreciates you Alfred. Not like I would." His voice was soft, but there was a hint of anger to his words. "He's after another colony right now, you know. Canada. He left him alone of years, but now that he might lose Canada he's fighting for him. So greedy! He wants everyone, to keep you locked away in his little toy cabinet of colonies; paying his high taxes and using you for all your worth."
What was he saying? Was this, this what France was telling him, the truth? America looked around the room blankly, furrowing his brows as his brain tried to process the information thrust upon him. Was England really just trying to keep all his colonies to himself, using him for all he was worth? What would happen when America stopped being useful…? Would England throw him away? What if he was already useless? Was that why England was never home with him anymore?
"He doesn't want you anymore, Alfred. You were his toy, and he has grown bored of you."
Alfred shook his head, closing his eyes tightly as if that would keep the words away. This wasn't- this couldn'tbe the truth.
"He doesn't appreciate you like I do Alfred. I will never get bored of you." His voice lost the angry tinge, now it lowered, became smoother, the sound doing interesting things to the American's train of thought. "Let me hold you, Alfred. Come back to France with me. Leave this insufferable bastard behind. Let me treat you as you should be, pampered and spoiled." France's mouth dipped low to America's ear, whispering those wicked words hotly into his ear.
"Francis..." What would be so wrong about leaving with France? The man just wanted to love him. France wanted to love him in the same way America needed to be loved. America shivered as France lightly kissed the curve of his neck, those soft lips pressing against his skin.
But they were the wrong lips. They weren't the rough chapped lips of England. It wasn't right if it wasn't England. "I- I can't…" America began to feebly protest against France's embrace. "I need to stay and wait for Arthur!" America's voice rose, more tears flowing from his eyes as he pushed himself away from France. It didn't matter if England didn't love him the same way. America would never be happy unless it was England. America turned and tried to run, run away from the temptation of love.
But France was too quick; his arms wrapping around America and pulling him back.
"Leave me alone!" America screamed, turning and raising his hand to punch the damn pervert in the face. France was all too aware of his intentions, and as America let his fist loose, the Frenchman easily raising his own hand, strongly grabbing America's wrist, his eyes sternly boring into the younger man's.
"Alfred." He spoke the word deeply, his voice taking on a stern, angry tone. "Alfred. I came here today to take you. And I will not leave without accomplishing my goal."
America had no time to react as France harshly pulled their bodies together, his mouth covering America's before the smaller man could protest. The kiss was hard, America refusing to open his mouth to France's questing tongue. He was frozen, not able to move as France's mouth pushed against his own. It wasn't right, it wasn't supposed to be France.
America opened his eyes, looking into blue, not green. He felt France's tongue press up against his lips once again, the Frenchman's other hand coming around and groping his bottom. He opened his mouth to protest, giving France the time to thrust his tongue into the American's unguarded mouth.
The hand holding his wrist loosened, long slender fingers moving to hold his neck in place as France's tongue plundered his mouth. America stopped struggling. There was no way out of this now. France was too strong, was too good at getting what he wanted. Those delicate hands playing with the strands of hair at the nape of his neck caused shutters to run through his body. The arm holding him, pressinghim just so against France made him feel safe and wanted.
America closed his eyes, giving up, allowing France to do as he pleased. Maybe, just maybe, if he tried hard enough, he could pretend.
France knew to take this cue, picking America up and laying him on the bed, keeping him preoccupied, kissing him with all the passion and skill he could muster.
The hand was too delicate as it wrapped around his shame.
He saw only blue, not green as his eyes shot open in pleasure.
His nails scraping down the others back, leaving the skin angry and red.
Fingers long and slender as they moved inside him.
Grabbing onto long, silky hair he could have sworn was short and scruffy.
The voice was wrong, speaking dirty words, instead of words of encouragement.
If he tried hard enough, maybe he could pretend.
France was gentle and caring as he wrapped America in a clean blanket, covering the exhausted man's body and carrying him out of England's house.
"I will never be bored with you Alfred. I will love you like you should have been from the beginning. You were meant to be with me." Those words, so sweet, yet with an after taste more sour than the ripest lemon. America just nodded; both his body and soul defeated and broken.
France took him aboard his finest vessel. Mahogany wood, gold and jewels from the farthest nations of the world. Sheets of silk and fine wine at any time of day. This was America's world now.
Although France was kind and gentle, spoiling America with all sorts of treasures, games, and clothing, he felt like an empty shell. He woke to flowers every day, and went to sleep in the safety of France's arms, never once could he summon the energy to protest. He had any material good he could ever want. He had someone to spoil and love him. To care for him like he had always wanted. But it wasn't England.
In the beginning, America was sure England would have heard of France taking him away, and any minute England would appear, ever valiant on a ship to take him away from France. But as weeks turned to months, England was nowhere to be seen.
America's spirit was broken. His heart had shattered that night France had held him. He felt as if he had fallen from a great height, gravity tugging at his body till it smashed to the ground; so broken and scattered that there would never be any way to piece it back together.
France hardly ever left his side. Except for personal grooming, France was always there with him. An arm wrapped around his waist or shoulder, his delicate fingers laced with his own, France never let them be separated.
France tried his best to pull America out of his depression. He hated to see the young man so sad and empty. So empty of life. France wanted nothing more than to see the feisty boisterous America he knew and loved. He was tucking the silent, opinion less America into his bed, ready for a good night's sleep.
"Je t'aime Alfred." France whispered those three words quietly to America before settling himself into bed, pulling the American into the safety of his arms.
The next morning America was the same emotionless, lifeless being he had become. However, France used that morning during breakfast to mark the first day of America's recovery.
"Francis…" The name came out as a shaky breath, cautious and unsure. France's head snapped towards the nervous American, putting his fork down and giving America his full attention.
"What does 'Je tame' mean?" He looked down in an almost shy manner as France reined his urge to jump with joy. He stood up as slowly as he could; he didn't want to startle the American back into depression now, and walked to where America was seated, kneeling beside the chair.
"It means, I love you." France smiled gently, accentuating his sentence with a chaste kiss on the top of America's head. He watched the different emotions wash over the younger man's face. Confusion, anger, sadness, though it was mostly confusion.
France chuckled quietly and stood, taking his seat at the other side of the table once again.
"Would you like to learn more of my native tongue, Alfred?" France bit his lip to stop the perverted grin from splitting onto his face. He really didn't intend to make the sentence so dirty.
Yes, he would like to have America learn lots of things with his 'native tongue' but that was not the time for such comments to be made. The American nodded, nibbling cutely at a croissant.
From that day forwards, America tried to enjoy his time on France's ship. He had never been spoiled this way, although England's empire was larger and wealthier than France, France gave him new and amazing things England had never allowed. Fine fabrics and new clothes whenever France deemed he needed a new wardrobe. A man came twice a week and put white cream on his face, and used his blade to shave the unwanted stubble from his face. Wonderful food many times a day, with such textures and tastes that America found he could not resist.
France would make sure he attended every meeting pertaining about the countries affairs, sometimes even allowing America to offer a rebuttal or suggestion. England had never let America sett so much as a pinkie toe into his meeting room.
France often took America into his study and taught him the language of his country. He taught him of politics, schooling him on the issues. It was all so new and exciting, why had England never treated him this way?
One thing that surprised America was that France had not touched him even once, like he did the first time. Occasionally, when America was sad or upset, France would slowly, ever so slowly, lean in and plant a feather light, chaste kiss on his forehead. It made America happy in a way, but also confused. Why had France held him that first time? Was it just the proper way to claim one country from another Nation, or was it that France could not control himself?
Sometimes America was lonely. Yes, France was always by his side, making sure he was happy at all times of the day, but sometimes America felt like he was alone. He missed England, those strong, often mean, but always encouraging words. His awkward hugs and meaningful lectures.
America was restless one night, tossing and turning, fidgeting constantly, the occasional sigh escaping from between his supple lips.
"Alfred mon cher, what is the matter?" France questioned, rolling over and laying his arm around his beloved colony, pulling him close.
Alfred said nothing, just shrugging his shoulders and shaking his head. He tried to put some distance between the two but France's hold was strong and unmoving.
"Don't lie to me like this Alfred. Tell me, mon Ange, what lurks in the depths of your mind?" France used his free hand to tilt the shy Nation's head towards him.
But Alfred was not going to give up any of his inner most thoughts. Not even to the man who had given him everything. He pulled his chin from France's grasp and rolled over, turning his back to the older man.
"Alfred. Alfred mon cher, please. I want nothing more than to make you happy," France whispered hotly into Alfred's ear causing a shiver to rack his body. France had to resist the urge to smirk. Yes, he loved that he could evoke such feelings in the stubborn nation, but now was not the time for perversions. America was bothered by something, and that was far more important than love making.
"Alfred, please, tell me what plagues your mind. Speaking your worries often makes them easier to bare." It made France a little sad America could not yet talk to him. America sighed, turning his head into the pillow and mumbling something quietly.
"What was that?" France asked, using his strength to turn the American back towards him. The words that came out America's mouth next got France all worked up.
"I miss England… and I'm confused… and lonely." The words were mumbled quietly, but France was sure he heard the younger man correctly.
France frowned, pulling the American closer to him for a moment, embracing him lovingly before letting go, allowing America to put some space between them.
"Well… why don't we try to fix those problems? Tell me Alfred, why you feel these things. I will do my best to help you." France had never been the best a problem solving. Well, problem solving that didn't involve fixing the problem with love making.
"Don't wanna," America pouted sullenly.
"Well, let's start with the first one. You miss Arthur. Why do you miss that horrible man?" France had to try his best to keep the anger and hurt out of his voice. He had given America everything he had wanted, love, care, and material possessions, why was it not enough for him?
"I don't know… I've been with him for so long, and now he's not here…" France frowned but pulled America towards him in a hug.
"It's not that you are unhappy, you just… miss your old life?" France allowed himself a smile as he nuzzled America slightly.
"I guess…" He was still pouting.
"Mmm, this makes me feel better. Now, what about the second one. What confuses you, mon ange?"
America turned himself around again, shaking his head. Just when France thought he was making progress the American just had to be stubborn again.
"Alfred. Tell me what's wrong. I want to help. I don't want you to feel this way." France scooted closer to America, his arms sneaking under and over the younger man, encircling him in his arms and pulling him close.
America was still stubborn. Shaking his head and trying to pull away.
"Alfred, please, don't be like this. You know I only want for you to be happy." France could not keep himself from kissing the slightly tanned neck in front of him. He loved the way America squirmed in his gasp.
"I don't understand why England has never done any of the same things you have done for me. I thought England liked me. And I always thought you just wanted me because England had me. And… And I don't understand anymore. I thought England would have come to save me. But he hasn't. –" America cut himself off with his own tears. A hand came up to quickly wipe the escaping tears from his face.
France only had so much control. He loved to fix problems with love making, and when given the opportunity to do so, France couldn't possibly turn it down.
"Alfred. I have never wanted you for the simple reason that England had you. You cannot remember, but I have wanted you since the first day I laid eyes on you. I saw such beauty and potential. But you wanted Arthur, and so I let you go." A few chaste kisses to the bare neck before him. "England hasn't come to save you because… well because he has other things to worry about. Now that you have grown up, Arthur trusts that you can… how do the English pigs say it… 'hold down the fort'. He feels he does not need to spend so much time with you." France pulled the American back around, making the younger blond look at him. "England acts this way, and does not treat you the same way as I do because he does not loveyou like I do."
France couldn't help himself, he surged forwards kissing the younger man, taking him by surprise. The American was frozen from shock, and after the initial connection, France pulled back suddenly. But he could not quell the urge building inside of him.
"I can fix all your problems Alfred, if you'll let me." He would try to fix them in the only way France knew how. And America was not so oblivious that he was unaware of what France was proposing.
France had said that he loved him. Something America had not seen coming. France had been holding back before, America could see that now. France was willing to provide what he had been yearning for, for what must have been years now.
"Alfred mon cher. I've been waiting for you to accept me. Waiting for you to bring yourself to me. I don't want it to be like last time." France spoke the words between feather light kisses over his face. Those smooth lips moving over America's forehead, his cheeks, nose, and eyes. France loved him, England didn't. Maybe it was time for America to accept that.
"Francis-" America took a breath. Trying to calm himself, buy himself a little more time before he spoke words he would never be able to take back. "Make me forget Arthur." He spoke softly before hiding his face in Frances fragrant neck.
France was all too happy to oblige. He rolled America under him quickly, lest the stubborn –Nation changed his mind. He looked into that beautiful, confused and scared face beneath him. Last time, France had lost control, his anger at England and his lust for the beautiful brash Nation had gotten the better of him. America had been almost lifeless. His entire being had been destroyed and beaten. This was going to be different.
France leaned down slowly, chastely placing his lips over America's. He waited patiently for America to respond, smiling to himself when he felt the younger man push back against him. It was like a cup of happiness to the Frenchman.
He lifted his hand from the bed softly grabbing America's chin and pulling gently, trying to get America to open up for him. Taking the cue from France, America slowly parted his lips, letting France's tongue invade the warm cavern. He kind of enjoyed it.
It wasn't long before France had America's tongue playing just as passionately. It made France hopeful as his hands went to work, unbuttoning the light night shirt that adorned the blushing Nation beneath him. America shivered as the cool air hit his now unclothed body. His hands buried themselves in the long locks of hair as France's hand found a nipple. Those long slender fingers gently pinched and flicked the nub, making America moan quietly into France's mouth.
America froze. Did he really make that noise? His thoughts were confirmed as France's lips pulled away, but his hands repeated the action, those talented fingers pulling another quiet whimper from the American. It only made France smile, his mouth descending on the American once more, but this time to his neck, kissing sweetly down the long column, tasting the American as his hand moved, making sure to flick and twist his other nipple to pebble hardness.
The soft gasps and pants coming from America was wonderful, Frances tongue coming out and lapping the skin he found there, revelling in the little noises it produced. His hands could not stay idle for long, tracing patterns across the tan skin as his mouth closed over one of those sensitive buds.
A powerful shiver racked America's body as France's tongue laved over the hardened nipple, a mewl of approval escaping the younger man's mouth without his permission. France could feel the nervous hands tighten their grip in his long silky hair as he continued his ministrations on the younger man's nipples, hoping it would be enough to distract him long enough to get rid of the nuisance that were his night pants.
A gasp burst from America's mouth that was clearly one of surprise, and not pleasure. France looked up momentarily to see the frightened face of America. It was Frances turn to be paralyzed in shock. He had seen an angry America before. He had seen the excited, the sad, the depressed, the crying, the happy, the confused; never had he seen the young brash Nation properly frightened.
France slowly moved his hand from below the waistline of the American's pants, gently caressing the skin as his hand moved up the gorgeous body beneath him. He wanted America. He wanted to possess and love and hold America more than anything. But he wanted the American to feel the same.
France smiled and kissed America's cheek softly. "Alfred, please do not show me such a face." He watched as America slowly relaxed, his hands coming to rest limply around his shoulders. "Tonight mon cher. Do not worry. Tonight is about you, and only you." He let his hands slowly wander back down America's torso, index fingers hooking inside the hem of his pants. "I'm taking these off now."
America could not find words or any reason to refuse France, and so he nodded shakily, his hands feeling lost as he watched France pull away the last barrier. To say France was surprised at the sight he received, would have been a serious understatement. A huge grin split onto Frances face as he moved up and placed kisses all over his feisty American's lips.
"Alfred, I had no idea you were so naughty." He kissed a trail down the American's neck as he threw the pants to the floor. "No undergarments. I can't say I disapprove." A quick nibble at America's collar bone had France looking up to see the young blond scowling at him. Obviously he did not like being teased.
France smirked and placed an apologetic kiss on America's forehead as his hands wandered lower. His mouth claimed the American's passionately as his hand finally grasped the weeping erection that had been begging for attention.
France swallowed the pleasured gasp from America as his hand firmly grasped the younger man's length. Another moan from America broke the kiss, his hand rising to his face, biting his finger to keep the noises in. France was having none of it, his free hand pulling America's finger form his mouth.
"Alfred mon cher, let me hear your voice." France spoke the words hotly into America's ear, loving the shiver he felt from the younger man. France was pleased when the hand came out of his mouth, and wrapped itself around Frances neck, a cascade of gasps, mewls, and whimpers falling from America's mouth.
France smirked again as he kissed his way down America's body. Stopping to flick his tongue over a hardened nub, his tongue occasionally slipping out to taste the wonders of America's skin, dipping into his navel causing a jerk and a gasp. France listened as America's breath became more and more shallow the closer his lips came to their goal.
The sound that burst from America's mouth as France quickly engulfed his hardened length, could only be described as a cry of pleasure. One that France was sure most of the crew nearby could hear. It only pleased him more, spurred him to continue his work. Sucking in his cheeks and putting his tongue to good work, France made sure to hold down the hips of the moaning American. He increased his speed, tongue laving over every pressure point, dipping into the sensitive slit, circling over the head before taking the entire length back into his mouth.
America's one hand fisted the fine linen, the other tightly grasping the fabric of Frances night shirt. France hummed in approval, the vibrations moving through America causing that dangerous tingling to build up inside him.
"Francis- ahh!" America gasped again his body pushing up against France as the pressure inside him increased. France hummed once more as he took as much of the beautiful American into his mouth as possible, sucking and using his tongue to the best of his ability. Frances eyes looked up just in time to see the ecstasy on America's face as the younger man tried to form words, the pleasure from France too much as he fell over the edge, crying out Frances name in the process.
France milked America for all he was worth; sucking gently as he released America's wilting erection from his mouth. He licked away a drop of cum from his mouth before licking his hand clean.
America was a sight to behold, sweat glistened chest heaving with every breath, eyes half lidded from the post-orgasmic pleasure, limbs strewn about the bed without care.
France was breathless.
He sighed, content as he pulled America's limbs into a more comfortable position before pulling the sheets over his exhausted body. He was about to move away when a gentle hand was placed on his wrist.
"Where are you going?" The American asked quietly, almost pleading for him not to go.
"Just to the bathroom mon cher. Sleep well." France smiled sweetly, kissing America on the head before replacing the limp arm and moving to the bathroom. France was a pervert. There was no denying this fact. But the brash American really did hold a special place in Frances heart, and the last thing he wanted was to send the young man running back to England.
When America woke in the morning, he was once again in the safety of France's arms. France had been right, for that short time, he was the only one who occupied America's mind. France was… well… very talented in bed. Of course he would be, the Nation of romance was bound to be a fantastic lover. But England was the one America loved. Was he not?
America looked at his new protector, eyes examining the sleeping face. He looked almost… beautiful when he slept. His usual perverted grin and sneaky personality were gone, replaced with a natural happiness that America found strangely attractive.
He looked at himself, taking a moment to register that, yes, he was naked. He looked around the room, finding his shirt under the bed, and his pants on the floor in the middle of the room. After re-dressing himself America stood in the middle of the room, full of energy and unsure of what to do. Usually France was an early riser, waking up far before America, and always having a delicious meal waiting for him.
That's what he would do. Surprise France with a meal for him! He quickly and quietly changed into some of the fine clothes France had given to him. Some of the outfits he had been given looked silly, with frills and lace and other awkward fashions, but this outfit was one of his favourites, just a nice pair of pants and a loose fitting, but very flattering dress shirt.
America made his way to the eating quarters and asked the chef to make a nice breakfast for France and himself, to which the chef politely nodded and had the food ready in a matter of minutes. One of the kitchen crew insisted that they bring it to the room, but America was much more stubborn, and after a short argument, America happily brought the large tray back to the room he shared with France.
When he arrived, France was groggily sitting on the edge of the bed, head in his hands looking very unhappy.
"Good morning, Francis." America spoke loudly as he entered the room. A grunt was his only response. Obviously there was a reason America had never seen France in the morning. He was not actually an early riser. He just didn't want America to see him like this.
"I brought us breakfast. Hopefully food will make you less grumpy." Another grunt, but this time a hand left his head to wave America closer. The young blond smiled as he pulled the table closer to the bed and took a seat beside France.
America buttered his croissant and set to nibbling it slowly as France looked at the food uncomfortably. France grumbled and stood, looking back at America and frowning.
"Excusez-moi. Bathe. "There was some more grumbling from the Frenchman, before he stumbled off to the private bath. Definitely not a morning person.
America waited patiently as France took care of his morning tasks, nibbling slowly on his buttered croissant.
"Good morning Alfred!" came the exuberant voice as France emerged from the bathroom. He strode from the door and took a seat beside America taking a pastry and biting into it gracefully. "I am so sorry about having you see me… like that in the morning." He finished the rest of his pastry before leaning over and kissing America's cheek.
"It's ok. It was kind of funny." America smiled not pulling away from the chaste kiss as he continued to eat the breakfast.
"Today I am continuing your French education. It's still just as deplorable as the first day you arrived." America scowled but nodded, the two men accepting a comfortable silence as breakfast was consumed.
French lessons were just as frustrating and boring as usual, that was, until the lesson was interrupted, one of the more senior crew members burst into the room, yelling that British ships were on the horizon.
America's face lit up in excitement. England was coming for him! He jumped out of his seat and bolted from the room before France had time to react, running to the bow of the ship and looking out to the sea. It was a small speck, but definitely a ship, and if the crew said it was the British, America had no doubts that it really was. England still wanted him!
America yelped loudly as arms wrapped around him, picking him up bridal style and carrying him away from his salvation. It was France of course, holding him tightly to his lithe form as he walked into the cabin.
"France! Stop it! Put me down!" America screamed loudly, his arms pounding whatever part of France he could reach.
"Non" was his only reply as the older Nation quickly walked into the room he had been staying in. America watched as France stopped hard on a loose floor board. The board came up and revealed a loose rope, which France pulled, revealing a small hide-e-hole.
France put America's feet back on the floor, taking care to hold him tight so he wouldn't escape.
"Alfred." He began but couldn't finish. "Alfred. I love you. I can't bear to have you go back to England now." He kissed America's forehead quickly before lifting him up and placing him in the hole in the floor, quickly closing the door and latching it to prevent escape.
America was furious. How dare France lock him away! Just when England was coming to save him! All that bullshit about loving him. What a lie. America frowned as he pulled his legs up against his chest and waited for England to save him.
Night had fallen and America had tried to dose off in his confined box when he heard the latch being unhinged. His head snapped up ready to pounce and beat France for all he was worth. However, when the door finally opened, he was met with a black cloth covered face, the persons hand over their mouth gesturing him to stay silent.
America nodded slowly, and took the strangers hand when it was offered. He let himself be pulled from the hole, looking around to see France's body lying awkwardly on the floor. He was horrified for a moment, thinking the Frenchman was dead, but the stranger must have read his thoughts, for he shook his head and pointed. When America looked closer, he felt himself sigh in relief at the sight of France's chest rise with breath. He followed the stranger out of the cabin, ducking and sneaking around the ship. America was quite happy that most of the crew were sleeping, and those that weren't, were currently occupied with a romping game of poker. He took his last look around the fine boat before sliding down a rope and landing in the getaway dingy. His saviour rowed the two of them away from France's ship. It wasn't long before America passed out, the whole day finally leaving him exhausted. He woke up only when he felt himself being lifted from the dingy.
He cried out happily as he looked to his saviour. England.
America wrapped his arms around England's neck tightly; wanting to kiss the man, he was so happy! But he had to refrain. England didn't want that.
"I knew you would come for me, Arthur," America shouted excitedly, hugging England tighter.
"I'm sorry it took me so long Alfred. I never meant for you to be abducted by that pervert." England smiled before embracing America back just as tightly.
It had only been a few weeks since England had saved America from the French. He had settled back into his normal life of morning tea and paper, the occasional discussion of world issues with England, studying up on his literature as England told him to.
But as much as America was thankful to be home, back safe in England's protection, he still missed the Frenchman. Missed his perverted grin, his insatiable taste for only the finest wine, food and clothing. He missed the encouraging smile when he spoke something correctly, the proud smile when he made a contribution to the Nation meeting. He missed that slimy pervert and he couldn't understand why.
He had England back. England was even spending time with him, how could he possibly miss that horrible Frenchman? Yet he did.
America sighed as he treaded carefully over the creaky floorboards of England's house. He opened the door quietly and tip-toed to the side of England's bed, a nervous hand reaching out and shaking the older man gently.
England opened his eyes groggily and looked up at America. "Alfred. What's the matter? Is something wrong?" He sat up slowly looking concerned.
"I umm… had a night terror… could I… maybe stay with you the rest of the night?" America put on his best cute face. Lying was only wrong when you were doing something immoral… right?
"Of course. Come here Alfred." England spoke the words in his sleep roughened voice as he patted the space beside him. America climbed into bed with the man who had controlled most of his wet dreams, and some of the day dreams too, snuggling close as England wrapped his protective arms around his body. Just like he had imagined.
"Did France sleep with you like this?" The words took on a different tone as America looked away: "Of course he did. That pervert." Why did England sound… angry?
America watched with confusion as England pulled him closer, one hand moving to the back of his neck and pulling him forwards into a chaste kiss. England was kissing him. England was kissing him. America was too shocked to move, he could only close his eyes as England's tongue made its marry way into his mouth. "I've held back for so long, Alfred. To keep you pure and innocent. But now that Francis has tainted you… I can't allow it." And England was kissing him again. His tongue exploring all of his mouth, tasting him thoroughly.
It was perfect. This was what America had been dreaming about for years. England wanted him.
Why was he not happy? America tried to ignore the feeling, returning the kiss and leaning into England more. England knew to take this cue, rolling on top of America kissing him roughly, keeping him preoccupied, as he maneuverer him into a better position.
But the hand was too rough as it pulled his shirt from his shoulders.
He saw only green not the blue he had come to love as his eyes shot open in confusion.
His nails scraping down the others back, leaving the skin angry and red.
Fingers that were short and strong as they moved over his bare torso.
Grabbing onto short and scruffy hair he wished was long and silky.
The voice was wrong, soothing and rough, not smooth and dirty.
If he tried hard enough, maybe he could pretend.
But why was he pretending? England was what he wanted. Right?
America pushed England off himself abruptly, panting harshly but not from pleasure. It was so wrong. Being with England was supposed to be different. But right now, all he wanted was to see France. America shot out of the bed, tripping over the sheets and falling to the ground.
He wasn't down long. Removing the blankets from his ankles, America jumped up and looked back to the confused and hurt England. "I'm sorry Arthur… I think… I've changed my mind." He spoke the words excitedly, bolting from the room and running back to his own.
America gathered what few possessions he needed before running from the house. It was only a matter of hours before he had arranged a ship and crew to sail him to France. America only hoped France would still accept him.
Holy crap. That's a long fic for me!
Please please please send me a review, tell me what you think!
This fic was once again beta'd by the FAN-FREKIN-TASTIC Threnna (www. fanfiction. net/u/2024999/)
You guys have no Idea how much of an amazing beta she is! Please! Go read her stories! She is to amazing to not read!