Just a little cute story between England and Spain. Just because I feel like I haven't uploaded anything for a while. Enjoy~
America walked down the hallway of the hotel. It was silly actually. Why did he have to have a room at a hotel when damn world meeting was held in the US?
So there he was, late at night, walking around in his pyjamas and bomber jacket. The other nations had dropped in during the week, some of them had been here for four or three days while others just arrived this morning. And he had to greet them all welcome, not that he minded of course; but it was so tiresome.
Still he couldn't sleep. Earlier that day he ached for his bed, but now he was awake, not tired at all. He had met nations on their way to their room, he had even seen some of them doing thing they should not be doing until they are safely hidden behind a door. And every one of them with the person that was least excepted them to be with.
He walked around the corner and in to the restaurant of the hotel. It wasn't many of them there, and few of them who where there actually ate. He walked past the Italian brothers who both had a plate with pasta and was whispering to each other in italian.
"Hey, old man" America said happily as he laid eyes on England.
He sat alone at a table with a tea cup in his hands, and a half empty glass of beer on the other side of the table.
"Well, nice to see you too" England muttered.
"Hola, America" a cheerful voice said and soon the spanish man had joined England at the table.
"Hey, Spain! When did you get here?"
"Few hours ago" the man grinned from ear to ear.
"Well, my excuse is that I can't sleep, what's yours?" America turned to England again.
"What?"
"It's like very early in the morning. What are you doing up?"
"Well" the British man said and smiled. "Jet lag. It's around 9am in London."
Spain watched as America left them. From what he had heard that man had been up all day and didn't seemed to be tired at all. In fact he looked good, very good. Something that irritated the Spaniard to no end. Not that he felt threatened, of course he didn't. And he didn't need to; Arthur told him that with every smile, no matter how small the smile was.
He himself thought about going to bed every now and then, but he was actually enjoying the company his old enemy gave him, he always did.
"Hm, maybe one should get some sleep before we start the meeting" England said.
"Nae, Arthur, there are hours until that" the Spaniard said as he finished his beer. "Are you tired?"
"No, but still..." England said as he stood up, ready to leave.
"You are so nice, Arthur, not even saying good night" Spain said as he followed England.
"Well, I figured you'd follow me."
Spain grinned cheerfully. A word was hanging in the air, none of them were saying it; they didn't need to. One word, followed by a sentence, a phrase that both of them had been saying to each other during different periods. But one of them always said it. Always.
Always. I will always follow you...
Feel free to tell me what you thought of it :P