A/N: Hey, guys! This is my first fan fiction that actually has a plot, and that I'm planning on finishing. So, technically...It's my first fan fiction. It's not beta'd, but I want feedback anyway; please let me know how I can make it better or if you see any grammar errors anywhere. Just be gentle! Also, let me know if you like it! Some motivation, you know?
Anyway, this is a Christmas themed USUK story, so if you don't like that ship or yaoi in general then don't read it. And if you complain about those two points in particular, I will pay no attention to what you have to say. You've been warned.
And I apologize in advance that it's a Christmas story, and it's no where near Christmas time yet! This idea kind of came to me, and I had to put it down before I forgot it. So, just pretend it's Christmas time for the sake of the story. LOL.
I do not own any of the characters, except the minor ones with strictly human names. Other than that, they all belong to the mighty Hidekaz Himaruya. *Ahem* Himapapa. *Ahem*
That being said, happy reading!
Seven Days of Christmas
Day One: Loss of Self Control
19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25
America watched him with careful eyes. He had a hand on his mouth, but you could still see his lips between the slits of his fingers. They were parted slightly. America imagined those soft lips on his, and felt guilty pleasure brew within him. Then he sighed. As much as he wanted that, it was a mere fantasy. He waited for the feeling to pass, but it wouldn't fade. America bit his lip. Why can't I calm down?! Keep it together, America, keep it together! He forced himself to listen to the topic at hand, but constant thoughts of England filled his mind; he couldn't focus at all. His eyes quickly darted to England. He still looked as he did before. Look at him! He's so cute, and he doesn't even know it! Suddenly, England's eyes flickered to him. America felt his heart skip a beat. His…His eyes… England's eyes were a brilliant shade of emerald green. The green reminded him of the rich colour of pine trees during Christmas time. Wait…Christmas time? America watched England mouth 'What?' to him. I almost forgot. Christmas is in a week or so. America smiled and mouthed 'Nothing.' in reply.
"All right, guys! That's all the time we have for discussion today!" Germany's voice boomed and echoed throughout the tiny meeting room like it always did. "I've been thinking this idea over. Since Christmas is in a week, no meetings until then. I think we all deserve a break from our countries problems, and should all just take it easy. What do you guys think?" Italy stood up quickly, ran to Germany, and hugged him. "Yay, Germany! You're the best!" "H-hey! Get off of me!" Germany said, flustered. "O-okay, everyone, dismissed!" He dragged himself and a clingy Italy out the door. China put a hand to his face. "Those two are terrible. Can't they keep that kind of thing to themselves? I mean, seriously?" "China, you're so conservative," France said, laughing. "Let them have their moment." "No way! They can have their moment in their bedroom far away from me!" "You're such an old fart." "Excuse me?!" China stood up and slammed his hands on the table, knocking his chair over. "I am the oldest one here, but I will not be disrespected in such a manner!" France snickered. "What? Are you going to throw a dumpling at me or something?" "That's it!" China started storming towards France with balled fists at his sides. Japan stood up and restrained him by his arms. "China, you mustn't! Furansu is just joking!" "Let go, Japan! I'm going to kill him!" "I am sorry. Excuse us." Japan pulled China outside of the meeting room. China's yelling could be heard from the wall. "Wow, I was only kidding. What a hot head." France shrugged with an accomplished smile on his face. Okay, I've had enough of these people for today. America started standing up, but someone pushed him back down. "Ohonhonhon, America! We haven't spoken for quite a while. When was the last time we had a chat? A few weeks ago, right?" America winced. "You do know why that is, France, right?" "No. Go ahead and tell me." "It's because I don't like you. Not in the slightest." America tried to stand up again, and again, France pushed him back down, but slightly harder this time. "Play along, would you?" America crossed his arms and sighed. "Fine. What is it that you want?" "Are you busy on the twenty-third? I need someone strong to help me set up for my Christmas party the day after." France ran his fingers up and down America's right arm. "Dude, are you serious?" America said, jerking his arm away. "Stop touching me." "Fine. I'm stopping." America turned his chair to face France, and France put both his hands in the air. "But will you help me?" "No." "What?!" "You heard me." "Why not?!" "I've got better things to do." "Oh, yeah? Like what?" "I'm busy not being around you that day." "Excuse you?!" America chuckled and turned his head. "Okay," France started, taking a deep breath, "what will make you help me? I'll buy you a video game or food or something. What do you want?" "I don't want anything from you," America replied without turning his head. Suddenly, France snapped his fingers. "I know what will ensure your aid." America looked at him slowly with an arched eyebrow, arms still crossed. "Oh, really? What?" he challenged sarcastically. Smirking, France leaned close to his ear and whispered, "Did I mention that England was coming over to help too?" America's eyes widened. "That got your attention, didn't it? Now, you wouldn't want me to do anything to him, would you? If you're not around to stop me, there's no telling what I'd do." America furrowed his brows, and started grinding his teeth unconsciously. He felt his cheeks burning too. France backed slightly, so his face was only a few centimeters from America's. "I can count on your help then?" America glared back in reply. "I see," France said, standing up straight. "See you then." He blew a kiss and gleefully waved goodbye to America. "Bring Canada too." America glared until he skipped out the door. I hate France so much. That was totally unfair and uncalled for! I was just playing around; I would've helped gladly! He didn't need to bring that up. Ridiculous. America spun around in his chair and surveyed the meeting room. Everyone was gone. I should head home too. It's getting dark. He stood up, put his jacket on, and headed out into the hallway.
As soon as America stepped outside, his glasses fogged up. A sudden brisk breeze sent a shiver up his spine. He quickly zipped up his jacket. How do I keep forgetting its winter time?! He tried to wipe his glasses with his jacket sleeve, but they kept fogging. Finally, he gave up. Whatever, I don't need them to see. He placed them atop his head, put his hands in his pockets, and started heading down the sidewalk to his house. The street was completely quiet. No cars zipping through the road to get home from work, no crowded walkways filled with people of every age, bodies of every shape and size, nothing. No stars painted the black blue sky; the moon was just a faint silhouette behind heavy, dark clouds. But America appreciated the silence and stillness of the night. He thought it described exactly how he felt. Quiet and melancholic. Today just wasn't my day, was it? Ugh, I need some coffee. He began looking for the closest coffee shop. He spotted one with a broken, blinking sign. He quickly crossed the street, and walked over to it. "Kaffeine? I've never heard of this one. Well, I'm not picky right now. I just need some coffee." He went inside, and his eyes grew wide. A faint, blue light illuminated the whole shop, and made furniture appeared as though it were glowing. "This place looks better than Starbucks," America mumbled under his breath. Making his way to the cashier, he noticed people sitting in the little, shaded booths that lined the walls. He watched as they conversed quietly, not bothering to notice him, and keeping to themselves. Wow, they act like Britons. Reading the atmosphere, he felt as if he should act as the people around him did. Approaching the cashier, he asked for a black coffee in the most polite matter he could muster. "Can I get your name, sir?" she asked quietly. "Oh, Ame…Uh, A…" America stumbled over his words. She looked at him funny. "Sir?" "Um, Al…Fred…Yeah! Alfred! My name is Alfred!" Please don't ask for a last name! I can't remember that right now! She giggled and nodded. "Coming right up, mister Alfred." America breathed out a breath of relief. He almost forgot the alias he used around humans. "Here you go! One black coffee. Do you want a sleeve on it?" "Nah…I mean, no, thank you!" She giggled again, and handed the coffee to him. As America took the coffee from her, he accidently bumped her hand. She blushed, giggled once again, and turned away. She started washing cups awkwardly. "Oh, sorry," America said taking a long sip of his coffee. He inhaled deeply, then slowly exhaled. He felt his body heat up. That really hit the spot. I needed that more than anything. He started heading towards the door, but his attention fell to the booths again. Well, it's not like I have anything better to do at home. Might as well relax here for a bit. He observed each booth carefully, seeing which ones were occupied and which ones were vacant. Only one appeared to be empty. He headed to that booth, set his coffee on the table inside, and carefully made his way through the black curtain.
Once inside, he resisted the urge to squeal like a pig in the mud. Situating himself properly, the childish smile on his face faded. On the opposite side of the table appeared to be someone. "Oh, I apologize, I didn't know someone was in here. I'll see myself out. Again, I'm sorry," America said, while hastily trying to get out of the booth. The dark figure grabbed his arm, and sat him back down. America felt the hair on the back of his neck stand straight. He was about to scream when the figure quickly put a hand to his mouth. "Hey, relax! It's me!" Hearing the voice, America did as he was told. The figure slowly pulled his hand back. "England, I hate you! That was scary!" England laughed, and turned on the little lamp between them. "Sorry, I thought you knew it was me. I knew it was you as soon as you started talking to Heather. I was going to go and get you, but I decided not to. I was so comfortable and warm in here." "Wait, wait, who is Heather?!" "The cashier you were flirting with just a moment ago." "Flirting?! I was doing no such thing!" "All her giggling tells me otherwise." "Oh, please! What are you even doing here?!" "This is a popular coffee shop around my parts. I come here after every world meeting; I'm a regular. Checkmate." America furrowed his eyebrows, and England laughed again. "And you forgot your human alias. You sounded like a complete idiot! I almost died laughing." "Y'know, I don't have to take this right now!" "Wait!" America grabbed his coffee, and started leaving, but England clung onto his jacket. America stopped instantly and felt weak tugging. "Please don't go. I was only kidding." "Well, I'm tired of people 'only kidding.'" "Okay, okay, I'll stop. Just don't go." America felt his heart beat faster. Woah, I feel a little dizzy. "Fine." America put his coffee back on the table and sat down. "Uh, England?" America asked hesitantly. "Hmm?" "Are you drunk?" "What?" "You asked me to stick around. That's so unlike you. You hate me, remember?" America faked a laugh as best he could. England furrowed his brows, and nonchalantly rested his head on his hand. "You really think I hate you that much, don't you, America? Why? Tell me." "Uh, well…Um, that's because…Uh…" "And why do you always assume I'm drunk when I'm kind to you? Why?" England stood and put both his hands on the table. He started leaning closer and closer to America until their faces were a couple inches apart. America felt his heart beat faster again. He felt lightheaded. "England…You are drunk. I can smell booze on your breath and clothes, and it stinks." "And what if I am drunk, huh?" England kept getting closer and closer. America heard the lamp topple over. "I'm not saying it's a bad thing, but…Just relax and sit down…" America slowly turned his face away from England's. "Excuse you, you look at me when I'm talking to you!" England turned America's face back with one of his hands. "England, stop, I'm trying to—" America's eyes grew wide. England's vanilla blonde hair was in a complete mess; it looked worse than it usually did. His thick eyebrows were twitching with pointless anger. The rich emerald green colour of his eyes looked mellower, soft. His forest green uniform was wrinkled and had some buttons undone in various places; his casual jet black tie was crooked. He was breathing heavily, expelling the stench of cheap alcohol and tea. His quivering lips looked full and moist; they shined seductively by the faint light of the lamp. America curled his fingers and toes. His heart felt like it was about to burst out of his chest. Is this seriously happening to me right now?! Why did I even stop at this coffee shop?! I should've just gone to Starbucks! America tried to take deep breaths, but they quickly turned into hyperventilation. He felt his hands shaking. Holding back was starting to get painful.
I don't think I can restrain myself for much longer! If I don't get out of here right now, I might do something! "Well, I'm waiting for answers to my questions! Are you just going to sit there and look dumb?" "E-England, I really have to go…" "You're not leaving until I get answers, America!" Since he's drunk, he won't remember anything tomorrow. I can take advantage of this! America skillfully evaded England by crawling underneath the table, and pulling himself out of the booth with his hands. He heard England having a fit in the booth. "Heather!" America called to the girl behind the cash register. She turned quickly and a love drunk smile spread across her face. "Hello, mister Alfred." "Yeah, hi. So, uh, I need you to do me a favor." "Anything for you, mister Alfred." "Okay, uh, so you know the crazy person in booth number seven, right?" "Yes, that's mister Arthur Kirkland. He's a regular here and—" "Yeah, yeah, I know. Anyway, he's a little drunk right now, and I don't think he'll be able to make it home by himself. Could you see to it that he gets there safely? I'd take him myself, but he's a little upset with me at the moment." Suddenly, there was an ear piercing screech, and an empty bottle came flying at America. He ducked quickly and watched the bottle break on the wall, scattering shards of brown glass all over the floor and leaving discoloured streaks on the blue wall as the liquid slowly made its way down the wall. "Oh, dear," Heather said quietly. "I apologize for his behavior. He gets like this when he's drunk. I'll clean that right away, and I'll pay for any damages. Do you have a moist towel I could borrow for a second?" She turned to the sink, wringed out the cleanest white towel, and handed it to America. America quickly ran to the wall, and wiped the alcoholic drink until the odd colour disappeared. "Catch!" He tossed the towel back to Heather, who surprisingly caught it. America grabbed a napkin from a dispenser on a nearby table, pulled a pen out of his pocket, and quickly scribbled England's address onto it. He folded it, and handed it to Heather. "Here, this is his address. Please make sure he gets home safely. I'm counting on you, Heather. But a pretty girl like you wouldn't do anything bad, right? I'm putting my full trust in you giving you this big task. Y'know, here." He grabbed another napkin and scribbled his number onto it. "Here's my number. Just call me if you need any help or if he gives you any trouble." Heather looked as if she was about to collapse. "Y-yes, sir, mister Alfred, sir! I'll make sure mister Kirkland gets home safely. You can…" She paused, and her eyes sparkled. "You can trust me!" She saluted clumsily. America laughed, and saluted her back. "You know what, mister Alfred?" "Yeah?" "I'd be an idiot not to see that you care for mister Kirkland quite a bit. Why is that?" America looked down and smiled. "He's the closest and dearest person to my heart." America looked back at her. "Please keep him safe." She stared at him for a moment, then smiled, and nodded. "Yes, sir." "Well, if everything is taken care of here, I've got to start heading home." "Oh, before you go," Heather started. "Yeah?" "What's your last name?" You've got to be kidding. I don't remember right now…Didn't it start with a 'J' or something? "Um, J…Jo...Jones! Yes! My last name is Jones! My first name is Alfred! My name is Alfred Jones!" "Alfred Jones?" "Yes, ma'am." "That has a heroic ring to it." America's blue eyes glistened. "Do you really think so?" he asked, striking a pose. "Yes, sir, mister Jones!" Heather giggled playfully. "Hey! Stop distracting me! I have to go home! See you later, cutie! Make sure Arthur gets home!" America said, winking. He headed out the door and the cold winter wind sent a shiver up his spine once again, but this time it added to his renewed energy.
Finally home. America kicked his shoes off, threw his jacket onto the floor, and collapsed onto the couch, burying his face into his favorite stars and stripes print pillow. He let out a sigh of exhaustion. His substitution energy from the coffee was completely gone. Damn it. If he keeps that up, I won't be able to control myself next time. I almost lost it! He sighed heavily. "America?" America lifted his head limply, and saw a small, gray human-like figure before him. "Hey, Tony, dude," he said weakly. He reburied his face in the pillow. "I didn't hear you come inside the house. How long have you been here?" "I actually just got home a couple minutes ago." "Oh, okay." America felt Tony climb the couch, and sit on his back. Tony patted his head. "Hey, America? Are you okay?" The day's dreadful events replayed in America's mind. He groaned loudly. "Today was just a bad day, but I'm fine. I'm just really tired. Could you go, and make me some coffee, dude?" "Usually, I wouldn't, but since you look terrible, I'll get some started." America felt Tony jump off his back, and heard a light thud hit the floor. "Actually, scratch that." America turned his head slightly. "What?" he asked. "You go get ready for bed, and I'll give you some decaf black coffee." "Decaf?" America whined. Tony crossed his little arms. "You can't stay up all night. You need to get some sleep." America stuck his tongue out. "But I don't want to!" "Well," Tony began, "you don't get a say. Get ready for bed. I'll meet you in the bedroom with your coffee." He waddled out of the living room. Well, coffee is coffee, and I want coffee, so, might as well do what he says. I'm too tired to put up a fight anyway. America lazily stood to his feet, and sluggishly headed down the dark hall to the bathroom on the left.
America pushed his huge stuffed bear off the bed and situated himself between the blanket and the bed sheets. He recollected the day once again, and pulled the blanket over his head. Ugh! Today was the worst! He heard a knock on the door. It squeaked as it opened slowly. "Here's your coffee, America," said Tony softly. "Thanks," America grumbled from beneath the blanket. "Just set it on the night stand next to me." He heard tiny footsteps make their way to the night stand and set the coffee mug down. "Anything else you want?" "Nah. Thanks for the coffee." "No problem." He heard the footsteps walk away. "Oh, wait!" America sat up quickly. Tony jumped slightly. "What?" he asked, slightly annoyed. "Could you turn the lights off before you go?" Tony shook his head slowly as he flipped the light switch off. "Thanks, Tony, dude," America said, smiling. "You're welcome." Tony started heading out the door again. "Wait, Tony!" America called again. Tony popped his head back into the room. "What, America?!" "Wish me a good night!" "What? Why?!" "So, I won't have a nightmare!" Tony sighed heavily. "Okay," he paused. "Good night, America." "Good night, Tony!" "Don't let the bed bugs bite." America squealed and kicked his feet with glee. "Yay! Okay, you can go now." Tony nodded and closed the door quietly. America collapsed back onto his pillow and sighed. He looked at the coffee mug on the night stand then stuck out his tongue. Decaf is disgusting. I don't want it. He turned his head, and stared at the ceiling. England…I wonder if he got home safely?...Nah, I'm not too worried. According to him, Heather is head-over-heels for me, so she wouldn't do anything that I wouldn't like. America pouted. Why can't England be like Heather?! I mean, why can't he like me like that? His mind quickly flashed back to the booth. Well, he technically said he didn't hate me. I know he doesn't hate me, but it's nice to hear him say it… He turned to his side, and stared out the window. It was completely dark outside without the moon or stars in the sky. The only light came from the few street lamps that alternated down the block. The houses within sight looked lifeless; the world was asleep. It almost looked like a picture. America found himself longing to fall asleep, but no rest would come. His body was exhausted—he could feel it—but his brain was buzzing with meaningless thoughts. Suddenly, he remembered England attempting to interrogate him in the booth. He laughed quietly. He's so stupid! Did he really think that a small person like him would be able to restrain a person who could bench press an elephant? His laughing came to a halt. Wait a minute. What did England look like in the booth again? He thought for a moment, then quickly put a hand to his mouth. T-that's right…He looked…T-totally sexy… America shook his head violently. No! Stop thinking like that! Control yourself, America! His brain seemed to be on autopilot. America unwilling played a scenario to himself.
["You're not leaving until I get answers, America!" Since he's drunk, he won't remember anything tomorrow. I can take advantage of this! The thought of going under the table, and fleeing out of the booth came to him. He slowly turned his head forward, and bumped his cheek on England's. The smell of booze and tea burned his eyes, but it turned him on. That's it. I give up. I can't control myself any longer. I'll regret whatever happens later. "You want answers, England?" "Yes, tell me why you think such absurd things!" America forcefully pushed England back. England hit his head on the wall, and slid back into his seat. He rubbed the back of his head, wincing. "Idiot, what was that for?! That hurt!" America stood up slowly, putting his hands on the table. "You wanted answers, didn't you?" He leaned forward until he was inches from England's face. He held England's face roughly with one of his gloved hands. "Ow, stop! That hurts!" England tried pushing America back with both his hands, but America grabbed them, and pinned them onto the table. "O-ouch, America!" England started to beg. "A-America….P-please stop…" America felt a pained look come across his face. "Y'know, I really wish I would, but I can't hold back any more." America closed his eyes and leaned until he felt his lips touch England's. His lips felt good—They were soft and moist. America bit his lower lip gently and England shivered. America pulled back slightly to check on England. He looked away with tears in his eyes. America's eyes widened. D-did I hurt him?! Is…Is he mad?...Does…Does he…Hate me?... "L-let go of m-me…" England said quietly. America immediately let go. England turned his face and slid his hands back weakly. He hates me now! This was the worst mistake I've ever made! I need to apologize! "E-England," America stuttered. "T-that wasn't fair…" England said, still looking away. America watched his cheeks slowly go pink. "I-if you wanted to k-kiss, why didn't you just s-say so? W-wanker…You caught m-me by surprise…" America froze. He felt his face burn with intense heat. He was speechless. "I-it's not fair that only y-you get to touch me…L-let me touch y-you too…" England looked America straight in the eyes, and he felt a shiver go down his spine. What did he just say?! England closed his eyes, and slowly leaned forward until his lips touched America's. No way… America closed his eyes, and curled his fingers and toes. He felt his mind go muddy, and all his senses beginning to fade. All but pleasure. He opened his mouth slightly and cautiously licked England's lower lip. England hesitantly opened his mouth to let America's tongue in. America took the invitation, and played with England's tongue. He tasted the tangy flavour of booze with a hint of peppermint tea. It surprisingly tasted delicious. He felt England's hot breath on his lips. It slowly began to stagger. America pulled back, allowing England to catch his breath. England looked completely flustered. He pulled America close, and whispered, "I love you, America," softly in his ear.]
America smashed his face into his pillow. Why, brain?! Who's side are you on?! His heart was racing, and his breathing was heavy. This has happened many times, but by far, this was the worst. He felt his self control come crashing down, and was instantly overcome by want. He bit his lip. I…I need to stay away from England until I can relax. That was too much, and if I see him, who knows what I'll do? He wanted England. He wanted England so much. So much that he could barely contain it, and now, the pot had bubbled over and the contents were all over the floor. But he felt at peace with himself as if a heavy burden was suddenly lifted. America let out a sigh. His eyes started to feel heavy. His exhaustion was finally starting to catch up with his frivolous mental state. He didn't resist the sandman's sand; he willingly submitted to the inviting darkness.