First off Merry early Christmas to all of you (or Holidays which ever)
And disclaimer: I will never own any of this.
The sun began to climb into the sky, lighting the frozen world below. It had snowed the night before, coating the land and house tops with a frosty white blanket. Smoke rose from the chimneys as families lit fires to warm their homes this cold morning.
This one house was no different from the rest. It was a large two story home and at one point in time been painted white, but now the color was faded to a light beige. There seemed to be a small garden out front, but the winter had killed off the plants and the snow covered them. That is the wonder of plants; they will grow back in the spring.
Inside the house, a body moved under a pile of blankets on the bed. The smell of food had brought the man to life. He slide out from the blankets, the food drawing him from the warm cocoon, but that didn't mean he left the sheets. The male pulled them with him off the bed. Two pale feet touched the cold wooden floor, causing the male to give a slight shudder. Ignoring the cold floor he began to walk from the room, following the smell. He passed in front of a mirror on the way out. His short choppy blond hair was sticking up at strange angles, and his brilliant green eyes were hidden behind half closed eyelids.
The male made his way down the stairs, blanket dragging on the ground like the capes of the Kings and Queens that his country had in years past. The nation, more commonly known as England, walked through the old house carefully and soon found himself in the kitchen, where the smell was coming from.
He found the source in no time. It was another blond male, but his hair was a shade or two darker than England's. The other was clad in only American flag sleep pants; which he put on due to the chill. This male was one of the most powerful countries in the world, the United States of America or just America. This man was also England's lover, and the Brit loved this fact.
America was humming a tune that England didn't feel like placing a name to at the moment; though he was going to take in the sight of his love half dressed in the kitchen. He loved the sight of how at ease the younger nation looked, completely at peace. England moved to take a seat and watch America, in silence, but that plan was ruined when he accidently bumped into the chair. The wood scrapping across the tile floor could be heard over the sound of bacon sizzling in the pan.
"Mornin', sleepy head," he said, not faulting in his movements, "Breakfast's almost done. Why don't you have a seat?
"Good morning, lad." England took his seat, waiting for the food. He still had the blankets wrapped around his small, naked, body. The older nation watched as the food was brought to the table. He started to put it on his plate, it all looked very good. He didn't know where to start! England was just about to start eating when the other nation stopped him.
"Wait…There is something I want to give you before we eat," America said, looking a bit unsure.
'That's odd,' thought England, 'America never seems unsure about himself.' "Alright, but make it quite. I'm hungry," he said with a huff and crossed his arms.
America smiled and disappeared out of the kitchen. A minute or so later, he returned with a simply wrapped object that was about the size of posters today. But it had more depth to it, though not enough to hold anything large in it.
"I know we were going to open gifts after breakfast but….I wanted to see you open this now." He held the gift out to England, who took it wondering what the hell it could be.
He began to carefully unwrap it. So far it looked like an old painting but of what—His hand froze. Green eyes darted up from the gift in his hands to the one who gave it to him, said person was looking away, then back to the painting. It couldn't be, could it? Upon removing the rest of the paper, his eyes began to water. It was a very old painting. It showed two people, on dressed in a red British military uniform decorated with metals, while the other was in the arms of the British officer. This one was dressed in a simple white dress with a red bow. This painting was the only one England had made of them from back then. England looked up at America, but found no words to speak with.
"I was cleaning during the summer and found it…Your birthday had already pasted and I wanted to save this for some time more special." America took the painting from England and put it on the table.
"Merry Christmas, Arthur."
"Merry Christmas to you too, Alfred," he said through tears.
Alfred smiled lovingly and dove in for a warm kiss from his former caretaker and now lover. Arthur returned the kiss whole heartily. He throwing his arms around the younger's neck to deepen the kiss farther. This had to be the best present the old nation could have ever asked for in all his years.
A/N: This fic is dedicated to my best friend. We did this little gift exchange thing, and I love what she made me! They are so cute!
Anyway, thank you for reading my little holiday fic. And I wish you a happy New Year as well. Please review.