A/N: So I wrote this in response to three things; a - to my knowledge - webcomic picture of England with the most beautiful smile ever, and little America eating his food apparently for this sole reason; two, because of a discussion that came from this; and three, because the friend I was discussing this with wrote a really bittersweet little piece and I loved it - and then thought to try my hand at this.

(Doesn't contain anything objectionable, I believe.)

That Smile.
I see it when you first meet me - properly, I mean, when we greet each other and you hold out your arms and they feel... safe.
And right.
And I don't want to leave.
And you...
Smile.

I see it occasionally still as a child; when we play together, and when I leap into your arms after one of those long "separations".
When you cook and look expectantly at me, and I eat, and I say it's delicious even though I may be lying just a little and you...
Smile.

That Smile.
That most loving of smiles that I like to pretend is only for me but I can never be sure, at this point, because you won't let me see the world and see who you smile at and see if anyone else has a loving smile like yours.
But it won't be your smile so I tell you I love you because I do.
Regardless.
Even if the only smile I see is yours because it's so perfect and I tell you so and you...
Smile.

As I get older I see it less.
You say things are hard.
Maybe you were always this grumpy.
Maybe I just never cared that you were.
But I'm watching you one night and you catch my eye, watching you... watching you read, and sit by the fire and I think perhaps - perhaps - I love you.
Regardless.
You must see... something in my face because you hold my gaze and you...
Smile.

I love you.
That Smile.
I love both.

There's a lot of pain, next.
A lot of hurt.
Your expressions are scowls, and anger fresh and raw; carved onto your face so harshly that I think I might...
Fear you.
But I still love you.
Regardless.
Because I never said I didn't.
And I wish you would... if just for a moment, I wish you'd-
-and you're crying and I'm terrible, I'm evil, the worst person ever.
But I'm really not, am I?
And you...
Smile.

But it's not the same.
And it's hollow.
And it's maddening.
And I think this is you, I'm seeing.
The other you.
The part of you I never saw before.
But all I want is for you to smile...
... That Smile.

I meet you many times later, infrequently at first, across the years.
Your polite smile is refined, and I take note of every variation.
I'm looking for something, see?
Do you want to know what it is?

That Smile.

I think at last I've found it.

It took me a long time.

I had to convince you to trust me again.

That was hard.

Really hard.

But I love you.

Regardless.

And so we're here.

Now.

Together.

I think you're beautiful and I tell you so because no-one could ever tell you enough and I'm going to keep on saying it until-there.

That's it.

At last.

"I love you, Arthur," I say.
And you...

Smile.

That Smile.