A/N - It's time for your daily dose of Cuba/England goodness! Just as important as any vitamin~ Also, even if you skip the notes at the end, make sure to look past them for something extra awesome!
15 July 2009, El Malecón
The day after the ballet company's first performance, England was unwillingly roused after only a few hours of sleep. Glancing at the clock through sleep-heavy eyes, he registered the time as not quite 6am and reached out to smack Cuba, who was currently trying to coax him out of bed.
"Do you even know what time it is?" England groaned, wishing he had the energy to shout and show his disapproval properly. As it was, he wasn't awake enough to grasp Cuba's Caribbean approach to Spanish, and so the only words he caught of the other nation's answer were 'early' and 'sunrise'. "I don't give a shit about the sunrise," he slurred, trying to bat Cuba away and curl up on the mattress again. Cuba sighed.
Then suddenly England found himself hoisted into two strong arms, which lifted him off the bed and set him upright on his feet on the floor. Cuba grinned at him in the dark. England glared muzzily in response.
"I hate morning people," he muttered, but resigned himself to an early start.
And so it was that barely forty minutes later, England found himself taking a walk with Cuba along the long stretch of the Malecón – a street along the coastline where a high wall kept the sea at bay on one side and a line of various buildings marked the edge of the city on the other.
As it was still ridiculously early (a fact that England made a point of complaining about every few minutes), there weren't any tourists cluttering up the walkway yet. It would have been almost silent if not for the waves breaking loudly against the wall down below, but that in itself was a rhythmic, peaceful sound that ebbed and flowed with the pattern of the waves. The only light came from the thin strip of daylight starting to edge its way over the horizon to the west, and from the stars that still faintly shone at their backs on the other side of the sky.
As they walked, talking as quietly as they could while still being loud enough to be heard over the sound of the sea, England felt almost as though he were still dreaming. He'd walked along this road before, of course, when he'd visited the city in the past, but he had never witnessed it so empty and silent, and it gave the dawn a surreal feeling of something that was at the same time both familiar and strange.
Strangest of all was England's urge to reach out and intertwine his fingers with the darker-skinned man walking by his side.
Stealing a surreptitious glance at Cuba, England noticed the way that the weak, pink-tinted sunlight framed the other nation's face, giving his skin a healthy glow and making his eyes glitter as they caught the light and deepen compellingly as they walked through patches of shadow. He noticed how long Cuba's eyelashes were, and how a dimple formed on his cheek when he smiled. Cuba had a beautiful smile – it was crooked, curving up on the right as if the muscles in his left cheek were too lazy to help out, but the asymmetry was somehow just so Cuba and it showed his happiness so honestly and openly that no matter how many times Cuba turned that lopsided smile on him, it still had the power to make something in England's chest flutter at the sight.
It fluttered now as Cuba turned to smile at him, and England found himself smiling back, even though he had no idea what Cuba had said. He was still too tired to pay much attention, and the sound of the waves was lulling him into a state where he was barely awake, despite the cool sea breeze that was having absolutely no affect on his alertness, or lack thereof.
Cuba stopped walking as they passed by a palm tree, and England took another step before his tired brain caught up and told his legs to stop. He turned around to face Cuba in confusion and was surprised when he felt the gentle touch of Cuba's hand cupping his face, his thumb stroking softly along England's cheekbone. England leant into the touch, wishing that he could just press himself against Cuba's firm body, feel those warm arms encircle him and sleep.
Cuba murmured something to him, and, again, his words passed England by.
"You're going to have to speak more slowly," he muttered tiredly into Cuba's palm. "It's too early in the morning for me to understand your goddamn seseo and words where you don't pronounce half the letters and your whole general dialect." Cuba laughed at him, leaning forwards to kiss him on the cheek.
"You're so cute when you're barely awake," he said, clearly enough now that England could make out his words. "I'd take pity on you and use English, but-" he nuzzled along England's jaw and pressed several soft kisses to his neck, "-I just love to hear you speak Spanish." England let his eyes flutter closed and sighed deeply, stepping closer to Cuba so that he could wrap his arms around him and rest his cheek on Cuba's shoulder, feeling Cuba's arms reach up to hold him close.
"Do you really like it?" he asked, a little surprised. "I'd always thought you must hate the way I speak your language since I speak it like Spain does." Cuba shrugged and carded his fingers gently and soothingly through England's hair. England melted into him.
"I don't mind Spain so much these days," Cuba said. "But I always liked the way you spoke. You don't sound that much like him anyway." England suddenly jerked his head up, startling Cuba, who hadn't expected the sudden movement.
"Oh God, is my accent really that strong?" England asked, a look of abject horror on his face. Cuba blinked, and then laughed loudly, and England suddenly realised their position and the fact that they were technically in public, even if there was no one around. He tried to subtly slip out of Cuba's arms, but they only tightened their hold on him, not allowing him to escape.
"You sound English," Cuba admitted, "but only subtly. Besides," he added somewhat smugly, "when you've been with me for a while, you start to pick up my accent a little." England's expression couldn't have been too reassured, because Cuba grinned and kissed him on the lips. England squirmed a little, glancing around, paranoid that even though the street was empty, there could be early-risers lurking behind the dark window panes, watching them through the glass.
"I like it though," Cuba carried on abruptly. "The way you speak Spanish is...soft. It's nice. And it's cute when you don't quite manage to roll your Rs." England hit him, scowling at the teasing, but his reaction only seemed to amuse Cuba more. Smiling fondly, Cuba leant in for another kiss, but England nervously pulled away.
"Is it really OK to do that here?" he asked quietly, eyes flicking to check for passers-by, even though he knew that the street was empty.
"Of course it is," Cuba murmured back. "If anyone comes, just try to look like a girl." England swatted at him.
"Why am I the girl?" he demanded. "Why can't you be the woman here?" Cuba scoffed, but couldn't wipe the grin from his face as he did so.
"Because I'm far too obviously manly," he replied, and now it was England's turn to laugh at the overly-arrogant tone that Cuba had affected.
"Of course," he said, rolling his eyes, and this time it was him who closed the gap between their lips, letting their mouths explore each other for a moment before the paranoia grew too much and he ducked away again, blushing lightly at the thought of being caught in the act by a random stranger.
However, as they continued their walk along the Malecón, which was bathed in stronger sunlight now, the night being quickly washed out of the sky, he reached out and took Cuba's hand in his own, wondering vaguely why he felt like part of a couple, and then wondering why the thought that he might be felt so natural and right.
"By the way," he added suddenly, "Why exactly did you feel the need to drag me out here at such an ungodly hour of the morning?" He glanced at Cuba suspiciously, who looked as though he'd momentarily forgotten that they hadn't been outside together, clasping each others' hands, forever.
"Oh, that," he said, and that crooked smile tugged cheekily at the corner of his mouth. "Well it's hard work hanging out with you, you know, and you're so much easier to deal with when you're still half asleep and down a few IQ points...or twenty." He laughed and wisely ran before England managed to process his words and hit him.
"Hey! Get back here, Cuba! What was that supposed to mean?"
Notes
This chapter probably gave away the fact that I have a massive hard-on for the Spanish language. (Wait, what do you mean you'd already figured that out?) So, I'll explain the differences in the accents.
'Seseo' is a term that refers to the Spanish accent that pronounces the letters C and Z in the same way as S, and it's most commonly used in South America and the Caribbean. In Spain, they generally use 'distinción' where they lisp the letters C and Z (and to some extent the letter D. Yes, that's right, they lisp their Ds, albeit in a different way - imagine the 'th' sound in 'the' and you've got how they pronounce it in Spain). Of course, there are different regional accents and dialects in all countries, but this rule works as a generalisation.
The Cuban dialect also tends to miss out letters, such as the letter D in some words (so 'condado' becomes 'condao') and they tend to not pronounce the letter S at the ends of words when pluralising (this can also be a feature of some Spanish accents too - as I said, regional accents and all that). Plus the fact that they'll use words in different ways and have different words for different things than the Spanish of Spain (think the difference between British and American English)
...and I also have a confession to make. I totally looked up the time the sun rose on the 15th July 2009 for this chapter. I know, I get obsessive over small details OTL But it's a good thing I did, actually, because I'd totally forgotten that countries further north get more daylight in summer but those further south don't. So if I'd based it on English time...well, that would have been way wrong AND ridiculously early (the sun rises here at like 4am in summer - big difference!).
And Now the Promised Awesome
After I'd finished posting this fill on the kink meme, the requester drew fanart of this chapter (hence why I waited until now to share the link here)! I will attempt to link it here, but if I fail, there's a link on my LJ 'fanworks for my fics' page, and there's a link to that on my bio. Hopefully you won't need that though!
OK, take out the spaces and this is your link: http : / / zemmer . deviantart . com /# /d2wl00o
Make sure to leave her a comment telling her how awesome she is for drawing the only fanart ever to exist for this couple! XD
