- Ohmigod, please forgive me for the wait; my excuse will be at the end. In apology I've written a double length chapter! Hearts to you all!
The clouds parted in the morning to reveal blue skies, making way for the sun - clarity, warmth and radiance – in both the skies and England's mind. His face softened as the floodgates opened and the memories poured in, filling the wide open cavities that had been cleared of decades of dust. Not one to be caught sleeping in, (he needn't count New Year's) he opened his eyes – greeted by a magnified version of America's smiling face. England resisted the urge to fall off of the bed in fright. He irritably shoved the lad's face away from his and scoffed as he was met by laughter, as per usual.
"'Sup, England?"
"Not me, surprisingly. You I can understand, but…" He trailed off and hesitantly placed a light kiss on America's temple – still somewhat hesitant. It was all just so new and wonderful. Almost too good to be true. England banished that kind of thinking from his mind – with some difficulty – and made to slip away. America, of course, interrupted.
"Heeeeey, don't go!" At this America placed a hand on England's shoulder, somewhat like how a paperweight would sit on something, forcing it not to move.
"America, let go of me. It feels positively atrocious under here; I'm taking a shower."
Haha, half of that is you, baby." America grinned, but let go of England despite the protest. He watched as England's back receded to the adjoining bathroom, noticing the slight tine of pink adorning the tips of his ears. America could feel his own face heat up at the onrush of memories from last night.
…Last night. Ha. With England! That's, like, soooo weird, but soooo awesome.
America sat up in his bed (man, these sheets're gonna need washing) and listened as the taps turned in the bathroom. He made a quick calculation in his head and an even quicker decision. No sooner than it had been made, and he shot out of bed – the shower could wait; this was more important – and threw open the drawers of his dresser, searching for grungy wear. He found a disgusting, but so totally comfortable pair of blue, red, and white striped P.J.'s and a plain white – well, off-white, now – t-shirt complete with holes of various sizes. He thrust it over his head and charged out the door. Okay, into the door, but the t-shirt was covering his face. Not his fault.
He finally succeeded in forcing his arms through the sleeves and pushed open the door, hightailing it to the computer room. He launched himself onto the squishy computer chair, praising it for, like, the bajillionth time for its continued stamina. Haha, stamina.
He opened Google – no matter how many times he typed 'com,' it would always come up as 'ca,' what was with that? – and began his search, frantically clicking and cursing and glancing over his shoulder for any sign of England. He eventually found what he was looking for and shouted in delight when the little hourglass thing went away and an e-mail popped up, confirming what he had just done.
He grinned and spun around in the chair a few times in celebration. He then jumped up and exited the room, proud of himself for having planned and actually accomplishing this. He stood in the hallway; ears pricked and listened to the sound of running water. Satisfied, he stomped downstairs, almost falling, but totally catching himself.
England England England England England…
Arthur Arthur Athur Arthur Arthur Arthur!
America grinned from ear to ear, preparing to make England's favourite tea. 'Cause, like hell if he wouldn't do that after how fuckin' awesome he had been last night. He rummaged around in the cupboard and made to pull out a box of pancake mix. Uhh… No pancake mix. Hmm. Oh! There were waffles in the freezer… that would have to do.
He set them on the counter and waited for the kettle to boil. England shouldn't take that much longer. Hmm…maybe he'd check – just to see –
"Oh shit! I left the computer screen, thing-y, site, window open!" And with a startled whimper, America stampeded up the stairs, turned a corner to see England walking out – of the damned computer room.
England looked up at America's deer-in-the-headlights expression and stared. "Everything alright, darling?"
And America momentarily forgot that the whole freakin' world could be in jeopardy all because of England's stupid, sweet look of innocence. The petname helped, too. But then he remembered. He bit his lip sheepishly at the Nation (with wet hair) in front of him – god, he smelled good – and looked into the room. The window was still up, the chair still turned at a weird angle, nothing seemed disturbed. America jogged the four steps over to the monitor and clicked the 'close' button, breathing a sigh of relief.
He looked back at England who looked right back at him. He's totally laughing at me in his head… But he had to know.
"Uhh, England? Did you, em…see anything in there?"
"Of course not, lad. I was merely, ah, looking for a highlighter for my book. I mark things sometimes, you see."
"Doesn't that, like, wreck your precious, five hundred year old babies, or something?"
"Do shut it. If only you were as nice during the day as you are in bed. T'would make my life so much easier. Ah, is that a kettle I hear?"
It took America a few seconds to stop spluttering and stop blushing for fuck's sake enough to actually prepare England's tea. And those frozen waffles. Artificial blueberry goodness.
I I I
Two days passed and with them England's resolve to not come in constant contact with America. He recalled the way America's mouth would shrink into a little 'o' and how much better it had looked when the boy was writhing underneath him… The two were currently sitting on the couch – England reading by the lamplight and America tucked under his arm, watching him read. With growing impatience, England could see.
"We should do something, England." America listened for a grand total of half a second for England's reply and continued on regardless. "Let's make snow angels."
England didn't look up from the page. "I hardly think that's appropriate considering the time and the snow is already melting. It's like this city has some sort of snow repellent."
America sighed. "Yeah…If only Mattie were here."
"Contrary to what you may believe Canada's presence isn't enough to bring the snow…despite how much of it he receives…"
"Haha, yeah." A palpable pause. "Hey, England. Wanna do it?"
"…I'm almost tempted to say no, moron. I certainly do not envy your grammatical skills."
England set his book on the side table and America laughed, opening his arms. They tripped their way off the couch, up the stairs and through the hallways, insulting each other all the way – nearly giving up the comfort of a bed in their haste to undress each other. When they finally burst through the door, America fell, face-up on the comforter first and looked up at England, eyes glazed with lust.
"Why such a rush, darling?"
America just grinned and pulled at England's tie – the last of the few articles of clothing still clinging to his body.
"It's a surprise."
I I I
The next morning, England awoke to sunlight streaming over the sheets and…no America. Odd. It was unlike the lad to be out of bed before England. He stretched and blinked open his eyes. The first thing to come into focus was a hastily scribbled note saying: Dude, we're going somewhere today, so get out of bed cause we need to leave sort of early, kay?
England looked at the time. It was already 9:00 – how early was early in America's dictionary? He scoffed and shook his head, pushing himself up and out of the covers. He wandered out of the room, after slipping on a pair of America's pants he had found in the drawer and walked to the foot of the stairs to where he could hear America's off-key singing in time to the radio.
He cupped a hand around his mouth, not wishing to witness any jerky dance moves that might be linked. "America! I'm taking a shower and then we can go to Ma – I mean wherever we're going."
A muffled "'Kay, but be quick!" Floated up from somewhere downstairs.
England turned to walk back up the stairs and the picture automatically caught his eye. …January fourth, hmm? That boy…
England, true to his word, showered quickly and dressed. He looked at the tie wrapped around his hand for a long while. Only when America shouted up the stairs did he throw it back in his suitcase and grab his scarf instead – long and green to match his eyes, he reasoned – the same one he had worn exactly fourteen years ago… It was frayed slightly, of course, but it seemed like the right thing to bring.
He greeted America at the bottom of the stairs. He was beaming, as per usual and he held out a steaming mug of tea (England hoped it wasn't positively infused with the taste of coffee.) He accepted it and couldn't help but smile slightly at America's slightly dopey expression. This lovely boy… He watched America's eyes slide from his face to his scarf, still dangling from his arm. The smile dimmed a bit an England hastily intervened any possible negative thoughts. America had obviously wanted to surprise him – best not get his hopes down.
"Where are we going America? This, I must admit, is different. You actually are planning something?"
America laughed and took England reassuringly by the elbow, guiding him to the front door. He held the Nation's mug while he stooped to tie his shoelaces and shrug on his coat. England took it back and waited for America to do the same. England waited for the inevitable obstacle to occur.
"Ah, shit – where're my keeeeeys? Did you steal them?"
"Absolutely not – what would I ever want with something of yours?" England smirked and shook his head, watching America claw through his pockets with no luck. His smirk dulled into a sympathetic smile. "Maybe try the laundry room." America frowned and did so. Soon, England's ears picked up the distant cry of elation and he prepared to leave. America appeared a few seconds later and locked the door. "They were in the sink, what the heeeeck?"
"Right. Well. Are we off?"
"Yeah!"
They both opened their respective doors and sat down on the black seats – England like a normal human being and America like a 1000 kilogram acme anvil. England sighed and looked at America's mug, frowning. He supposed he could manage to be a little happier, but… As if sensing England's thoughts – before starting the car – America shifted in his seat and took England's chin in one hand. Before he could even blink, the lad had leant forward and placed his soft lips against England's own. They stayed like that for a few seconds and America eventually pulled away.
"Good morning, Arthur."
England almost laughed at the way America squirmed under his gaze. "You daft boy… Good morning to you, too."
And with that, America started the car and backed out of the driveway, taking care to miss any congealed blocks of snowstuff. He hummed genially to himself and England found that he simply could not look out the window when it was now possible to let his eyes roam freely over America's features without fear of discovery.
"So… It's kind of a long drive. I hope you don't mind, uh, it."
"Hmm. I'll survive."
"…You're too quiet, man."
"Am I?"
"…Well, yeah – usually you talk to people when you stare at them like that."
"Am I staring? I do apologize, I wasn't aware." With this, England turned around to face the front of the vehicle; content to look at America thought the rear view mirror. He needn't know that much.
America barked out a laugh and a quiet 'yeah, right' and continued to drive – ever determined.
It was just passed Elevenses (what England wouldn't do for a scone) as America pulled off of I-95 to get some gas (Aw, man – I totally forgot to fill 'er up). England unbuckled his seatbelt and followed America out of the car to stretch his legs.
They had just entered the state of Delaware and were slated to leave it just as quickly – their stay remembered by a mere trip to a random gas station. England was more looking forward to the things to come in the next state to the west. It had been more than ten years since their last visit – an innocent visit, the times remarkably different. He shook his head, a smile playing about on his face. He could still remember the flamboyancy of America's fluorescent red, blue and black jacket – a complete mismatch to his own plain burgundy one.
He eventually wandered over to a guardrail, dividing the pebbly path that led to the gas station and a sparse, bare looking patch of woodland. His fingers tapped against the wood in an uneven rhythm and his mind was allowed to wander for the first time in a few days.
What, really had happened? What had changed so drastically?
His mind wandered back to the days, as late as a couple of months ago to as early as the eighteen hundreds – in which he was perfectly content to live alone, build an empire, free of burdens or obnoxious and clingy Nations… But was he perfectly content? He tried to separate himself from others – more so when he was an Empire, but now still – America had even said so earlier. He was…happier now, he could grudgingly admit to himself. Now that he had broken his routine of self-isolation, let someone else in. But America? Honestly?
England turned around and studied the lad trying to jam his credit card into the gas pump, probably swearing colourfully under his breath. Really, everything he did he somehow turned into a mess. He really wasn't the ideal Nation, nor was he kind, – well, maybe sometimes – caring, - only when it counted – helpful, – if it benefited himself, certainly -
England cut off his train of thought right then and there. Looking at America – really looking at him try to accomplish such a mundane task as paying for gas and failing so miserably was starting to convince him that, yes, America was a foolish, semi-useless, helpless, hopeless moron. But England really didn't want him any other way.
…I want him. I truly do. Does he truly want me?
England was shaken out of his thoughts by America straightening up and waving frantically to him, his usual, shit-eating grin plastered to his face. "Arthur, I'm done! Let's gooooo!"
England blinked. And before he could stop it, his facesoftened, the corners of his eyes crinkling ever so slightly and he hurried – eh, walked quickly – across the path and over to Alfred, opening the car door and sitting once again in the seat. Next stop: Maryland.
I I I
The black and yellow welcome sign zipped past the car window and England couldn't help but hum slightly in wonderment. America really hadn't expected him to figure out where they would be going? As if sensing England's thoughts, the younger Nation slumped slightly in his seat and glanced quickly to his right before his eyes moved towards the road.
"How long've you known?" America cut off England's answer and barged on. "Did you see the computer screen? I know you said you didn't, but I really want you to be honest with me 'cause I would hate it if it was my fault that you found out about the trip…"
England frowned and shook his head. "That again? Honestly America, I swear that I didn't see anything. I was merely looking for a highlighter."
America let out a long, audible breath and relaxed physically in his seat. The grin was returning once more to his face.
"Really? Oh, man. That's awesome! 'Cause I totally forgot to close the screen for the hotel we're going to – Oh shit. I mean… haha, um."
England, meanwhile, was halfway through the process of a massive onrush of disbelief at how easily this Nation could dig himself into a hole. "Right. Good on you for notifying me." He raised his previously bent head from the palm of his hand and regarded America's blushing face.
"Seriously, America. You needn't go through the trouble for anything fancy. Was the hotel really necessary?"
America kept his gaze on the road, his ears still a bit pink. "Well duh! I wouldn't put you though eight hours of driving in one day! That'd make you'n'me both grumpy. Plus…it's, well. I just wanna spend as much time together as we can in, um, a special way, I guess. Quality time or something sappy like that." He cleared his throat and gripped the steering wheel tightly, then sighed before continuing on. "I'm just glad that it wasn't because I made a stupid mistake that you found out about what I was planning."
England studied the Nation in front of him, his face soft, a mixture of amusement and understanding. He was neither smiling nor frowning, but the implication of happiness was certainly present on his face. He lifted a hand and brushed two fingers through America's golden hair, letting them linger alongside his cheek and his entire hand finally coming to rest on his shoulder. He squeezed it slightly, continuously – keeping the pressure steady, but not so much as to distract him from driving.
"You believe me, don't you? I did not see the screen, my dear lad and even if I had, I would not – even for a second – consider you a folly. You certainly make mistakes, Alfred, but for something as kind as this? Well. I do, that is to say… I suppose I've come to treasure your, ah, individuality. "
America let out a booming laugh and relaxed his grip on the steering wheel. He let go with his left hand, keeping the wheel steady with his right and crossed his arm over his chest to cover England's smaller hand over his shoulder.
"Geez, man – I know how much you like to be poetic and crap, but I didn't think you could be so mushy! Haha, have I ever told you how weird you are?" He continued to laugh as England wrenched his hand from underneath America's and sat back in his seat, huffing and muttering something about sudden, spontaneous mood swings.
"Like you're one to talk, you fool! Here I am constantly putting up with your atrocious hamburgers and awful measuring systems – not to mention your never-changing obnoxious attitude…"
"Yeah, yeah, whatever, Artie."
"Arthur, if you please!"
"Sure thing, Artie!"
And as England scowled half-heartedly, America kept glancing in his direction, beaming like there would be none tomorrow.
I I I
The gear shift was thrust harshly into park, the emergency brake was stomped on and the key turned and yanked swiftly from the ignition as America let out a whoop of joy and bounded out of the car. England winced as the car door slammed and America took off, running around the vehicle to god-knows-where. He sighed delicately and undid his seatbelt, happy to be getting out of the car for an indefinite amount of time. He reached for the door handle, but before he even touched it, the door was opened for him. England looked up to see America with one arm crossed over his chest, as if mimicking some sort of butler and failing epically.
"Please, sir, after you – I insist." America's voice dropped an octave and England exited the car, bemused – unsure whether to grimace or laugh at the boy's beastly stab at a British accent. America closed the door behind him and straightened up, grinning.
"So, you ready ta go?"
England re-buttoned his coat and spared America a swift glance. "Go where, exactly?"
America shifted impatiently on both feet as he waited for England. The millisecond he had finished with his buttons, America grabbed his elbow and steered him in the direction of the park's entrance. Not before swearing and remembering to lock the car, though.
England scoffed and shook his arm free from America's overly-excited grasp. The younger Nation didn't seem to mind, and England was grateful that he refrained from making a fuss. They continued to walk in silence – away from the car and into the narrow dirt path leading into the trees. England glanced at the entrance sign to River Bend Park and smiled slightly at the sudden onrush of memories.
They were standing side-by-side together on the empty boardwalk, leaning on the railing and looking out at the Monocacy River rushing in the distance. Silence reined for once – a nice change compared to all the bickering and pointless fighting that almost always occurred between the two of them. Sometimes, fleetingly of course, England would wish that they could move beyond the skirmishes, even beyond the silence. Something more, perhaps? And then -
"I'm kinda, uh, happy you're here, England. I mean, you're usually working and I don't, um, get to see you often… I. I, um. I've always liked this park and I've, um. I've always liked y- I mean, I don't even know why I'm saying this. Haha, you probably don't even care."
England blinked and turned his head slightly – looking at America out of the corner of his eye, but making it appear as if he wasn't. He couldn't remember responding to that flabbergasting statement all those years ago due to the, well, the exceedingly flabbergasting nature of the fact that it was said by America and it was not possible for America to be sincere to him. Ever.
Sincerity… not possible? How –
How could he have possibly been so blind?
England inhaled slightly, sharply – enough for America to shoot a worried (?) glance over his shoulder. England breathed through his nose and swallowed, wanting to speak, but unable to find the right words. Was this why they always fought so much? Simply because they couldn't find the right things to say to each other? That and the pride, of course.
Thump. Thump. Thump. England looked below to find that they had reached a wooden, light-brown boardwalk, hardly a scratch on its surface. That boardwalk? It had been so long ago that he couldn't remember. Probably not. He cleared his throat, wanting more than anything to be off this boardwalk and away from memories that might awaken confusing thoughts.
"Did you have anywhere in particular that you wanted to go?"
America grinned, his hands in his pockets. "Tired already, old man?"
"I do wish you would stop calling me that," England ventured and, to his surprise, America sobered immediately. He looked as if he was about to say something, but seemed to hesitate, eventually cutting himself off with laughter. He then opened his mouth to speak anyway.
"I do have an idea of where to go, actually – c'mon."
His hands twitched in his pockets and England's heart rate spiked – thinking, hoping, thinking – no, definitely hoping that America was going to take his hand. Funny, after all the things they had done, England was still taken off guard by something so small. America must have noticed England's somewhat spastic movement and looked at him questioningly before smiling hesitantly and moving to a corner of the boardwalk – off the beaten path - pushing aside some branches and holding them for England to duck under.
England did just that and stepped lightly onto a tiny trail of dirt leading down to a slope alongside the river. Clearly, others before them had done the same thing, but infrequently. He made sure of his footing and started to walk slowly down the rough, meandering mini-path. He could hear America close behind him, his breathing steady and even. England repressed a shiver that certainly had nothing whatsoever to do with America's close proximity. Which was odd, considering how very close they were just last night. What…?
The path eventually evened out and spread to meet a flat, natural trail that was parallel to both the Monocacy River and the woods surrounding them. It was quite pretty – the clear water reflecting the sunlight onto the snow and making everything sparkle. England wasn't surprised to see a fearie flit by, without a care in the world. If only he could be so fortunate.
It was then that America made a sudden exclamation, skirting around England and causing him to jump a foot into the air.
"I knew it was still here! Dude, come on!"
England shook his head and followed America, gingerly avoiding an upturned root and wondering what could have possibly excited the lad so much. He craned his neck and - oh. A bench. How wonderful. "It's a bench, my dear. Is there something particularly exciting about it?" Perhaps it has your beloved flag hidden on it somewhere?"
America threw a reproachful look over his shoulder and turned back towards England, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Hey! S'not that – it's the bench – that bench! Remember how the last time we were here we saw this bench and it was just in the middle of this unused forest path thing and I was like: whaaat? and you didn't really care, but I did 'cause it was awesome to just randomly come across a bench – like it was put there for us!"
And England did remember. He remembered appreciating for once America's ability to find such joy in the strangest things. He was beginning to get that feeling again. He looked out at the river eddying lazily about, looked out at the snow-covered trees branching out and the occasional house peeking through, looked at America grinning up at him from his position closer to the bench. England took it all in – the innocent, undisturbed, genuine beauty of it all and stretched his hand out towards America which was happily taken.
"Of course, my lovely. …Just us. Shall we sit down?"
America nodded and clasped England's hand gently, leading him towards the bench where they both sat down beside each other. The older Nation made sure to press himself close to America's side, now that they had gotten over the last few minutes of awkwardness.
"There we are. Now you most certainly can't complain that it's cold."
America responded by grinning and wrapping a steady arm around England's shoulders. "Haha, right – right. Like you're one to talk. You're more likely to complain since you're so tiny!"
England elbowed America sharply in the ribs, but was unable to escape his ever tightening hold. All he received in return was a booming laugh right next to his eardrum. "I am not tiny, you buffoon and I demand that you unhand me this instant."
America laughed harder and squeezed England all the closer to his side, succeeding in snuffing out all and any hope of escape. England huffed and stopped struggling, much to the delight of the obnoxious Nation beside him. They sat like that for a long while, sitting in silence and listening to the occasional laugh of a child, or the cars zooming along on the highway above them. Just like before, only so very different.
"Hey – we should graffiti up those trees, man. EA with a little heart around it. Ohmigod, that's totally like EA games! Awwwww, why couldn't it be AE Games instead?" America pouted and England rolled his eyes at the ridiculously random statements this boy managed to come up with.
No, I think I much prefer the 'E' first. Who knew – a video game company that has it right, for once."
England shifted in America's hold and laid a hand behind his head, pillowing it on America's collar bone, trying to soften the continued bouncing to due fresh bouts of laughter. But…What…was he thinking?
"America… Is this what you really want? Truly?"
He purposely averted his eyes from America's face – even when he felt the lad looking down at him – staring out at the river, always moving, never stopping. That is, if disaster never struck. And disasters were inevitable, in most cases. Most cases?
America lifted his hand from England's shoulder and moved it to his head, absently running his fingers through the messy, blond locks. England felt his stare – clearly America wasn't going to stop boring into his skull with his eyes until England looked back at him in turn. But he didn't budge. Not until America had answered.
America had stopped stroking England's hair, as if the conversation would need his entire focus. England could just imagine the lad bunching his eyebrows together and pursing his lips like some confused toddler.
"So, let me get this straight. We have spent the last week running circles around each other, embarrassing ourselves in front of a shit-ton of the other Nations – not to mention ourselves – and we've finally gotten over our stupid, stupid pride enough to actually get together and you're seriously asking me that question?"
"…Yes," England whispered, conscious of his breath visibly fogging when subjected to the cold air. He refrained from moving closer to America's body, refrained from physically wanting to be closer to him. What if – what if –
"Arthur… Listen to me, 'kay? I know how lonely it must be for you. Closing yourself off from everyone and hanging out with the fairies twenty four-seven. But'cha never complain – which is really, um, brave and/or idiotic of you – I could never do that. But…I can see it sometimes – when your loneliness shows and you're all sad 'n stuff."
He cut himself off for a second and England straightened in his hold, finally facing the younger Nation and curious as to what he would say next. America rubbed the back of his neck and laughed lightly.
"This is gonna sound weird, but I've always kinda wanted to make you feel 'not-lonely' and, and make you smile - your awesome, real smile, not your fake one – as far back as I can remember. And now that we're together, I have a proper excuse to get close enough to you to make you feel like you matter. Which you totally do. Shit – I meant reason, not excuse, haha…"
He turned his head and looked into England's eyes, his smile ever present.
"I'm a hero, right? And what kind of hero can't make the stubbornest Nation around feel wanted? But…" He lifted a hand and cupped England's cheek moving the slightest bit closer. Closer to England, England, England, only England – always England.
"But you're asking me this question with a totally obvious answer, so…um. Of course I, I want you. It's just taken me a stupidly long time to realize it. Am I, uh, not trying hard enough or something?"
England looked back at him, his face steady, and his eyes bright and – shining? Come to think of it, America was actually trying really hard not to cry as well. It was just so frustrating not to be able to understand these ridiculously simple things that could possibly mean life or death for their relationship. And England was so close. He could practically smell the scent of tea leaves emanating from his coat.
The English Nation opened his mouth to respond; took a shaky breath.
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
England closed his eyes and cursed softly, holding up a hand when America started to move in closer, trying his luck by getting England to ignore the cell phone and focus only on him. This particular harsh sounding beeping was the noise dedicated to oncoming messages from his boss. He had no choice but to take a look.
"Just a minute, lovely."
England lifted the front cover off of his phone, ignoring America's whine of protest and studied the screen. The message was short, but undeniably sweet. He scrolled though it, acutely aware of how his heart sped up at the prospects that this message entailed. America must have noticed England's smile as he closed his phone and replaced it back in his pocket. As soon as England turned back around, America was right up in his face, demanding to know what, other than himself, could have brought upon such a sudden change for the better in England's mood.
England answered by leaning up and pressing a solid kiss to America's blabbering lips, now turned suddenly still. England wasted no time with chastity or shyness, choosing instead to invade the American Nation's mouth in a thank you that words couldn't really begin to describe. Maybe it was better that way: free of words. This young man's unprepared, innocent, slightly conceited speech, really, was all he needed. A simple confirmation of his worst, best, worst – no, best - hopes and wishes.
America, as easy-going as ever, was more than happy to oblige to England's kiss. A stroke of the tongue here, a lick there, or a little nip here and there. Whatever he did, it had worked out, right?
England swallowed a pleasured noise from America's throat and hummed against his lips before breaking contact with his mouth and placing a butterfly-soft kiss on the tip of America's nose.
"Would you like to know what was said on the message, my dear lad?"
America nodded eagerly, pressing his pink, slightly chapped lips against England's, each corner of his mouth, his jaw line, and back to his lips…
England continued to let him do so for another minute, relishing the warm, fluttering feeling in his chest and choosing not to shirk away from it. Not this time. He smiled and closed his eyes briefly, pressing one last kiss to America's ever-willing lips and pushed himself away – now looking into America's curious, childish, wise eyes.
"Hmm. Well. Firstly, I wish to thank you for what you just said, Alfred. It was, well, certainly touching in a way that could only be described as 'you.' It was exactly what I needed in my moment of…uncertainly, shall we say. If it, em, makes any difference…I am of the same mind; you have been able to show me, my lad that one does need someone to make them feel wanted – not any easy feat to accomplish, I assure you."
England smiled up at America and could tell that he was torn between a fresh round of physical contact and actually finding out what was in the message. He lifted a hand and straightened America's glasses, fixed his rumpled jacket – anything for him to be able to keep touching this lovely Nation in front of him.
"Secondly, I know it's become fairly hard for us to find much surprising these days, but I feel as if this will make you happy. Our bosses have been discussing the location for the next meeting and with the snow clearing up so nicely… They've decided to hold it in London."
America gaped, eyes wide and jaw slack. Then –
"Ohmigod, YES!" His arms shot up - outstretched to the sky and he tipped his head back, laughing his usual, booming laugh. They then shot back down and enveloped England in a bone-crushing hug of epic-proportions, leaving the smaller Nation wheezing whilst the American continued to talk at a mile a minute.
"Duuuuude! We can hang out and play video games – even though you probs don't have video games, but that's okay 'cause I can bring 'em – and you can take me to see places 'cause I haven't been there in a super, super long time and ohhhhh maaaaan, it's gonna be so much fun! Just you 'n me, baby."
He unraveled his arms just to place a sloppy smooch on England's smiling lips, which England happily returned despite the aforementioned 'highlights' of the upcoming trip. It was…sort of nice to be able to experience this happiness around one such as America. …Sublime, even.
Once again, England pushed America away, but this time a lot more half-heartedly. He huffed, crossed his arms, and pretended to be irritated with the lad's behaviour.
"So whatever happened to your blatant refusal to visit my country? Gone with the wind, eh?"
America responded by poking him on the arm. "Haha, you're funny. I was just stupid back then – I thought we'd already figured that."
"Oh, and 'back then' being two weeks ago doesn't matter, hmm?"
"Pshhh, no way!"
England studied America's face – full of joy and, and definitely sincerity. His smiled disappeared, not a facial feature that tended to stay for an extended period of time. But he hoped that America would be able to see how grateful, how touched, how warmed he was feeling at this particular moment. He squeezed in one more kiss, determined to have the last action and settled in close to America's side once again. He heard the lad coo happily and could almost feel the energy from his smile radiate off of him.
The river rolled and ran. The couple continued to cuddle. The snow still sparkled.
America 'heh'd' under his breath and pressed his cheek against the crown of England's head.
"Y'know… You're pretty awesome. But only our awesomeness together cancels out all the invisible unicorns and shit."
- Fin
AN - Holy Roman Empire... It's done. I have officially eaten my words about wanting to be as close to reality's timeline as possible. They were not tasty, I'll have you know. So there I was...writin' away, 1000 words or so completed, being all happy and such - and then! ISU SEASON STRUCK! I literally went from writing a paragraph a day or nothing at all because it was either work, or sleep. AND! The school play kept me after school all day for a week. I'm glad I survived. :P I also think my French teacher enjoys watching us struggle through the mountains of work he dumps on us. ANYWAY! I hope you can forgive me and I hope this chapter satisfied your USUK/UKUS cravings, you wild fans, you. :) I suppose I'll have to write a one shot or something about America and England's adventures in Britain.
River Bend Park = I don't even know. :D I spent, like, 10 mins looking at parks in Maryland. I remember my friend going to Maryland once about 6 years ago and saying it was nice. That's actually the only reason I picked this state, haha! Hmmm, anything else? Oh, yeah. England was right. We have a shit ton of snow. Ohhhh my. It's really awesome. But annoying at the same time. Finally - Goooooogle .ca - It always does that for me, despite it being American? Maybe Matthew ninja'd his way in there and swapped America's computer with one of his own. P.P.S. I do not own Hetalia nor EA Games. So's you know.
ANYWAY! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR STAYING WITH ME AND REVIEWING! IT MEANS SO MUCH - THANK YOU TO YOU ALL! I LOVE YOU!
~WhiteWinters