Disclaimer: Hetalia's not mine.
"Are you getting more nose prints on my windows?" England's voice drifted over, and Alfred pried his face off the glass. But he couldn't help it. London was so cool! It was so big and foreign and pretty, and everyone had sexy accents, and he couldn't wait to go back out.
"Do I smell food?" Alfred asked after sniffing the air.
"I made us some snacks."
Alfred eagerly turned around, eyeing the platter of baked goods being set down on a table. He wasn't sure if the smell was a good one or not, but... well, it was foreign food! He'd just have to give it a try. England seemed to be watching him intently for some reason. Ignoring the stare, Alfred picked a scone up. It looked kind of sad and blackened. "I think you may have left it in the oven a bit too long."
"Oh..."
"No harm done. We just need to pick the bottom off." He scraped away the worst of the burnt parts, then took a bite. "Not bad!"
England blinked rapidly a few times. "You like it?"
"Well, sure, just remember to set the timer for a bit less next time."
"But you don't mind? No insults? No teasing?"
"No. Do you want me to? I can, if it makes me more America-like."
"No!" England smiled. "No, that's okay. You should be yourself."
"You two had a bit of dysfunction in your relationship, I'm thinking."
"You could say that..."
Alfred waited for England to turn away, and tucked the rest of the scone into a vase.
"No, I'm not staying here until it's time to go to England." Romano rolled his eyes. "I'm heading home first."
"Can't you call your brother and ask him to bring anything you need?" Antonio asked, receiving an annoyed look in response. "What? I can't afford to go to Italy, or I would! Airfare is expensive."
"How stupid are you? Here to Rome to London wouldn't cost much more than directly to London."
Antonio opened his mouth to protest, then let it shut. That was probably true... So wait, did that mean...? "Are you inviting me?"
Romano's face reddened slightly. "Well if you're going to pout about it..."
"I wasn't pouting." Antonio stood, tossing away the paper plates and plastic forks from their take-away lunch. "So anyway, how come you never got upset?"
"What the hell are you talking about now?"
"About me. How come it didn't bother you seeing me?"
Romano shrugged, red cheeks darkening further. "Why would it? Seeing you again was... it wasn't... it wasn't a bad thing." He huffed a sigh. "Russia told me about England flipping out. I'm not emotionally fucked up like him. If you're Spain, you're Spain."
"And you're glad to see me?" Antonio pressed, grinning. He hadn't anticipated an answer, and he wasn't disappointed. He flopped onto the hotel bed, reflecting on the previous night. With only a single bed, they had verbally fumbled around for about ten minutes before Antonio had made himself a bed on the floor with the extra pillows and blanket.
As if reading his mind, Romano joined him on the bed, settling down beside him. "What's on? Anything good, or just stupid Canadian shows?"
"Uh..." Antonio located the remote. "I guess we can find out." He managed to find a movie that Romano accepted as watchable. He, though, spent more time watching Romano out of the corner of his eye. His adorable round cheeks that went all red when he was embarrassed, warm brown eyes, that gravity defying curl that he longed to yank on for some reason...
"Oh, damn." Antonio interrupted his ninja-like study of Romano's face, hopping off the bed.
"What?"
"If I'm going globe-trotting soon, I have to let some people know." Antonio made a face. "Family, friends who were expecting to see me, my girlfriend..."
Romano turned sharply to face him. "Your what?"
Oops. "Um. Girlfriend? It's not serious..." He took an involuntary step back as Romano slid off the bed. Friends. You just say 'friends'. That's all he needed to know. "Er..."
Romano backed him into a corner, scowling. "If it's not serious, then she won't be too upset when you break things off."
Antonio swallowed. "That's probably true!"
"Good." Romano fisted a hand in Antonio's hair and forcefully brought their lips together in a bruising kiss. Antonio's eyes widened. He never would have expected Romano to make the first move... But as the kiss went on, thought melted out of his mind, and his eyelids fluttered closed.
When Romano released him, Antonio's knees buckled. "Ah..."
The satisfied-looking Italian studied him a moment, then picked the hotel phone up. "Well?"
"R-right..." He accepted the phone. "I've got some people to say goodbye to. Some for good..."
"This is so cool! I can see everything!" Alfred hurried to the other side of the capsule, elbowing his way in between a couple other passengers and taking a quick picture. "How long did you say this has been here?"
England followed after him, murmuring apologies to the other passengers they had displaced. "The Ferris wheel itself? The original London Eye opened in 2000. This one opened five years ago."
"It's an exact replica?"
"A little bigger, I think, but yes." England put an arm around Alfred, experiencing another déjà vu. This was almost exactly the same as when he and America had ridden the original, soon after it opened. Right down to America running from end to end to see everything. He found himself shaking his head in wonder that they were doing this again. He could do everything he had enjoyed doing with America again, and do all the thousands of things he had thought of over the last couple decades that they hadn't done.
"Has one of these people-holding thingies ever fallen off?" Alfred wondered, cutting into England's musing. "I guess it wouldn't matter, we'd probably land in the water."
"No, it's perfectly safe."
Alfred actually looked a bit disappointed. "All right. Where should we go next?"
"The London Dungeon is always fun..."
"No!"
England smirked. "It's not bad. It's family frie-"
"No!"
"Lunch, then."
Alfred nodded. "I could go for a burger."
"You had a burger for breakfast." England had pretended not to notice him pouring maple syrup on it to make it breakfast. "I'll pick a nice place for us." He sat down for the remainder of the ride, watching Alfred in wonder. After nearly a week of avoiding Alfred and feeling miserable and that he was being punished, he had done a neat 180. He never wanted to let him out of his sight, and wondered just what good he had done to deserve having his lost love returned to him. And if he found out, he'd have to do it some more...
Kiku finished up with folding the last shirt, adding it to the stack. Then he added the stack to his suitcase. All the while, he ignored the hands that had worked their way under his shirt, rubbing circles over his chest. But now that he needed to stand up... "Could you stop for a second? I need to get something."
"Okay!" Yong Soo removed his hands and sat back. It was amazing the things people got used to. Yong Soo didn't even grope him in an erotic way, it was just something he did. "What are you getting?"
"Electronics." Kiku fetched a camera, thought a moment, then picked up a couple more. One could never be too prepared. He had a feeling London would be full of interesting sights. Any other electronics he would be wanting on the plane, though. Including at least one of his cameras, of course.
"So you can take lots of pictures of your boyfriend?" Yong Soo asked, face innocent.
Kiku spluttered. "H-he's not my boyfriend. China's like... my brother."
"Oh?" Yong Soo tilted his head. "Then why did you assume I was talking about him?"
"Who else would you be talking about? He's my brother. And yours too." And this would be the first time he'd see China believing what they were. The next time they hung out, he would call him 'brother' and mean it. He knew how much his little brothers meant to China; Kiku couldn't wait to tell him he knew that it was true.
"And you're my little brother," Yong Soo mused. "Call me 'big brother'."
Kiku eyed him. "No."
"Why not?"
"You call me 'big brother'."
"Okay. But we get to switch after a while, hyeong."
Kiku couldn't stop a smile from forming. "If you say so."
England collapsed beside Alfred in a sweaty, exhausted heap. He flung an arm over his human lover's chest, enjoying the gradual decrease of his rapid heartbeat. As they lay peacefully together, England idly wondered just what Alfred had done in his short lifespan to become so skilled. He decided to believe he was just 'channeling his America', as Al sometimes put it.
"Hey..."
England turned his head to face Alfred's lazy smile. "Hm?"
"How'd you become lovers? Us, I mean. You know."
"Oh, that..." He turned his gaze back to the ceiling. It still hurt to remember the 'original' America, regardless of him being back in human form, but at least the pain was tempered now. He could talk about it. He had spent the entire flight over telling stories about his colony's childhood, Alfred frequently commenting on how similar the stories were to his own childhood personality.
"Come ooon, I wanna know. You went from adoring brothers to enemies to lovers, that's interesting."
"It was a bit more complicated than that." England tightened his grip, snugging Alfred closer. "Well... our countries' relations had started to really improve around the twentieth century. But not necessarily our personal relations. Not for a while. We fought together in the world wars, and it was during the second that..." He shrugged. "Well, our relationship was complicated. We did care for each other. Always had, really. Even when we fought each other. Then we ended up on the same side, working together, and... well, we still fought a lot. We didn't know how else to treat each other, I suppose. We laughed at each other, teased, made fun, argued, throttled..."
"Throttled...?"
"But underneath all that, we really did care. I even tried to make peace several times, show him how I felt, even hit on him, and he always turned me down. And I didn't know if it was because he genuinely didn't care, or was too stupid to realize my intentions, or if he did care and that was his childish way of showing it..."
"I'm guessing the last one?" Alfred murmured.
"It was a lot of things. But not the first one—it wasn't that he didn't care. It was everything else. And I had no idea that he was trying to do the same thing: show me that he cared. He seemed to equate making fun of my cooking or eyebrows with affection, as if I could decipher that..."
"Aww, a romantic hidden message."
"Anyway, one time in our armies' camp during World War Two..."
England studied the chalkboard with a frown, lips moving slightly as he read all the tiny print.
"Well?" America watched him with a grin, waiting. One could practically see the wagging tail.
"Where did you learn all those big words and military strategies?"
America just grinned wider, looking pleased with the 'compliment'.
"Er..." England shook his head. "It sounds impressive, but it seems to just be a long-winded, fancy way of saying I'll be your backup." He eyed America with a frown. "I'll come up with the strategies from now on."
The self-proclaimed hero wilted. "But-"
"No buts." England snatched up the eraser and removed the slightly messy handwriting, ignoring the whining behind him. "And stop whining, I raised you better than that." His frown deepened when he heard something muttered under America's breath. "What was that?" He turned, brandishing the eraser like a weapon.
"Nothing."
"Ugh. I never thought I'd miss France of all people..."
America's perpetual smile fell. "I didn't ask to be here with you, either, old man."
"Don't call me that, you stupid git!"
"Old man!"
"Is that really the best insult you can come up with?"
"I lived with you long enough to pick up an insult or two, you senile old wanker!"
"You..." England trailed off, unable to stop the laughter from bubbling up.
America managed to look even more offended. "Don't laugh at me!"
"I can't help it!" England wiped away tears of mirth.
America folded his arms, clearly not thrilled with England's amusement. "Just go back to your own tent already."
"Fine." England stalked over to the flap and shoved it aside. Why did they always have to get stuck together? He had a feeling France was the one behind it. The disgusting frog was always smirking at them when they argued, calling their fights 'lover's spats'. How ridiculous! Just because he cared about his former colony didn't mean he... it really didn't...
"Hey, England?"
He came to a halt, waiting. "What is it?"
"I just... oh hey! Look out!"
"What?" England turned, just as he was tackled to the ground, breath forced from his lungs. An instant after he was slammed into, he was aware of gunfire in the distance.
"Shit. Who attacked us? Ow..." England tried to raise a hand to rub at his head, but couldn't move. He was still pinned down. America? You... weren't hit, were you? He slowly looked up, body tense. But America seemed fine, at least, staring down at England with wide eyes. "Are you hit?" Something wet dripped onto his cheek, and he wondered if America was crying. He focused on the boy's face, and noticed the long bleeding scratch across his cheek.
"Just grazed me." America gave that same stupid grin as always.
"Good." But his relief was short lived, heart freezing in his chest as he was struck by the full implication. "Bloody hell." He squirmed a hand free and gently touched the long, thin gash. "You almost got a fucking bullet in your head!"
"I guess. But I didn't."
"But you could have!" He shoved America off, rolling away. "What the hell did you do that for? You came this close to getting shot in the head!"
"But I didn't..." He sounded genuinely confused by England's anger. "He was going to shoot you. Now neither of us is badly hurt."
"You stupid...!" England realized his hands were actually trembling. He firmly told himself it was from anger. "A bullet isn't going to kill me!"
"Nor me!" America snapped. "I didn't want to see you hurt!" England stared at him in surprise. The young nation actually looked... angry. "And I'd have done that even if I thought it could kill me, so... so shut up!"
"America..." England stared at the ground, at the dirt that had been churned up by their little scuffle, which had suddenly become fascinating to watch.
"What?"
"Well... I'd do the same for you," he mumbled.
"What?"
"You heard me."
Nothing was said for a very long couple of minutes. England was aware of blue eyes watching him, even as he continued his contemplation of the dirt. He didn't look up, even as he saw America move out of his peripheral vision. And then strong, leather-clad arms were around him, pulling him closer.
"I'm sorry," America whispered. "I didn't mean to scare you. But I'd do anything to protect you..."
England melted into the embrace. "I know."
"We make everything difficult, don't we?"
"That we do."
"I don't hate you."
England couldn't help but smile. "I didn't think you hated me. Usually. I don't hate you either, you know."
"Good." America pulled away from the embrace and stood.
"Where are you going?"
He pulled a gun out from somewhere on his person. "To find whoever shot at you."
"Bloody hell, you are not! We're in a war zone, you aren't going to go traipsing off into enemy territory for a bit of vengeance."
"But I want to..."
England got to his feet, brushing dirt off his green uniform. "Let's just go to my tent."
"Both of us?" America stared at him, England able to make out a blush even in the dark.
"We've shared a tent plenty of times. Don't get shy on me now. Besides, I need to patch your face up. Clean it up, at least." England shoved his hands in his pockets and weaved through the camp, America right on his heels.
"Hey, England?"
"Hm?"
"Well... if you get cold again, I guess I won't turn you down this time..."
Alfred chuckled. "Was that a come-on?"
"Oh, I'd tried to use the old 'I'm cold, won't somebody warm me up' thing on him once, and it didn't work..." England rolled his eyes.
"Gotcha. So did you two fuck after you got to your tent?"
England lightly smacked his chest. "If you must know, yes, eventually."
"Was it as good as you'd always anticipated?"
"It was as awkward as if we'd both been a couple virgins. We got used to it and improved with time, though."
To England's relief, Alfred didn't make any teasing comments about that. "Did everyone smirk at you because they always knew you'd get together?"
"Like you wouldn't believe. France instinctively knows when anybody has had sex somehow. He knew immediately, and was merciless."
"So. He saved you, and that made you guys realize how much you loved each other?"
"I guess so." England sighed. "I guess I hadn't really thought of him as the type to sacrifice himself for me. And... well, bullets wouldn't kill us—not like that, anyway, not with our countries intact—but that doesn't mean they don't hurt. A bullet in the brain would put one of us out of commission for a long time. It scared the shit out of me when I realized what a close call it was. And he didn't care."
"Aaand, after doing something like that for you, he couldn't very well keep acting like the idiot, hm?"
"No. We were allies, of course he'd protect me, but happily willing to give his life for me if it were possible? The cat was out of the bag with that." England smiled to himself. "It took a while to get used to being honest with each other. Not that the teasing and bickering ever stopped..."
"Mm." Alfred nuzzled England's neck, placing a kiss on it. He trailed a few more kisses up, along his jaw.
"Nn... you know, if you keep doing that, I'm going to-"
"You're not doing anything," Alfred murmured. "Well, you are, but from down there. I do believe it's my turn." And in one fluid motion, he was on top of England. "If you think you can handle another round."
England snorted. "Don't underestimate the stamina of the United Kingdom."
Hehe, nooo, the story isn't going to become them having sex all the time, it just worked for the scene. ^^;
