Bits and Pieces
[A collection of oneshots based on different USUK/UKUS headcannons]
America always leaves his clothes at England's house because he knows how much England loves to wear them.
England sat up in bed, still drowsy from just waking up. He rubbed his eyes and wondered why his bed was empty. Sunlight was filtering in to his room giving everything a golden tone. He yawned loudly as he pulled his red comforter off and slipped out of bed. He looked around. His room was a complete mess. Although, that was completely expected whenever America came over. England stretched out, cracking his back. Being sore was also expected when America spent the night. The Brit put on his house shoes and shuffled off to his kitchen.
He discovered that it was quite chilly in his kitchen. He got out his kettle from the cupboard, filled it up and set it on the stove. His stomach grumbled a bit. He fished around in his pantry and got out his morning tea and his cinnamon oatmeal. He placed them on the counter and took a seat at his small wooden table. He noticed something was draped over the chair across the table. Upon closer investigation, England discovered that it was America's bomber jacket. He held it up. An envelope was sticking out of the pocket. Seeing as it had his name on it, England opened it up and read the note that was inside.
Hey Artie,
Sorry for not being there when you woke up. My boss called an emergency meeting. But don't you worry! I'll be back later~
Love, Al
"Well, that explains the empty bed…" England said with a sigh as he paced the note and jacket back on the table. He heard the kettle begin to whistle and went about making his breakfast. After steeping his tea and cooking his oatmeal, he brought them to the table and plopped down onto his chair. As he ate his meal, his bright green eyes were lured towards America's jacket. It was simply staring at him, begging to be worn. It was rather drafty in the room… England reached over the table and snatched it up quickly. Despite the fact that he knew he was alone, he hastily looked around to make sure no one would see this. England hurriedly put the jacket on and melted.
He smiled to himself, becoming incredibly giddy. He took in the feel of the jacket. It warmed him to his core and it smelled just like Al. England determined that it felt as if America himself was embracing him lovingly.
England got up and put his filthy dishes in the sink before returning to his room. He surveyed the disaster area. How did it even get so messy, he'll never know! He begrudgingly got to work tidying things up a bit. He fixed the blankets on his bed and fluffed his pillows up. There were various items all over the floor; clothes, food, games and so much more. He sighed as he bent over to pick up discarded clothes. A striped hoodie, a union jack t-shirt and some unfamiliar jeans. He took a closer look at the jeans; they looked too large to be his.
"They must be America's," England reasoned, "That idiot forgets everything at my house." He folded them and placed them on his bed before continuing his cleaning. He managed to throw all the food wrappers and pop cans in the trash before those jeans caught his attention once more. They were calling out to him. He picked them up, unfolded them and slipped off his pajama pants. Quickly, he pulled on the jeans and buttoned them up. Of course, being America's they were much too large for the Brit. Still, he liked the feel of them. He happily continued cleaning up.
It wasn't long before he finished and flopped down face-first on his bed. "Cleaning takes so much energy. And why am I cleaning when America's coming back over later?" He let out a sigh as he rolled over onto his back, dragging a pillow with him. He was so tired right now. He had stayed up so very late when America came over, and making everything spick and span was tiring work. His bed felt so comfortable, and America's clothes were so toasty. He curled up on his side and drifted off to sleep, clutching his fluffy pillow. Sweet dreams took over his mind as he rested peacefully without worry.
America unlocked the front door to England's house. The sun was setting, telling him the day was almost over. The meeting his boss had called was longer than he thought it would be. He just hopped Artie wouldn't be too angry that he had left without saying goodbye. When he stepped into the house, everything was quiet. He loosened his tie and took his shoes off, walking into an empty living room.
"England?" he called softly, looking around for the older man. He took off his suit jacket and tossed it on the loveseat. He poked his head into the kitchen only to find it empty as well. He headed to England's bedroom. The door was slightly ajar. He carefully pushed it open a little wider and slipped in soundlessly.
He saw England asleep on the bed, snoring lightly. He cautiously made his way towards the bed so he could lift England up and pull the blanket out from under him. As he got the blanket, he saw that England was wearing his clothes. He smiled to himself as he gazed at the smaller man tenderly. He looked so innocent and serene curled up like that. America, being quite tired himself, carefully climbed into bed as well. He pulled the covers up and England subconsciously inched closer. America kissed him on the forehead.
"Goodnight, sweetie."
A/N: Wow! I'm sorry this took so long to update! I do hope you enjoyed reading this one. I quite like the headcannon behind it. Remember, I'm open to suggestions, so if you have an idea for me, please let me know! Also, this doesn't really matter, but I've always liked the idea of England being an oatmeal kind of guy, rather than eating, like, Cheerios or crumpets for breakfast. Because, in my odd little mind, oatmeal is one of the few things he can make that actually tastes good. Anyway, thank you for reading!