azureether (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
azureether) wrote2010-03-10 05:14 pm
azureether) wrote2010-03-10 05:14 pm
[Axis Powers Hetalia] Catch me if you Dare (America/England) [2/2]
Title: Catch me if you Dare (2/2)
Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
Genre: Comedy, Romance
Rating: PG-13
Characters, Pairings: America/England, France, Japan, Hungary. A bit of Canada, Seychelles, Spain, Switzerland, and mentions of other countries.
Words: 5.025
Summary: France challenges America to be nice to England for a month. Things turn out better than expected for America, and other nations find themselves doing the impossible to make America win or lose the bet...
Notes: Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
hetaliasunshine 2009. Many thanks to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
haro for beta check ♥
To invite England, America had decided not to use the phone. Instead, he sent in advance an elegant invitation by mail, printed on very expensive paper, whence he suggested that the reason for their meeting was to celebrate the good state of the relationship the United States and the United Kingdom. The exquisite detail of the invitation caused England to let escape a sound of contentment, while his stubborn heart was already beating at full speed.
And the day came. The month was about to end in three days, so America thought it was a good idea to celebrate his already imminent victory on the bet. That day, he arrived five minutes in advance to the threshold of England's house, wearing an impeccable navy blue suit, and by Japan's insistence, carrying a bouquet of geraniums.
When England came to the door, America held his breath for a moment. He was wearing a dark green suit that complimented his eyes perfectly, and his cheeks were softly pink. America had to contain the sudden urge he felt to leap upon England and kiss him breathless. Swallowing the lump he felt in his throat, he handed the flower bouquet, also paying giving him a compliment as to how nice he looked. England couldn't help but feeling a little disappointed, seeing that America had picked flowers that meant friendship, but the gesture itself made his stomach burst into dancing butterflies.
"Let's go?" America proclaimed, holding out his arm to England. He grabbed it, giving a hint of a smile.
In the meanwhile, in another place in the city, Japan was tuning out details.
"Hungary-san, did you bring the reinforcements I requested of you?"
Hungary nodded, and stepped aside to present the new acquisition to the team. But Japan went pale upon seeing her.
"S-Seychelles?!" he exclaimed. If Seychelles knew about this, it would mean that France would know as well...
"I know what you're thinking, Japan, and let me tell you you're mistaken!" Seychelles stated with a big smile. "I bet against France, so I'm on your side. Besides, there are some suspicions I'd like to confirm..." she added in a mysterious tone.
Japan was observing her, surprised and unsure of what to think. Hungary, who seemed to know what Seychelles was planning, just gave a big smile. Finally, Japan gave up; he couldn’t find any reason to mistrust Seychelles. "Fine, Seychelles-san. You can join the group." He sighed.
Japan checked the program. In that very moment America and England should be on the way to the river. He cleared his throat, and he addressed the girls. "The instructions are simple. Don't lose sight of America and England, and let me know of any suspicious movement. Is that clear?"
Both girls nodded, and they set out.
The day passed without setbacks. America took England first to walk along the bank of the Thames, resisting the urge to grab his hand. Then, they went through several museums, finally making their way to the Royal Opera House. And in every moment, they were staunchly watched by Japan, Hungary and Seychelles. Hungary seemed especially excited by the signs America showed of wanting to do something more, but stoically resisting.
After arriving at the Opera House, Japan immediately recognized Spain despite his disguise. He was behind a counter, serving coffee. He seemed to genuinely be enjoying it. He served everyone with a big smile, and he didn't lose a chance to flatter the ladies.
Amérique will undoubtedly come looking for his coffee dose, otherwise, he won't be able to stay awake during the performance, France had said. So Spain's mission was precisely that; to make America fall asleep. He would put sleeping pills in the coffee to obtain this result. As for France, he had gone somewhere else already, saying something about hoping to not to have to use his final card.
"I'll take care of him!" exclaimed Seychelles, now also conveniently disguised. She approached the counter with her best smile.
"Can I help you, señorita?" Spain smiled.
"I want cup of coffee! And, could it be that cute cup you have back there?" she said pointing out the cup Spain had prepared for America.
"Ah..." Spain hesitated. "Are you sure you don't want one of the cute cups I have right here?"
"No, no, I like that one." Seychelles grinned.
Spain couldn't refuse such a smile. Oh well, he would have to prepare another for America. Once the coffee was served, he gave it to Seychelles, praying that the poor girl wouldn't feel the effects of the pills during the performance.
But before receiving it, Seychelles exclaimed using her best puppy eyes: "Could you please taste it? I wouldn't want to scald myself..."
"Uhm, sure..." Spain said, slightly trembling, and he took a sip of coffee.
It seemed that he had exaggerated the dose. Instantly, Spain fell like a log to the floor. Then Japan and Hungary got out of their hiding place, and pretending to be nurses, they took Spain away while asking the other people to stay calm.
When Spain woke up, he was on the floor of a place that looked like a storage room, tied from hands to feet, and surrounded by Japan, Hungary and Seychelles. "Hey guys, these ropes are a bit tight...could you please loose them a little?"
"If you cooperate, Spain-san, it will be better for you and for us. Now, answer our questions."
"I'll go first," said Seychelles. "Spain, why is France doing all of this? And don't tell me it's because of the bet, since I don't believe it..."
"Well, if you ask me, I'd say he's jealous. What he’s wanting most, is to prevent America from confessing to England. But I must say that---"
"Don't say anymore, Spain." Seychelles stopped him. "I thank you for the information; I already have what I needed to know," she mumbled in a dark tone.
"Now it's my turn," said Japan. "Spain-san, let's finish quickly with this. Where is France?"
Spain swallowed hard. "He said he was going to a restaurant. Chéz Pierre, I think it was...uh, guys?"
Japan, Hungary and Seychelles were already out, leaving behind a tied Spain. "Guys? If I arrive home late, Romano will kill me... listen to me? GUYS?!"
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At the restaurant, everything was turning out wonderfully. The meal had been perfect, and now America and England were laughing enthusiastically, remembering old times.
"And, do you remember that time when you cooked, and the house almost burned down? The smell of burnt food stayed for more than a month!" America burst out laughing.
"I remember it," England stated. "The next time I tried to cook, you had prepared a bucket full of water to put out the fire." He chuckled. But then, his face saddened.
"England? Is something the matter, did I say something bad?" America asked, worried.
"It's nothing..." England mumbled, shaking his head. But he reconsidered it, and with quivering voice he asked, "Did you really eat my scones...out of pity?"
So England was still affected by the scones comment. What had seemed funny before, now he found it really cute. He shook his head and answered, "I know that I often say nasty things, but I don’t really mean them. About your scones, it's true that they're not very tasty."He stopped for a moment, but after seeing England's hurt look; he stretched his arm to put his hand over England's hand. "...But I always made an effort to eat them, because I knew how happy that made you."
England looked down. "Is...is that true?"
America nodded. A little embarrassed, he continued talking. "I've always liked England's smile. It makes me happy to see it, and I think your smile makes you look...I mean, that smile's so...beautiful..."
America now was deeply flushed. He had already opened his heart enough for a day; he couldn't admit that overall, he did indeed think that England was beautiful, especially when he smiled. And with or without bet, America was now determined to make England to keep that beautiful smile. Even better, if it was reserved just for him.
Shyly, England raised his eyes. "America, I want you to know, that this day has been great. The best I've had in a long time. I don't know what to say really; you've been so good with me lately, and it feels so wonderful..."
His face also looked flushed, and he gave America a small smile. The sweetest one he had ever seen. America's heart started to furiously beat out of emotion. Now he was sure he wanted to do what he intended to. He wouldn't stop to think on the consequences, he would simply let out once for all that feeling that oppressed his chest and that wasn't allowing him to live in peace.
"England..." America leaned over the table, taking both of England's hands and holding them between his own hands. "There's something I must tell you."
"America...?" England looked at him surprised, while America was cutting down the distance between them.
Now their faces were separated by just a few inches. "I want you to know, that I..." He could already feel England’s breath brushing his lips. Just a little more...
"Magnifique!" a powerful voice exclaimed from the other side of the room. "Ah, mes amis, enjoying your romantic evening?"
In that moment America clenched his fits, containing his urge to beat a certain impertinent French man. Such bad luck, was it even possible? To meet him at that very same moment and place?
England didn't seem very happy with the interruption either. "France, what a joy to see you," he stated sarcastically and frowning. "Is there something with which we can help you? Because if there isn't, we'd be really grateful if you'd be so kind to leave us alone."
"Don't worry, petit Angleterre; I'll be brief." France smirked. "I just wanted to say hello. and how's that bet going, dear Amérique...?"
Hearing this, America went pale. What was France up to, mentioning the bet in front of England? "I don't know what you're talking about, France..." he replied in a dark tone.
"Mon Dieu, what a poor memory!" France exclaimed, feigning surprise. "I'm talking about the bet we started a month ago. Tell me, how did you do. Treating Angleterre well, I guess...?"
England looked to both of them, disconcerted and without understanding as to what was happening. America, however, was looking down and clenching his fists.
It was England who talked first. "France, would you care to explain what you're talking about?"
"Ah, Amérique didn't tell you anything about this? What a shame!" he exclaimed, feigning surprise again. "Maybe I can enlighten you with this,” he added, handing a paper to England.
America's eyes grew wide. It was the contract, now being carefully read by England. After finishing, England raised his eyes, reflecting the mixed feelings he had in that moment. Confusion, disappointment, a bit of sadness...
"What does this mean, America...?" he asked with pleading eyes. England seemed to still hold a little hope that everything could be just be France’s joke, and he looked at America expectantly, hoping he’d finally decide to say that everything was just a big lie.
But America stood silent. His hands were trembling, and his lips were pressed together so tightly they turned white. Finally, he spoke in a barely audible voice. "I...that contract...I can explain it..." And shyly, he raised his head to look at England.
The last thing he saw was England's green eyes deeply hurt and about to cry. But he couldn’t see anything else, because in that moment England closed his eyes, frowning and he quickly stood up to leave.
America stood up as well, and he jumped towards England. "England, wait!! It's not what you think, let me explain it to you!" he yelled, anguished.
"There's nothing to explain. Don't you dare look for me, America; the last thing I want to see right now, is your face."
"If only you could listen to me for a moment..." and saying this, America firmly grabbed England by his wrist. But England didn't want to hear anything else, and in a sudden movement, he jerked away from America's hand. He stared at America, no longer with the kind expression from before, but with cold and threatening eyes.
"Don't touch me, America. I've heard enough,” he stated with venom in his voice. Turning around, he added. "I must admit that I am at fault as well. I don't know what I was thinking, falling in love with you..."
Saying this, he took his jacket he left, to take the first taxi he found. And once inside, he couldn't contain himself; with his face between his hands, he started to cry bitterly.
England's last words froze America's heart. It took him a moment to react, to finally run towards the door. But it was already too late; England was already too far away. America felt too numb to move, or even to get angry with France. He just stood there for a long time, looking towards the direction the taxi had taken. As if wishing for a miracle could bring it back.
Inside the restaurant, France sighed and sat on the table, holding between his fingers what was left of America's wine glass. "You should have realized from the beginning that petit Angleterre could never be yours. À votre santé, cher Amérique." And with a big grin, he drank what was in the glass in a single sip.
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When Japan, Hungary, and Seychelles arrived at the restaurant, America had already left the place. France was still there; apparently, it seemed like a good idea to him to take the chance of celebrating his victory with a succulent dinner. It wasn't hard to make him talk about what had just happened, but as soon as he finished, he had to face a strong slap generously given by Seychelles.
No one heard from France for a few weeks; according to the last thing Japan managed to hear from Seychelles, she would take care of teaching him a lesson. Apparently, France was currently going out with Seychelles, so she couldn't hide her anger upon realizing that France still couldn't get over his obsession with England.
Hungary advised to not to investigate what Seychelles was up to; in her experience, the apparently sweet Seychelles could easily compete against Belarus if provoked. Months later, when America and France would meet again, France would say that the contract was null and that he could forget about the bet and its conditions, and then he followed that up by running away terrified when Seychelles appeared at the end of the hallway.
The news about the outcome of the bet passed fast among the participating nations. Very soon, there were celebrations in several places, although someone that didn't want to celebrate was Switzerland. It turned out that in the end, he didn't gain any profit from the bet; Liechtenstein had bet a considerable amount of money in favor of America, nearly equivalent to the amount won with fees. In the end, Switzerland hadn't won a single cent at all. After that, for a long time, Switzerland threatened with shotguns anyone with the guts to say the word "bet" in his presence...
Some nations even dared to call America by phone, thanking him for having allowed them to win the bet. America would just hang up without saying a word; to be honest; he wasn't even in the mood to reply with the string of rude words that came to his mind with every one of those calls.
For several days, America's only concern was to try to contact England. But it was impossible: England didn't reply to emails, or phone calls, and he had left explicit instructions with the government building to not to redirect him any call coming from America.
America was already getting desperate. Not only did he want to solve the problem soon, but he was also surprised as to how much he missed England. Finally, one day, he couldn't take it anymore. Carrying only his bomber jacket, he prepared himself to take the first plane to the United Kingdom.
In London, America cursed his bad luck and his idea of coming with nothing. The rain falling over the city was torrential, and given the hour it was, chances of getting an umbrella were slim. So he closed his jacket the best he could, and he set off to England's house. Not without wondering for a second, if perhaps he was the one to blame for such terrible weather...
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Sitting next to a window with an absent look, England was watching the rain fall. Lately, not even tea tasted as always, and domestic things like embroidery couldn't distract him anymore. So, when he wasn’t able to keep his mind busy with work, he passed long hours looking out the window and remembering better times.
It was then that he heard knocks on his door. Knocks that rather seemed like slams. Groaning and unwillingly, England stood up to open the door. He wondered who could a big enough idiot that they didn't knew how to ring a bell, and above everything, who was crazy enough to drop by his house with such terrible weather.
England never expected to see what he saw at the other side of the door. America soaked to his bones, slightly frowning and lips tightly pressed. A hard to read expression; one could say he was like that because of the rain falling on him, or because of how tense he was.
Finally, America gathered strength and he talked. “Uh, hi, England…nice weather, uh?” He laughed nervously.
England surveyed him from head to toe. Looking at him derogatively, and crossing his arms, he dryly replied. “I thought I said I didn't want to see your face around here, America… wasn't I clear enough?”
America felt a shudder, not sure if it was because of the cold weather, or because of England's green eyes that almost appeared to be releasing sparks of hate. He swallowed, rubbing his arms insistently, he finally found his voice. “I-I was just passing around here,”- unwillingly, his body started to shake- “but if it's a nuisance for you, I can—“
He couldn't finish the sentence, because he started to cough compulsively. Bending his body, America did his best to cover his mouth and to stop his spasm. When he managed to breath again, he weakly raised his eyes, to find that England had his sight fixed upon America.
It wasn't any longer the sharp look of just a moment before; his thick eyebrows were raised giving him a strange expression. That in his eyes, was it worry?
Finally England sighed, and he firmly grabbed America by his forearm. “You'd better get inside, or else you'll end catching pneumonia…” And with this, he dragged him inside of the house.
Inside, the temperature was far more pleasant, but America was still slightly shivering. So England took him to the living room, where he gave him some dry towels, and he went to the kitchen to make some tea. England appeared quite conflicted, he didn't say a single word, but his eyes reflected the concern he felt. But, once the tea was served, he remembered where he stood again and frowned.
America wasn't really satisfied by drinking tea, but given the situation, any warm drink was good for him. After the first sip he exhaled in pleasure, feeling soft warmth throughout his body. But he grew nervous upon seeing England's darkened face.
“I hope you make yourself at home,” he said, sarcastically, even mockingly. “Let's get serious. What do you want from me now? You're bored and you need somebody to play with? Or, you involved me in a stupid bet again?”
America set the cup aside and lowered his eyes, unable to keep his head up. “It's not what you think,” he mumbled. “It's true that I lost the bet. But as the days have passed, I realized that on that day in particular, I lost something even more important…” Upon saying this, he raised his eyes again, this time towards England.
England now looked at him with curiosity. America's eyes were anguished, almost begging. And normally England would have given up to those intense blue eyes, but in that moment, his heart and his pride were too hurt to allow that. Gathering strength, he hardened once again. And avoiding America's look, he softly replied, “You can't expect for me to believe what you're saying, America…I trusted you once. And I gave everything on my part, but you betrayed that trust. Now, I don't know if there will be a day when I can believe in you again…”
America's lips slightly opened, trying to form words. But the lump in his throat made him unable to say anything. So he stood in front of England, a knee on the floor. Taking his hands, and with quivering voice, he muttered, “I-I know you won't believe me, England, but it's true, I…I really love---”
“Don't. Don't say it, America,” England replied weakly. “I already told you, I can't believe in your words anymore…”
America's chest clenched upon hearing this, and his eyes burned, threatening with letting tears fall in any moment. What could he do now? He had managed to make it there, just to leave empty handed…?
I can't believe in your words anymore, England had said. Maybe, if he could find the way to express what he felt, without using words…?
England wasn't looking at America anymore, his eyes were lost on some point of the floor. Then, he felt warm hands on his face that gently made him raise his eyes again towards America.
Slowly, America placed a shy kiss over England's forehead. Seeing that he closed his eyes without offering resistance, America felt encouraged and he started to softly cover England’s face with chaste kisses. Some of them fleeting and barely brushing the skin, other gentle and warm and longer lasting. America kissed his cheeks, the point of his nose, the joint of his eyebrows…sometimes, he also brushed the edges of his mouth, as if asking for an invitation to enter. Time seemed to have stopped while America continued his task of placing one kiss after another on the face of his beloved one.
He finally stopped, and he opened his eyes to find England's emerald eyes fixed on his own ones. They didn't looked dull and cold anymore, now they were faintly shining, while a soft blush on his cheeks emphasized the green of his eyes.
England's sadness and disappointment had made their way to a nice sensation in his chest. Then, he carefully surveyed America's eyes, looking for some sign that could make him doubt what he had just felt.
But America was the type of person that, no matter what he did or said, his eyes always betrayed him. Those blue sky eyes had always been too honest, and England had learned too well to see through them. And those very same blue eyes were now looking at him full of love and adoration, as they did when America was a child. But there was a difference. These eyes now looked at him as an equal. These eyes not only made him feel loved and admired, but also desired and needed.
A minute passed with both of them looking in each other’s eyes without saying a word, but to America it felt like an eternity. Finally, he lowered his eyes and tried to stand up, thinking he had failed. But he felt himself being grabbed by the shoulders. And without letting another second pass, England took America's lips, melting them in a soft but determined kiss. It was so sudden, that America didn't know how to react; but once he realized what was happening, he felt his chest exploding of happiness, and he opened his mouth, giving access to England.
England's mouth tasted like tea and burnt scones. But America didn't mind; the feeling of holding England in his arms was too overwhelming to let himself to think on that detail. They were running out of air, but this just caused them to intensify the kiss, looking to make up for the lack of air with the friction of their bodies. Cheeks, hair, backs… their hands tried to touch as much as possible. Their tongues intertwined in a game of caresses, and their hands kept trying to cling to the body of the other as if fearing that everything was just a dream that would end as soon as they opened their eyes.
But it wasn't a dream, and when both nations separated from each other, already breathless and weakly opening their eyes. A flushed America with shining eyes let his head fall onto England's shoulder, whimpering silently.
"A-America? What's wrong?" England exclaimed upon feeling America shudder under his arms.
With a choked voice, America replied, "I...I thought you hated me, that you wouldn't want to be with me again, and I..."
"Ssshh," hushed England. He started to gently stroke America's head, noticing that his shoulder was growing moist from America’s tears. "Don't be silly, you know I couldn't hate you...I love you, remember? That's not something I could change in a couple of days. Not even in two thousand years..."
Upon hearing that, America smiled, and slowly, he started to calm down. For a while, they remained in silence just embracing each other, America being lulled by England; until the silence was interrupted with a hearty laugh from America.
“W-What's so funny?” England replied, surprised.
America raised his head, and chuckled while wiping away the tears from his eyes. “It seems so unreal…you just kissed me, and you said you loved me, and, God, I feel so damn happy I'd---“ He couldn't end the sentence, because he was interrupted by a small sneeze.
England sighed. He had to admit that America's current look, with wet hair and slightly blushed cheeks, made him look rather cute, but also really desirable. And considering that it was still early, use the night in a better way was not a bad idea, but England didn't want to be the one to blame if America ended up sick and bedridden for a week.
So, making use of a great will, he used his best scolding expression. “If you don't want to see me angry again, you'd better go immediately to sleep, young boy. You've already been too irresponsible with your body for today.”
America didn't seem disappointed, instead, he gave a big grin. “Would you read me a story so I can sleep, Engwand?” he asked with puppy eyes.
England rolled his eyes “…Git,” he mumbled while frowning, giving America a smack on his head. But he was far from mad; he leapt on England, giving him a big bear hug, to which England couldn't hide the smile on his face.
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The World Conference was a disaster, as always. Veneziano sat at one corner whining and begging for pasta, and being scolded by Romano while Germany could already feel his imminent headache. The other nations agreed that it was already time to eat, and while they discussed which one of their typical dishes was the most fit for the occasion, Belgium had started to prepare French Fries (causing the air to gain a strong oil smell), and Russia said to whoever had the bad luck to be near him, that the best way to make that type of decisions was to have everybody become one with him.
In the middle of the food discussion, America started to complain about how disgusting English roast beef was, being supported by a hyperventilated Australia, and by a silent nod from Canada. England jumped, outraged, arguing that his roast beef was the best due to being the original one, and that anyways, he wouldn't cook because undoubtedly the other nations lacked the delicate palate needed to taste it. Then he ended up mumbling something about ungrateful colonies with bad taste.
But this time, England didn't leave the room, because America was strongly holding his wrist, looking intensely at him, smiling. With a soft blush on his cheeks, he sat again.
America approached England's ear and whispered “If it's made by you, I'll make the effort to eat it, no matter how burnt it is...” England just reacted by blushing even more. "But you'd have to take care of me if I got sick to my stomach."
“You wanker,” he mumbled with a tiny smile on his lips.
“Yes, I love you too.” America chuckled.
And while the other nations were still having their food fight, nobody noticed a certain couple that remained in their seats, intertwining their fingers and holding hands under the table, completely unaware of what was happening around them.
Nobody, except for an Asian nation that was seated in front of them.
“Japan? China's brewing a really good tea, won't you taste it?” said Hungary, approaching Japan with curiosity, after seeing that he remained impassive on his chair, not participating in the discussion.
While Japan was lost in his thoughts, those words caused him to come back to his senses. “Ah, Hungary-san…I was thinking…that there's some truth to that saying 'he who laughs last, laughs best.' Or rather, victory's sweeter when you taste it in the end…”
Hungary tried to follow Japan's eyes, attempting to discover the meaning of his words. Until she finally saw the couple, and sighed. “I'm glad for them, Japan…but for us, it's too late. We already lost the bet!”
“I'm not talking about the bet, Hungary-san. In fact, I think we can get back the lost money with no problems. With your talent, my skills, and the indirect help of our friends America and England, we can do great things. After all, Comiket can be a real gold mine…”
Hungary finally understood the meaning of Japan's words, and mischievously, she replied. “You know what, Japan…I think this could be the beginning of a long and fruitful friendship.”
“Without any doubt, Hungary-san…”
Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
Genre: Comedy, Romance
Rating: PG-13
Characters, Pairings: America/England, France, Japan, Hungary. A bit of Canada, Seychelles, Spain, Switzerland, and mentions of other countries.
Words: 5.025
Summary: France challenges America to be nice to England for a month. Things turn out better than expected for America, and other nations find themselves doing the impossible to make America win or lose the bet...
Notes: Written for
hetaliasunshine 2009. Many thanks to haro for beta check ♥ To invite England, America had decided not to use the phone. Instead, he sent in advance an elegant invitation by mail, printed on very expensive paper, whence he suggested that the reason for their meeting was to celebrate the good state of the relationship the United States and the United Kingdom. The exquisite detail of the invitation caused England to let escape a sound of contentment, while his stubborn heart was already beating at full speed.
And the day came. The month was about to end in three days, so America thought it was a good idea to celebrate his already imminent victory on the bet. That day, he arrived five minutes in advance to the threshold of England's house, wearing an impeccable navy blue suit, and by Japan's insistence, carrying a bouquet of geraniums.
When England came to the door, America held his breath for a moment. He was wearing a dark green suit that complimented his eyes perfectly, and his cheeks were softly pink. America had to contain the sudden urge he felt to leap upon England and kiss him breathless. Swallowing the lump he felt in his throat, he handed the flower bouquet, also paying giving him a compliment as to how nice he looked. England couldn't help but feeling a little disappointed, seeing that America had picked flowers that meant friendship, but the gesture itself made his stomach burst into dancing butterflies.
"Let's go?" America proclaimed, holding out his arm to England. He grabbed it, giving a hint of a smile.
In the meanwhile, in another place in the city, Japan was tuning out details.
"Hungary-san, did you bring the reinforcements I requested of you?"
Hungary nodded, and stepped aside to present the new acquisition to the team. But Japan went pale upon seeing her.
"S-Seychelles?!" he exclaimed. If Seychelles knew about this, it would mean that France would know as well...
"I know what you're thinking, Japan, and let me tell you you're mistaken!" Seychelles stated with a big smile. "I bet against France, so I'm on your side. Besides, there are some suspicions I'd like to confirm..." she added in a mysterious tone.
Japan was observing her, surprised and unsure of what to think. Hungary, who seemed to know what Seychelles was planning, just gave a big smile. Finally, Japan gave up; he couldn’t find any reason to mistrust Seychelles. "Fine, Seychelles-san. You can join the group." He sighed.
Japan checked the program. In that very moment America and England should be on the way to the river. He cleared his throat, and he addressed the girls. "The instructions are simple. Don't lose sight of America and England, and let me know of any suspicious movement. Is that clear?"
Both girls nodded, and they set out.
The day passed without setbacks. America took England first to walk along the bank of the Thames, resisting the urge to grab his hand. Then, they went through several museums, finally making their way to the Royal Opera House. And in every moment, they were staunchly watched by Japan, Hungary and Seychelles. Hungary seemed especially excited by the signs America showed of wanting to do something more, but stoically resisting.
After arriving at the Opera House, Japan immediately recognized Spain despite his disguise. He was behind a counter, serving coffee. He seemed to genuinely be enjoying it. He served everyone with a big smile, and he didn't lose a chance to flatter the ladies.
Amérique will undoubtedly come looking for his coffee dose, otherwise, he won't be able to stay awake during the performance, France had said. So Spain's mission was precisely that; to make America fall asleep. He would put sleeping pills in the coffee to obtain this result. As for France, he had gone somewhere else already, saying something about hoping to not to have to use his final card.
"I'll take care of him!" exclaimed Seychelles, now also conveniently disguised. She approached the counter with her best smile.
"Can I help you, señorita?" Spain smiled.
"I want cup of coffee! And, could it be that cute cup you have back there?" she said pointing out the cup Spain had prepared for America.
"Ah..." Spain hesitated. "Are you sure you don't want one of the cute cups I have right here?"
"No, no, I like that one." Seychelles grinned.
Spain couldn't refuse such a smile. Oh well, he would have to prepare another for America. Once the coffee was served, he gave it to Seychelles, praying that the poor girl wouldn't feel the effects of the pills during the performance.
But before receiving it, Seychelles exclaimed using her best puppy eyes: "Could you please taste it? I wouldn't want to scald myself..."
"Uhm, sure..." Spain said, slightly trembling, and he took a sip of coffee.
It seemed that he had exaggerated the dose. Instantly, Spain fell like a log to the floor. Then Japan and Hungary got out of their hiding place, and pretending to be nurses, they took Spain away while asking the other people to stay calm.
When Spain woke up, he was on the floor of a place that looked like a storage room, tied from hands to feet, and surrounded by Japan, Hungary and Seychelles. "Hey guys, these ropes are a bit tight...could you please loose them a little?"
"If you cooperate, Spain-san, it will be better for you and for us. Now, answer our questions."
"I'll go first," said Seychelles. "Spain, why is France doing all of this? And don't tell me it's because of the bet, since I don't believe it..."
"Well, if you ask me, I'd say he's jealous. What he’s wanting most, is to prevent America from confessing to England. But I must say that---"
"Don't say anymore, Spain." Seychelles stopped him. "I thank you for the information; I already have what I needed to know," she mumbled in a dark tone.
"Now it's my turn," said Japan. "Spain-san, let's finish quickly with this. Where is France?"
Spain swallowed hard. "He said he was going to a restaurant. Chéz Pierre, I think it was...uh, guys?"
Japan, Hungary and Seychelles were already out, leaving behind a tied Spain. "Guys? If I arrive home late, Romano will kill me... listen to me? GUYS?!"
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At the restaurant, everything was turning out wonderfully. The meal had been perfect, and now America and England were laughing enthusiastically, remembering old times.
"And, do you remember that time when you cooked, and the house almost burned down? The smell of burnt food stayed for more than a month!" America burst out laughing.
"I remember it," England stated. "The next time I tried to cook, you had prepared a bucket full of water to put out the fire." He chuckled. But then, his face saddened.
"England? Is something the matter, did I say something bad?" America asked, worried.
"It's nothing..." England mumbled, shaking his head. But he reconsidered it, and with quivering voice he asked, "Did you really eat my scones...out of pity?"
So England was still affected by the scones comment. What had seemed funny before, now he found it really cute. He shook his head and answered, "I know that I often say nasty things, but I don’t really mean them. About your scones, it's true that they're not very tasty."He stopped for a moment, but after seeing England's hurt look; he stretched his arm to put his hand over England's hand. "...But I always made an effort to eat them, because I knew how happy that made you."
England looked down. "Is...is that true?"
America nodded. A little embarrassed, he continued talking. "I've always liked England's smile. It makes me happy to see it, and I think your smile makes you look...I mean, that smile's so...beautiful..."
America now was deeply flushed. He had already opened his heart enough for a day; he couldn't admit that overall, he did indeed think that England was beautiful, especially when he smiled. And with or without bet, America was now determined to make England to keep that beautiful smile. Even better, if it was reserved just for him.
Shyly, England raised his eyes. "America, I want you to know, that this day has been great. The best I've had in a long time. I don't know what to say really; you've been so good with me lately, and it feels so wonderful..."
His face also looked flushed, and he gave America a small smile. The sweetest one he had ever seen. America's heart started to furiously beat out of emotion. Now he was sure he wanted to do what he intended to. He wouldn't stop to think on the consequences, he would simply let out once for all that feeling that oppressed his chest and that wasn't allowing him to live in peace.
"England..." America leaned over the table, taking both of England's hands and holding them between his own hands. "There's something I must tell you."
"America...?" England looked at him surprised, while America was cutting down the distance between them.
Now their faces were separated by just a few inches. "I want you to know, that I..." He could already feel England’s breath brushing his lips. Just a little more...
"Magnifique!" a powerful voice exclaimed from the other side of the room. "Ah, mes amis, enjoying your romantic evening?"
In that moment America clenched his fits, containing his urge to beat a certain impertinent French man. Such bad luck, was it even possible? To meet him at that very same moment and place?
England didn't seem very happy with the interruption either. "France, what a joy to see you," he stated sarcastically and frowning. "Is there something with which we can help you? Because if there isn't, we'd be really grateful if you'd be so kind to leave us alone."
"Don't worry, petit Angleterre; I'll be brief." France smirked. "I just wanted to say hello. and how's that bet going, dear Amérique...?"
Hearing this, America went pale. What was France up to, mentioning the bet in front of England? "I don't know what you're talking about, France..." he replied in a dark tone.
"Mon Dieu, what a poor memory!" France exclaimed, feigning surprise. "I'm talking about the bet we started a month ago. Tell me, how did you do. Treating Angleterre well, I guess...?"
England looked to both of them, disconcerted and without understanding as to what was happening. America, however, was looking down and clenching his fists.
It was England who talked first. "France, would you care to explain what you're talking about?"
"Ah, Amérique didn't tell you anything about this? What a shame!" he exclaimed, feigning surprise again. "Maybe I can enlighten you with this,” he added, handing a paper to England.
America's eyes grew wide. It was the contract, now being carefully read by England. After finishing, England raised his eyes, reflecting the mixed feelings he had in that moment. Confusion, disappointment, a bit of sadness...
"What does this mean, America...?" he asked with pleading eyes. England seemed to still hold a little hope that everything could be just be France’s joke, and he looked at America expectantly, hoping he’d finally decide to say that everything was just a big lie.
But America stood silent. His hands were trembling, and his lips were pressed together so tightly they turned white. Finally, he spoke in a barely audible voice. "I...that contract...I can explain it..." And shyly, he raised his head to look at England.
The last thing he saw was England's green eyes deeply hurt and about to cry. But he couldn’t see anything else, because in that moment England closed his eyes, frowning and he quickly stood up to leave.
America stood up as well, and he jumped towards England. "England, wait!! It's not what you think, let me explain it to you!" he yelled, anguished.
"There's nothing to explain. Don't you dare look for me, America; the last thing I want to see right now, is your face."
"If only you could listen to me for a moment..." and saying this, America firmly grabbed England by his wrist. But England didn't want to hear anything else, and in a sudden movement, he jerked away from America's hand. He stared at America, no longer with the kind expression from before, but with cold and threatening eyes.
"Don't touch me, America. I've heard enough,” he stated with venom in his voice. Turning around, he added. "I must admit that I am at fault as well. I don't know what I was thinking, falling in love with you..."
Saying this, he took his jacket he left, to take the first taxi he found. And once inside, he couldn't contain himself; with his face between his hands, he started to cry bitterly.
England's last words froze America's heart. It took him a moment to react, to finally run towards the door. But it was already too late; England was already too far away. America felt too numb to move, or even to get angry with France. He just stood there for a long time, looking towards the direction the taxi had taken. As if wishing for a miracle could bring it back.
Inside the restaurant, France sighed and sat on the table, holding between his fingers what was left of America's wine glass. "You should have realized from the beginning that petit Angleterre could never be yours. À votre santé, cher Amérique." And with a big grin, he drank what was in the glass in a single sip.
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When Japan, Hungary, and Seychelles arrived at the restaurant, America had already left the place. France was still there; apparently, it seemed like a good idea to him to take the chance of celebrating his victory with a succulent dinner. It wasn't hard to make him talk about what had just happened, but as soon as he finished, he had to face a strong slap generously given by Seychelles.
No one heard from France for a few weeks; according to the last thing Japan managed to hear from Seychelles, she would take care of teaching him a lesson. Apparently, France was currently going out with Seychelles, so she couldn't hide her anger upon realizing that France still couldn't get over his obsession with England.
Hungary advised to not to investigate what Seychelles was up to; in her experience, the apparently sweet Seychelles could easily compete against Belarus if provoked. Months later, when America and France would meet again, France would say that the contract was null and that he could forget about the bet and its conditions, and then he followed that up by running away terrified when Seychelles appeared at the end of the hallway.
The news about the outcome of the bet passed fast among the participating nations. Very soon, there were celebrations in several places, although someone that didn't want to celebrate was Switzerland. It turned out that in the end, he didn't gain any profit from the bet; Liechtenstein had bet a considerable amount of money in favor of America, nearly equivalent to the amount won with fees. In the end, Switzerland hadn't won a single cent at all. After that, for a long time, Switzerland threatened with shotguns anyone with the guts to say the word "bet" in his presence...
Some nations even dared to call America by phone, thanking him for having allowed them to win the bet. America would just hang up without saying a word; to be honest; he wasn't even in the mood to reply with the string of rude words that came to his mind with every one of those calls.
For several days, America's only concern was to try to contact England. But it was impossible: England didn't reply to emails, or phone calls, and he had left explicit instructions with the government building to not to redirect him any call coming from America.
America was already getting desperate. Not only did he want to solve the problem soon, but he was also surprised as to how much he missed England. Finally, one day, he couldn't take it anymore. Carrying only his bomber jacket, he prepared himself to take the first plane to the United Kingdom.
In London, America cursed his bad luck and his idea of coming with nothing. The rain falling over the city was torrential, and given the hour it was, chances of getting an umbrella were slim. So he closed his jacket the best he could, and he set off to England's house. Not without wondering for a second, if perhaps he was the one to blame for such terrible weather...
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Sitting next to a window with an absent look, England was watching the rain fall. Lately, not even tea tasted as always, and domestic things like embroidery couldn't distract him anymore. So, when he wasn’t able to keep his mind busy with work, he passed long hours looking out the window and remembering better times.
It was then that he heard knocks on his door. Knocks that rather seemed like slams. Groaning and unwillingly, England stood up to open the door. He wondered who could a big enough idiot that they didn't knew how to ring a bell, and above everything, who was crazy enough to drop by his house with such terrible weather.
England never expected to see what he saw at the other side of the door. America soaked to his bones, slightly frowning and lips tightly pressed. A hard to read expression; one could say he was like that because of the rain falling on him, or because of how tense he was.
Finally, America gathered strength and he talked. “Uh, hi, England…nice weather, uh?” He laughed nervously.
England surveyed him from head to toe. Looking at him derogatively, and crossing his arms, he dryly replied. “I thought I said I didn't want to see your face around here, America… wasn't I clear enough?”
America felt a shudder, not sure if it was because of the cold weather, or because of England's green eyes that almost appeared to be releasing sparks of hate. He swallowed, rubbing his arms insistently, he finally found his voice. “I-I was just passing around here,”- unwillingly, his body started to shake- “but if it's a nuisance for you, I can—“
He couldn't finish the sentence, because he started to cough compulsively. Bending his body, America did his best to cover his mouth and to stop his spasm. When he managed to breath again, he weakly raised his eyes, to find that England had his sight fixed upon America.
It wasn't any longer the sharp look of just a moment before; his thick eyebrows were raised giving him a strange expression. That in his eyes, was it worry?
Finally England sighed, and he firmly grabbed America by his forearm. “You'd better get inside, or else you'll end catching pneumonia…” And with this, he dragged him inside of the house.
Inside, the temperature was far more pleasant, but America was still slightly shivering. So England took him to the living room, where he gave him some dry towels, and he went to the kitchen to make some tea. England appeared quite conflicted, he didn't say a single word, but his eyes reflected the concern he felt. But, once the tea was served, he remembered where he stood again and frowned.
America wasn't really satisfied by drinking tea, but given the situation, any warm drink was good for him. After the first sip he exhaled in pleasure, feeling soft warmth throughout his body. But he grew nervous upon seeing England's darkened face.
“I hope you make yourself at home,” he said, sarcastically, even mockingly. “Let's get serious. What do you want from me now? You're bored and you need somebody to play with? Or, you involved me in a stupid bet again?”
America set the cup aside and lowered his eyes, unable to keep his head up. “It's not what you think,” he mumbled. “It's true that I lost the bet. But as the days have passed, I realized that on that day in particular, I lost something even more important…” Upon saying this, he raised his eyes again, this time towards England.
England now looked at him with curiosity. America's eyes were anguished, almost begging. And normally England would have given up to those intense blue eyes, but in that moment, his heart and his pride were too hurt to allow that. Gathering strength, he hardened once again. And avoiding America's look, he softly replied, “You can't expect for me to believe what you're saying, America…I trusted you once. And I gave everything on my part, but you betrayed that trust. Now, I don't know if there will be a day when I can believe in you again…”
America's lips slightly opened, trying to form words. But the lump in his throat made him unable to say anything. So he stood in front of England, a knee on the floor. Taking his hands, and with quivering voice, he muttered, “I-I know you won't believe me, England, but it's true, I…I really love---”
“Don't. Don't say it, America,” England replied weakly. “I already told you, I can't believe in your words anymore…”
America's chest clenched upon hearing this, and his eyes burned, threatening with letting tears fall in any moment. What could he do now? He had managed to make it there, just to leave empty handed…?
I can't believe in your words anymore, England had said. Maybe, if he could find the way to express what he felt, without using words…?
England wasn't looking at America anymore, his eyes were lost on some point of the floor. Then, he felt warm hands on his face that gently made him raise his eyes again towards America.
Slowly, America placed a shy kiss over England's forehead. Seeing that he closed his eyes without offering resistance, America felt encouraged and he started to softly cover England’s face with chaste kisses. Some of them fleeting and barely brushing the skin, other gentle and warm and longer lasting. America kissed his cheeks, the point of his nose, the joint of his eyebrows…sometimes, he also brushed the edges of his mouth, as if asking for an invitation to enter. Time seemed to have stopped while America continued his task of placing one kiss after another on the face of his beloved one.
He finally stopped, and he opened his eyes to find England's emerald eyes fixed on his own ones. They didn't looked dull and cold anymore, now they were faintly shining, while a soft blush on his cheeks emphasized the green of his eyes.
England's sadness and disappointment had made their way to a nice sensation in his chest. Then, he carefully surveyed America's eyes, looking for some sign that could make him doubt what he had just felt.
But America was the type of person that, no matter what he did or said, his eyes always betrayed him. Those blue sky eyes had always been too honest, and England had learned too well to see through them. And those very same blue eyes were now looking at him full of love and adoration, as they did when America was a child. But there was a difference. These eyes now looked at him as an equal. These eyes not only made him feel loved and admired, but also desired and needed.
A minute passed with both of them looking in each other’s eyes without saying a word, but to America it felt like an eternity. Finally, he lowered his eyes and tried to stand up, thinking he had failed. But he felt himself being grabbed by the shoulders. And without letting another second pass, England took America's lips, melting them in a soft but determined kiss. It was so sudden, that America didn't know how to react; but once he realized what was happening, he felt his chest exploding of happiness, and he opened his mouth, giving access to England.
England's mouth tasted like tea and burnt scones. But America didn't mind; the feeling of holding England in his arms was too overwhelming to let himself to think on that detail. They were running out of air, but this just caused them to intensify the kiss, looking to make up for the lack of air with the friction of their bodies. Cheeks, hair, backs… their hands tried to touch as much as possible. Their tongues intertwined in a game of caresses, and their hands kept trying to cling to the body of the other as if fearing that everything was just a dream that would end as soon as they opened their eyes.
But it wasn't a dream, and when both nations separated from each other, already breathless and weakly opening their eyes. A flushed America with shining eyes let his head fall onto England's shoulder, whimpering silently.
"A-America? What's wrong?" England exclaimed upon feeling America shudder under his arms.
With a choked voice, America replied, "I...I thought you hated me, that you wouldn't want to be with me again, and I..."
"Ssshh," hushed England. He started to gently stroke America's head, noticing that his shoulder was growing moist from America’s tears. "Don't be silly, you know I couldn't hate you...I love you, remember? That's not something I could change in a couple of days. Not even in two thousand years..."
Upon hearing that, America smiled, and slowly, he started to calm down. For a while, they remained in silence just embracing each other, America being lulled by England; until the silence was interrupted with a hearty laugh from America.
“W-What's so funny?” England replied, surprised.
America raised his head, and chuckled while wiping away the tears from his eyes. “It seems so unreal…you just kissed me, and you said you loved me, and, God, I feel so damn happy I'd---“ He couldn't end the sentence, because he was interrupted by a small sneeze.
England sighed. He had to admit that America's current look, with wet hair and slightly blushed cheeks, made him look rather cute, but also really desirable. And considering that it was still early, use the night in a better way was not a bad idea, but England didn't want to be the one to blame if America ended up sick and bedridden for a week.
So, making use of a great will, he used his best scolding expression. “If you don't want to see me angry again, you'd better go immediately to sleep, young boy. You've already been too irresponsible with your body for today.”
America didn't seem disappointed, instead, he gave a big grin. “Would you read me a story so I can sleep, Engwand?” he asked with puppy eyes.
England rolled his eyes “…Git,” he mumbled while frowning, giving America a smack on his head. But he was far from mad; he leapt on England, giving him a big bear hug, to which England couldn't hide the smile on his face.
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The World Conference was a disaster, as always. Veneziano sat at one corner whining and begging for pasta, and being scolded by Romano while Germany could already feel his imminent headache. The other nations agreed that it was already time to eat, and while they discussed which one of their typical dishes was the most fit for the occasion, Belgium had started to prepare French Fries (causing the air to gain a strong oil smell), and Russia said to whoever had the bad luck to be near him, that the best way to make that type of decisions was to have everybody become one with him.
In the middle of the food discussion, America started to complain about how disgusting English roast beef was, being supported by a hyperventilated Australia, and by a silent nod from Canada. England jumped, outraged, arguing that his roast beef was the best due to being the original one, and that anyways, he wouldn't cook because undoubtedly the other nations lacked the delicate palate needed to taste it. Then he ended up mumbling something about ungrateful colonies with bad taste.
But this time, England didn't leave the room, because America was strongly holding his wrist, looking intensely at him, smiling. With a soft blush on his cheeks, he sat again.
America approached England's ear and whispered “If it's made by you, I'll make the effort to eat it, no matter how burnt it is...” England just reacted by blushing even more. "But you'd have to take care of me if I got sick to my stomach."
“You wanker,” he mumbled with a tiny smile on his lips.
“Yes, I love you too.” America chuckled.
And while the other nations were still having their food fight, nobody noticed a certain couple that remained in their seats, intertwining their fingers and holding hands under the table, completely unaware of what was happening around them.
Nobody, except for an Asian nation that was seated in front of them.
“Japan? China's brewing a really good tea, won't you taste it?” said Hungary, approaching Japan with curiosity, after seeing that he remained impassive on his chair, not participating in the discussion.
While Japan was lost in his thoughts, those words caused him to come back to his senses. “Ah, Hungary-san…I was thinking…that there's some truth to that saying 'he who laughs last, laughs best.' Or rather, victory's sweeter when you taste it in the end…”
Hungary tried to follow Japan's eyes, attempting to discover the meaning of his words. Until she finally saw the couple, and sighed. “I'm glad for them, Japan…but for us, it's too late. We already lost the bet!”
“I'm not talking about the bet, Hungary-san. In fact, I think we can get back the lost money with no problems. With your talent, my skills, and the indirect help of our friends America and England, we can do great things. After all, Comiket can be a real gold mine…”
Hungary finally understood the meaning of Japan's words, and mischievously, she replied. “You know what, Japan…I think this could be the beginning of a long and fruitful friendship.”
“Without any doubt, Hungary-san…”