[Fic] On a Cold Winter Night
My fic for the Secret Santa exchange over at usxuk.
Title: On a Cold Winter Night
Characters/Pairings: USUK
Rating/Warnings: PG, Fluff
Summary: After losing his luggage at the airport, England gets caught in a snowstorm. Luckily he has America to warm him up.
The wind whistled around England’s ears, blowing at his coat, piercing every uncovered bit of skin with its icy breath. He skidded to a halt on the slush covered sidewalk, shivered, and burrowed his hands further into this (too light for this weather, he’s starting to realize) jacket before putting on his famous stiff upper lip and continuing the trek to America’s house, freezing rain and snow and sleet be damned.
Damn airport for losing his luggage, where he had packed all of his warmer clothes, positive he’d be able to access it before he had to face the American winter in the light business clothing he had worn in Australia’s summer heat. Damn the taxi for only dropping him off several long, excruciating blocks away from America’s house simply because he didn’t have enough money for the rest of the fare because, like an idiot, he’d stored his wallet in his luggage bag and only had a few American dollars on him. Damn America and his freezing, frosty, cold, far too cold winters for being so damn cold.
Step by step he crunched through the mounds of snow that were building up on the sidewalk, seeping into his shoes and socks and making every step feel like lead. His toes were numb, his fingers were numb, his face was numb, by this point his everything was numb, but still he pressed forward. He knew at the end of this journey, he’d have his reward.
As England turned the final corner he saw it, halfway down the block, the house smothered in the gaudy Christmas lights of every shape, size, and color they could make them in. Usually he would scoff and make a comment about America overcompensating, but right now in his frozen state the house with its bright lights was a beacon leading him to the home of his beloved.
He stumbled the last few meters across the snow covered path, feet icy, barely able to support his weight, and up the front steps as he knocked his cold knuckles against the door. He waited, shivering violently, thoughts of America and warm tea and America keeping him from collapsing where he stood.
When America did throw the door open, with a confused “England, what-” he found the appropriate response to be collapsing into his embrace, closing his eyes to just bask in his warmth.
“England,” he felt America wrap an arm tightly around him and shut the door, shutting out the last of the cold and the wind and leaving England wrapped in America’s heat, “you’re freezing dude. Why are you wearing such a light jacket? You should know by now it gets cold at my house this time of year.”
“Airport lost luggage, not enough money for taxi, so cold…” he shivered and snuggled closer America.
“You should have told me you were coming,” America sighed and kissed the top of his head, “I would have picked you up.”
“W-wanted to surprise you,” England’s teeth chattered as he hugged his love tighter, “so bloody cold…”
“Yeah, when this side of the planet tilts away from the sun it does that.”
“Your house,” England buried his nose into the sweatshirt America was wearing in a failing attempt to keep off the cold that was penetrating everywhere. It wasn’t as bad as outside in the snow, but it was far from what he needed at that moment.
“Sorry, trying to cut back on the heating bills,” America kissed his head again in apology, “Why don’t you go upstairs, take a shower to warm yourself up a bit, and change into something of mine that’s dry?”
England nodded, but made no move to leave his arms. America sighed and scooped him up, carrying him bridal style up the stairs. Rather than complain or scoff or fidget like he normally would have, England simply wrapped his arms around America’s neck, trying to get as close as possible to his only source of warmth.
America dropped him off on his bed and went into the bathroom to start the shower. England shivered as his source of heat left him and he tried to curl into himself, but was stopped by his wet clothes clinging to him. Frustrated, he unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off, shivering even more now that he was shirtless, and tossed the garment aside, not caring where it landed. America emerged from the bathroom and went over to his closet to pull out dry clothes as England removed his pants. When their tasks were done, America handed England an extra pair of flannel pajamas and kissed his forehead.
“I’ll go start a fire in the fireplace downstairs to warm things up a bit for you. Take as long as you need.”
With that he left the room, closing the door behind him. England shivered in the cold that America had left behind and slunk into the bathroom, grateful to discover that the heat from the shower was already encompassing the room quite nicely. He quickly removed his boxers and stepped into the shower, burning water stinging his cold limbs. After adjusting the temperature to a bearable level, England relaxed, forgoing the cleaning himself part of the shower and simply enjoying the warmth enveloping him. After too few pleasant moments of this however, the water started to turn cold, causing the chill to once again permeate his body. England adjusted the temperature accordingly to no avail; the warm water had run out.
Frustrated, England turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, quickly changing into the flannel pajamas America picked out for him, a bit large but warm. He backtracked upon leaving the bathroom to grab America’s bathrobe and put that on as well. It was large, fluffy, and still smelled a bit like his love. Content for now, England took off down the stairs to find America.
The plush, carpeted stairs were a blessing on his bare feet, especially in contrast to the hard, tiled floor once he left the steps. Shivering once more, England pulled the robe tighter around him and peeked into the kitchen. The lights were off and America was nowhere to be seen, but he could hear the rumble of the dishwasher running. Rolling his eyes, England shuffled out of the kitchen and continued wandering around America’s freezing house. Of all the times for the boy to suddenly become concerned about his finances, why did it have to be when he was visiting and cold?
England sneezed, loud and echoing in the empty house, and heard the responding “Bless you” from America in the next room. He rounded the corner to find him putting the finishing touches on a roaring fire. He put the grate back in place and stepped back to admire his work for a moment before turning to face England with a smile on his face. This morphed into a more sheepish grin when he took in his wet hair, disgruntled expression, and tapping foot.
“Oh hey, so I started the dishwasher and it completely slipped my mind that it would steal the hot water from your shower. But look,” he grabbed to mugs full of a steaming liquid on the nearby table and handed one to England, “I made hot chocolate. And a fire. And I got a bunch of blankets so we can just cuddle by the fire all night or until you warm up or whatever.”
England rolled his eyes and sauntered over to the couch, sitting as close to the fire as he could, curling his feet under him to keep them warm and clutching his hot chocolate as tight as he could. America came over and wrapped several blankets around him before grabbing one of his own and curling up on the opposite side of the couch. England glanced over, sipping his drink as he watched America fiddle with his own, sporting that pouty look on his face he usually had whenever he did something wrong and didn’t know how to fix it.
England chuckled, he wasn’t that upset about the shower, and really, there were other, better ways of getting warm. As America looked up he opened his cocoon of blankets as an invitation. America grinned and eagerly took him up on it by placing his hot chocolate on the table, scooting across the couch and grabbing the end of the blanket to wrap around both of them. England put his mug on the end table and shifted around under the blankets until he was comfortably sitting in America’s lap, leaning back into his broad chest, America’s arms surrounding him, keeping the blankets around them and the pervading cold out, making him feel safe, secure, and truly warm for the first time since he left the airport.
“Hey,” America whispered in his ear as he leaned forward to hold him even tighter, “I’m glad you came.”
England sighed and snuggled further into his love and let America’s ever present heat envelope him completely. Yes, despite everything else, he was here now.
“I’m glad I did too.”
Title: On a Cold Winter Night
Characters/Pairings: USUK
Rating/Warnings: PG, Fluff
Summary: After losing his luggage at the airport, England gets caught in a snowstorm. Luckily he has America to warm him up.
The wind whistled around England’s ears, blowing at his coat, piercing every uncovered bit of skin with its icy breath. He skidded to a halt on the slush covered sidewalk, shivered, and burrowed his hands further into this (too light for this weather, he’s starting to realize) jacket before putting on his famous stiff upper lip and continuing the trek to America’s house, freezing rain and snow and sleet be damned.
Damn airport for losing his luggage, where he had packed all of his warmer clothes, positive he’d be able to access it before he had to face the American winter in the light business clothing he had worn in Australia’s summer heat. Damn the taxi for only dropping him off several long, excruciating blocks away from America’s house simply because he didn’t have enough money for the rest of the fare because, like an idiot, he’d stored his wallet in his luggage bag and only had a few American dollars on him. Damn America and his freezing, frosty, cold, far too cold winters for being so damn cold.
Step by step he crunched through the mounds of snow that were building up on the sidewalk, seeping into his shoes and socks and making every step feel like lead. His toes were numb, his fingers were numb, his face was numb, by this point his everything was numb, but still he pressed forward. He knew at the end of this journey, he’d have his reward.
As England turned the final corner he saw it, halfway down the block, the house smothered in the gaudy Christmas lights of every shape, size, and color they could make them in. Usually he would scoff and make a comment about America overcompensating, but right now in his frozen state the house with its bright lights was a beacon leading him to the home of his beloved.
He stumbled the last few meters across the snow covered path, feet icy, barely able to support his weight, and up the front steps as he knocked his cold knuckles against the door. He waited, shivering violently, thoughts of America and warm tea and America keeping him from collapsing where he stood.
When America did throw the door open, with a confused “England, what-” he found the appropriate response to be collapsing into his embrace, closing his eyes to just bask in his warmth.
“England,” he felt America wrap an arm tightly around him and shut the door, shutting out the last of the cold and the wind and leaving England wrapped in America’s heat, “you’re freezing dude. Why are you wearing such a light jacket? You should know by now it gets cold at my house this time of year.”
“Airport lost luggage, not enough money for taxi, so cold…” he shivered and snuggled closer America.
“You should have told me you were coming,” America sighed and kissed the top of his head, “I would have picked you up.”
“W-wanted to surprise you,” England’s teeth chattered as he hugged his love tighter, “so bloody cold…”
“Yeah, when this side of the planet tilts away from the sun it does that.”
“Your house,” England buried his nose into the sweatshirt America was wearing in a failing attempt to keep off the cold that was penetrating everywhere. It wasn’t as bad as outside in the snow, but it was far from what he needed at that moment.
“Sorry, trying to cut back on the heating bills,” America kissed his head again in apology, “Why don’t you go upstairs, take a shower to warm yourself up a bit, and change into something of mine that’s dry?”
England nodded, but made no move to leave his arms. America sighed and scooped him up, carrying him bridal style up the stairs. Rather than complain or scoff or fidget like he normally would have, England simply wrapped his arms around America’s neck, trying to get as close as possible to his only source of warmth.
America dropped him off on his bed and went into the bathroom to start the shower. England shivered as his source of heat left him and he tried to curl into himself, but was stopped by his wet clothes clinging to him. Frustrated, he unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off, shivering even more now that he was shirtless, and tossed the garment aside, not caring where it landed. America emerged from the bathroom and went over to his closet to pull out dry clothes as England removed his pants. When their tasks were done, America handed England an extra pair of flannel pajamas and kissed his forehead.
“I’ll go start a fire in the fireplace downstairs to warm things up a bit for you. Take as long as you need.”
With that he left the room, closing the door behind him. England shivered in the cold that America had left behind and slunk into the bathroom, grateful to discover that the heat from the shower was already encompassing the room quite nicely. He quickly removed his boxers and stepped into the shower, burning water stinging his cold limbs. After adjusting the temperature to a bearable level, England relaxed, forgoing the cleaning himself part of the shower and simply enjoying the warmth enveloping him. After too few pleasant moments of this however, the water started to turn cold, causing the chill to once again permeate his body. England adjusted the temperature accordingly to no avail; the warm water had run out.
Frustrated, England turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, quickly changing into the flannel pajamas America picked out for him, a bit large but warm. He backtracked upon leaving the bathroom to grab America’s bathrobe and put that on as well. It was large, fluffy, and still smelled a bit like his love. Content for now, England took off down the stairs to find America.
The plush, carpeted stairs were a blessing on his bare feet, especially in contrast to the hard, tiled floor once he left the steps. Shivering once more, England pulled the robe tighter around him and peeked into the kitchen. The lights were off and America was nowhere to be seen, but he could hear the rumble of the dishwasher running. Rolling his eyes, England shuffled out of the kitchen and continued wandering around America’s freezing house. Of all the times for the boy to suddenly become concerned about his finances, why did it have to be when he was visiting and cold?
England sneezed, loud and echoing in the empty house, and heard the responding “Bless you” from America in the next room. He rounded the corner to find him putting the finishing touches on a roaring fire. He put the grate back in place and stepped back to admire his work for a moment before turning to face England with a smile on his face. This morphed into a more sheepish grin when he took in his wet hair, disgruntled expression, and tapping foot.
“Oh hey, so I started the dishwasher and it completely slipped my mind that it would steal the hot water from your shower. But look,” he grabbed to mugs full of a steaming liquid on the nearby table and handed one to England, “I made hot chocolate. And a fire. And I got a bunch of blankets so we can just cuddle by the fire all night or until you warm up or whatever.”
England rolled his eyes and sauntered over to the couch, sitting as close to the fire as he could, curling his feet under him to keep them warm and clutching his hot chocolate as tight as he could. America came over and wrapped several blankets around him before grabbing one of his own and curling up on the opposite side of the couch. England glanced over, sipping his drink as he watched America fiddle with his own, sporting that pouty look on his face he usually had whenever he did something wrong and didn’t know how to fix it.
England chuckled, he wasn’t that upset about the shower, and really, there were other, better ways of getting warm. As America looked up he opened his cocoon of blankets as an invitation. America grinned and eagerly took him up on it by placing his hot chocolate on the table, scooting across the couch and grabbing the end of the blanket to wrap around both of them. England put his mug on the end table and shifted around under the blankets until he was comfortably sitting in America’s lap, leaning back into his broad chest, America’s arms surrounding him, keeping the blankets around them and the pervading cold out, making him feel safe, secure, and truly warm for the first time since he left the airport.
“Hey,” America whispered in his ear as he leaned forward to hold him even tighter, “I’m glad you came.”
England sighed and snuggled further into his love and let America’s ever present heat envelope him completely. Yes, despite everything else, he was here now.
“I’m glad I did too.”