Past-Part Fills Post 1 -- CLOSED
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“Ha ha, hey, England! Wassup?”
“Wassup? Really, didn’t I teach you better than that?” There was exasperation in his voice and mannerisms, but there was what could only be described as terrified hope in his eyes.
“Ah ha ha, yeah…What are you doing here, anyway?” Just how long had he been standing there?!
“Canada invited me, and I could ask you the same thing.”
Canada. America finally tore his gaze away from England and scoured the room for his little brother. Had the little rat known about this? Had he planned it? Oh, when he got his hands on him he’d-
England clearing his throat snapped America back to the reality that England was standing right there and he’d heard him. He swallowed thickly.
“So, uh…was there something I could do for you?”
“Hmm. I was thinking I wouldn’t mind hearing you make a mockery of the rest of George’s song. Don‘t get me wrong, it‘s just that it would be a shame to not finish it, hmm?” His expression was carefully blank as he took the spot previously occupied by Canada, folding his hands in his lap expectantly.
“I…” Crap crap crap crap. It figured he’d want to hear the song America least wanted to play for him. Now that he had England’s attention, he could always play one of the other songs he had been practicing, cop out though it may be. But that hopeful look was still in his eyes and he was wringing his hands and he wanted to hear the rest of the song and-
With slightly shaky hands, he picked his guitar up from where it had fallen on the floor (no damage, he noted with relief) and continued from where he’d left off, voice quavering a little as he did.
“Somewhere in his smile, he knows…that I don’t need no other lover.” America stole a glance at England, whose expression had softened somewhat, and those hands of his were likely to twist themselves into knots with the way he was wringing them.
“Something in his style that shows me…I don’t want to leave him now, you know I believe and how.”
He chanced a smile at England, the now dreamy look on the older nation’s face immediately hardening into a stern frown. His resolve coming back, America sang the bridge with more feeling and fortitude. He felt this part of the song was particularly true.
“You’re asking me, will my love grow? I don’t know. I don’t know.”
I can’t promise you forever, England…
“You stick around now it may show. I don’t know. I don’t know.”
…but please stay by my side anyway.
He hoped the meaning could come through.
As he played the brief guitar solo, he noticed that England had apparently abandoned all pretense and was watching him with open…vulnerability. Ah yes, there it was again, but America wouldn’t screw it up this time.
“Something in the way he knows…and all I have to do is think of him.” England by this point had moved so he was right in front of America, and steadily leaning forward.
“Something in the things he shows me…”
He could only mutely watch as England delicately plucked the guitar from his hands and placed it to the side and he was getting so close. America’s heart was pounding in his ears and his throat felt thick.
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“I don’t want to leave him now-”
“You know I believe and how,” England breathlessly finished for him again and closed the distance between them. Next thing America knew was he was on his back, bushy eyebrows and the ceiling above him, and a very eager mouth on his. What choice did he have but to return the sentiment just as eagerly?
God, England was a good kisser, but this observation didn’t come without a pang of jealousy. How many people had he kissed or how many kisses had he shared to get this good? Well, he’d simply have to try his damndest to make sure England would never have to kiss anyone else ever again.
“Ah…England-?” It took some doing to even get the one word out around the very insistent lips pressing against his.
“Mm. Yes?” England, meanwhile, seemed more preoccupied with making up for the all the years they hadn’t been kissing, and barely pulled away to reply. Regrettably, America had to wrench his head away to say what he wanted to say.
“Why this song? Although I tried all those times…”
“Bloody git. Put your mouth to good use for once, won’t you?” But he was smiling. He brushed their foreheads, their noses, together and, after catching his breath, continued. “This time you were actually being sincere. You weren’t trying too hard, you weren’t being obnoxious or over the top. You just…were.”
That answer satisfied America and he lifted his head to kiss England again, but abruptly stopped.
“Wait, this isn’t right.”
The color drained from England’s face and he assumed a look of horror, but only momentarily, as he seemed to understand the real meaning. In one swift movement, he shifted onto his back and pulled America on top of him.
“Better?”
“Mm. Much.” And he leaned forward to capture his lips once again.
And this was how Canada found them shortly after. He had to admit it was rather disturbing to find his brother and former mentor making out on his guest bedroom floor, but he had to thank his lucky stars that was all they were doing for now. Besides, it was about damn time. America would have to thank him later for inviting England that day instead of the following one.
Smiling to himself, he closed the door with a soft click.
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So obviously America is singing "Something" by the Beatles this time. Listen here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A5VawKqxtSk
Before I started writing this fic I decided that America would attempt to win over England through song and it would be "Something" that finally got through. I like the honest uncertainty of the bridge ("You're asking me, will my love grow?") and think England would appreciate it, too. It doesn't speak of endless, undying love that they as nations can't really promise.
Anyway, thanks for all the kind comments. Especially since I don't particularly like how this turned out, ah ha.
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so adorable, anon. loved it! :D
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I really enjoyed this story ♥
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