Eyes Wide Open [1.5/?]
anonymous
August 9 2009, 15:32:33 UTC
America was just gorgeous when he was sleeping. Oh, sure, he was always gorgeous, the golden boy with the infectious smile and eyes as blue as the endless sky they were always affixed on. Somehow, though, he seemed even more beautiful asleep, and he just couldn't resist leaning in to steal another kiss. And another. And another. America made a small sound, lips curling slightly into a smile, causing the butterflies in his stomach to renew their fluttering.
Why had he waited so long to do this?
He'd been so afraid, so worried that he wasn't good enough, that he wouldn't be good enough for America. After all, America was a hero! He'd seemed almost invincible during the Cold War, and even after, while he... huh, what was he? Not even twenty years out of Communism. There was no way, absolutely no way he could even compare.
Or so he thought.
His face was beginning to hurt, but he couldn't stop smiling, just looking down at America's sated, sleeping face and smiling. He'd only intended to do this once, to feel it once, to create a memory to lock away and treasure forever, but America enjoyed it, didn't he? America enjoyed him.
And he would willing give himself over and over again if it could make America so happy and satisfied.
"Love you," he whispered, heart beating so fast, so exhuberently that he thought it might burst. "Love you, love you, love you."
If America was awake, surely he'd reply with the same, right? But since he was sleeping, it was better to let him rest.
Giggling softly to himself, he gave the sleeping man one more kiss, retrieving his vodka bottle from the nightstand. Yes, he would let his dear America rest.
Why had he waited so long to do this?
He'd been so afraid, so worried that he wasn't good enough, that he wouldn't be good enough for America. After all, America was a hero! He'd seemed almost invincible during the Cold War, and even after, while he... huh, what was he? Not even twenty years out of Communism. There was no way, absolutely no way he could even compare.
Or so he thought.
His face was beginning to hurt, but he couldn't stop smiling, just looking down at America's sated, sleeping face and smiling. He'd only intended to do this once, to feel it once, to create a memory to lock away and treasure forever, but America enjoyed it, didn't he? America enjoyed him.
And he would willing give himself over and over again if it could make America so happy and satisfied.
"Love you," he whispered, heart beating so fast, so exhuberently that he thought it might burst. "Love you, love you, love you."
If America was awake, surely he'd reply with the same, right? But since he was sleeping, it was better to let him rest.
Giggling softly to himself, he gave the sleeping man one more kiss, retrieving his vodka bottle from the nightstand. Yes, he would let his dear America rest.
After all, there was always tomorrow.
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