V-E Day [1a/?]
anonymous
September 27 2009, 21:32:28 UTC
Not seconding!anon, but I loved this idea and had to write it.
----- May 8th, 1945
People were yelling and cheering in the streets. Within the masses of people at The Mall, England could feel his heart lift as he saw his King and Queen, accompanied by Churchill, step out onto the balcony above. The two princesses had already left him, mingling with the crowd-anonymously, of course. He felt that maybe he should be up there, with them, but it felt too good to be down here, with the people. It felt like nothing could touch him now, even though he knew that the war wasn’t quite yet over, and that in the Pacific, the war still raged.
“Eng-Arthur!” England turned at his human name, and saw America push through the crowd towards him. There was confetti in his hair, and England was sure that if he reached up, there would be confetti in his too. And he couldn’t bring himself to care that he probably looked silly with the confetti, an unbreakable smile on his face, and his cheeks flushed. But damn it, he was celebrating. And he wasn’t even drunk. It felt wonderful.
“Alfred,” he said, aware of the people around him, and used his human name. “How did you find me?”
“I knew you would be here,” he said, a smile on his face. England shook his head.
“No, no, how did you find me in the crowd, Alfred? It’s much too big to locate one person.” America just shrugged, that smile on his face. It didn’t seem fake or cheap or plastic like some of the smiles he usually gave and thought everybody would believe. It seemed real and genuine. “Why aren’t you celebrating in your country, Alfred? Don’t tell me that you thought I threw a better party, because I can only take one shock a day.” He was too good-humored. England might have to double up on the cynical meanness later to get his reputation back.
“Naaaah, I just wanted to see you.” Why was his heart fluttering so much? It must be the giddiness around him having an effect. Because why should he be happy that America decided to come to his country on V-E Day to celebrate? He would probably just be a nuisance.
Oh, bugger it all. Denial can only go so far. He was happy, he was positively, absolutely happy that America had come to see him, still wanted him, still loved him in some way. He was here, in England, not in America or France or Russia (god forbid).
It must have shown on his face, because America gave him a brilliant grin. Before he knew it, he was being spun around effortlessly in the arms of a tall, blond haired, blue-eyed American. He was laughing, and then England was laughing too, in sheer happiness, throwing his arms around America’s neck.
The next moments were a blur, but suddenly he was so close, and there was confetti in America’s hair, and his feet weren’t touching the ground, and then he was kissing America, his America, his Alfred, the center of his entire world, then, now, and forever more after this moment.
England pulled away, after one of the longest kisses of his life. He didn’t go far, since he was still in air, suspended by America’s arms. Their breath mingled, and noses brushed, half-lidded eyes staring at one another.
Then England came to his senses.
He struggled, kicking America and dropping to the ground as the man’s arms let go of him. Stepping away, he wondered what had come over him. America would never love him, could never love him. He was just teasing, he must be and damn him for it. Because England was weak in the knees, and his heart was racing, and he had been warm and comfortable in those arms. He could imagine them around him, in bed, his head on that chest. But it would never happen.
“Ouch, Arthur, what was that for?” America said, doubled over from the kick. He looked up and saw England, a hand to his lips, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. And it was at that point that he knew that somehow he had screwed up.
V-E Day [1b/?]
anonymous
September 27 2009, 21:33:33 UTC
“Arthur…” he laughed weakly, pasting the fake smile on his face. He had to do damage control, because obviously England hadn’t enjoyed it, or wanted anything to do with him. He should have known, with the way the man insulted him and ridiculed him. But he had thought, for that one moment when England’s face lit up, flushed and wonderful and gorgeous after he knew America had come for him, that they could be together. America should have known better. “Haha, gotcha. Nice joke, huh?”
England turned and fled through the crowd, losing himself and ignoring the America calling his name.
Re: V-E Day [1b/?]
anonymous
September 28 2009, 19:05:27 UTC
Wow, anon, this is awesome! Please write more, I can't wait to see what happens next! Poor England! Poor America too, of course, but- augh, this one's gonna be hard to work out! Ç_Ç
DO YOU KNOW WHAT I'M GONNA DO NOW?
anonymous
September 29 2009, 05:18:43 UTC
I'M GONNA CLOSE ONE OF MY LET'S-WAIT-TIL-IT-CONTINUES TABS BECAUSE THIS ONE IS SO MUCH MORE AWESOME (and the other one hasn't updated in ages...). I am burning to read more!
-----
May 8th, 1945
People were yelling and cheering in the streets. Within the masses of people at The Mall, England could feel his heart lift as he saw his King and Queen, accompanied by Churchill, step out onto the balcony above. The two princesses had already left him, mingling with the crowd-anonymously, of course. He felt that maybe he should be up there, with them, but it felt too good to be down here, with the people. It felt like nothing could touch him now, even though he knew that the war wasn’t quite yet over, and that in the Pacific, the war still raged.
“Eng-Arthur!” England turned at his human name, and saw America push through the crowd towards him. There was confetti in his hair, and England was sure that if he reached up, there would be confetti in his too. And he couldn’t bring himself to care that he probably looked silly with the confetti, an unbreakable smile on his face, and his cheeks flushed. But damn it, he was celebrating. And he wasn’t even drunk. It felt wonderful.
“Alfred,” he said, aware of the people around him, and used his human name. “How did you find me?”
“I knew you would be here,” he said, a smile on his face. England shook his head.
“No, no, how did you find me in the crowd, Alfred? It’s much too big to locate one person.” America just shrugged, that smile on his face. It didn’t seem fake or cheap or plastic like some of the smiles he usually gave and thought everybody would believe. It seemed real and genuine. “Why aren’t you celebrating in your country, Alfred? Don’t tell me that you thought I threw a better party, because I can only take one shock a day.” He was too good-humored. England might have to double up on the cynical meanness later to get his reputation back.
“Naaaah, I just wanted to see you.” Why was his heart fluttering so much? It must be the giddiness around him having an effect. Because why should he be happy that America decided to come to his country on V-E Day to celebrate? He would probably just be a nuisance.
Oh, bugger it all. Denial can only go so far. He was happy, he was positively, absolutely happy that America had come to see him, still wanted him, still loved him in some way. He was here, in England, not in America or France or Russia (god forbid).
It must have shown on his face, because America gave him a brilliant grin. Before he knew it, he was being spun around effortlessly in the arms of a tall, blond haired, blue-eyed American. He was laughing, and then England was laughing too, in sheer happiness, throwing his arms around America’s neck.
The next moments were a blur, but suddenly he was so close, and there was confetti in America’s hair, and his feet weren’t touching the ground, and then he was kissing America, his America, his Alfred, the center of his entire world, then, now, and forever more after this moment.
England pulled away, after one of the longest kisses of his life. He didn’t go far, since he was still in air, suspended by America’s arms. Their breath mingled, and noses brushed, half-lidded eyes staring at one another.
Then England came to his senses.
He struggled, kicking America and dropping to the ground as the man’s arms let go of him. Stepping away, he wondered what had come over him. America would never love him, could never love him. He was just teasing, he must be and damn him for it. Because England was weak in the knees, and his heart was racing, and he had been warm and comfortable in those arms. He could imagine them around him, in bed, his head on that chest. But it would never happen.
“Ouch, Arthur, what was that for?” America said, doubled over from the kick. He looked up and saw England, a hand to his lips, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. And it was at that point that he knew that somehow he had screwed up.
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England turned and fled through the crowd, losing himself and ignoring the America calling his name.
---------
Damn, I hate character limits.
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Thank you so much writer!anon! I'm loving the switch in perspectives and overall awesome of this fill. Eagerly awaiting the next part! *w*
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Did you post this fill on the fills page, by the way? (Sorry if you did already, but I couldn't find it there, so...)
Here is the fill page, by the way.
http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/7233.html?mode=reply
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