I Want *Him* - Part 4b
anonymous
September 22 2010, 17:19:02 UTC
“I thought to myself, I said- Sam. You’re getting up there in the numbers, tonight these two guys are gonna give you some type of celebration. I tell you it brings a tear to my eye.”
John Bull shook his head at the melodrama, more than a little put off by the American personification’s unfaltering self-importance. “Belt up Yank!” He blustered. “You should only be so lucky. Of course if they are preparing the likes of you a cake, the one for me will be similar - if not even more grand - than your confectionary!”
Uncle Sam stroked his beard happily. “All right then, let’s just go and sneak a look-see to find out for sure!”
*
England noisily scraped away the blackened remains of the rejected roast beef and America wisely kept his mouth shut as the newly emptied plate was thrust in his direction to place into the packed dishwasher.
“That’s a riot if you think Uncle Sam suspects anything. I don’t know about John Bull, but I’m pretty sure everything went straight over their heads.” America explained wryly, a hand whooshing over Nantucket in emphasis.
England snorted something unintelligible under his breath and continued his cleaning and sorting, making America pause.
It had taken many decades for the two allied nations to get to the point where they acknowledged the relationship they had was something special, even after their Bosses has coined it that way. And it had taken even longer than that for them to come to terms and understand each other’s (and their own) feelings. Admitting it had been even harder, both wanting to fight it, but powerless to do so, so all that was left was Great Britain and The U.S. of A hopelessly and utterly together. Their first kiss under that revelation had spawned Pop and American Idol, and since then, the sensations had only gotten stronger.
But all of that didn’t change the fact that even to present day it was more or less anyone’s guess as to how to properly read the mood.
They had started keeping their current status together a secret mostly because it was private and nobody else had to know. Nothing lasts forever when it came to the world, and eventually it became an unspoken apprehension that if they owned up and officially named what they shared, the end of it would come sooner rather than later. But keeping it all under wraps from their obstinate relatives was proving to be annoying as hell and complicated too. Maybe they should just say something?
America sidled up behind England and slung his arms around him. The former empire relaxed and appeared to turn slightly red, turning around to study what got into the slightly taller nation.
“…I know that look, America.” England suddenly deadpanned. “What’s your awful idea this time?”
America pursed his lips at being seen through. “What makes you think that, yeesh.”
He pushed forward and kissed England on the cheek and pulled back enough so that they could look at each other.
England gave America a half-heartedly frown (one he obviously didn’t mean) and breathed out a murmured, “Huh.”
The warm puff of air on America’s mouth from the reply was unexpected, and the bespectacled nation felt his skin tingle a little. Blue eyes caught green ones again and the taller man’s gaze suddenly became newly captivated.
America inched his head a bit closer and pressed his lips lightly to England’s in a soft kiss, one hand coming up to gently cup the other man’s chin.
He ended up feeling, more than hearing, England’s sigh of contentment - the British nation melting comfortably against his chest, arms going around his waist.
Enjoying the closeness very much, America held England more firmly against himself, his nose nudging the other man’s as he tilted his head into the kiss. The hand holding the Briton’s chin faintly trailed up along soft skin, into tousled sandy blond hair, fingers burrowing pleasantly.
England made a sound and his fingers curled loosely into the cotton fabric at America’s lower back. The kiss went on tenderly, the two countries eagerly re-visiting borders.
It had been a while. And the footsie earlier hadn’t helped either.
John Bull shook his head at the melodrama, more than a little put off by the American personification’s unfaltering self-importance. “Belt up Yank!” He blustered. “You should only be so lucky. Of course if they are preparing the likes of you a cake, the one for me will be similar - if not even more grand - than your confectionary!”
Uncle Sam stroked his beard happily. “All right then, let’s just go and sneak a look-see to find out for sure!”
*
England noisily scraped away the blackened remains of the rejected roast beef and America wisely kept his mouth shut as the newly emptied plate was thrust in his direction to place into the packed dishwasher.
“That’s a riot if you think Uncle Sam suspects anything. I don’t know about John Bull, but I’m pretty sure everything went straight over their heads.” America explained wryly, a hand whooshing over Nantucket in emphasis.
England snorted something unintelligible under his breath and continued his cleaning and sorting, making America pause.
It had taken many decades for the two allied nations to get to the point where they acknowledged the relationship they had was something special, even after their Bosses has coined it that way. And it had taken even longer than that for them to come to terms and understand each other’s (and their own) feelings. Admitting it had been even harder, both wanting to fight it, but powerless to do so, so all that was left was Great Britain and The U.S. of A hopelessly and utterly together. Their first kiss under that revelation had spawned Pop and American Idol, and since then, the sensations had only gotten stronger.
But all of that didn’t change the fact that even to present day it was more or less anyone’s guess as to how to properly read the mood.
They had started keeping their current status together a secret mostly because it was private and nobody else had to know. Nothing lasts forever when it came to the world, and eventually it became an unspoken apprehension that if they owned up and officially named what they shared, the end of it would come sooner rather than later. But keeping it all under wraps from their obstinate relatives was proving to be annoying as hell and complicated too. Maybe they should just say something?
America sidled up behind England and slung his arms around him. The former empire relaxed and appeared to turn slightly red, turning around to study what got into the slightly taller nation.
“…I know that look, America.” England suddenly deadpanned. “What’s your awful idea this time?”
America pursed his lips at being seen through. “What makes you think that, yeesh.”
He pushed forward and kissed England on the cheek and pulled back enough so that they could look at each other.
England gave America a half-heartedly frown (one he obviously didn’t mean) and breathed out a murmured, “Huh.”
The warm puff of air on America’s mouth from the reply was unexpected, and the bespectacled nation felt his skin tingle a little. Blue eyes caught green ones again and the taller man’s gaze suddenly became newly captivated.
America inched his head a bit closer and pressed his lips lightly to England’s in a soft kiss, one hand coming up to gently cup the other man’s chin.
He ended up feeling, more than hearing, England’s sigh of contentment - the British nation melting comfortably against his chest, arms going around his waist.
Enjoying the closeness very much, America held England more firmly against himself, his nose nudging the other man’s as he tilted his head into the kiss. The hand holding the Briton’s chin faintly trailed up along soft skin, into tousled sandy blond hair, fingers burrowing pleasantly.
England made a sound and his fingers curled loosely into the cotton fabric at America’s lower back. The kiss went on tenderly, the two countries eagerly re-visiting borders.
It had been a while. And the footsie earlier hadn’t helped either.
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