Reverse Meltdown [17a/?]
anonymous
November 21 2010, 01:15:38 UTC
“Let’s have sex,” England announces.
America turns his head away from the television to stare at him if he had asked him to die. It’s not like this is a very special moment. Hell, there’s a jingle about sour cream playing in the background. However, his timing isn’t completely random, since he had been thinking about it all day and hadn’t enough courage until now to confess.
He has made a list of the different things he should say to start it, but decides to be straight out blunt. It doesn’t make much of a difference as long as he gets what he wants.
It blames it on America because he’s been a seductive little bastard ever since the morning after their lovely date. Every little manner-even the way he walks-has attracted him today. Though he tries to shake the thoughts off, it won’t go away. It’s now or never.
“You’re kidding,” America laughs off.
“I’m serious,” England scowls and leans in to kiss America to show it.
America keeps his lips shut and tightened, though England tries to pry it open with his tongue. He gets shoved back. “Are you sure?” America blushes. “I mean, you… you’re not completely better yet,”
“I am,” England lies. He knows he still has some disabilities, but it shouldn’t prevent him from doing this at least. “It’s not like either of us are virgins either,”
“True, true,” America pecks England’s lips, a bit hesitant to continue. England takes charge and smashes their lips together. He takes advantage of America’s open mouth, mumbles a small “sorry,” and flicks his tongue in. America cups a hand at the back of his head, pulling him slightly downward. He responds by grabbing onto America’s hoodie and sleeves. He glides his tongue against America’s teeth and moans due to the friction of not only their tongues, but also the movement of their clothes.
England breaks apart when America’s glasses hit his forehead. He’s forgotten about those.
He then finally notices how America is under him, melting against his touch. It makes him delighted to know what pleasure he brings to America. “Upstairs?” America asks as he sits up, still holding onto England.
England nods and hooks his legs around America’s back. He knows it’s dangerous to kiss and walk upstairs the same time, but he can’t help just staying close to the body warmth against him. Along the way, he picks up a white plastic bag, containing the condiments to perfection.
The trip to the bedroom takes an eternity, so when they finally reach the door, England can’t resist but to lock their lips once more. America is still a bit resistant to his disappointment, and when they reach the bed he pulls him on top, hoping it’ll give some kind of lead.
America doesn’t seem quite so needy yet, and England frowns. He moves the hand resting on America’s hair down to the nape of his neck and then cheek. He feels goose bumps forming on America’s skin along the way. America seems to notice England’s worry, since he immediately kisses back.
There is something wrong.
He thinks this should be the best thing he’s done in years, but… he just can’t. The feeling isn’t there. He hurls America off and yells, “This is not what I want!”
America looks stunned. “Do you really love me because this seems like a lie,” England continues with tears forming at the corner of his eyes.
America looks away and gets up, leaving the room.
England is bewildered as he looks up at the ceiling and hears the door close with a click. He tugs on his shirt as if it’ll stop the ache in his heart, but knows nothing will help.
He’s such a mess.
-~-
America paces around back and forth in his backyard, hoping the cold will cool his face off.
“I’m the stupidest man on Earth,” he mutters.
He had just rejected his lover in doing that. No real man does that, does he?
It’s not like he doesn’t want it, but he’s too scared for England. He remembers the vulnerability the man had and believes he is still in that infant-like state. A few kisses are fine, but will he really be able to handle it?
America tells himself not to be a coward and England has proved himself to be fine already. All he needs to do is accept it.
He comes back inside his room to see England packing up. “England?”
Reverse Meltdown [17b/?]
anonymous
November 21 2010, 01:18:03 UTC
He looks up and smiles grimly, stabbing an invisible arrow in America’s heart. “I forgot to tell you I’m going home tomorrow. I just checked my ticket…”
His heart races because he knows England will leave sometime, but not this soon. He needs time. If only he hadn’t rejected him…
He grabs England’s wrist and kisses him passionately. England struggles free at first, but then relaxes against his touch. He parts an inch away. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, “shall we continue?”
England hides his reddened face against his chest. “I-if… you truly like me,” America grins and buries his face in his hair. “Thank you, but I’m sorry I don’t like you, but love you. That’s okay, right?”
He hears a muffled “I love you too.” He reassures himself it’s all right as he carries England and lays him on the bed. He entwines their fingers and deeply kisses him. It might as well be one of the best things in life.
There shall be no interruptions this time.
I'm a liar and failure. What a nice combination. There will be one or two more parts, but I'll just keep the "?" because I fail at numbers. :D
Reverse Meltdown [18a/?]
anonymous
November 27 2010, 00:41:09 UTC
England notes several things when they make love.
First, when America kisses him, it’s like eating a marshmallow. His lips are slightly chapped, but soft. He tastes sweet like sugar. England can’t help but bite down on his lip, receiving a soft groan directed straight to his heart. He then melts, holding onto America, who is also melting. They may as well be a pile of goop together.
Second, when America’s tongue enters, he is greatly aroused. He licks and sucks, never leaving a precious spot unattended. England whimpers quietly, wanting that to be all over his skin. America then responds accordingly, breaking the kiss to go lower. He dives down to England’s neck and kisses upwards until he finds that spot that makes him moan out loud. He feels America grin and abuse that spot, ravishing it with nips and licks. At the same time, he is removing their clothes clumsily, but England doesn’t notice until America leaves his neck alone.
“Let me… take off my own clothes,” he breaths and America nods.
Even after he says that, America still helps him remove his clothing. He assumes it’s because America still thinks he cannot do simple things like that. It annoys him a bit, but his mind changes once America rubs his cock through the fabric of his boxers. He curls up, clutching onto America’s back. His hips lift up for more friction and America takes advantage of this by quickly pulling off the underwear altogether. The contrast of temperatures makes England squeak. After all, it is the middle of winter.
The boy then quickly strips, but slows at certain moments just to tease him. He especially slows when taking off his trousers and boxers. England groans while waiting for the excruciating zipping sound to end. Instead of being patient, he takes it off for him. He makes it as quick and simple as he can even with his slightly fumbling hands.
“Who’s the tease now?” he grins, but stops short to gape at the splendor over him.
Third, though they’ve seen each other naked quite a few times, it still embarrasses him. Unlike England’s skin, America’s has a light shade of tan, even in the winter. He has toned muscles, but not buff to the point of creepy. He’s just the right amount of a little bit of everything and he won’t even mention his cock. His face turns into darker shades of red as he appreciates the body like never before.
“You really are ‘God’s chosen land,’” he mumbles.
“Why thank you, beautiful,” America replies against his ear.
Fourth, he’s not sure why he would be called that when America deserves that title (and he already has it). It’s a bit cliché, but it’s the truth. He hides his awkwardness by kissing that piece of skin he’s been eyeing for awhile. At the same time, America rubs against him and he bites to hold back a moan, as his dick becomes completely hard.
As he reaches down to stroke America’s dick, he finds him in the same situation. “I want this in me,” he whispers and America shudders.
“Alright Hun’,”
“Don’t call me that!” he stutters and slaps America’s arm in mock attempt. He laughs and shifts over to reach into the plastic bag on the nightstand.
He pulls out a bottle and condom. “When did you get time to get these anyways?”
“This morning,”
“No wonder you took so long to go shopping!” he laughs.
“Just… hurry up,”
“Yes sir,”
He watches America coat his fingers with the lubricant and warms his hands by rubbing them together. He then sticks a finger in him and England squirms a bit. He hasn’t had this for quite a while, so it feels weird for now.
“Man, you’re tight,” America mutters. “It’s given since you’ve probably haven’t done this for quite awhile.”
Reverse Meltdown [18b/?]
anonymous
November 27 2010, 00:42:16 UTC
Fifth, his touches burn England’s skin even if they are cold. He kisses England, so England can forget the uncomfortable feeling and instead be replaced by a pleasurable one. America’s free hand explores all over his chest and moves down, brushing his thigh and avoiding the cock. He kicks America slightly for mocking him. It’s only then the kiss breaks and he notices there are three digits inside of him, brushing against a spot that makes him cry. “America…”
“Okay, okay.” America’s lips brush against his forehead. His face heats up even more, if that’s possible.
He takes the fingers out and starts making marks all over his chest while putting on the condom. He nips especially hard on one spot and England whines, obtaining a lick as an apology. Now, the condom is completely slick and the cock is resting right at the entrance, but America still seems a bit hesitant. “You know you want that in me. In the tight heat. Imagine. No, I won’t get hurt. Please America,” he coaxes, stroking America’s cheek.
America nods and enters slowly-so slowly England has to shift his hips a bit. Once fully in (to his amazement), America pulls out almost completely and then slams back in. It’s not that painful, but the friction that is there makes it better. Before long, he chants a mantra of “faster” and “harder” and America obeys; yet at the same time there is something missing again. He knows America can do much more than this, but he’s holding back and the reason why is England himself. He takes all his strength just to flip them over, so he’s sitting on top.
Sixth, he somehow needs to prove himself.
America is slightly shocked, so England explains, “Don’t hold back.”
He raises his hips and pounds back down, trying different angles. America seems to get the picture as he starts meeting the thrusts halfway. He leans down to kiss America and muffle his cry as the cock strikes his prostrate. They both mumble many incoherent words in their kissing. After many thrusts, he feels his body clench up.
“Alfred!” he yells as he reaches his orgasm.
He still moves up and down until America reaches his own climax. He collapses on top of America in exhaustion and America catches him in a tight embrace. He helps him pull out and America takes the condom out and throws it away (hopefully in the trash). “You were amazing,”
“Mmm,” England responds, nuzzling into America’s chest. It smells like sweat and sunshine.
America buries his head in England’s hair and then they stay that way when falling asleep.
“Good night Arthur,”
“Good night,”
Finally, America may as well be the best cuddler in the world.
I've probably strayed far far away from what the OP asked for. OTL
Reverse Meltdown [19a/19]
anonymous
November 28 2010, 06:41:09 UTC
America awakes with England in his arms.
He panics a bit on the inside, his memory a bit fuzzy, but calms when he remembers of last night. Laughing, he perches a kiss on England’s forehead and gets out of bed. Though he wants to stay under the covers, he knows he’s too dirty to stay comfortable for long.
In the shower, he finds dry, white spots on his skin. As his face turns warmer than the water, he viciously scrubs them off. For no real reason, he still feels embarrassed.
It seems to be all too fast, but it isn’t at all.
When he gets out of the bathroom, he finds England grappling his side of the bed in search for warmth. As he fails, he opens his eyes to see America. He blushes slightly in consciousness of what he had just done.
America plops back into the bed and hugs him.
“Hey! You’re going to get dirty!”
“Hmm… that’s okay,” he recalls something important, “don’t you have to go home today?”
“I do, but not until later today,”
England pulls him down and kisses him. He tastes like tea and sugar, just like last night, but with a slight dated out flavor. “Your breath smells bad,” America comments when they break apart.
“Well, I haven’t exactly brushed my teeth yet as you can tell,”
“Good morning Mr. Grumpy-pants,’
“Good morning to you too,”
England scowls, but it’s not long until it’s replaced by a smirk. “I guess I have to get up now.”
He stands up, staggers, and topples over. America is luckily there to catch him in time. “You okay?”
“Yes…”
“You’re still not better yet,”
“Of course I am! It’s just…”
“Just what?”
America knows England really isn’t better, so he carries him to the bathroom. He places England on the closed toilet lid and as he runs the bath, England makes quick work of his clothes. Once the water is warm and ready, England enters in clumsily. America frowns, but it doesn’t last for long when he remembers the past.
“Hey, isn’t this a trip down memory lane,” he chuckles, “I fell in.”
“So you did.”
England suddenly pulls him in without warning. America sits there, dazed. “How’s that, hun?”
America bursts out in laughter and kisses England. He gladly returns it.
After the romantic act, England stubbornly washes himself, but America forcefully helps him, seeing how his hands aren’t in tip-top shape. He can see the extra effort England puts into holding a bar of soap, even though it would be microscopic to the normal person. It’s a bit strange, but he guesses that’s what happens after living together for quite a while.
Then, they go eat breakfast and undoubtedly, America cooks. He makes his butter-loaded-to-death food, causing England to writhe in a bit of disgust. “I’m going to die from this, America,”
“You’re not! I made you this before and you ate it without any complaints.”
England clamps his mouth shut, unable to counter. He glares at the food, picks up a fork, and starts picking at it. It’s not until a few seconds later he actually begins to eat, making America content enough to chow down. They both eat in silence, but a good silence-a silence of understanding. There’s nothing awkward, but instead there’s pure appreciation of their time together.
Immediately after the meal, America rushes with England to help pack up. Though he’s not completely confident to let him go home by himself, there’s not much choice. He rummages through the clothing, trying to separate his from England’s, and he stuffs them into the suitcase, earning a scolding. When England takes out the crumples clothing, he finds something very familiar under it. It doesn’t look like something the old man would wear, but… his. “England?” he calls as he holds up the sweatshirt. “Isn’t this mine?”
England flushes a bright red and responds, “Yes, that’s yours,”
“Why do you have it?”
“You left it at my house and I wanted to r-return it,”
America embraces him, “Aw… you’re so sweet,”
“Hey! It’s not for you, but for me okay? I don’t need your extra clothes in my house,”
“Sure, sure,” he says while secretly slipping a piece of paper in England’s jacket.
Reverse Meltdown [19b/19]
anonymous
November 28 2010, 06:45:19 UTC
Finally, it’s time to take England to the airport and back home, even if he can’t bear to be apart from his newly found lover. In the car, England leans on his shoulder in the cutest way. He doesn’t say anything to not ruin the precious moment. Once at destination, he gives a simple farewell with no uncertainty.
He just has to trust him.
-~-
England can’t believe how he had been let go so easily.
He is in the airplane instead of at America’s house. He could’ve canceled this flight, but America hadn’t disagreed against going. Obviously, he had seen signs, but no real action had been made. Plus, at the departure, America hadn’t shown him any of the affection from earlier that morning. He pouts, stuffing his hands into his pockets. In one of them, he finds a piece of paper that hadn’t been there before.
He opens it and reads, “Dear Arthur, What ‘real’ present are you talking about? Is it the scarf you made me? Even though it’s very nice, I think the real present is you. You are my gift. And because of that, I can’t leave you alone. It’s my duty to stress over you. Even if you’re completely well, I still will because I…”
“Love you, duh,”
England tilts his head up to see America standing over him. He jumps back in surprise. “W-what are you doing here?”
“I was just lucky,”
“Lucky how?”
“Lucky someone didn’t need a flight today?”
“I’m close to believing you stole it.”
“Hey! You don’t trust me?”
“Of course I do. Now sit down,”
America complies and buckles his seatbelt. “Well… Arthur, I know you’re not completely a hundred percent yet, so I’ll be staying with you,”
“And how long will that take?”
“I don’t know. But as I see it, it’ll never go away,”
“What?” England yells.
“Maybe ‘never’ is too much, but it keeps coming back. All we can do is keep trying,”
England looks down at his fingers, wondering if he’ll ever go back to the way he had been. Before he goes to the thought of “never,” America interrupts, “Besides, there’s always rain before beauty.”
“What did you say?”
“Ah,” America blushes, realizing his own comment, “nothing. Just something I noticed while being at your place.”
He thinks over the statement and smiles. Though there’ll always be hardships, there’ll also be many beautiful things ahead also. “It’s true,” he mutters.
He grasps America’s hand. Just like the first time, he’ll have to rely on him, but somehow it’s not the same. He’s not dependent because he’s the only one there, but because he loves him. And that makes all the difference.
So now he lives upon a whole pile of hope, surely to get him somewhere. As long as he takes this optimistically, maybe he’ll be able to reverse this state completely.
But in actuality, his meltdown is already over.
Hoorah. I've reached over 20K ^p^. Fail story deserves a fail ending. Er. I think I'll de-anon this with a bunch of revisions to improve it. ^^" So see you around... I guess. And I still didn't do homework...
America turns his head away from the television to stare at him if he had asked him to die. It’s not like this is a very special moment. Hell, there’s a jingle about sour cream playing in the background. However, his timing isn’t completely random, since he had been thinking about it all day and hadn’t enough courage until now to confess.
He has made a list of the different things he should say to start it, but decides to be straight out blunt. It doesn’t make much of a difference as long as he gets what he wants.
It blames it on America because he’s been a seductive little bastard ever since the morning after their lovely date. Every little manner-even the way he walks-has attracted him today. Though he tries to shake the thoughts off, it won’t go away. It’s now or never.
“You’re kidding,” America laughs off.
“I’m serious,” England scowls and leans in to kiss America to show it.
America keeps his lips shut and tightened, though England tries to pry it open with his tongue. He gets shoved back. “Are you sure?” America blushes. “I mean, you… you’re not completely better yet,”
“I am,” England lies. He knows he still has some disabilities, but it shouldn’t prevent him from doing this at least. “It’s not like either of us are virgins either,”
“True, true,” America pecks England’s lips, a bit hesitant to continue. England takes charge and smashes their lips together. He takes advantage of America’s open mouth, mumbles a small “sorry,” and flicks his tongue in. America cups a hand at the back of his head, pulling him slightly downward. He responds by grabbing onto America’s hoodie and sleeves. He glides his tongue against America’s teeth and moans due to the friction of not only their tongues, but also the movement of their clothes.
England breaks apart when America’s glasses hit his forehead. He’s forgotten about those.
He then finally notices how America is under him, melting against his touch. It makes him delighted to know what pleasure he brings to America. “Upstairs?” America asks as he sits up, still holding onto England.
England nods and hooks his legs around America’s back. He knows it’s dangerous to kiss and walk upstairs the same time, but he can’t help just staying close to the body warmth against him. Along the way, he picks up a white plastic bag, containing the condiments to perfection.
The trip to the bedroom takes an eternity, so when they finally reach the door, England can’t resist but to lock their lips once more. America is still a bit resistant to his disappointment, and when they reach the bed he pulls him on top, hoping it’ll give some kind of lead.
America doesn’t seem quite so needy yet, and England frowns. He moves the hand resting on America’s hair down to the nape of his neck and then cheek. He feels goose bumps forming on America’s skin along the way. America seems to notice England’s worry, since he immediately kisses back.
There is something wrong.
He thinks this should be the best thing he’s done in years, but… he just can’t. The feeling isn’t there. He hurls America off and yells, “This is not what I want!”
America looks stunned. “Do you really love me because this seems like a lie,” England continues with tears forming at the corner of his eyes.
America looks away and gets up, leaving the room.
England is bewildered as he looks up at the ceiling and hears the door close with a click. He tugs on his shirt as if it’ll stop the ache in his heart, but knows nothing will help.
He’s such a mess.
-~-
America paces around back and forth in his backyard, hoping the cold will cool his face off.
“I’m the stupidest man on Earth,” he mutters.
He had just rejected his lover in doing that. No real man does that, does he?
It’s not like he doesn’t want it, but he’s too scared for England. He remembers the vulnerability the man had and believes he is still in that infant-like state. A few kisses are fine, but will he really be able to handle it?
America tells himself not to be a coward and England has proved himself to be fine already. All he needs to do is accept it.
He comes back inside his room to see England packing up. “England?”
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His heart races because he knows England will leave sometime, but not this soon. He needs time. If only he hadn’t rejected him…
He grabs England’s wrist and kisses him passionately. England struggles free at first, but then relaxes against his touch. He parts an inch away. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, “shall we continue?”
England hides his reddened face against his chest. “I-if… you truly like me,” America grins and buries his face in his hair. “Thank you, but I’m sorry I don’t like you, but love you. That’s okay, right?”
He hears a muffled “I love you too.” He reassures himself it’s all right as he carries England and lays him on the bed. He entwines their fingers and deeply kisses him. It might as well be one of the best things in life.
There shall be no interruptions this time.
I'm a liar and failure. What a nice combination. There will be one or two more parts, but I'll just keep the "?" because I fail at numbers. :D
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AAAAAAAAAAAND~ This is a good chappie, no worries. :3 *Waits for the next update~*
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First, when America kisses him, it’s like eating a marshmallow. His lips are slightly chapped, but soft. He tastes sweet like sugar. England can’t help but bite down on his lip, receiving a soft groan directed straight to his heart. He then melts, holding onto America, who is also melting. They may as well be a pile of goop together.
Second, when America’s tongue enters, he is greatly aroused. He licks and sucks, never leaving a precious spot unattended. England whimpers quietly, wanting that to be all over his skin. America then responds accordingly, breaking the kiss to go lower. He dives down to England’s neck and kisses upwards until he finds that spot that makes him moan out loud. He feels America grin and abuse that spot, ravishing it with nips and licks. At the same time, he is removing their clothes clumsily, but England doesn’t notice until America leaves his neck alone.
“Let me… take off my own clothes,” he breaths and America nods.
Even after he says that, America still helps him remove his clothing. He assumes it’s because America still thinks he cannot do simple things like that. It annoys him a bit, but his mind changes once America rubs his cock through the fabric of his boxers. He curls up, clutching onto America’s back. His hips lift up for more friction and America takes advantage of this by quickly pulling off the underwear altogether. The contrast of temperatures makes England squeak. After all, it is the middle of winter.
The boy then quickly strips, but slows at certain moments just to tease him. He especially slows when taking off his trousers and boxers. England groans while waiting for the excruciating zipping sound to end. Instead of being patient, he takes it off for him. He makes it as quick and simple as he can even with his slightly fumbling hands.
“Who’s the tease now?” he grins, but stops short to gape at the splendor over him.
Third, though they’ve seen each other naked quite a few times, it still embarrasses him. Unlike England’s skin, America’s has a light shade of tan, even in the winter. He has toned muscles, but not buff to the point of creepy. He’s just the right amount of a little bit of everything and he won’t even mention his cock. His face turns into darker shades of red as he appreciates the body like never before.
“You really are ‘God’s chosen land,’” he mumbles.
“Why thank you, beautiful,” America replies against his ear.
Fourth, he’s not sure why he would be called that when America deserves that title (and he already has it). It’s a bit cliché, but it’s the truth. He hides his awkwardness by kissing that piece of skin he’s been eyeing for awhile. At the same time, America rubs against him and he bites to hold back a moan, as his dick becomes completely hard.
As he reaches down to stroke America’s dick, he finds him in the same situation. “I want this in me,” he whispers and America shudders.
“Alright Hun’,”
“Don’t call me that!” he stutters and slaps America’s arm in mock attempt. He laughs and shifts over to reach into the plastic bag on the nightstand.
He pulls out a bottle and condom. “When did you get time to get these anyways?”
“This morning,”
“No wonder you took so long to go shopping!” he laughs.
“Just… hurry up,”
“Yes sir,”
He watches America coat his fingers with the lubricant and warms his hands by rubbing them together. He then sticks a finger in him and England squirms a bit. He hasn’t had this for quite a while, so it feels weird for now.
“Man, you’re tight,” America mutters. “It’s given since you’ve probably haven’t done this for quite awhile.”
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“Okay, okay.” America’s lips brush against his forehead. His face heats up even more, if that’s possible.
He takes the fingers out and starts making marks all over his chest while putting on the condom. He nips especially hard on one spot and England whines, obtaining a lick as an apology. Now, the condom is completely slick and the cock is resting right at the entrance, but America still seems a bit hesitant. “You know you want that in me. In the tight heat. Imagine. No, I won’t get hurt. Please America,” he coaxes, stroking America’s cheek.
America nods and enters slowly-so slowly England has to shift his hips a bit. Once fully in (to his amazement), America pulls out almost completely and then slams back in. It’s not that painful, but the friction that is there makes it better. Before long, he chants a mantra of “faster” and “harder” and America obeys; yet at the same time there is something missing again. He knows America can do much more than this, but he’s holding back and the reason why is England himself. He takes all his strength just to flip them over, so he’s sitting on top.
Sixth, he somehow needs to prove himself.
America is slightly shocked, so England explains, “Don’t hold back.”
He raises his hips and pounds back down, trying different angles. America seems to get the picture as he starts meeting the thrusts halfway. He leans down to kiss America and muffle his cry as the cock strikes his prostrate. They both mumble many incoherent words in their kissing. After many thrusts, he feels his body clench up.
“Alfred!” he yells as he reaches his orgasm.
He still moves up and down until America reaches his own climax. He collapses on top of America in exhaustion and America catches him in a tight embrace. He helps him pull out and America takes the condom out and throws it away (hopefully in the trash). “You were amazing,”
“Mmm,” England responds, nuzzling into America’s chest. It smells like sweat and sunshine.
America buries his head in England’s hair and then they stay that way when falling asleep.
“Good night Arthur,”
“Good night,”
Finally, America may as well be the best cuddler in the world.
I've probably strayed far far away from what the OP asked for. OTL
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He panics a bit on the inside, his memory a bit fuzzy, but calms when he remembers of last night. Laughing, he perches a kiss on England’s forehead and gets out of bed. Though he wants to stay under the covers, he knows he’s too dirty to stay comfortable for long.
In the shower, he finds dry, white spots on his skin. As his face turns warmer than the water, he viciously scrubs them off. For no real reason, he still feels embarrassed.
It seems to be all too fast, but it isn’t at all.
When he gets out of the bathroom, he finds England grappling his side of the bed in search for warmth. As he fails, he opens his eyes to see America. He blushes slightly in consciousness of what he had just done.
America plops back into the bed and hugs him.
“Hey! You’re going to get dirty!”
“Hmm… that’s okay,” he recalls something important, “don’t you have to go home today?”
“I do, but not until later today,”
England pulls him down and kisses him. He tastes like tea and sugar, just like last night, but with a slight dated out flavor. “Your breath smells bad,” America comments when they break apart.
“Well, I haven’t exactly brushed my teeth yet as you can tell,”
“Good morning Mr. Grumpy-pants,’
“Good morning to you too,”
England scowls, but it’s not long until it’s replaced by a smirk. “I guess I have to get up now.”
He stands up, staggers, and topples over. America is luckily there to catch him in time. “You okay?”
“Yes…”
“You’re still not better yet,”
“Of course I am! It’s just…”
“Just what?”
America knows England really isn’t better, so he carries him to the bathroom. He places England on the closed toilet lid and as he runs the bath, England makes quick work of his clothes. Once the water is warm and ready, England enters in clumsily. America frowns, but it doesn’t last for long when he remembers the past.
“Hey, isn’t this a trip down memory lane,” he chuckles, “I fell in.”
“So you did.”
England suddenly pulls him in without warning. America sits there, dazed. “How’s that, hun?”
America bursts out in laughter and kisses England. He gladly returns it.
After the romantic act, England stubbornly washes himself, but America forcefully helps him, seeing how his hands aren’t in tip-top shape. He can see the extra effort England puts into holding a bar of soap, even though it would be microscopic to the normal person. It’s a bit strange, but he guesses that’s what happens after living together for quite a while.
Then, they go eat breakfast and undoubtedly, America cooks. He makes his butter-loaded-to-death food, causing England to writhe in a bit of disgust. “I’m going to die from this, America,”
“You’re not! I made you this before and you ate it without any complaints.”
England clamps his mouth shut, unable to counter. He glares at the food, picks up a fork, and starts picking at it. It’s not until a few seconds later he actually begins to eat, making America content enough to chow down. They both eat in silence, but a good silence-a silence of understanding. There’s nothing awkward, but instead there’s pure appreciation of their time together.
Immediately after the meal, America rushes with England to help pack up. Though he’s not completely confident to let him go home by himself, there’s not much choice. He rummages through the clothing, trying to separate his from England’s, and he stuffs them into the suitcase, earning a scolding. When England takes out the crumples clothing, he finds something very familiar under it. It doesn’t look like something the old man would wear, but… his. “England?” he calls as he holds up the sweatshirt. “Isn’t this mine?”
England flushes a bright red and responds, “Yes, that’s yours,”
“Why do you have it?”
“You left it at my house and I wanted to r-return it,”
America embraces him, “Aw… you’re so sweet,”
“Hey! It’s not for you, but for me okay? I don’t need your extra clothes in my house,”
“Sure, sure,” he says while secretly slipping a piece of paper in England’s jacket.
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He just has to trust him.
-~-
England can’t believe how he had been let go so easily.
He is in the airplane instead of at America’s house. He could’ve canceled this flight, but America hadn’t disagreed against going. Obviously, he had seen signs, but no real action had been made. Plus, at the departure, America hadn’t shown him any of the affection from earlier that morning. He pouts, stuffing his hands into his pockets. In one of them, he finds a piece of paper that hadn’t been there before.
He opens it and reads, “Dear Arthur, What ‘real’ present are you talking about? Is it the scarf you made me? Even though it’s very nice, I think the real present is you. You are my gift. And because of that, I can’t leave you alone. It’s my duty to stress over you. Even if you’re completely well, I still will because I…”
“Love you, duh,”
England tilts his head up to see America standing over him. He jumps back in surprise. “W-what are you doing here?”
“I was just lucky,”
“Lucky how?”
“Lucky someone didn’t need a flight today?”
“I’m close to believing you stole it.”
“Hey! You don’t trust me?”
“Of course I do. Now sit down,”
America complies and buckles his seatbelt. “Well… Arthur, I know you’re not completely a hundred percent yet, so I’ll be staying with you,”
“And how long will that take?”
“I don’t know. But as I see it, it’ll never go away,”
“What?” England yells.
“Maybe ‘never’ is too much, but it keeps coming back. All we can do is keep trying,”
England looks down at his fingers, wondering if he’ll ever go back to the way he had been. Before he goes to the thought of “never,” America interrupts, “Besides, there’s always rain before beauty.”
“What did you say?”
“Ah,” America blushes, realizing his own comment, “nothing. Just something I noticed while being at your place.”
He thinks over the statement and smiles. Though there’ll always be hardships, there’ll also be many beautiful things ahead also. “It’s true,” he mutters.
He grasps America’s hand. Just like the first time, he’ll have to rely on him, but somehow it’s not the same. He’s not dependent because he’s the only one there, but because he loves him. And that makes all the difference.
So now he lives upon a whole pile of hope, surely to get him somewhere. As long as he takes this optimistically, maybe he’ll be able to reverse this state completely.
But in actuality, his meltdown is already over.
Hoorah. I've reached over 20K ^p^. Fail story deserves a fail ending. Er. I think I'll de-anon this with a bunch of revisions to improve it. ^^" So see you around... I guess. And I still didn't do homework...
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NotOP!Anon thanks you for sharing this beautiful story with the rest of us anons, and thanks OP for such a nice prompt.
I'm gonna go curl up in bed with a huge smile on my face and re-read this now.
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