Past-Part Fills Part 7
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Past-Part Fills Part Seven
Fills from past parts can go here!
Fills from the current part (part 22) MUST go in that part's post until it is full.
Link to the original request (and if an ongoing fill, any previous chapters/sections).
Don't forget to link your new fill at the fill ( Read more... )
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“Has Tony been a nuisance this weekend?”
England looked up from his book and glanced over at America, who looked anxious. “Of course not, love. Has something happened to indicate that?”
“Uh, the kitchen from this morning? Did Tony hurt you too badly with the glue and all?” America asked, pulling his glasses off and setting them down on the nightstand on his side of the bed.
“Don’t worry about it, love. As your brother once said, ‘forgive, forget, and move on’,” England said before returning to his book.
America snorted as he settled down next to England, pulling the covers up to his waist and tugging it up slightly on England’s side. He may have been tired, it had been a long day after all, but England knew full well from experience that the smirk on the American’s face promised more trouble anyway. “You mean that during your piracy days, you ‘forgave, forgot, and moved on’ from France?” America asked cheekily. He laughed softly and easily ducked England’s half-hearted swing. “Either I’m getting better at dodging those, or you’re getting too old to put any real effort into those anymore.”
“Or maybe I don’t want to actually hit you because I save the real swings for your particularly stupid moments,” England growled.
“Then you must get bored often since I never say anything stupid anymore.”
“Careful, you’re getting there. That last comment is almost close enough qualify,” England warned, but failed to maintain his composure because America was laughing now, and England was still in a good mood from having successfully taken Tony’s blasted keycard, locking him out of that damn workshop for the rest of the visit. It actually felt quite nice, being able to relax and not constantly worry and check over his shoulder constantly for a potential ambush.
Instead of immediately reacting to England’s scathing comment, America snuggled closer to the smaller nation, leaning on England’s shoulder and side. He closed his eyes and pressed his nose against England’s neck as England continued to silently read. Finally he said with a muffled voice, “There are times when I wish you could stay longer. Like you used to do when I was younger.”
“I had a valid reason then, which was to take care of you,” England replied just as quietly without looking away from his book.
“And if I offered to give you one now?” America replied, dragging his fingers lightly down England’s exposed skin.
“Your boss and my boss would be rather concerned about that, once they both found out that I spent too much time here on your side of the world. You’d need a pretty good reason for me to stay here without them causing too much of a fuss,” England said, looking down at his lover before America pulled himself back into an upright sitting position.
“Here’s my reason then,” America said before leaning forward and kissing England deeply.
“That… that is a very convincing reason,” England said slowly after the two pulled apart. “However, I don’t think I’m entirely convinced… yet.”
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Pop!
“Oh bloody hell, what now?”
“Shut up, you’re killing the mood. The light bulb just burned out.”
“You just killed the mood by - mpf!
The silence settled all around the two of them, punctuated by whispers, soft laughs, and other quiet noises. At one point, America let out a soft squeal as England easily found one of his ticklish spots, but the squeal soon dissolved into giggles almost immediately.
“I’d forgotten how vocal you can be,” England murmured against America’s throat before flipping them both over, so that he was looking down at the younger nation in the dark.
“I… I think that’s a sign we haven’t done this in a while,” America whispered.
“Don’t you dare rip my T-shirt.”
“Aw, c’mon, how else am I supposed to get - oh, that also works.”
“Will you stop giggling ? We are not thirteen year old girls -”
“D’aww, has someone already forgotten that one trip to Venice - ah, ah, okay, point made.”
England half-heartedly smacked America before he could start sniggering at his own unintentional innuendo. “You are unusually chatty tonight, America. That should be fixed before I allow this to continue,” he whispered before catching America’s lips for another deep kiss.
“Aye, aye, Captain,” America whispered back before nuzzling England’s neck. “In fact, we-”
Creeeeak!
“Who’s there?” America whispered harshly, yanking away from England and sitting up so fast that England was unceremoniously deposited on the bedspread.
Silence.
“H-Hello?” America whispered, now fully alert and looking around. Confused, England let his senses slowly cover the second floor, where the bedrooms were, before silently drifting down the stairs and spreading across the main floor, as he detected nothing harmful upstairs. He only found one ghost downstairs, a harmless little thing huddled in America’s study as it clung desperately to its old Stars and Bars flag, something America continued to hold on to as a constant reminder of what could have happened. As America fretted over (imaginary) invisible threats, England first calmed the scared spirit downstairs before trying to coax the long - gone personification to let go and move on. The spirit proved to be stubborn, and threatened to provoke the other supernatural (hibernating) residents of the house if England didn’t leave it alone. After this, England retreated, not wanting to accidentally cause America more pain, and he refocused on the panicking personification beside him.
“America, America, calm down, there aren’t any ghosts in here, I promise. The house was just settling, all old houses do that,” England said, trying his best to calm the nation down.
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England heard a soft yet distinctive moan, and it was coming from the master bathroom. America’s eyes meanwhile were fixed on the bedroom door.
“America, first off, it is not a ghost. I assure you, there are no ghosts in this room!” England whispered back furiously. “And the sounds are not even coming from the hall-”
Just like that, America’s attention turned straight to the bathroom door in time for them both to hear another moan that ended in a faint growl. “What was that?” he whispered, blue eyes moving rapidly as though searching the cracks of the door in the frame for any clues as to the entity on the other side. Leaning over, he fumbled with the lamp and tried to switch the light back on, but the two nations only heard a faint clicking sound. “Power’s out!” America squeaked, his voice bordering on hysteria.
Ladies and gentlemen, may I please present the proud United States of America?
Besides, that growling sounded oddly familiar, now that England thought about it.
“America, wait,” England said, the pieces falling into place in his head. He reached for America’s shoulder as he said, “It’s only -”
He never got to finish.
The bathroom door exploded open in a flash of dark green light and an indecipherable roar of sound, smoke-like fog billowing out of the room. For a split second, England saw a tall, shadowy figure with great, distorted limbs and a grotesque head standing in the doorway. America was long gone; his flight response had kicked in as soon as the figure appeared, leaving England to face the flying monstrosity that flew out of the bathroom. England unfortunately didn’t get a chance to summon any defensive magic right as the creature landed on his face, claws extended.
Rrrrraaoow!
“Cat!” England bellowed in surprise as Britannia’s weight sent him flying backwards. Luckily, he’d been sitting on the edge of the bed so that when Britannia landed, he didn’t fall off the bed on the other side. He did however hit his head on the edge of the mattress, eliciting a string of curses as the cat yowled in anger.
With a final hiss, Britannia jumped down to the floor and tore out of the room altogether, leaving scratches on England’s face and trailing water out of the room.
England however, was still furious, and he knew exactly who to blame. “I swear, once I get my hands on that wretched alien…” he growled as he pulled himself up and charged toward the master bathroom. “I’ve got you now-”
He stopped after flicking the bathroom lights on.
Nothing was out of place.
Completely suspicious now, England searched the room for any signs of abnormal activity. The only ‘suspicious’ thing he could find however was that the showerhead was still dripping, as though someone had used it within the last ten to fifteen minutes.
England groaned and put a hand over his eyes, only to flinch when his fingers landed on still sensitive cuts from Britannia’s claws. While the cuts did sting like hell, it was still nice to have some kind of proof that the whole incident did happen and England hadn’t imagined anything or worse: sleepwalked.
Which meant that America was still downstairs, no doubt terrified out of his wits.
England pinched the bridge of his nose. He’d hoped that it wouldn’t have come down to this, but Tony wasn’t giving him any other choice.
But, there were more important things first. America still needed comfort.
And England knew exactly how to write this incident off.
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(Who's the Confederate?)
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