The Height of Love
anonymous
July 8 2012, 03:56:46 UTC
A!A apologizes if no one sees this, buuuuut… I really want to do this one. Actually had it on my mind for quite some time, and I figure I may as well make someone’s day. That is, if they still check the fills list… ah, well. If the OP sees this or not, I’m fairly sure someone will.
Also, sincerest apologies for going the predicable route for the location of their date.
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It was a slow day in England’s office. His Prime Minister didn’t have any appointments for him, the Queen was busy with something-or-another, and England had finished his paperwork for the day several hours ago. Unfortunately, he hadn’t anticipated it being such a slow day, and he was perhaps a bit paranoid that the moment he stepped out of his office, a heaping pile of paperwork would await him the next day (stranger things had happened), so he didn’t feel quite comfortable with leaving early.
So. That meant England was trapped in his office with nothing to do, save for read a book in his personal library. As he was looking for books, though, he remembered that nearly all of his fiction novels had been loaned out (America had muttered something about wanting to understand British-isms so he wouldn’t automatically think England was insulting him; a futile pursuit, as, ninety percent of the time, England actually was insulting him), leaving only a few Shakespearean plays that he hadn’t been in the mood for, and several grammar books.
England grabbed the first book he’d felt remotely interested in and sat down.
It turned out to be a book on extended metaphors-metaphors for things in life, like comparing emotionally distant people to the cold, and impulsive people to heat (or more accurately, fire), things of that nature.
He’d been reading a passage on free-spirited people being like the sky when it hit him.
‘Free spirited people have hesitation about anything that tries to hold them back. Sometimes they see work as trying to hold them back, as well, when they could be spending their time on more useful pursuits or enjoying their life. They can change their mind easily before any sort of pride sets in, but once they’re set on something, they go after that, strong as a hurricane wind. Naturally, they’re attracted to freedom, and will even physically fight to defend their freedoms. They may often-times be seen staring at the sky, or even going so far as to try to touch the sky-making them great pilots or astronauts. However, many people see glaring flaws in this sort of personality type (particularly emotionally distant or overly harsh personality types), particularly in their lack of a work ethic. They think that free-spirited people simply don’t like to work, which isn’t true-they simply don’t like to work at things they don’t enjoy, and if they have to do things they don’t like, they’d prefer to do it on their own terms and in their own time-set, which is something that other people simply don’t understand or don’t appreciate. They make great friends and lovers, though, especially to opposing personality types, as they provide a perfect balance-
England stopped reading, blinking dumbly at the page. They may as well have simply replaced ‘free-spirited personality types’ with ‘America’, and it would have made an equal amount of sense.
A sudden bout of inspiration hit him when he glanced at the calendar. Their anniversary was in just a few weeks, and he hadn’t really planned for much, but after new-found inspiration and re-reading the passage a few times, England suddenly knew exactly what he wanted to give America for their anniversary.
After all, the London Eye would be absolutely perfect for someone who loved the sky and loves to be surrounded by it, right?
Re: The Height of Love
anonymous
July 8 2012, 03:58:32 UTC
Two and a half weeks later found America in the London Airport, suit-case in hand and an obvious case victim of Jet-Lag. England spotted America before he could spot him and rushed over to him.
“Am-Alfred!” England called, stumbling over the human versus nation names a moment before he corrected him. He quieted once America was within a decent talking distance. “How was your flight, love?”
“Fan-frickin’-tastic,” America muttered, rubbing at his eyes, but quickly put away any complaints and broke into a grin. “But I really don’t wanna talk about it now that I’m, y’know, here with you.” He kissed the other’s cheek, smiling all the while. “I missed you a ton. I think your side of the mattress misses you, too.”
England broke into his customary ‘not-in-public’ blush, but couldn’t quite suppress his smile all the way. “Git… Honestly, didn’t I teach you better than to say things like that around others?” And even as he said it, he took America’s hand and started to lead him back around to where his car was waiting, America gladly following, suitcase in-hand.
“Yup,” America grinned again. “But I’m not lying about our Special Relationship, unlike sooooome people.” At that, he slid his arm around the other’s waist, suit-case now only being pulled with one hand (which was really rather remarkable, as he probably could have fit a small horse into that thing).
“I don’t lie about it,” England snapped, eyes flashing at even the implications of such a thing. “I simply don’t go bragging about it. And I thought I told you, I don’t not tell people because I don’t love you, I just don’t want people-”
“-To get the wrong idea, yeah, I know, heard that a million times,” America grumbled, rubbing at his eyes again. “Still…” He quickly shook off what he was about to say, though, instead choosing to pull England a bit closer to him. “Nevermind. Just the Jet-Lag. I’m completely wiped…”
England just gave a soft smile before tightening his hold around America as well. “I can see that. How about I take you home and you can get some sleep, mn? And tomorrow we’ll celebrate our anniversary. How does that sound?”
“Absolutely perfect,” America said with a large yawn. By that time, they’d reached the parking lot, and both started to walk towards the waiting car. England popped the trunk over, and America threw his suit-case inside. He blinked dumbly at England a moment, though, when he saw which side England was getting in on. “Uhm… D’you really think I should drive?” he asked, furrowing his brows in confusion. “I’m kinda tired…”
England just rolled his eyes. “We’re in England, America.” (Fortunately there were no humans around them to overhear the slip-up.) “I’m getting in on the driver’s side, remember?”
America yawned again, blinking slower all the while. However, he seemed to remember rather quickly and simply nodded, silently getting in on the left-hand side. He promptly collapsed into the seat, wasting no time in getting comfortable when he heard the engine start.
Before he could sleep, though, England leaned closer to him and captured his lips in a slow, sweet, close-mouthed kiss, smiling into it. When the broke apart, he pressed one more kiss to the other’s forehead and said “Love you,” in a hushed tone.
“Love you too…” America mumbled, already closing his eyes again. He fell asleep a few seconds later.
Re: The Height of Love
anonymous
July 8 2012, 04:01:01 UTC
America was startled awake by the sudden halt to the engine, and was numbly aware that fingers were threading through his hair that definitely hadn’t been there at the start of the trip. He groggily looked up at the other nation, breaking into a smile at having caught England in such an act, as he almost always denied doing such ‘Hollywood-esque attempts at romance’ (as if it was a bad thing or something).
“G’morning,” America yawned, smiling a bit wider at the other’s sudden blush.
“You…! Why didn’t you tell me you were awake?” England snapped, immediately withdrawing his hand and looking pointedly out the window. “’Cause I only just now woke up.” America blinked, lazily bringing his head up to look around at the scenery. “Hm. Did’ja do anything with your garden since last time? ‘Cause I think it looks a little different…”
“I didn’t do anything different, no,” England said, frowning a bit. “Perhaps you’re just unused to seeing it when it’s not completely drenched.”
“Mm. Yeah, it was raining pretty bad for almost the whole time I was here last time, wasn’t it?” America asked, still sleepy but finally starting to wake up.
“I dare say you should remember more of it than just that,” England muttered. “You apparently thought it quite smart to try to walk to and from the store in such weather and ended up sick for the rest of your vacation.” And neither of them had a very good time, as England was hardly as patient with the current America as he had been when America was a colony (and had actually behaved). “Now come along inside, or it will start raining again, and we may have a repeat of last time.”
“Yeah, yeah, I hear you,” America groaned, sitting up slowly. It took him a moment to find his glasses-as finding glasses was rather difficult when he was probably half-blind, and England refused to help-but finally Texas was back atop its perch and the world was much less blurry.
His luggage was unloaded without much of a fuss (as it was rather obvious that England couldn’t take it himself, since a family of five could have easily fit all of their clothes and their family pet in America’s monster of a suitcase) and brought into the house before the clouds could roll in.
Almost immediately, though, America brought his things upstairs to the Master Bedroom (as after who-really-knew-how-many-years-they’d-been-dating, they were far past having something as unnecessary as Guest Rooms for eachother) and promptly crashed onto the bed.
“Still tired, mn?” England said, leaning against the doorframe.
“Just don’t. Jet Lag is the absolute worst,” America groaned, but a lazy smile was in place, and he couldn’t find it in his heart to sound too upset.
“While I won’t deny that,” England said as he somewhat hesitantly approached the bed, “I must say that I wouldn’t mind actually spending time with you, conscious or no.”
Re: The Height of Love
anonymous
July 8 2012, 04:01:24 UTC
“Y’know, in the wrong context, that could sound really bad.” America laughed lightly, but stood up nonetheless, apparently noticing that not only was he not under the covers, but he wasn’t in anything even resembling pajamas. “And… I wouldn’t want you to get sick of me on the first day…”
“America, love, I’ve nearly only seen you asleep since you’ve been here, so I’d hardly say I’m tired of the conscious you, and… Well,” England said, somewhat patronizingly. “What did we learn last year about being unnecessarily insecure?”
“To not to,” America muttered, rolling his eyes as he started to dig through his (giant) suitcase for some pajamas. “Yeah, I’ve heard that one before.”
“And the time you wouldn’t come out of your room for weeks after misinterpreting a conversation between me and Japan?” England raised an eyebrow as he saw America pull a baseball bat of all things out of his suitcase. “And almost five years ago, when you were absolutely certain that I liked Canada more than you just because of a poll my people took? Or all those times you were resentful because of actions my nation took, when really it had almost nothing to do with you or me? Or the time you refused to do anything other than paperwork for nearly a week because you thought I’d called you lazy, and were determined to prove me wrong? Or how about when you-”
“I get it!” America snapped, half-heartedly chucking a pair of socks at the other’s head. “I’m a total whiner about stuff and need to stop overreacting. Happy?” He rubbed at his eyes again, cursing lightly at his sudden headache that nearly always came when he shouted while he was tired.
England sighed, mentally slapping himself for trying to provoke the other when America really just needed sleep (even if he really hadn’t been paying all that much attention to what he was saying, and in what context it would naturally be received). He crossed over to where America was still kneeling by his suitcase. “…Sorry, love. I forgot how-” easily provoked you are when you’re tired “-tired you are after travelling for so long. Want to call it a day?”
“Yes, please,” America mumbled, and before either could say another word, he picked up his night-clothes and toothbrush and disappeared into the bathroom.
While America was getting ready, England couldn’t help but hope that the next day would be better, as they weren’t having a very good start to their x-year-anniversary. However, he wasn’t given much time to think-and hope and pray-about it, as then it was his turn to brush his teeth and all, and then they were both curled up in bed.
However, as always, it wasn’t really ‘night-time’ until one had situated themself against the other, and as America was obviously exhausted, England took his turn as ‘protector’ and eased his arms around America’s middle. As the other nation didn’t flinch, England could only hope that everything was going to be all right and that the next day really would be better.
This looks excellent, A!a. I really like your characterization for both England and America. It's nice to see somebody get into America's insecurities for once, especially without going overboard. t's even better to see an England that's a little tsundere without seeming like, well, an anime character. This relationship feels really realistic. <3 I'm really looking forward to the rest of this. :D
Also, why the heck are you tempting me with fic like this after 3AM? I bet I'm not even making sense I'm so tired. >_>
Re: The Height of Love
anonymous
July 8 2012, 14:45:46 UTC
I saw this, A!A. :) I've gotta agree with the anon above me about England. It's nice to see England being his tsundere self while still actually showing (reserved) affection.
Oh, and just because it's funny, that one paragraph where England is listing all the times America was too insecure? That reminded me of Canada's canon rant about all of America's faults, only this time it was more constructive instead of destructive. Still, I guess we know where Canada learned that from. LOL
Hope your OP shows up, because this looks like it's going to be really interesting. (Silly England, trusting a book over his own knowledge of his partner of years. He's just trying to make things perfect, but this will be ... a learning experience for him, won't it?)
Re: The Height of Love
anonymous
July 14 2012, 21:50:13 UTC
America, having slept in the car, was naturally the first to wake in the morning. However, being America, he was still quite sleepy after waking up and therefore spent the better part of an hour selfishly enjoying the feel of England’s arms around him.
However, after a while, America felt the other’s arms start slowly retreating, and he made a rather clumsy attempt at holding onto them.
Unfortunately, it woke England, and America internally groaned, since England was hardly one to stay in bed after he woke-evident, as moments after, there was movement behind America, and the superpower was slightly disappointed to know that the movement was movement away from him. America rolled over so that he could catch a glimpse of England’s face.
“Oh, you’re up, then,” England said with a soft smile. “I’m assuming you slept well?”
America made a less-than-coherent grunt in response, before shuffling over to get a grip around England’s middle, making a half-hearted attempt to drag him back to bed. “Stay…”
“Afraid I can’t, love,” England reprimanded him, easily prying America’s arms off of him. “We’ve a lot to get done today, or don’t you remember?” He glanced towards the calendar. “It’s our anniversary today. You really think we’re not going to celebrate?”
“I can think of a couple’a ways to celebrate, and not one of them involve leaving this bed,” America deadpanned, reclaiming his hold on England, who, again, easily pried his arms off. Upon noticing England’s disapproving look, America corrected himself. “What? I only meant sleeping in…”
“Of course you did, git.” England rolled his eyes. “Now I think it’s high time that you get up. We’re going to celebrate properly. As in, a day out.”
“But I wanna stay in,” America protested. “Y’know, watch a stupidly sappy movie, stay under the covers where it’s nice and warm… Read somethin’, maybe…” He shrugged, perhaps a bit helplessly, when England didn’t look remotely interested. “Aren’t you the one that’s always tellin’ me to appreciate quieter things? And to live at a slower pace?”
“Yes,” England agreed, “But not on our anniversary. Now get up, you lazy sod.” Unfortunately for America, those words were accompanied by a sharp tug which sent the superpower to the floor, where he rested in a slightly undignified position, staring up at England with an annoyed glare.
“You’re so mean…” America groaned, tugging on the covers as if he intended to go right back to sleep on the floor. “And it’s cold… And it’s like only three A.M. at my place…”
“I think you’re getting time zones mixed up, love,” England said, somewhat amused. “If it’s nine in England, that would make it three in the afternoon at your house.”
“Stop confusing me,” America griped. “And leave me beeeee…”
England sighed, then crouched low so he could have a better view of America. “I’d leave you alone if I didn’t think you’d stay there for the better part of the week.”
America cracked a grin at that, and propped his chin up on his hand. “And when have I ever done something like that?” he teased, putting on his best puppy-dog-pout.
“Every winter?” England suggested. America snickered, but England did not, and quickly took advantage of America’s defenseless position to yank him into something resembling a standing position.
“Hey!” America protested, nearly tripping over the blankets around him. “Be careful! You almost gave me a heart attack! Not cool!”
“Ah, I don’t think I’ll be the one to blame if you have a heart attack,” England said with a smirk, poking the other’s stomach ( which was strangely flat, despite his eating habits). Before America could squirm away-as the comment was very much unappreciated, if the annual fits were any indication-England held him closer and pressed a chaste kiss to America’s cheek. “Better?”
“Hmph,” America grunted. However, it was clear that he couldn’t hold a grudge, because a few seconds later found them locked in a proper morning kiss, though close-mouthed, as neither were fans of morning breath.
Re: The Height of Love
anonymous
July 14 2012, 22:03:38 UTC
A few minutes later, both were dressed and mostly ready. There was no debate about whether or not they’d cook breakfast themselves-as the kitchen was declared off limits to both whenever they visited eachother-however, there was a rather short argument about where they would be eating.
“I think we should-”
“We aren’t eating our anniversary breakfast at a McDonalds,” England cut in, before America could even finish his statement.
It was quite clear the way America pouted that it really was going to be his suggestion. “Well, fine. Where do you want to eat?”
“There’s a lovely little tea-shoppe not far from here,” England said with an all-too-casual voice, presumably to hide his excitement. He was doing his best not to rock on his heels as it was. “I daresay you’d enjoy it, as well.”
“Eh, I guess,” America shrugged, and slipped into his bomber jacket. England made a murmur of agreement, and America turned to look at England with a curious expression. “Somethin’ tells me you have some stuff planned for today…”
“Hm?” England faked cluelessness. “I don’t know what you mean, love. What could I have possibly planned when I’m in my own city with the man I love on our anniversary?”
“Cute,” America said with a laugh. “Guess I’ll just have to wait, huh?” “I don’t know what you mean.” England winked, pressing his index finger to his lips before grabbing America’s hand and leading him to the door.
-----
Sorry this part's so short, but y'know, character limits...
Re: The Height of Love
anonymous
July 15 2012, 02:15:37 UTC
Ohh..They're so cute, but it makes you feel bad because you know its going to go wrong.
America's talk about what he thought would be romantic reminds me of an article I read on what British thought was romantic..and that's pretty much it. Snuggling on the couch, getting someone else some tea when they don't have any and its cold, etc. Very homebody stuff. Americans were generally the ones who had stricter standards on What Is Romantic. Yes, it involves certain media images of roses, dinner, suits, etc.
Re: The Height of Love
anonymous
July 16 2012, 04:39:08 UTC
Mm. Yeah, I feel sorta guilty for putting them through this. ;.;
Yup! That's sorta why I did it: Not to be out of character but to sorta represent how they've rubbed off on eachother. Don't worry, though, America will try be full-on-Romantic later on. He's just cranky 'cause he has Jet Lag. Sort of. ;)
What de-anon? You saw nothing! Nothing, I tell you!
Re: The Height of Love
anonymous
July 16 2012, 05:02:27 UTC
“So?” England asked, oddly conversational as he leaned forward with a smile. “Do you like it?”
“It’s…” America started, unwilling to hurt the other’s feelings. It was, after all, British food, and he’d been hard-wired in the last two centuries to dislike it. That, of course, made it rather hard to eat with any sort of ‘impressed face’, but he did his best. “It’s pretty good, yeah!”
“So you really like it?” England confirmed, smiling all the wider. “Great! I guess that means we’ll be eating here more often, then!” He placed his hand on the table, a silent invitation for America to hold it, which he did without a second thought.
“Y-Yeah, that’s great,” America managed to bite out. Fortunately, England was paying more attention to America’s face than his tone, so he was safe from hurting the other’s feelings.
“You’ve got something on your face,” England teased, sitting forward with a smirk. “Shall I get it for you?”
“I-” America hesitated, glancing around the restaurant. Fortunately, as they hadn’t been arguing, they were drawing quite a bit less attention to themselves than normal, but there were still a few people staring at them. “Er… I… Sure?”
England was understandably put-out by the response. He sat back into his seat with a rather exasperated expression. “Honestly… it’s no fun if you don’t participate…”
“I-uh, that’s usually your job, and I didn’t want to impose on the whole ‘embarrassed title’ thing, so…” America muttered, his excuse falling flat.
“Hm.”
America started to sweat. Things weren’t going as plan, and if he didn’t act soon… He frowned at what would await him at the end of the day if things continued to go awry.
With a determined stare, he stood up, and before England could protest, crossed over to the other, grabbed him by the shirt, and kissed England firmly on the lips. When they broke apart, America grinned. “It’s not about not wanting to participate, hon.”
England matched his smile. “You’ve still got something on your face, you know.” However, before America could really figure out the statement, a napkin was pressed to his cheek, wiping off the crumbs with ease. “Better.”
America flushed pink. “That’s… You didn’t have to do that,” he muttered, sitting back down in his chair with what was most certainly not a pout. He kept himself from making any comments about England ‘mom’-ing him, as he’d learned from experience that it wasn’t a great idea.
“I’m allowed to fuss,” England said with a grin. “Now, if we’re finished?” He glanced over to a nearby waiter, who immediately came and offered them the bill, which was paid evenly by the nations, and a rather generous tip was left, courtesy of America.
-----
I know, anons. I know. But trust me, I’m getting to the actual ‘Heights!’ part. I promise. Just trying to put together the scene a bit more, playing around with options and...
Alright, fine, I'm anxious about getting to that part, too. I'll hurry up.
Re: The Height of Love
anonymous
August 11 2012, 03:31:51 UTC
To keep the story from crowding too much to one side, I'll be posting them as direct replies to this one from now on; the fill is most of the way written already. Enjoy!
-----
England was glad, for the fiftieth time that day, that the weather was nice. There was just something about visiting a garden in the rain that put a damper on any day’s event.
Still, as much as England had strived to make the date enjoyable, America didn’t seem to be having as good of a time as he’d like.
“Would you like to look for an ice cream stand?” England finally asked.
Evidently he’d pulled America out of a daze, as the other nation stared blankly at him for a few moments before he answered. “Oh! Uh, yeah, that’d be good.”
“Yes, well, we should probably finish up here, then,” England said with a cough. “After all, we’re not allowed back in after we leave.”
“Well that sucks,” America said with a frown, though he didn’t look nearly as upset as England felt he should have been, at the prospect of cancelling one of the day’s events. “But, uh, how much more do you want to show me? I’ll stay as long as you want.”
England mentally translated the other’s words to ‘I’d leave right now if I had the chance, but I’ll suffer through more of this if you want to stay’. He visibly deflated. “It’s fine to leave whenever. You’re probably hungry, aren’t you?”
“This is your day, too,” America reminded him with a completely unnecessary poke to the cheek. “Enjoy it a little more, yeah?”
England wanted to shout out an ‘I’ll enjoy it when you at least act like you do, too’, but as it wouldn’t help matters, he wisely stayed calm. “Well. I suppose we can compromise a bit. We’ll stay for another few minutes and see if there’s anything new, and if nothing stands out, we’ll leave, mn?”
“Sounds good,” America agreed easily, holding out a hand with an almost-practiced obnoxious charm (if such a thing could exist).
They walked around for a few minutes, and although England would have normally been beside himself with joy at seeing such a beautiful place, he was far less enthusiastic as he could easily see that America’s smiles were more for England than himself. Still, he wouldn’t lose heart-even though very little of the day was going according to plan, they still enjoyed being around eachother, didn’t they?
The notion cheered England, and he didn’t protest when America finally ‘let slip’ that he was hungry and that he wouldn’t mind to do something else for a bit. They walked out of the garden with their joined hands being the only obvious sign that they were, in fact, in love with eachother.
Re: The Height of Love
anonymous
August 11 2012, 03:33:54 UTC
After a quick lunch and America’s promised ice cream (England refraining from purchasing any for himself, as he really couldn’t stand it most days), the two headed through the city, stopping where they wanted and never straying for too long from the main streets (save for a few heated kisses in an abandoned alley-way).
It wasn’t England’s favorite thing in the world, but America looked as excited as ever when he got to stop in a proper English telephone booth. “I’m calling Canada!” he announced with a grin, his usual silliness returning with a vengeance. He dialed the number before anyone could stop him.
“Oh? And what do you plan on telling him?” England asked, raising an eyebrow. He knew the phone was still ringing and took full advantage of it. “That you’ve been prancing all around London? Or that on our anniversary, I’m ‘withholding’ the best event of the day?”
America looked up, eyes wide with hope. “I knew you had more planned! When are we gonna go do it? What is it? Where?” he asked, and when England didn’t immediately answer his questions-as quickly as they came, at least-he dragged the other nation into the telephone booth with him. “Seriously! You can’t just say something like that and then not tell me!”
England chuckled, slipping out of the other’s grip with practiced ease, then pushing himself as far away from the other nation as the booth would allow. “Ah-ah-ah… No spoiling the surprise. In fact, I’ll have to ask you to put a blindfold on later this evening, so you don’t see where we’re going too soon.”
“You’re so mean, doing something that underhanded!” America all-but-wailed at his partner. “Can’t you just give me a hint? Even just a little one?”
“No, because then you’ll ask for more hints until I give it away completely,” England said firmly. When his partner didn’t immediately stop looking curious, he stood up straighter and pulled the other into a kiss. America gave up quickly enough after that, and seemed a little disoriented for just a moment.
It was then that they both realized that the phone had been on the whole time, evident by Canada’s voice on the other end. …”Um, why did you call this number? Is this America?”
England rolled his eyes and hung the phone up, giving America his best ‘you meant to do that, didn’t you?’ look. “You’re going to give your brother mental scarring one of these days,” he teased, grabbing the other by the collar of his shirt again.
America grinned, thinking that he was being pulled in for another kiss, but yelped in surprise when he was instead pulled rather forcefully out of the booth and back into the street. England smirked at him, but America just gave him a bewildered look. “What was that for?”
“Just to keep you on your toes, love. And to make sure that you didn’t try to start anything in there,” England said with a softer smile (though no less mischievous), leaning forward to give him a proper kiss. “Now, shall we?”
“We shall.” America laughed. “And, uh, where exactly ‘shall’ we be going?”
“Ah, just to a lovely little bookstore-slash-movie-rental-slash-antique-store…” England said innocently. “And it might happen to be holding an early release of a movie you’ve been dying to see for, say, the past five or ten years… Maybe twenty, even…”
“What movie?” America begged, eyes wide. Mentally, he tried to piece the clues together, but evidently he’d never been a good detective for a reason, and couldn’t figure it out past that it was probably based off of a British movie.
England smiled rather smugly. “Think about the only Lord of the Rings book that hasn’t come out on film yet.”
“The Hobbit?!” America exclaimed, blinking rapidly. “Seriously?!”
“Yes, yes, I’d hardly get that excited over it.” England chuckled. “We can watch it tonight after we’re finished looking around and once we’ve had our fun with the main event.”
Re: The Height of Love
anonymous
August 11 2012, 03:35:38 UTC
“You’re not giving anything away, are you?” America said with a frown. He cheered rather quickly, though. “Y’know what? Fine. It’ll be an awesome night just to watch the Hobbit. I don’t think anything could go wrong enough to make this day less than amazing!”
“That’s the spirit, love,” England said with an almost patronizing pat to America’s head (though England was the shorter of the two, though by less than an inch). “Now, shall we get going? The movie will wait for us, but the store will be open ‘till six. Would you like to look around?”
“For you? Anything.” America grinned and wasted no time in taking the other nation’s hand.
---
They almost immediately took the movie (England all the while basking in the glory of nation-privileges), but took a bit longer in the store itself. It was a rather neat little shop, a strange blend of books, movies and historical artifacts. The timelines of the three ranged anywhere from the earliest made to the most recent, with every variety in-between.
Still, they had to make their dinner reservations, and England had planned on taking America to the London Eye before they ate, so he hurried the other nation out of the shop without much of a warning (nearly making America drop the priceless historical artifact he’d been manhandling).
“What? Where are we going? It’s only five-thirty, you said dinner wasn’t until almost seven-” America started to protest, but he quickly saw that England had taken out a wide piece of cloth. “Time for the ‘special event’, huh?”
“Yes, love. I’ll keep your hand the whole time, so don’t worry about the blindfold much,” England reassured him, before smirking and continuing, “Though I can’t promise that you’re complete incapable of accidentally wandering into traffic-”
“Dude!” America protested, eyes widening in momentary fear. When he saw that England was laughing, though, he crossed his arms with what was most certainly not a pout. “Not funny. Don’t joke about stuff like that. Last time I got hit by a car, the guy almost had a heart attack when he saw that I was completely fine but that his car was totally wrecked!”
“Oh, yes, I’m sure that was extremely traumatizing to you, America,” England said sarcastically. “Terrifying, to know that you’d frightened someone by not dying when you were ‘supposed to’.” He paused, then took a step forward to try to tie the blindfold. “Bend down, will you? I can’t tie it tightly enough from here.”
“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” America grumbled. “Doesn’t make it funny.” Still, he leaned down so obviously he wasn’t too upset about it all.
“I disagree. I found it to be quite hilarious. The look on your face…” England chuckled. He tied the blindfold tight enough so he could be sure that his partner was one-hundred-percent blinded. “Ah, well. That should be good and tight, then. Can you see at all?”
“No,” America grumbled. “I totally wanna know where you’re taking me, though. Where?”
“You’ll see when we get inside,” England waved the question aside, taking hold of the other’s hand and leading him perhaps a bit too quickly through the streets.
Also, sincerest apologies for going the predicable route for the location of their date.
-----
It was a slow day in England’s office. His Prime Minister didn’t have any appointments for him, the Queen was busy with something-or-another, and England had finished his paperwork for the day several hours ago. Unfortunately, he hadn’t anticipated it being such a slow day, and he was perhaps a bit paranoid that the moment he stepped out of his office, a heaping pile of paperwork would await him the next day (stranger things had happened), so he didn’t feel quite comfortable with leaving early.
So. That meant England was trapped in his office with nothing to do, save for read a book in his personal library. As he was looking for books, though, he remembered that nearly all of his fiction novels had been loaned out (America had muttered something about wanting to understand British-isms so he wouldn’t automatically think England was insulting him; a futile pursuit, as, ninety percent of the time, England actually was insulting him), leaving only a few Shakespearean plays that he hadn’t been in the mood for, and several grammar books.
England grabbed the first book he’d felt remotely interested in and sat down.
It turned out to be a book on extended metaphors-metaphors for things in life, like comparing emotionally distant people to the cold, and impulsive people to heat (or more accurately, fire), things of that nature.
He’d been reading a passage on free-spirited people being like the sky when it hit him.
‘Free spirited people have hesitation about anything that tries to hold them back. Sometimes they see work as trying to hold them back, as well, when they could be spending their time on more useful pursuits or enjoying their life. They can change their mind easily before any sort of pride sets in, but once they’re set on something, they go after that, strong as a hurricane wind. Naturally, they’re attracted to freedom, and will even physically fight to defend their freedoms. They may often-times be seen staring at the sky, or even going so far as to try to touch the sky-making them great pilots or astronauts. However, many people see glaring flaws in this sort of personality type (particularly emotionally distant or overly harsh personality types), particularly in their lack of a work ethic. They think that free-spirited people simply don’t like to work, which isn’t true-they simply don’t like to work at things they don’t enjoy, and if they have to do things they don’t like, they’d prefer to do it on their own terms and in their own time-set, which is something that other people simply don’t understand or don’t appreciate. They make great friends and lovers, though, especially to opposing personality types, as they provide a perfect balance-
England stopped reading, blinking dumbly at the page. They may as well have simply replaced ‘free-spirited personality types’ with ‘America’, and it would have made an equal amount of sense.
A sudden bout of inspiration hit him when he glanced at the calendar. Their anniversary was in just a few weeks, and he hadn’t really planned for much, but after new-found inspiration and re-reading the passage a few times, England suddenly knew exactly what he wanted to give America for their anniversary.
After all, the London Eye would be absolutely perfect for someone who loved the sky and loves to be surrounded by it, right?
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“Am-Alfred!” England called, stumbling over the human versus nation names a moment before he corrected him. He quieted once America was within a decent talking distance. “How was your flight, love?”
“Fan-frickin’-tastic,” America muttered, rubbing at his eyes, but quickly put away any complaints and broke into a grin. “But I really don’t wanna talk about it now that I’m, y’know, here with you.” He kissed the other’s cheek, smiling all the while. “I missed you a ton. I think your side of the mattress misses you, too.”
England broke into his customary ‘not-in-public’ blush, but couldn’t quite suppress his smile all the way. “Git… Honestly, didn’t I teach you better than to say things like that around others?” And even as he said it, he took America’s hand and started to lead him back around to where his car was waiting, America gladly following, suitcase in-hand.
“Yup,” America grinned again. “But I’m not lying about our Special Relationship, unlike sooooome people.” At that, he slid his arm around the other’s waist, suit-case now only being pulled with one hand (which was really rather remarkable, as he probably could have fit a small horse into that thing).
“I don’t lie about it,” England snapped, eyes flashing at even the implications of such a thing. “I simply don’t go bragging about it. And I thought I told you, I don’t not tell people because I don’t love you, I just don’t want people-”
“-To get the wrong idea, yeah, I know, heard that a million times,” America grumbled, rubbing at his eyes again. “Still…” He quickly shook off what he was about to say, though, instead choosing to pull England a bit closer to him. “Nevermind. Just the Jet-Lag. I’m completely wiped…”
England just gave a soft smile before tightening his hold around America as well. “I can see that. How about I take you home and you can get some sleep, mn? And tomorrow we’ll celebrate our anniversary. How does that sound?”
“Absolutely perfect,” America said with a large yawn. By that time, they’d reached the parking lot, and both started to walk towards the waiting car. England popped the trunk over, and America threw his suit-case inside. He blinked dumbly at England a moment, though, when he saw which side England was getting in on. “Uhm… D’you really think I should drive?” he asked, furrowing his brows in confusion. “I’m kinda tired…”
England just rolled his eyes. “We’re in England, America.” (Fortunately there were no humans around them to overhear the slip-up.) “I’m getting in on the driver’s side, remember?”
America yawned again, blinking slower all the while. However, he seemed to remember rather quickly and simply nodded, silently getting in on the left-hand side. He promptly collapsed into the seat, wasting no time in getting comfortable when he heard the engine start.
Before he could sleep, though, England leaned closer to him and captured his lips in a slow, sweet, close-mouthed kiss, smiling into it. When the broke apart, he pressed one more kiss to the other’s forehead and said “Love you,” in a hushed tone.
“Love you too…” America mumbled, already closing his eyes again. He fell asleep a few seconds later.
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“G’morning,” America yawned, smiling a bit wider at the other’s sudden blush.
“You…! Why didn’t you tell me you were awake?” England snapped, immediately withdrawing his hand and looking pointedly out the window.
“’Cause I only just now woke up.” America blinked, lazily bringing his head up to look around at the scenery. “Hm. Did’ja do anything with your garden since last time? ‘Cause I think it looks a little different…”
“I didn’t do anything different, no,” England said, frowning a bit. “Perhaps you’re just unused to seeing it when it’s not completely drenched.”
“Mm. Yeah, it was raining pretty bad for almost the whole time I was here last time, wasn’t it?” America asked, still sleepy but finally starting to wake up.
“I dare say you should remember more of it than just that,” England muttered. “You apparently thought it quite smart to try to walk to and from the store in such weather and ended up sick for the rest of your vacation.” And neither of them had a very good time, as England was hardly as patient with the current America as he had been when America was a colony (and had actually behaved). “Now come along inside, or it will start raining again, and we may have a repeat of last time.”
“Yeah, yeah, I hear you,” America groaned, sitting up slowly. It took him a moment to find his glasses-as finding glasses was rather difficult when he was probably half-blind, and England refused to help-but finally Texas was back atop its perch and the world was much less blurry.
His luggage was unloaded without much of a fuss (as it was rather obvious that England couldn’t take it himself, since a family of five could have easily fit all of their clothes and their family pet in America’s monster of a suitcase) and brought into the house before the clouds could roll in.
Almost immediately, though, America brought his things upstairs to the Master Bedroom (as after who-really-knew-how-many-years-they’d-been-dating, they were far past having something as unnecessary as Guest Rooms for eachother) and promptly crashed onto the bed.
“Still tired, mn?” England said, leaning against the doorframe.
“Just don’t. Jet Lag is the absolute worst,” America groaned, but a lazy smile was in place, and he couldn’t find it in his heart to sound too upset.
“While I won’t deny that,” England said as he somewhat hesitantly approached the bed, “I must say that I wouldn’t mind actually spending time with you, conscious or no.”
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“America, love, I’ve nearly only seen you asleep since you’ve been here, so I’d hardly say I’m tired of the conscious you, and… Well,” England said, somewhat patronizingly. “What did we learn last year about being unnecessarily insecure?”
“To not to,” America muttered, rolling his eyes as he started to dig through his (giant) suitcase for some pajamas. “Yeah, I’ve heard that one before.”
“And the time you wouldn’t come out of your room for weeks after misinterpreting a conversation between me and Japan?” England raised an eyebrow as he saw America pull a baseball bat of all things out of his suitcase. “And almost five years ago, when you were absolutely certain that I liked Canada more than you just because of a poll my people took? Or all those times you were resentful because of actions my nation took, when really it had almost nothing to do with you or me? Or the time you refused to do anything other than paperwork for nearly a week because you thought I’d called you lazy, and were determined to prove me wrong? Or how about when you-”
“I get it!” America snapped, half-heartedly chucking a pair of socks at the other’s head. “I’m a total whiner about stuff and need to stop overreacting. Happy?” He rubbed at his eyes again, cursing lightly at his sudden headache that nearly always came when he shouted while he was tired.
England sighed, mentally slapping himself for trying to provoke the other when America really just needed sleep (even if he really hadn’t been paying all that much attention to what he was saying, and in what context it would naturally be received). He crossed over to where America was still kneeling by his suitcase. “…Sorry, love. I forgot how-” easily provoked you are when you’re tired “-tired you are after travelling for so long. Want to call it a day?”
“Yes, please,” America mumbled, and before either could say another word, he picked up his night-clothes and toothbrush and disappeared into the bathroom.
While America was getting ready, England couldn’t help but hope that the next day would be better, as they weren’t having a very good start to their x-year-anniversary. However, he wasn’t given much time to think-and hope and pray-about it, as then it was his turn to brush his teeth and all, and then they were both curled up in bed.
However, as always, it wasn’t really ‘night-time’ until one had situated themself against the other, and as America was obviously exhausted, England took his turn as ‘protector’ and eased his arms around America’s middle. As the other nation didn’t flinch, England could only hope that everything was going to be all right and that the next day really would be better.
He, naturally, couldn’t have been more wrong.
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Also, why the heck are you tempting me with fic like this after 3AM? I bet I'm not even making sense I'm so tired. >_>
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Oh, and just because it's funny, that one paragraph where England is listing all the times America was too insecure? That reminded me of Canada's canon rant about all of America's faults, only this time it was more constructive instead of destructive. Still, I guess we know where Canada learned that from. LOL
Hope your OP shows up, because this looks like it's going to be really interesting. (Silly England, trusting a book over his own knowledge of his partner of years. He's just trying to make things perfect, but this will be ... a learning experience for him, won't it?)
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However, after a while, America felt the other’s arms start slowly retreating, and he made a rather clumsy attempt at holding onto them.
Unfortunately, it woke England, and America internally groaned, since England was hardly one to stay in bed after he woke-evident, as moments after, there was movement behind America, and the superpower was slightly disappointed to know that the movement was movement away from him. America rolled over so that he could catch a glimpse of England’s face.
“Oh, you’re up, then,” England said with a soft smile. “I’m assuming you slept well?”
America made a less-than-coherent grunt in response, before shuffling over to get a grip around England’s middle, making a half-hearted attempt to drag him back to bed. “Stay…”
“Afraid I can’t, love,” England reprimanded him, easily prying America’s arms off of him. “We’ve a lot to get done today, or don’t you remember?” He glanced towards the calendar. “It’s our anniversary today. You really think we’re not going to celebrate?”
“I can think of a couple’a ways to celebrate, and not one of them involve leaving this bed,” America deadpanned, reclaiming his hold on England, who, again, easily pried his arms off. Upon noticing England’s disapproving look, America corrected himself. “What? I only meant sleeping in…”
“Of course you did, git.” England rolled his eyes. “Now I think it’s high time that you get up. We’re going to celebrate properly. As in, a day out.”
“But I wanna stay in,” America protested. “Y’know, watch a stupidly sappy movie, stay under the covers where it’s nice and warm… Read somethin’, maybe…” He shrugged, perhaps a bit helplessly, when England didn’t look remotely interested. “Aren’t you the one that’s always tellin’ me to appreciate quieter things? And to live at a slower pace?”
“Yes,” England agreed, “But not on our anniversary. Now get up, you lazy sod.” Unfortunately for America, those words were accompanied by a sharp tug which sent the superpower to the floor, where he rested in a slightly undignified position, staring up at England with an annoyed glare.
“You’re so mean…” America groaned, tugging on the covers as if he intended to go right back to sleep on the floor. “And it’s cold… And it’s like only three A.M. at my place…”
“I think you’re getting time zones mixed up, love,” England said, somewhat amused. “If it’s nine in England, that would make it three in the afternoon at your house.”
“Stop confusing me,” America griped. “And leave me beeeee…”
England sighed, then crouched low so he could have a better view of America. “I’d leave you alone if I didn’t think you’d stay there for the better part of the week.”
America cracked a grin at that, and propped his chin up on his hand. “And when have I ever done something like that?” he teased, putting on his best puppy-dog-pout.
“Every winter?” England suggested. America snickered, but England did not, and quickly took advantage of America’s defenseless position to yank him into something resembling a standing position.
“Hey!” America protested, nearly tripping over the blankets around him. “Be careful! You almost gave me a heart attack! Not cool!”
“Ah, I don’t think I’ll be the one to blame if you have a heart attack,” England said with a smirk, poking the other’s stomach ( which was strangely flat, despite his eating habits). Before America could squirm away-as the comment was very much unappreciated, if the annual fits were any indication-England held him closer and pressed a chaste kiss to America’s cheek. “Better?”
“Hmph,” America grunted. However, it was clear that he couldn’t hold a grudge, because a few seconds later found them locked in a proper morning kiss, though close-mouthed, as neither were fans of morning breath.
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“I think we should-”
“We aren’t eating our anniversary breakfast at a McDonalds,” England cut in, before America could even finish his statement.
It was quite clear the way America pouted that it really was going to be his suggestion. “Well, fine. Where do you want to eat?”
“There’s a lovely little tea-shoppe not far from here,” England said with an all-too-casual voice, presumably to hide his excitement. He was doing his best not to rock on his heels as it was. “I daresay you’d enjoy it, as well.”
“Eh, I guess,” America shrugged, and slipped into his bomber jacket. England made a murmur of agreement, and America turned to look at England with a curious expression. “Somethin’ tells me you have some stuff planned for today…”
“Hm?” England faked cluelessness. “I don’t know what you mean, love. What could I have possibly planned when I’m in my own city with the man I love on our anniversary?”
“Cute,” America said with a laugh. “Guess I’ll just have to wait, huh?”
“I don’t know what you mean.” England winked, pressing his index finger to his lips before grabbing America’s hand and leading him to the door.
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Sorry this part's so short, but y'know, character limits...
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America's talk about what he thought would be romantic reminds me of an article I read on what British thought was romantic..and that's pretty much it. Snuggling on the couch, getting someone else some tea when they don't have any and its cold, etc. Very homebody stuff. Americans were generally the ones who had stricter standards on What Is Romantic. Yes, it involves certain media images of roses, dinner, suits, etc.
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Yup! That's sorta why I did it: Not to be out of character but to sorta represent how they've rubbed off on eachother. Don't worry, though, America will try be full-on-Romantic later on. He's just cranky 'cause he has Jet Lag. Sort of. ;)
What de-anon? You saw nothing! Nothing, I tell you!
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“It’s…” America started, unwilling to hurt the other’s feelings. It was, after all, British food, and he’d been hard-wired in the last two centuries to dislike it. That, of course, made it rather hard to eat with any sort of ‘impressed face’, but he did his best. “It’s pretty good, yeah!”
“So you really like it?” England confirmed, smiling all the wider. “Great! I guess that means we’ll be eating here more often, then!” He placed his hand on the table, a silent invitation for America to hold it, which he did without a second thought.
“Y-Yeah, that’s great,” America managed to bite out. Fortunately, England was paying more attention to America’s face than his tone, so he was safe from hurting the other’s feelings.
“You’ve got something on your face,” England teased, sitting forward with a smirk. “Shall I get it for you?”
“I-” America hesitated, glancing around the restaurant. Fortunately, as they hadn’t been arguing, they were drawing quite a bit less attention to themselves than normal, but there were still a few people staring at them. “Er… I… Sure?”
England was understandably put-out by the response. He sat back into his seat with a rather exasperated expression. “Honestly… it’s no fun if you don’t participate…”
“I-uh, that’s usually your job, and I didn’t want to impose on the whole ‘embarrassed title’ thing, so…” America muttered, his excuse falling flat.
“Hm.”
America started to sweat. Things weren’t going as plan, and if he didn’t act soon… He frowned at what would await him at the end of the day if things continued to go awry.
With a determined stare, he stood up, and before England could protest, crossed over to the other, grabbed him by the shirt, and kissed England firmly on the lips. When they broke apart, America grinned. “It’s not about not wanting to participate, hon.”
England matched his smile. “You’ve still got something on your face, you know.” However, before America could really figure out the statement, a napkin was pressed to his cheek, wiping off the crumbs with ease. “Better.”
America flushed pink. “That’s… You didn’t have to do that,” he muttered, sitting back down in his chair with what was most certainly not a pout. He kept himself from making any comments about England ‘mom’-ing him, as he’d learned from experience that it wasn’t a great idea.
“I’m allowed to fuss,” England said with a grin. “Now, if we’re finished?” He glanced over to a nearby waiter, who immediately came and offered them the bill, which was paid evenly by the nations, and a rather generous tip was left, courtesy of America.
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I know, anons. I know. But trust me, I’m getting to the actual ‘Heights!’ part. I promise. Just trying to put together the scene a bit more, playing around with options and...
Alright, fine, I'm anxious about getting to that part, too. I'll hurry up.
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England was glad, for the fiftieth time that day, that the weather was nice. There was just something about visiting a garden in the rain that put a damper on any day’s event.
Still, as much as England had strived to make the date enjoyable, America didn’t seem to be having as good of a time as he’d like.
“Would you like to look for an ice cream stand?” England finally asked.
Evidently he’d pulled America out of a daze, as the other nation stared blankly at him for a few moments before he answered. “Oh! Uh, yeah, that’d be good.”
“Yes, well, we should probably finish up here, then,” England said with a cough. “After all, we’re not allowed back in after we leave.”
“Well that sucks,” America said with a frown, though he didn’t look nearly as upset as England felt he should have been, at the prospect of cancelling one of the day’s events. “But, uh, how much more do you want to show me? I’ll stay as long as you want.”
England mentally translated the other’s words to ‘I’d leave right now if I had the chance, but I’ll suffer through more of this if you want to stay’. He visibly deflated. “It’s fine to leave whenever. You’re probably hungry, aren’t you?”
“This is your day, too,” America reminded him with a completely unnecessary poke to the cheek. “Enjoy it a little more, yeah?”
England wanted to shout out an ‘I’ll enjoy it when you at least act like you do, too’, but as it wouldn’t help matters, he wisely stayed calm. “Well. I suppose we can compromise a bit. We’ll stay for another few minutes and see if there’s anything new, and if nothing stands out, we’ll leave, mn?”
“Sounds good,” America agreed easily, holding out a hand with an almost-practiced obnoxious charm (if such a thing could exist).
They walked around for a few minutes, and although England would have normally been beside himself with joy at seeing such a beautiful place, he was far less enthusiastic as he could easily see that America’s smiles were more for England than himself. Still, he wouldn’t lose heart-even though very little of the day was going according to plan, they still enjoyed being around eachother, didn’t they?
The notion cheered England, and he didn’t protest when America finally ‘let slip’ that he was hungry and that he wouldn’t mind to do something else for a bit. They walked out of the garden with their joined hands being the only obvious sign that they were, in fact, in love with eachother.
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It wasn’t England’s favorite thing in the world, but America looked as excited as ever when he got to stop in a proper English telephone booth.
“I’m calling Canada!” he announced with a grin, his usual silliness returning with a vengeance. He dialed the number before anyone could stop him.
“Oh? And what do you plan on telling him?” England asked, raising an eyebrow. He knew the phone was still ringing and took full advantage of it. “That you’ve been prancing all around London? Or that on our anniversary, I’m ‘withholding’ the best event of the day?”
America looked up, eyes wide with hope. “I knew you had more planned! When are we gonna go do it? What is it? Where?” he asked, and when England didn’t immediately answer his questions-as quickly as they came, at least-he dragged the other nation into the telephone booth with him. “Seriously! You can’t just say something like that and then not tell me!”
England chuckled, slipping out of the other’s grip with practiced ease, then pushing himself as far away from the other nation as the booth would allow. “Ah-ah-ah… No spoiling the surprise. In fact, I’ll have to ask you to put a blindfold on later this evening, so you don’t see where we’re going too soon.”
“You’re so mean, doing something that underhanded!” America all-but-wailed at his partner. “Can’t you just give me a hint? Even just a little one?”
“No, because then you’ll ask for more hints until I give it away completely,” England said firmly. When his partner didn’t immediately stop looking curious, he stood up straighter and pulled the other into a kiss. America gave up quickly enough after that, and seemed a little disoriented for just a moment.
It was then that they both realized that the phone had been on the whole time, evident by Canada’s voice on the other end. …”Um, why did you call this number? Is this America?”
England rolled his eyes and hung the phone up, giving America his best ‘you meant to do that, didn’t you?’ look. “You’re going to give your brother mental scarring one of these days,” he teased, grabbing the other by the collar of his shirt again.
America grinned, thinking that he was being pulled in for another kiss, but yelped in surprise when he was instead pulled rather forcefully out of the booth and back into the street. England smirked at him, but America just gave him a bewildered look. “What was that for?”
“Just to keep you on your toes, love. And to make sure that you didn’t try to start anything in there,” England said with a softer smile (though no less mischievous), leaning forward to give him a proper kiss. “Now, shall we?”
“We shall.” America laughed. “And, uh, where exactly ‘shall’ we be going?”
“Ah, just to a lovely little bookstore-slash-movie-rental-slash-antique-store…” England said innocently. “And it might happen to be holding an early release of a movie you’ve been dying to see for, say, the past five or ten years… Maybe twenty, even…”
“What movie?” America begged, eyes wide. Mentally, he tried to piece the clues together, but evidently he’d never been a good detective for a reason, and couldn’t figure it out past that it was probably based off of a British movie.
England smiled rather smugly. “Think about the only Lord of the Rings book that hasn’t come out on film yet.”
“The Hobbit?!” America exclaimed, blinking rapidly. “Seriously?!”
“Yes, yes, I’d hardly get that excited over it.” England chuckled. “We can watch it tonight after we’re finished looking around and once we’ve had our fun with the main event.”
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“That’s the spirit, love,” England said with an almost patronizing pat to America’s head (though England was the shorter of the two, though by less than an inch). “Now, shall we get going? The movie will wait for us, but the store will be open ‘till six. Would you like to look around?”
“For you? Anything.” America grinned and wasted no time in taking the other nation’s hand.
---
They almost immediately took the movie (England all the while basking in the glory of nation-privileges), but took a bit longer in the store itself. It was a rather neat little shop, a strange blend of books, movies and historical artifacts. The timelines of the three ranged anywhere from the earliest made to the most recent, with every variety in-between.
Still, they had to make their dinner reservations, and England had planned on taking America to the London Eye before they ate, so he hurried the other nation out of the shop without much of a warning (nearly making America drop the priceless historical artifact he’d been manhandling).
“What? Where are we going? It’s only five-thirty, you said dinner wasn’t until almost seven-” America started to protest, but he quickly saw that England had taken out a wide piece of cloth. “Time for the ‘special event’, huh?”
“Yes, love. I’ll keep your hand the whole time, so don’t worry about the blindfold much,” England reassured him, before smirking and continuing, “Though I can’t promise that you’re complete incapable of accidentally wandering into traffic-”
“Dude!” America protested, eyes widening in momentary fear. When he saw that England was laughing, though, he crossed his arms with what was most certainly not a pout. “Not funny. Don’t joke about stuff like that. Last time I got hit by a car, the guy almost had a heart attack when he saw that I was completely fine but that his car was totally wrecked!”
“Oh, yes, I’m sure that was extremely traumatizing to you, America,” England said sarcastically. “Terrifying, to know that you’d frightened someone by not dying when you were ‘supposed to’.” He paused, then took a step forward to try to tie the blindfold. “Bend down, will you? I can’t tie it tightly enough from here.”
“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” America grumbled. “Doesn’t make it funny.” Still, he leaned down so obviously he wasn’t too upset about it all.
“I disagree. I found it to be quite hilarious. The look on your face…” England chuckled. He tied the blindfold tight enough so he could be sure that his partner was one-hundred-percent blinded. “Ah, well. That should be good and tight, then. Can you see at all?”
“No,” America grumbled. “I totally wanna know where you’re taking me, though. Where?”
“You’ll see when we get inside,” England waved the question aside, taking hold of the other’s hand and leading him perhaps a bit too quickly through the streets.
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