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.
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.
-----
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.
Reply
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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